1485 2026
This is an AI modernization of Le Morte d'Arthur into contemporary English. The original is available from Standard Ebooks. Also available as an epub.
Sir Thomas Malory finished this book in the ninth year of the reign of Edward IV, which ran from March 1469 to March 1470, and he wrote it in prison. He says so himself: at the end of several sections he asks the reader to pray for "a knight prisoner." He was most likely the Sir Thomas Malory of Newbold Revel in Warwickshire, a landowner and former member of Parliament who spent much of the 1450s and 1460s in jail on charges that included robbery, cattle-raiding and assault. He died in 1471. England in those years was in the middle of the Wars of the Roses, and the book's last section, in which the Round Table destroys itself in a civil war, was written by a man who had lived through one.
Malory did not invent the stories. He took the long French prose romances about Arthur, Lancelot, Tristram and the Holy Grail, along with two English poems about Arthur's death, and cut, combined and retold them in English prose. When he says "as the French book says," he means a real source. Fourteen years after his death, in 1485, William Caxton printed the work at Westminster, divided it into twenty-one Books, gave every chapter a heading summarising what happens in it, added a preface, and called the whole thing Le Morte d'Arthur, the Death of Arthur, although only the last part is about Arthur's death. A manuscript that differs from Caxton in many places was found at Winchester College in 1934. This edition follows Caxton's text, because Caxton's is the book that English readers knew for four and a half centuries.
Some things will seem strange at first. Knights fight constantly, often for reasons that are hard to follow, and the jousts are told with the same moves again and again. That repetition is the form: Malory is keeping score of who is the best knight in the world, and the score matters to the plot. Many names change spelling in the original and several people share a name, including at least four women called Elaine; here each person keeps one spelling. Malory's word "worship" means honour, and his narrator often stops to say where the story is going next.
This edition retells the whole book in modern English, including the three long Books about Tristram that most selections leave out, because the ending depends on them. Caxton's preface and his chapter headings are kept, and so are Malory's own closing prayer and Caxton's colophon. The text is Alfred Pollard's 1900 edition of Caxton.
Book One: The Birth of King Arthur
Book Two: Balin, the Noble Knight
Book Three: The Marriage of King Arthur
Book Four: How Merlin Was Besotted, and of the Wars Against King Arthur
Book Five: The Conquest of Lucius the Emperor
Book Six: Sir Lancelot and Sir Lionel
Book Seven: Sir Gareth, Whom Sir Kay Called Beaumains
Book Eight: The Birth and Deeds of Sir Tristram
Book Nine: La Cote Male Taile, and Sir Tristram
Book Ten: Sir Tristram, and Other Marvellous Adventures
Book Eleven: Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad
Book Twelve: Sir Lancelot and His Madness
Book Thirteen: How Galahad Came to King Arthur's Court, and the Quest of the Holy Grail Began
Book Fourteen: The Quest of the Holy Grail
Book Fifteen: Sir Lancelot
Book Sixteen: Sir Bors and His Brother Sir Lionel
Book Seventeen: The Holy Grail
Book Eighteen: Sir Lancelot and the Queen
Book Nineteen: Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot
Book Twenty: The Piteous Death of King Arthur
Book Twenty-One: King Arthur's Last Departing, and How Sir Lancelot Came to Avenge His Death
After I had completed and finished various histories, some of devotion and some of the deeds of great conquerors and princes in this world, and also certain books of examples and teaching, many noble gentlemen of this realm of England came to me and asked me, many times over, why I had not had made and printed the noble history of the Holy Grail, and of the most renowned Christian king, first and chief of the three best and worthiest Christians, King Arthur, who ought to be remembered among us Englishmen before all other Christian kings. For it is well known through all the world that there are nine worthies, the best that ever lived: that is to say, three pagans, three Jews, and three Christian men. As for the pagans, they lived before the Incarnation of Christ, and they were these: the first Hector of Troy, whose history has come down to us both in ballad and in prose; the second Alexander the Great; and the third Julius Caesar, Emperor of Rome, whose histories are well known and easy to come by. And as for the three Jews, who also lived before the incarnation of our Lord, the first was Joshua, the leader who brought the children of Israel into the Promised Land; the second David, king of Jerusalem; and the third Judas Maccabeus; and the Bible tells all their noble histories and deeds. And since that same Incarnation there have been three noble Christian men, installed and admitted through all the world into the number of the nine best and worthiest. The first of these was the noble Arthur, whose noble deeds I intend to set down in this present book that follows. The second was Charlemagne, or Charles the Great, whose history can be had in many places, both in French and in English. And the third and last was Godfrey of Bouillon, about whose deeds and life I made a book for the excellent prince and king of noble memory, King Edward the Fourth.
These noble gentlemen urgently asked me to print the history of that noble king and conqueror King Arthur, and of his knights, with the history of the Holy Grail, and of the death and ending of Arthur himself. They argued that I ought rather to print his deeds and noble feats than those of Godfrey of Bouillon or any of the other eight, considering that he was a man born within this realm, and king and emperor of it, and that there are in French many and various noble volumes of his deeds, and of his knights' too. I answered them that various men hold the opinion that there was no such Arthur, and that all the books made about him are invented stories and fables, because some chronicles make no mention of him at all, and do not remember him or his knights. To this they answered, and one of them in particular said, that anyone who should say or think that there was never such a king called Arthur might well be charged with great folly and blindness. For he said that there was plenty of evidence to the contrary. First, you may see his tomb in the monastery of Glastonbury. And also in the Polychronicon, in the fifth book, the sixth chapter, and in the seventh book, the twenty-third chapter, you may read where his body was buried, and afterwards found, and moved into that monastery. You will see also in the history of Boccaccio, in his book De Casu Principum, "On the Fall of Princes", part of his noble deeds, and also of his fall. Also Geoffrey of Monmouth tells his life in his British book. And in various places of England there are many memorials of him still, and of his knights, and they will remain forever. First, in the abbey of Westminster, at St. Edward's shrine, there is still the print of his seal in red wax enclosed in beryl, on which is written "Patricius Arthurus Britannie, Gallie, Germanie, Dacie, Imperator", that is, "The noble Arthur, Emperor of Britain, Gaul, Germany and Denmark". Item: in the castle of Dover you may see Gawain's skull and Cradok's mantle; at Winchester, the Round Table; in other places Lancelot's sword and many other things. Then, all these things considered, no man can reasonably deny that there was a king of this land named Arthur. For in all places, Christian and heathen, he is reputed and counted one of the nine worthies, and the first of the three Christian men. And besides, he is more spoken of across the sea, and more books are made of his noble deeds there, than there are in England, in German, Italian, Spanish and Greek as well as in French. And there still remain as witnesses to him in Wales, in the town of Camelot, the great stones and the marvellous works of iron lying under the ground, and royal vaults, which various people now living have seen. So it is a marvel that he is not more renowned in his own country, except that it agrees with the Word of God, which says that no man is accepted as a prophet in his own country.
So, with all these things put to me, I could not well deny that there was such a noble king named Arthur, reputed one of the nine worthies, and first and chief of the Christian men. And many noble volumes have been made of him and of his noble knights in French, which I have seen and read across the sea, and which we do not have in our mother tongue. In Welsh there are many, and in French too, and some in English, but nowhere near all of them. Therefore, out of those that have lately been drawn out briefly into English, I have, according to the simple skill that God has sent me, and under the favour and correction of all noble lords and gentlemen, undertaken to print a book of the noble histories of this King Arthur and of certain of his knights, from a copy delivered to me, which copy Sir Thomas Malory took out of certain books in French and turned into English. And I, following my copy, have had it set in print, so that noble men may see and learn the noble deeds of chivalry, the noble and virtuous deeds that some knights did in those days, by which they came to honour, and how those who were wicked were punished and often put to shame and rebuke. And I humbly beg all noble lords and ladies, and all other people of whatever rank or degree they are, who see and read this book and work, to keep the good and honest deeds in their memory, and to follow them. In it they will find many joyful and pleasant histories, and noble and renowned deeds of humanity, nobility and chivalry. For here may be seen noble chivalry, courtesy, humanity, friendliness, hardiness, love, friendship, cowardice, murder, hate, virtue and sin. Follow the good and leave the evil, and it will bring you to good fame and renown. And to pass the time, this book will be pleasant to read in; but as for putting faith and belief in all that it contains being true, you are at your liberty. But all of it is written for our instruction, and so that we take care not to fall into vice or sin, but practise and follow virtue, by which we may come and attain to good fame and renown in this life, and after this short and passing life come to everlasting bliss in heaven: which may He grant us who reigns in heaven, the blessed Trinity. Amen.
Then, to proceed with this book, which I dedicate to all noble princes, lords and ladies, gentlemen and gentlewomen, who wish to read or hear read the noble and joyful history of the great conqueror and excellent king, King Arthur, once king of this noble realm, then called Britain: I, William Caxton, a simple person, present this book that follows, which I have undertaken to print. It treats of the noble deeds, feats of arms and of chivalry, prowess, hardiness, humanity, love, courtesy and true nobility, with many wonderful histories and adventures. And so that the contents of this volume can be understood briefly, I have divided it into twenty-one Books, and every book into chapters, as will follow hereafter, by God's grace. The First Book will tell how Uther Pendragon fathered the noble conqueror King Arthur, and contains twenty-eight chapters. The Second Book tells of Balin the noble knight, and contains nineteen chapters. The Third Book tells of the marriage of King Arthur to Queen Guinevere, with other matters, and contains fifteen chapters. The Fourth Book tells how Merlin was besotted, and of war made on King Arthur, and contains twenty-nine chapters. The Fifth Book tells of the conquest of Lucius the emperor, and contains twelve chapters. The Sixth Book tells of Sir Lancelot and Sir Lionel, and of marvellous adventures, and contains eighteen chapters. The Seventh Book tells of a noble knight called Sir Gareth, whom Sir Kay named Beaumains, and contains thirty-six chapters. The Eighth Book tells of the birth of Sir Tristram the noble knight, and of his deeds, and contains forty-one chapters. The Ninth Book tells of a knight whom Sir Kay named La Cote Male Taile, and also of Sir Tristram, and contains forty-four chapters. The Tenth Book tells of Sir Tristram and other marvellous adventures, and contains eighty-eight chapters. The Eleventh Book tells of Sir Lancelot and Sir Galahad, and contains fourteen chapters. The Twelfth Book tells of Sir Lancelot and his madness, and contains fourteen chapters. The Thirteenth Book tells how Galahad first came to King Arthur's court, and how the quest of the Holy Grail was begun, and contains twenty chapters. The Fourteenth Book tells of the quest of the Holy Grail, and contains ten chapters. The Fifteenth Book tells of Sir Lancelot, and contains six chapters. The Sixteenth Book tells of Sir Bors and Sir Lionel his brother, and contains seventeen chapters. The Seventeenth Book tells of the Holy Grail, and contains twenty-three chapters. The Eighteenth Book tells of Sir Lancelot and the queen, and contains twenty-five chapters. The Nineteenth Book tells of Queen Guinevere and Lancelot, and contains thirteen chapters. The Twentieth Book tells of the piteous death of Arthur, and contains twenty-two chapters. The Twenty-first Book tells of his last departing, and how Sir Lancelot came to avenge his death, and contains thirteen chapters. The sum is twenty-one books, which contain in all five hundred and seven chapters, as will be shown more plainly hereafter.
It happened in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all England and reigned there, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall who made war on him for a long time. And the duke was called the Duke of Tintagil. And so, through go-betweens, King Uther sent for this duke, ordering him to bring his wife with him, for she was said to be a beautiful lady, and an exceedingly wise one, and her name was Igraine.
So when the duke and his wife had come to the king, the great lords worked between them and the two men were reconciled. The king liked this lady and loved her well, and he gave them a welcome beyond measure, and wanted to sleep with her. But she was an exceedingly good woman, and would not consent to the king. And then she told the duke her husband, and said, "I think we were sent for so that I should be dishonoured. So, husband, I advise you that we leave here at once, so that we can ride all night to our own castle."
And just as she said, so they left, so that neither the king nor any of his council knew they had gone. As soon as King Uther learned of their leaving so suddenly, he was furiously angry. Then he called his privy council to him and told them of the sudden departure of the duke and his wife.
Then they advised the king to send for the duke and his wife with a stern command: "And if he will not come at your summons, then you may do as you see fit; then you will have good cause to make mighty war on him." So that was done, and the messengers brought back their answers; and in short it was this, that neither he nor his wife would come to him.
Then the king was furiously angry. And then the king sent him plain word in return, and told him to make ready, and stock and arm his castles, for within forty days he would fetch him out of the strongest castle he had.
When the duke had this warning, he went at once and stocked and armed two strong castles of his, of which one was called Tintagil and the other Terrabil. So he put his wife Dame Igraine in the castle of Tintagil, and himself in the castle of Terrabil, which had many exits and back gates. Then Uther came in all haste with a great army and laid siege to the castle of Terrabil. And there he pitched many tents, and there was great fighting on both sides, and many people were killed. Then, out of sheer anger and great love for the fair Igraine, King Uther fell sick. So Sir Ulfius, a noble knight, came to King Uther and asked the king why he was sick.
"I'll tell you," said the king. "I am sick with anger and with love for the fair Igraine, so that I cannot be well."
"Well, my lord," said Sir Ulfius, "I will go and look for Merlin, and he will find you a remedy that will content your heart."
So Ulfius set off, and by chance he met Merlin dressed as a beggar, and Merlin asked Ulfius who he was looking for. And he said he had little reason to tell him.
"Well," said Merlin, "I know who you are looking for, for you are looking for Merlin. So look no further, for I am he. And if King Uther will reward me well, and swear to me to grant my wish, that will bring him more honour and profit than me; for I will see that he has all he desires."
"All this I will undertake," said Ulfius, "that there will be nothing within reason that you shall not have as you wish."
"Well," said Merlin, "he will have his purpose and his desire. And so," said Merlin, "ride on your way, for I will not be far behind."
Then Ulfius was glad, and rode on at better than a walking pace until he came to King Uther Pendragon, and told him he had met with Merlin.
"Where is he?" said the king.
"Sir," said Ulfius, "he will not be long."
With that Ulfius saw Merlin standing in the doorway of the tent. And then Merlin was obliged to come to the king. When King Uther saw him, he said he was welcome.
"Sir," said Merlin, "I know every bit of your heart. If you will swear to me, as you are a true anointed king, to grant my wish, you shall have your desire."
Then the king swore upon the Four Gospels.
"Sir," said Merlin, "this is my wish: the first night that you lie with Igraine you will father a child on her, and when it is born it must be handed over to me, for me to bring up wherever I choose. For it will be to your honour, and to the child's good, as much as the child is worth."
"Gladly," said the king. "Let it be as you wish."
"Now make yourself ready," said Merlin. "This very night you will lie with Igraine in the castle of Tintagil. And you will look like the duke her husband, Ulfius will look like Sir Brastias, a knight of the duke's, and I will look like a knight called Sir Jordanus, another knight of the duke's. But take care you do not make much conversation with her or her people, but say you are unwell, and so get yourself to bed, and do not get up in the morning until I come to you, for the castle of Tintagil is only ten miles from here."
So this was done as they had planned. But the Duke of Tintagil saw the king ride away from the siege of Terrabil, and so that night he sallied out of the castle by a back gate to attack the king's army. And so, by his own sally, the duke himself was killed before ever the king came to the castle of Tintagil.
So after the death of the duke, King Uther lay with Igraine, more than three hours after his death, and fathered Arthur on her that night. And at daybreak Merlin came to the king and told him to make ready, and so he kissed the lady Igraine and left in all haste. But when the lady heard the news of the duke her husband, and that by every account he was dead before ever King Uther came to her, then she wondered who it could be that had lain with her in the likeness of her lord. So she mourned in private and held her peace.
Then all the barons with one voice begged the king to make peace between the lady Igraine and himself. The king gave them leave, for he would gladly have been reconciled with her. So the king put all his trust in Ulfius to negotiate between them, and through his negotiating the king and she at last met together.
"Now we will do well," said Ulfius. "Our king is a vigorous knight and has no wife, and my lady Igraine is an exceedingly beautiful lady. It would be a great joy to us all if it pleased the king to make her his queen."
To that they all agreed, and put it to the king. And at once, like the vigorous knight he was, he agreed to it gladly, and so in all haste they were married one morning with great merriment and joy.
And King Lot of Lothian and of Orkney then married Morgause, who was Gawain's mother, and King Nentres of the land of Garlot married Elaine. All this was done at King Uther's request. And the third sister, Morgan le Fay, was sent to school in a nunnery, and there she learned so much that she became a great scholar of necromancy, the black art. And afterwards she was married to King Uriens of the land of Gore, who was the father of Sir Uwain le Blanchemains.
Then Queen Igraine grew bigger and bigger day by day. And so it happened, within half a year, as King Uther lay beside his queen, that he asked her, by the faith she owed him, whose child she carried. Then she was badly flustered about how to answer.
"Don't be dismayed," said the king, "but tell me the truth, and I will love you the better for it, on my life."
"Sir," she said, "I will tell you the truth. The same night that my lord died, at the hour of his death, as his knights bear witness, there came into my castle of Tintagil a man like my lord in speech and in face, and two knights with him in the likeness of his two knights Brastias and Jordanus. And so I went to bed with him, as I ought to do with my lord, and that same night, as I shall answer to God, this child was conceived in me."
"That is the truth," said the king, "as you say. For it was I myself who came in that likeness. And so do not be dismayed, for I am the father of the child."
And there he told her the whole story, how it was done on Merlin's advice. Then the queen was overjoyed when she knew who was the father of her child.
Soon Merlin came to the king, and said, "Sir, you must make provision for the bringing up of your child."
"As you wish," said the king. "Let it be so."
"Well," said Merlin, "I know a lord of yours in this land who is an exceedingly true man and a faithful one, and he shall have the bringing up of your child. His name is Sir Ector, and he is a lord with fine estates in many parts of England and Wales. Have this lord, Sir Ector, sent for to come and speak with you, and ask him yourself, as he loves you, to put his own child out to be nursed by another woman, so that his wife can nurse yours. And when the child is born, let it be handed over to me at that secret back gate over there, unchristened."
So it was done just as Merlin planned. And when Sir Ector came he gave his solemn promise to the king to bring up the child as the king wished; and there the king granted Sir Ector great rewards. Then, when the lady had given birth, the king commanded two knights and two ladies to take the child, wrapped in a cloth of gold, "and hand him over to whatever poor man you meet at the back gate of the castle." So the child was handed over to Merlin, and so he carried it away to Sir Ector, and had a holy man christen him, and named him Arthur. And so Sir Ector's wife nursed him at her own breast.
Then, within two years, King Uther fell sick of a great illness. And meanwhile his enemies encroached on his lands, and fought a great battle against his men, and killed many of his people.
"Sir," said Merlin, "you cannot lie here as you are doing, for you must go to the field even if you ride in a horse-litter. For you will never get the better of your enemies unless you are there in person, and then you will have the victory."
So it was done as Merlin had planned, and they carried the king out in a horse-litter with a great army against his enemies. And at St. Albans a great army from the North met the king. And that day Sir Ulfius and Sir Brastias did great deeds of arms, and King Uther's men overcame the northern army and killed many people, and put the rest to flight. And then the king returned to London, and rejoiced greatly in his victory. And then he fell desperately sick, so that for three days and three nights he could not speak. At this all the barons grieved greatly, and asked Merlin what would be the best thing to do.
"There is no other remedy," said Merlin, "but God will have His will. But see that all you barons are before King Uther tomorrow, and God and I will make him speak."
So in the morning all the barons came before the king with Merlin. Then Merlin said aloud to King Uther, "Sir, shall your son Arthur be king of this realm after your days, with all that belongs to it?"
Then Uther Pendragon turned over and said, in the hearing of them all, "I give him God's blessing and mine, and bid him pray for my soul, and claim the crown rightfully and honourably, on pain of losing my blessing."
And with that he gave up the ghost, and then he was buried as befitted a king. And the queen, the fair Igraine, grieved greatly, and so did all the barons.
Then the realm stood in great danger for a long while, for every lord who had many men at his command made himself strong, and many expected to be king. Then Merlin went to the Archbishop of Canterbury, and advised him to send for all the lords of the realm, and all the gentlemen of arms, to come to London by Christmas, on pain of excommunication. And this was the reason: that Jesus, who was born on that night, would of His great mercy show some miracle, as He had come to be king of mankind, to show by some miracle who should be the rightful king of this realm. So the Archbishop, on Merlin's advice, sent for all the lords and gentlemen of arms to come to London by Christmas Eve. And many of them cleansed their lives, so that their prayers might be the more acceptable to God. So in the greatest church of London (whether it was St. Paul's or not, the French book does not say) all the ranks of the realm were in the church to pray, long before daybreak. And when matins and the first mass were over, there was seen in the churchyard, facing the high altar, a great square stone, like a block of marble, and in the middle of it was something like an anvil of steel, a foot high, and in it a fine sword was stuck naked by the point, and around the sword there were letters written in gold that said this: "Whoever pulls this sword out of this stone and anvil is the true-born king of all England." Then the people marvelled, and told the Archbishop.
"I command," said the Archbishop, "that you keep yourselves within your church and go on praying to God, and that no man touch the sword until high mass is all done."
So when all the masses were done, all the lords went to look at the stone and the sword. And when they saw the inscription, some tried, those who wanted to be king. But none of them could stir the sword or move it.
"He is not here," said the Archbishop, "who will win this sword, but have no doubt God will make him known. But this is my advice," said the Archbishop, "that we provide ten knights, men of good name, to guard this sword."
So it was arranged, and then a proclamation was made that every man who wished should try to win the sword. And for New Year's Day the barons had jousts and a tournament proclaimed, so that all knights who wanted to joust or to fight in the tournament could take part; and all this was arranged to keep the lords and the common people together, for the Archbishop trusted that God would make known the one who should win the sword.
So on New Year's Day, when the service was over, the barons rode to the field, some to joust and some to fight in the tournament. And so it happened that Sir Ector, who had large estates around London, rode to the jousts, and with him rode Sir Kay his son, and young Arthur, who was his foster brother; and Sir Kay had been made a knight the All Hallows' Day before. So as they rode towards the jousts, Sir Kay found he had lost his sword, for he had left it at his father's lodging, and so he asked young Arthur to ride back for his sword.
"Gladly," said Arthur, and rode fast after the sword. And when he got home, the lady and everyone else were out to see the jousting. Then Arthur was angry, and said to himself, "I will ride to the churchyard and take the sword that is stuck in the stone, for my brother Sir Kay shall not be without a sword this day."
So when he came to the churchyard, Sir Arthur dismounted and tied his horse to the stile, and so he went to the tent, and found no knights there, for they were at the jousting. And so he took hold of the sword by the handle, and lightly and fiercely pulled it out of the stone, and took his horse and rode on his way until he came to his brother Sir Kay, and gave him the sword. And as soon as Sir Kay saw the sword, he knew very well it was the sword from the stone, and so he rode to his father Sir Ector, and said, "Sir, look, here is the sword from the stone, and so I must be king of this land."
When Sir Ector saw the sword, he turned back and came to the church, and there all three of them dismounted and went into the church. And at once he made Sir Kay swear on a holy book how he came by that sword.
"Sir," said Sir Kay, "by my brother Arthur, for he brought it to me."
"How did you get this sword?" said Sir Ector to Arthur.
"Sir, I will tell you. When I came home for my brother's sword, I found nobody at home to give me his sword. And so I thought my brother Sir Kay should not be without a sword, and so I came here in a hurry and pulled it out of the stone without any trouble."
"Did you find any knights around this sword?" said Sir Ector.
"No," said Arthur.
"Now," said Sir Ector to Arthur, "I understand that you must be king of this land."
"Why me," said Arthur, "and for what reason?"
"Sir," said Ector, "because God wills it so. For no man could ever have drawn out this sword except the one who shall be the rightful king of this land. Now let me see whether you can put the sword back where it was, and pull it out again."
"That's no great feat," said Arthur, and so he put it back in the stone. Then Sir Ector tried to pull out the sword, and failed.
"Now you try," said Sir Ector to Sir Kay.
And at once he pulled at the sword with all his might, but it would not budge.
"Now you shall try," said Sir Ector to Arthur.
"Gladly," said Arthur, and pulled it out easily.
And with that Sir Ector knelt down on the ground, and Sir Kay too.
"Alas," said Arthur, "my own dear father and brother, why are you kneeling to me?"
"No, no, my lord Arthur, it is not so. I was never your father, nor of your blood, but I know well that you are of higher blood than I thought you were."
And then Sir Ector told him everything: how he had been entrusted with him to bring him up, and by whose command, and how Merlin had handed him over.
Then Arthur grieved greatly when he understood that Sir Ector was not his father.
"Sir," said Ector to Arthur, "will you be my good and gracious lord when you are king?"
"I would be much to blame otherwise," said Arthur, "for you are the man in the world I owe most to, you and my good lady and mother, your wife, who has fostered me and cared for me as well as her own. And if it is ever God's will that I am king, as you say, you shall ask of me whatever I can do, and I will not fail you. God forbid I should fail you."
"Sir," said Sir Ector, "I will ask no more of you than that you make my son, your foster brother, Sir Kay, seneschal, the steward over all your lands."
"That shall be done," said Arthur, "and more, on my life: no man shall ever have that office but him, while he and I live."
With that they went to the Archbishop, and told him how the sword had been won, and by whom. And on Twelfth Day all the barons came there to try to take the sword, whoever wanted to try. But there, in front of them all, none could take it out but Arthur. At this many lords were angry, and said it was a great shame to them all and to the realm to be ruled over by a boy not born of high blood. And so they quarrelled that time, so that it was put off until Candlemas, when all the barons were to meet there again. But all the while the ten knights were appointed to guard the sword day and night, and so they set a tent over the stone and the sword, and five were always on watch. So at Candlemas many more great lords came there to win the sword, but none could succeed. And just as Arthur had done at Christmas, he did at Candlemas, and pulled out the sword easily, at which the barons were bitterly aggrieved, and put it off again until the high feast of Easter. And as Arthur had done before, so he did at Easter. Yet there were some of the great lords who resented that Arthur should be king, and put it off again until the feast of Pentecost.
Then the Archbishop of Canterbury, by Merlin's foresight, had the best knights they could find brought together, those knights whom Uther Pendragon had loved best and trusted most in his day. And knights such as these were set about Arthur: Sir Baudwin of Britain, Sir Kay, Sir Ulfius, Sir Brastias. All these, with many others, were always about Arthur, day and night, until the feast of Pentecost.
And at the feast of Pentecost all kinds of men who wished to try pulled at the sword, but none could succeed but Arthur, and he pulled it out before all the lords and common people who were there. At this all the common people cried out together, "We will have Arthur for our king! We will put him off no longer, for we all see that it is God's will that he shall be our king, and whoever holds out against it, we will kill him."
And with that they all knelt at once, both rich and poor, and begged Arthur's pardon for having put him off so long. And Arthur forgave them, and took the sword in both his hands, and offered it on the altar where the Archbishop was, and so he was made a knight by the best man who was there. And so the coronation was held at once. And there he swore to his lords and the common people to be a true king, and to stand by true justice from then on, all the days of his life. Then too he made all the lords who held land from the crown come in and do their service as they ought to do. And many complaints were made to Sir Arthur of great wrongs done since the death of King Uther, of many lands that had been taken from lords, knights, ladies and gentlemen. So King Arthur had the lands given back to those who owned them.
When this was done, and the king had settled all the country around London, then he made Sir Kay seneschal of England; and Sir Baudwin of Britain was made constable; and Sir Ulfius was made chamberlain; and Sir Brastias was made warden, to keep watch on the north from the Trent onwards, for at that time it was for the most part the king's enemies. But within a few years Arthur won all the north, Scotland, and all that were under their rule. Part of Wales also held out against Arthur, but he overcame them all, as he did the rest, through his own noble prowess and that of his knights of the Round Table.
Then the king moved into Wales, and had a great feast proclaimed, to be held at Pentecost after his coronation, in the city of Caerleon. To the feast came King Lot of Lothian and of Orkney, with five hundred knights. Also there came to the feast King Uriens of Gore, with four hundred knights. Also there came to that feast King Nentres of Garlot, with seven hundred knights. Also there came to the feast the King of Scotland, with six hundred knights, and he was only a young man. Also there came to the feast a king who was called the King with the Hundred Knights, and he and his men were exceedingly well equipped in every way. Also there came the King of Carados with five hundred knights. And King Arthur was glad of their coming, for he thought that all the kings and knights had come out of great love, and to do him honour at his feast. So the king rejoiced greatly, and sent the kings and knights rich presents. But the kings would accept none of them, and sent the messengers back shamefully rebuked, and said they had no wish to receive gifts from a beardless boy of low birth, and sent him word that they would have none of his gifts, but that they had come to give him gifts with hard swords between the neck and the shoulders. And that was why they had come, as they told the messengers plainly, for it was a great shame to them all to see such a boy have rule over so noble a realm as this land was. With this answer the messengers left, and told King Arthur this answer. So, on the advice of his barons, he withdrew into a strong tower with five hundred good men. And all the kings named above laid siege to him there, after a fashion; but King Arthur was well supplied with food. And within fifteen days Merlin came among them into the city of Caerleon. Then all the kings were exceedingly glad of Merlin, and asked him, "For what reason has that boy Arthur been made your king?"
"Sirs," said Merlin, "I will tell you the reason. It is because he is King Uther Pendragon's son, born in wedlock, conceived on Igraine, the wife of the Duke of Tintagil."
"Then he is a bastard," they all said.
"No," said Merlin. "Arthur was conceived more than three hours after the death of the duke, and thirteen days after that King Uther married Igraine; and so I prove to you that he is no bastard. And whoever says no to it, he shall be king and overcome all his enemies; and before he dies he shall be king of all England for a long time, and have under his rule Wales, Ireland and Scotland, and more realms than I will name now."
Some of the kings marvelled at Merlin's words, and judged that it would be as he said; and some of them laughed him to scorn, as King Lot did; and others called him a wizard. But then they came to an agreement with Merlin that King Arthur should come out and speak with the kings, and come safely and go safely: such a guarantee was given. So Merlin went to King Arthur and told him what he had done, and told him not to be afraid, but to come out boldly and speak with them, and not spare them, but answer them as their king and chieftain, "for you will overcome them all, whether they like it or not."
Then King Arthur came out of his tower, and under his gown he wore a short coat of double mail, and with him went the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Sir Baudwin of Britain, and Sir Kay, and Sir Brastias: these were the men of greatest honour that were with him. And when they met there was no meekness, but bold words on both sides; but King Arthur always answered them, and said he would make them bow if he lived. So they parted in anger, and King Arthur told them to look to themselves, and they told the king to look to himself. So the king went back to the tower again and armed himself and all his knights.
"What will you do?" said Merlin to the kings. "You had better stop, for you will not win here, even if you were ten times as many."
"Are we well advised to be afraid of a dream-reader?" said King Lot.
With that Merlin vanished, and came to King Arthur, and told him to attack them fiercely. And in the meantime three hundred good men, of the best that were with the kings, went straight over to King Arthur, and that comforted him greatly.
"Sir," said Merlin to Arthur, "do not fight with the sword that you won by miracle until you see things going against you; then draw it out and do your best."
So straight away King Arthur attacked them in their camp. And Sir Baudwin, Sir Kay and Sir Brastias killed men on the right hand and on the left so that it was a marvel to see; and all the while King Arthur on horseback laid about him with a sword, and did marvellous deeds of arms, so that many of the kings took great joy in his deeds and his boldness.
Then King Lot broke out at the rear, and the King with the Hundred Knights, and King Carados, and attacked Arthur fiercely from behind. With that Sir Arthur turned with his knights, and struck behind and before, and Sir Arthur was always in the thick of the fighting, until his horse was killed under him. And with that King Lot struck King Arthur down. Then his four knights caught him up and set him on horseback. Then he drew his sword Excalibur, and it was so bright in his enemies' eyes that it gave light like thirty torches. And with that he drove them back, and killed many people. And then the common people of Caerleon rose up with clubs and staves and killed many knights; but all the kings kept together with those of their knights who were left alive, and so fled and went away. And Merlin came to Arthur, and advised him to follow them no further.
So after the feast and the fighting, King Arthur went to London, and so, on Merlin's advice, the king called his barons to council, for Merlin had told the king that the six kings who had made war on him would in all haste take their revenge on him and on his lands. So the king asked all of them for advice. They could give no advice, but said they were strong enough.
"You speak well," said Arthur. "I thank you for your good spirit. But will all of you who love me speak with Merlin? You know well that he has done much for me, and he knows many things, and when he is before you, I would like you to ask him earnestly for his best advice."
All the barons said they would ask him and beg him. So Merlin was sent for, and courteously asked by all the barons to give them his best advice.
"I will tell you," said Merlin. "I warn you all, your enemies are far too strong for you, and they are as good men of arms as any alive. And by this time they have won over four more kings, and a mighty duke. And unless our king has more knights with him than he can raise within the bounds of his own realm, if he fights them in battle he will be overcome and killed."
"What would be best to do in this case?" said all the barons.
"I will tell you my advice," said Merlin. "There are two brothers beyond the sea, and they are both kings, and marvellously good fighting men; and one is called King Ban of Benwick, and the other is called King Bors of Gaul, that is, France. And a mighty man makes war on these two kings, King Claudas, and fights with them over a castle, and there is great war between them. But this Claudas is so rich in goods, with which he gets himself good knights, that for the most part he gets the better of these two kings. So this is my advice: that our king and sovereign lord send to the kings Ban and Bors by two trusty knights, with well-written letters, saying that if they will come and see King Arthur and his court, and so help him in his wars, he will swear to them to help them in their wars against King Claudas. Now, what do you say to this advice?" said Merlin.
"This is good advice," said the king and all the barons.
Right then, in all haste, two knights were appointed to carry the message to the two kings. So letters were written in courteous terms, according to King Arthur's wishes. Ulfius and Brastias were made the messengers, and so they rode off well horsed and well armed, as the custom was at that time, and so crossed the sea and rode toward the city of Benwick. And near there were eight knights who spotted them, and at a narrow pass they met Ulfius and Brastias, and would have taken them prisoner. So they asked them to let them pass, for they were messengers to King Ban and King Bors, sent from King Arthur.
"Then," said the eight knights, "you shall die or be prisoners, for we are knights of King Claudas."
And with that two of them lowered their spears, and Ulfius and Brastias lowered their spears, and they charged together with great force. And Claudas' knights broke their spears, and theirs held, and carried the two knights out of their saddles to the earth, and so they left them lying, and rode on their way. And the other six knights rode ahead to a pass to meet them again, and so Ulfius and Brastias struck down two more, and so went on their way. And at the fourth pass two met two, and both were laid on the earth; so there was not one of the eight knights who was not badly hurt or bruised. And when they came to Benwick, it happened that both kings were there, Ban and Bors.
And when the kings were told that messengers had come, two knights of honour were sent to them, one called Lionses, lord of the country of Payarne, and Sir Phariance, an honourable knight. At once they asked where they came from, and they said from King Arthur, king of England; so they took them in their arms and they rejoiced greatly in each other. But as soon as the two kings knew they were Arthur's messengers, there was no delay, but at once they spoke with the knights, and welcomed them in the most faithful way, and said they were more welcome to them than from any king living; and with that they kissed the letters and delivered them. And when Ban and Bors understood the letters, then the messengers were even more welcome than they were before. And after the urgency of the letters they gave them this answer: that they would fulfil the wish of King Arthur's letter, and that Ulfius and Brastias should stay there as long as they liked, and have as warm a welcome as could be given them in those border lands. Then Ulfius and Brastias told the kings of their adventure with the eight knights at the passes.
"Ha! Ah!" said Ban and Bors. "They were my good friends. I wish I had known of them; they would not have got away so lightly."
So Ulfius and Brastias had a warm welcome and great gifts, as much as they could carry away; and they had their answer by word of mouth and in writing, that those two kings would come to Arthur in all the haste they could. So the two knights rode on ahead, and crossed the sea, and came to their lord, and told him how they had fared, at which King Arthur was exceedingly glad.
"When do you suppose the two kings will be here?"
"Sir," they said, "before All Hallows."
Then the king had a great feast prepared, and had a great jousting proclaimed. And by All Hallows the two kings had come over the sea with three hundred knights, well equipped both for peace and for war. And King Arthur met them ten miles out of London, and there was as great joy as could be imagined or made. And on All Hallows, at the great feast, the three kings sat in the hall, and Sir Kay the seneschal served in the hall, and Sir Lucan the butler, who was Duke Corneus' son, and Sir Griflet, who was the son of Cardol: these three knights had charge of all the service that served the kings. And as soon as they had washed and risen from the table, all the knights who wished to joust made themselves ready; and by the time they were ready on horseback there were seven hundred knights. And Arthur, Ban and Bors, with the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Sir Ector, Kay's father, were in a place hung with cloth of gold like a hall, with ladies and gentlewomen, to watch who did best, and to give judgment on it.
And King Arthur and the two kings had the seven hundred knights divided into two sides. And three hundred knights of the realm of Benwick and of Gaul were turned to the other side. Then they set their shields in place, and many good knights began to level their spears. So Griflet was the first to meet a knight, one Ladinas, and they met so eagerly that everyone wondered at it; and they fought so that their shields fell to pieces, and horse and man fell to the earth; and both the French knight and the English knight lay there so long that everyone thought they were dead. When Lucan the butler saw Griflet lying like that, he got him on his horse again at once, and the two of them did marvellous deeds of arms against many young knights. Also Sir Kay came out of an ambush with five knights with him, and the six of them struck down six others. And Sir Kay did marvellous deeds of arms that day, so that nobody did as well as he did that day. Then came Ladinas and Gracian, two knights of France, and did exceedingly well, so that everyone praised them.
Then came Sir Placidas, a good knight, and met Sir Kay, and struck him down, horse and man, at which Sir Griflet was angry, and met Sir Placidas so hard that horse and man fell to the earth. But when the five knights knew that Sir Kay had had a fall, they were angry out of their wits, and with that each of the five of them bore down a knight. When King Arthur and the two kings saw both sides beginning to grow angry, they leapt on small riding horses, and had it proclaimed that everyone should go back to their lodgings. And so they went home and took off their armour, and so to evensong and supper. And afterwards the three kings went into a garden, and gave the prize to Sir Kay, and to Lucan the butler, and to Sir Griflet. And then they went into council, and with them went Gwenbaus, the brother of King Ban and King Bors, a wise scholar, and Ulfius and Brastias went there, and Merlin. And after they had been in council, they went to bed. And in the morning they heard mass, and went to dinner, and so to their council, and argued a great deal over what was best to do. At last they agreed that Merlin should go with a token from King Ban, and that was a ring, to his men and King Bors'; and that Gracian and Placidas should go back and keep their castles and their countries, for fear of King Claudas, as King Ban of Benwick and King Bors of Gaul had ordered them. And so they crossed the sea and came to Benwick. And when the people saw King Ban's ring, and Gracian and Placidas, they were glad, and asked how the kings were, and rejoiced greatly at their good health and their alliance. And as their sovereign lords wished, the fighting men made themselves ready with all possible haste, so that there were fifteen thousand of them on horse and on foot, and they had a great plenty of food with them, by Merlin's provision. But Gracian and Placidas were left to stock and arm the castles, for fear of King Claudas. Then Merlin crossed the sea, well supplied with food both by water and by land. And when he came to the sea he sent the foot soldiers home again, and took no more with him than ten thousand men on horseback, most of them men-at-arms, and so took ship and crossed the sea into England, and landed at Dover. And through Merlin's cunning, he led the army northward, by the most secret way that could be thought of, to the forest of Bedegraine, and there in a valley he camped them in secret.
Then Merlin rode to Arthur and the two kings, and told them how he had fared; at which they marvelled greatly, that any man on earth could manage so fast, and go and come. So Merlin told them that ten thousand were in the forest of Bedegraine, well armed at all points. Then there was no more to say, but the whole army went to horse, as Arthur had arranged beforehand. So with twenty thousand he travelled by night and by day. But Merlin had made such an order beforehand, that no fighting man should ride or walk in any country on this side of the river Trent unless he had a token from King Arthur, and because of this the king's enemies did not dare ride about to spy as they had done before.
And so within a little while the three kings came to the castle of Bedegraine, and found there an exceedingly fine company, and well equipped, at which they rejoiced greatly, and they lacked no food. This was the reason for the northern army: it had been raised because of the insult and the rebuff the six kings had suffered at Caerleon. And those six kings, through their dealings, had won over five other kings; and so they began to gather their people.
And now they swore that, come good or ill, none of them would leave the others until they had destroyed Arthur. And then they took an oath. The first to begin the oath was the Duke of Cambenet, who swore he would bring with him five thousand men-at-arms, who were ready on horseback. Then King Brandegoris of Stranggore swore that he would bring five thousand men-at-arms on horseback. Then King Clariance of Northumberland swore he would bring three thousand men-at-arms. Then the King of the Hundred Knights, who was an exceedingly good man and a young one, swore that he would bring four thousand men-at-arms on horseback. Then King Lot swore, an exceedingly good knight, and Sir Gawain's father, that he would bring five thousand men-at-arms on horseback. Also King Uriens swore, who was Sir Uwain's father, of the land of Gore, and he would bring six thousand men-at-arms on horseback. Also King Idres of Cornwall swore that he would bring five thousand men-at-arms on horseback. Also King Cradelment swore to bring five thousand men on horseback. Also King Agwisance of Ireland swore to bring five thousand men-at-arms on horseback. Also King Nentres swore to bring five thousand men-at-arms on horseback. Also King Carados swore to bring five thousand men-at-arms on horseback. So their whole army was fifty thousand fully armed men-at-arms on horseback, and ten thousand good men on foot. Then they were soon ready, and mounted on horseback and sent out their scouts ahead of them, for these eleven kings on their way laid siege to the castle of Bedegraine. And so they set out and drew toward Arthur, and left few to stay at the siege, for the castle of Bedegraine was held for King Arthur, and the men who were in it were Arthur's.
So on Merlin's advice scouts were sent out ahead to scour the country, and they met the scouts of the north, and made them tell which way the army was coming, and then they told it to Arthur. And on the advice of King Ban and King Bors they had all the country burned and laid waste ahead of them, wherever the enemy would ride.
The King with the Hundred Knights dreamed a marvellous dream two nights before the battle: that a great wind blew, and blew down their castles and their towns, and after that came a flood and carried it all away. All who heard of the dream said it was a sign of a great battle. Then on Merlin's advice, when they knew which way the eleven kings would ride and where they would camp that night, they attacked them at midnight, as they were in their tents. But the sentries of their army cried out, "Lords! To arms! For here are your enemies upon you!"
Then King Arthur and King Ban and King Bors, with their good and trusty knights, attacked them so fiercely that they brought their tents down on their heads. But the eleven kings, by manly prowess of arms, won their way to an open field; but ten thousand good men were killed there that morning. And so they had a strong pass in front of them, and still they were fifty thousand hardy men. Then it drew toward day.
"Now you shall do as I advise," said Merlin to the three kings. "I would have King Ban and King Bors, with their company of ten thousand men, put in a wood near here, in ambush, and kept secret, and they should be placed there before daylight comes, and they should not stir until you and your knights have fought with the enemy for a long time. And when it is daylight, draw up your army right in front of them and the pass, so that they can see your whole army, for then they will be the bolder, when they see you have only about twenty thousand men, and it will make them the gladder to let you and your army come over the pass."
All three kings and all the barons said that Merlin spoke exceedingly well, and it was done at once as Merlin had planned. So in the morning, when each army saw the other, the army of the north was greatly encouraged. Then three thousand men-at-arms were handed over to Ulfius and Brastias, and they attacked the enemy fiercely in the pass, and killed men on the right hand and on the left so that it was a wonder to tell.
When the eleven kings saw that so small a company did such deeds of arms, they were ashamed, and attacked them again fiercely; and there Sir Ulfius' horse was killed under him, but he did marvellously well on foot. But Duke Eustace of Cambenet and King Clariance of Northumberland kept pressing Ulfius hard. When Brastias saw how his comrade was faring, he struck the duke with a spear, so that horse and man fell down. King Clariance saw that, and turned on Brastias, and each struck the other so that horse and man went to the earth, and so they lay stunned for a long time, and their horses' knees were broken through to the hard bone. Then came Sir Kay the seneschal with six companions, and did exceedingly well. With that came the eleven kings, and there Griflet was put to the earth, horse and man, and Lucan the butler, horse and man, by King Brandegoris, and King Idres, and King Agwisance. Then the fighting grew exceedingly hard on both sides. When Sir Kay saw Griflet on foot, he rode at King Nentres and struck him down, and led his horse to Sir Griflet, and got him mounted again. Also Sir Kay with the same spear struck down King Lot, and hurt him very badly. The King with the Hundred Knights saw that, and rode at Sir Kay and struck him down, and took his horse, and gave it to King Lot, who thanked him. When Sir Griflet saw Sir Kay and Lucan the butler on foot, he took a sharp spear, great and square, and rode at Pinel, a good man of arms, and struck down horse and man, and then he took his horse and gave it to Sir Kay. Then when King Lot saw King Nentres on foot, he rode at Melot de la Roche, and struck him down, horse and man, and gave King Nentres the horse, and got him mounted again. Also the King of the Hundred Knights saw King Idres on foot; then he rode at Gwiniart de Bloi, and struck him down, horse and man, and gave King Idres the horse, and got him mounted again; and King Lot struck down Clariance de la Forest Savage, and gave the horse to Duke Eustace. And so when they had got the kings mounted again, they drew together, all eleven kings, and said they would be revenged for the damage they had taken that day. Meanwhile Sir Ector came in with an eager face, and found Ulfius and Brastias on foot, in great danger of death, badly trampled under the horses' feet.
Then Arthur, like a lion, rode at King Cradelment of North Wales, and struck him through the left side, so that horse and king fell down; and then he took the horse by the rein, and led it to Ulfius, and said, "Have this horse, my old friend, for you have great need of a horse."
"Many thanks," said Ulfius.
Then Sir Arthur did such marvels in arms that everyone wondered at it. When the King with the Hundred Knights saw King Cradelment on foot, he rode at Sir Ector, Sir Kay's father, who was well horsed, and struck down horse and man, and gave the horse to the king, and got him mounted again. And when King Arthur saw the king riding Sir Ector's horse, he was angry, and with his sword he struck the king on the helm, so that a quarter of the helm and shield fell away, and the sword carved on down to the horse's neck, and so the king and the horse fell down to the ground. Then Sir Kay came at Sir Morganore, seneschal to the King of the Hundred Knights, and struck him down, horse and man, and led the horse to his father, Sir Ector. Then Sir Ector rode at a knight called Lardans, and struck down horse and man, and led the horse to Sir Brastias, who had great need of a horse, and had been badly trampled. Then Brastias saw Lucan the butler, who lay like a dead man under the horses' feet, and all the while Sir Griflet was doing marvels to rescue him, and there were always fourteen knights on Sir Lucan. Then Brastias struck one of them on the helm, so that the blow went down to the teeth, and he rode at another and struck him, so that his arm flew into the field. Then he went to the third and struck him on the shoulder, so that shoulder and arm flew into the field. And when Griflet saw help had come, he struck a knight on the temples, so that head and helm went to the earth, and Griflet took that knight's horse, and led it to Sir Lucan, and told him to mount the horse and avenge his hurts. For Brastias had killed a knight earlier and mounted Griflet on his horse.
Then Lucan saw King Agwisance, who had just killed Moris de la Roche, and Lucan rode at him with a short spear that was a heavy one, and gave him such a fall that the horse went down to the earth. Also Lucan found there, on foot, Bloias de la Flandres and Sir Gwinas, two hardy knights, and in the fury that Lucan was in, he killed two young knights and got these two mounted again. Then the battle grew exceedingly hard on both sides; but Arthur was glad that his knights were mounted again, and then they fought together so that the noise and the din rang along the water and the wood. And so King Ban and King Bors made themselves ready, and set their shields and armour in order, and they were so full of spirit that many knights shook and quivered with eagerness. All this while Lucan, and Gwinas, and Briant, and Bellias of Flanders held a hard fight against six kings, that is, King Lot, King Nentres, King Brandegoris, King Idres, King Uriens and King Agwisance. So with the help of Sir Kay and Sir Griflet they pressed these six kings so hard that they scarcely had any power to defend themselves. But when Sir Arthur saw that the battle would not be ended by any means, he went wild as a lion, and steered his horse here and there, on the right hand and on the left, so that he did not stop until he had killed twenty knights. Also he wounded King Lot badly on the shoulder, and made him leave the field, for Sir Kay and Griflet did great deeds of arms there with King Arthur. Then Ulfius, and Brastias, and Sir Ector fought against Duke Eustace, and King Cradelment, and King Clariance of Northumberland, and King Carados, and against the King with the Hundred Knights. So these knights fought with these kings so that they made them give ground.
Then King Lot grieved greatly for his losses and for his companions, and said to the ten kings, "Unless you do as I advise, we shall be killed and destroyed. Let me have the King with the Hundred Knights, and King Agwisance, and King Idres, and the Duke of Cambenet, and we five kings will have fifteen thousand men-at-arms with us, and we will go to one side while you six kings keep up the fight with twelve thousand. When we see that you have fought with them for a long time, then we will come on fiercely. Otherwise we shall never match them," said King Lot, "except by this means."
So they parted as they planned here, and six kings made their side strong against Arthur, and fought hard for a long time.
In the meantime the ambush of King Ban and King Bors broke out, and Lionses and Phariance had the vanguard, and these two knights met King Idres and his company, and there began a great fight, with breaking of spears and striking of swords, and killing of men and horses, and King Idres was close to defeat.
Agwisance the king saw that, and put Lionses and Phariance in danger of death; for the Duke of Cambenet came on along with him with a great company. So these two knights were in such danger of their lives that they were forced to turn back, but all the while they defended themselves and their company marvellously. When King Bors saw those knights driven back, it grieved him badly; then he came on so fast that his company seemed as dark as indigo. When King Lot saw King Bors, he knew him well, and then he said, "O Jesus, defend us from death and horrible wounds! For I see well that we are in great danger of death. For I see over there a king, one of the most honourable men and one of the best knights in the world, who has come to join his company."
"Who is he?" said the King with the Hundred Knights.
"It is King Bors of Gaul," said King Lot. "I wonder how they came into this country without any of us knowing it."
"It was by Merlin's advice," said the knight.
"As for him," said King Carados, "I will take on King Bors, if you will rescue me when there is need."
"Go on," they all said. "We will do all we can."
Then King Carados and his army rode on at an easy pace, until they came within bowshot of King Bors; then each army let their horses run as fast as they could. And Bleoberis, who was King Bors' godson, carried his chief standard; he was an exceedingly good knight.
"Now we shall see," said King Bors, "how these northern Britons can bear arms."
And King Bors met a knight, and struck him right through with a spear, so that he fell dead on the earth; and afterwards he drew his sword and did marvellous deeds of arms, so that everyone on both sides wondered greatly at it. And his knights did not fail, but did their part, and King Carados was struck to the earth. With that came the King with the Hundred Knights and rescued King Carados mightily by force of arms, for he was an exceedingly good knight for a king, and only a young man.
By then King Ban came into the field, as fierce as a lion, with bands of green, and gold upon them.
"Ha! Ah!" said King Lot. "We must be defeated, for over there I see the most valiant knight in the world, and the man of greatest renown, for there are no two brothers living such as King Ban and King Bors. So we must either withdraw or die; and unless we withdraw manfully and wisely, there is nothing but death."
When King Ban came into the battle, he came in so fiercely that the strokes echoed back from the wood and the water; and at that King Lot wept for pity and grief, to see so many good knights meet their end. But through the great force of King Ban, the two northern armies that had separated were driven crashing together in great fear; and the three kings and their knights kept on killing, so that it was pitiful to see that multitude of people fleeing. But King Lot, and the King of the Hundred Knights, and King Morganore gathered the people together in exceedingly knightly fashion, and did great feats of arms, and held the battle all that day, hard as it was.
When the King of the Hundred Knights saw the great damage that King Ban did, he drove at him with his horse, and struck him high upon the helm, a great stroke, and stunned him badly. Then King Ban was angry with him, and went after him fiercely. The other saw that, and threw up his shield, and spurred his horse forward; but King Ban's stroke fell and cut a piece out of the shield, and the sword slid down the hauberk, his mail shirt, behind his back, and cut through the horse's steel armour and through the horse itself, clean in two, so that the sword struck the earth. Then the King of the Hundred Knights got clear of the horse nimbly, and with his sword he ran King Ban's horse through and through. With that King Ban sprang nimbly clear of the dead horse, and then King Ban struck at the other so eagerly, and hit him on the helm, so that he fell to the earth. Also in that fury he felled King Morganore, and there was great slaughter of good knights and of many people. By then King Arthur came into the thick of the fighting, and found King Ban standing among dead men and dead horses, fighting on foot like a raging lion, so that nobody came near him, as far as he could reach with his sword, without catching a grievous blow; and King Arthur felt great pity for him. And Arthur was so bloody that no man could know him by his shield, for it was all blood and brains on his sword. And as Arthur looked beside him he saw a knight who was exceedingly well horsed, and with that Sir Arthur rode at him, and struck him on the helm, so that his sword went down to his teeth, and the knight sank down to the earth dead. And at once Arthur took the horse by the rein, and led it to King Ban, and said, "Fair brother, have this horse, for you have great need of it, and I am deeply sorry for your great losses."
"It shall soon be avenged," said King Ban, "for I trust in God that my hand has not lost its habit so far that some of them will not sorely regret this."
"I can well believe it," said Arthur, "for I see your deeds are full of action. Even so, I could not get to you at that time."
But when King Ban was mounted on horseback, then a new battle began, which was fierce and hard, with exceedingly great slaughter. And so through great force King Arthur, King Ban and King Bors made their knights draw back a little. But all the while the eleven kings with their knights never turned back; and so they withdrew to a little wood, and so over a little river, and there they rested, for at night they could have no rest on the field. And then the eleven kings and knights drew into a close mass, all together, like men afraid and past all comfort. But no man could break through them, they held so hard together both behind and before, so that King Arthur marvelled at their deeds of arms, and was exceedingly angry.
"Ah, Sir Arthur," said King Ban and King Bors, "don't blame them, for they are doing as good men ought to do. For by my faith," said King Ban, "they are the best fighting men, and the knights of greatest prowess, that I ever saw or heard tell of, and those eleven kings are men of great honour; and if they belonged to you, there would be no king under heaven who had eleven such knights, and of such honour."
"I cannot love them," said Arthur. "They would destroy me."
"We know that well," said King Ban and King Bors, "for they are your mortal enemies, and that has been proved already; and this day they have done their part, and it is a great pity they are so wilful."
Then all the eleven kings drew together, and then King Lot said, "Lords, you must act otherwise than you are doing, or else the great loss is still to come. You can see what people we have lost, and what good men we are losing, because we keep waiting for these foot soldiers; and every time we save one of the foot soldiers we lose ten horsemen for him. So this is my advice: let us send our foot soldiers away from us, for it is near night, and the noble Arthur will not stop for the foot soldiers, and they can save themselves, for the wood is close at hand. And when we horsemen are together, see that each one of you kings gives such orders that no man breaks ranks, on pain of death. And whoever sees any man turn to run, let him be killed at once, for it is better that we kill a coward than that all of us be killed through a coward. What do you say?" said King Lot. "Answer me, all you kings."
"It is well said," said King Nentres; so said the King of the Hundred Knights; the same said King Carados, and King Uriens; so did King Idres and King Brandegoris; and so did King Cradelment, and the Duke of Cambenet; the same said King Clariance and King Agwisance. And they swore they would never fail one another, neither for life nor for death. And whoever fled, and did not do as they did, should be killed. Then they repaired their armour, and set their shields straight, and took new spears and rested them on their thighs, and stood as still as if they had been a clump of trees.
When Sir Arthur and King Ban and King Bors saw them and all their knights, they praised them highly for their noble knightly bearing, as the hardiest fighters they had ever heard of or seen. With that some forty noble knights made themselves ready, and told the three kings that they would break the enemy's line. These were their names: Lionses, Phariance, Ulfius, Brastias, Ector, Kay, Lucan the butler, Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Mariet de la Roche, Guinas de Bloi, Briant de la Forest Savage, Bellaus, Morians of the Castle of Maidens, Flannedrius of the Castle of Ladies, Annecians, who was King Bors' godson, a noble knight, Ladinas de la Rouse, Emerause, Caulas, Graciens le Castlein, one Blois de la Case, and Sir Colgrevaunce de Gorre. All these knights rode on ahead with their spears resting on their thighs, and spurred their horses as hard as the horses could run. And the eleven kings with part of their knights charged with their horses as fast as they could with their spears, and there on both sides they did marvellous deeds of arms. So Arthur, Ban and Bors came into the thick of the fighting, and cut men down right and left, so that their horses went in blood up to the fetlocks. But all the while the eleven kings and their army kept their faces turned to Arthur. And at this Ban and Bors marvelled greatly, considering the great slaughter there was; but at last the enemy were driven back over a little river.
With that Merlin came on a great black horse, and said to Arthur, "Will you never be done? Haven't you done enough? Of sixty thousand men you have left only fifteen thousand alive this day, and it is time to call a halt! For God is angry with you, that you will never be done. For those eleven kings over there will not be overthrown this time, and if you keep on at them any longer, your fortune will turn and theirs will grow. And so withdraw to your lodging, and rest as soon as you can, and reward your good knights with gold and with silver, for they have well deserved it. No riches can be too costly for them, for out of so few men as you have, there were never men who did more feats of prowess than they have done today, for you have been matched this day with the best fighters in the world."
"That is the truth," said King Ban and King Bors.
"Also," said Merlin, "withdraw wherever you wish, for I dare promise that for these three years they will not harm you; and by then you will hear new tidings."
And then Merlin said to Arthur, "These eleven kings have more on their hands than they know, for the Saracens have landed in their countries, more than forty thousand of them, who burn and kill, and have laid siege to the castle of Wandesborow, and are doing great destruction. So do not be afraid for these three years. Also, sir, have all the goods that were taken in this battle searched out, and when you have them in your hands, have them given freely to these two kings, Ban and Bors, so that they may reward their knights with them; and that will make strangers more willing to serve you in time of need. And you are able to reward your own knights out of your own goods whenever you please."
"It is well said," said Arthur, "and as you have planned, so it shall be done."
When it was handed over to Ban and Bors, they gave the goods to their knights as freely as it had been given to them. Then Merlin took his leave of Arthur and of the two kings, to go and see his master Bleise, who lived in Northumberland. And so he left and came to his master, who was exceedingly glad of his coming; and there he told how Arthur and the two kings had fared at the great battle, and how it had ended, and told the names of every king and knight of honour who was there. And so Bleise wrote down the battle word for word, as Merlin told it to him, how it began, and by whom, and likewise how it ended, and who had the worst of it. All the battles that were fought in Arthur's days, Merlin had his master Bleise write down; and he also had written down all the battles that every worthy knight of Arthur's court fought.
After this Merlin left his master and came to King Arthur, who was in the castle of Bedegraine, which was one of the castles that stand in the forest of Sherwood. And Merlin was so disguised that King Arthur did not know him, for he was all wrapped in black sheepskins, with a great pair of boots, and a bow and arrows, in a russet gown, and he had wild geese in his hand; and it was the morning after Candlemas Day. But King Arthur did not know him.
"Sir," said Merlin to the king, "will you give me a gift?"
"And why should I give you a gift, peasant?" said King Arthur.
"Sir," said Merlin, "you would do better to give me a gift that is not in your hand than to lose great riches, for here, in the same place where the great battle was, there is great treasure hidden in the earth."
"Who told you so, peasant?" said Arthur.
"Merlin told me so," said he.
Then Ulfius and Brastias knew him well enough, and smiled.
"Sir," said these two knights, "it is Merlin who is speaking to you."
Then King Arthur was greatly taken aback, and marvelled at Merlin, and so did King Ban and King Bors, and so they had great fun at his expense.
Meanwhile there came a damsel who was an earl's daughter: his name was Sanam, and her name was Lionors, an exceedingly beautiful damsel; and so she came there to do homage, as other lords did after the great battle. And King Arthur set his love greatly on her, and so did she on him, and the king lay with her, and fathered a child on her: his name was Borre, who was afterwards a good knight, and of the Round Table. Then word came that King Rience of North Wales was making great war on King Leodegrance of Cameliard, at which Arthur was angry, for he loved him well, and hated King Rience, for he was always against him. So, by arrangement of the three kings, those who were sent home to Benwick were all to leave, for fear of King Claudas: Phariance, and Antemes, and Gracian, and Lionses of Payarne, with the leaders of those who were to keep the kings' lands.
And then King Arthur, and King Ban, and King Bors set out with their company, some twenty thousand, and within six days came into the country of Cameliard, and there rescued King Leodegrance, and killed many of King Rience's people there, to the number of ten thousand men, and put him to flight. And then these three kings had a great welcome from King Leodegrance, who thanked them for their great goodness in avenging him on his enemies. And there Arthur had his first sight of Guinevere, the daughter of the King of Cameliard, and ever after he loved her. Afterwards they were married, as the book tells. So, to make an end briefly, the kings took their leave to go to their own countries, for King Claudas was doing great destruction on their lands.
Then Arthur said, "I will go with you."
"No," said the kings, "you shall not at this time, for you still have much to do in these lands. So we will go, and with the great riches we have won in these lands by your gifts, we will hire good knights and stand against King Claudas' malice. For by the grace of God, if we have need we will send to you for your help; and if you have need, send for us, and we will not delay, on our lives."
"There will be no need," said Merlin, "for these two kings to come back by way of war. But I know well that King Arthur will not be long away from you, for within a year or two you will have great need, and then he will avenge you on your enemies, as you have done on his. For these eleven kings shall all die in one day, by the great might and prowess of arms of two valiant knights (as is told later); their names are Balin le Savage and Balan his brother, and they are as marvellously good knights as any living."
Now we turn to the eleven kings, who went back to a city called Sorhaute, which was in King Uriens' land, and there they refreshed themselves as well as they could, and had doctors look to their wounds, and grieved greatly for the death of their people. With that a messenger came and told how people had come into their lands who were lawless men as well as Saracens, some forty thousand, and had burned and killed all the people they could reach, without mercy, and had laid siege to the castle of Wandesborow.
"Alas," said the eleven kings, "here is sorrow upon sorrow. If we had not made war on Arthur as we have done, he would soon avenge us. As for King Leodegrance, he loves Arthur better than us; and as for King Rience, he has enough to do with Leodegrance, for he has laid siege to him."
So they agreed together to guard all the borders of Cornwall, of Wales and of the North. So first they put King Idres in the city of Nauntes in Brittany, with four thousand men-at-arms, to watch both the water and the land. Also they put King Nentres of Garlot in the city of Windesan, with four thousand knights, to watch both on water and on land. Also they had more than eight thousand other fighting men, to fortify all the fortresses on the borders of Cornwall. Also they put more knights all along the borders of Wales and Scotland, with many good men-at-arms; and so they held together for the space of three years, and all the while made alliances with mighty kings and dukes and lords. And King Rience of North Wales joined them, and with him Nero, who was a mighty man of men. And all this while they stocked and armed themselves with good men-at-arms, and food, and every kind of equipment that belongs to war, to avenge themselves for the battle of Bedegraine, as is told in the book of adventures that follows.
Then, after King Ban and King Bors had gone, King Arthur rode into Caerleon. And there came to him King Lot's wife, of Orkney, as if bearing a message, but in fact she had been sent there to spy on King Arthur's court. And she came richly dressed, with her four sons, Gawain, Gaheris, Agravain and Gareth, and with many other knights and ladies. For she was an exceedingly beautiful lady, and so the king fell deeply in love with her, and wanted to sleep with her. So they agreed, and he fathered Mordred on her, and she was his sister, on his mother's side, Igraine's. So she stayed there a month, and at last she left. Then the king dreamed a marvellous dream, which badly frightened him. But all this time King Arthur did not know that King Lot's wife was his sister. This was Arthur's dream: he dreamed that griffins and serpents had come into this land, and he dreamed that they burned and killed all the people in the land, and then he dreamed that he fought with them, and they did him exceedingly great harm, and wounded him very badly, but at last he killed them. When the king woke, he was exceedingly heavy-hearted over his dream, and so, to put it out of his thoughts, he made ready with many knights to ride hunting. As soon as he was in the forest the king saw a great hart in front of him.
"This hart I will chase," said King Arthur.
And so he spurred his horse, and rode after it a long way, and by sheer force he was often on the point of striking the hart. But the king had chased the hart so long that his horse lost its wind and fell down dead. Then a yeoman fetched the king another horse.
So when the king saw the hart had gone to cover, and his horse was dead, he sat down by a spring, and there he fell deep into thought. And as he sat like this, he thought he heard a noise of hounds, as many as thirty. And with that the king saw coming towards him the strangest beast that he had ever seen or heard of. So the beast went to the spring and drank, and the noise in the beast's belly was like the baying of thirty couple of hounds on the scent; but all the while the beast drank there was no noise in its belly. And with that the beast went off with a great noise, at which the king marvelled greatly. And so he was deep in thought, and with that he fell asleep. Just then a knight came on foot to Arthur and said, "Knight, sitting there sleepy and lost in thought, tell me if you saw a strange beast pass this way."
"I saw one like that," said King Arthur, "and by now it is two miles off. What do you want with the beast?" said Arthur.
"Sir, I have followed that beast a long time, and killed my horse doing it. So I wish to God I had another, to follow my quest."
Just then someone came with the king's horse, and when the knight saw the horse, he begged the king to give it to him: "For I have followed this quest this past twelvemonth, and either I shall take the beast, or I will shed the best blood of my body."
Pellinore, a king at that time, followed the Questing Beast, and after his death Sir Palomides followed it.
"Sir knight," said the king, "give up that quest, and let me have it, and I will follow it for another twelvemonth."
"You fool," said the knight to Arthur, "you want it for nothing. It shall never be achieved except by me, or by my next of kin."
With that he leapt to the king's horse and mounted into the saddle, and said, "Many thanks. This horse is mine now."
"Well," said the king, "you may take my horse by force, but I would like to find out whether you are better on horseback than I am."
"Well," said the knight, "look for me here whenever you like, and here near this spring you will find me." And so he went on his way.
Then the king sat deep in thought, and told his men to fetch his horse as fast as ever they could. Just then Merlin came by him, looking like a child of fourteen, and greeted the king, and asked him why he was so thoughtful.
"I may well be thoughtful," said the king, "for I have seen the most marvellous sight that I ever saw."
"I know that well," said Merlin, "as well as you do yourself, and all your thoughts besides. But you are a fool to brood, for it will not help you. I also know who you are, and who your father was, and who you were born to. King Uther Pendragon was your father, and fathered you on Igraine."
"That is false," said King Arthur. "How could you know it? You are not old enough to have known my father."
"Yes," said Merlin, "I know it better than you or any man alive."
"I will not believe you," said Arthur, and he was angry with the child.
So Merlin went away, and came back in the likeness of an old man of eighty, at which the king was very glad, for he seemed to be very wise.
Then said the old man, "Why are you so sad?"
"I may well be heavy-hearted," said Arthur, "for many reasons. Besides, there was a child here, and he told me many things that I think he had no business knowing, for he was not old enough to have known my father."
"Yes," said the old man, "the child told you the truth, and he would have told you more if you had let him. But you have lately done a thing for which God is displeased with you, for you have lain with your sister, and on her you have fathered a child who will destroy you and all the knights of your realm."
"Who are you," said Arthur, "to tell me this news?"
"I am Merlin, and it was I who was in the child's likeness."
"Ah," said King Arthur, "you are a marvellous man. But I marvel greatly at your words, that I must die in battle."
"Do not marvel," said Merlin, "for it is God's will that your body be punished for your foul deeds. But I may well be sorry," said Merlin, "for I shall die a shameful death, to be put into the earth alive, and you shall die an honourable death."
And as they were talking of this, someone came with the king's horse, and so the king mounted his horse, and Merlin another, and so they rode to Caerleon. And at once the king asked Ector and Ulfius how he had been fathered, and they told him that Uther Pendragon was his father and Queen Igraine his mother.
Then he said to Merlin, "I want my mother sent for, so that I may speak with her; and if she says so herself, then I will believe it."
In all haste the queen was sent for, and she came, and brought with her Morgan le Fay, her daughter, who was as beautiful a lady as any could be. And the king welcomed Igraine in the best way he could.
Just then Ulfius came, and said openly, so that the king and everyone feasting there that day could hear, "You are the falsest lady in the world, and the greatest traitor to the king's person."
"Be careful what you say," said Arthur. "That is a heavy charge."
"I know very well what I am saying," said Ulfius, "and here is my glove, to prove it on the body of any man who says otherwise: that this Queen Igraine is the cause of your great harm, and of your great war. For if she had spoken out in the lifetime of King Uther Pendragon about your birth, and how you were fathered, you would never have had the deadly wars you have had. For most of the barons of your realm never knew whose son you were, nor who fathered you. And she who bore you in her body should have made it known openly, to clear her own honour and yours, and likewise to the whole realm. And so I prove her false to God and to you and to all your realm, and whoever says otherwise, I will prove it on his body."
Then Igraine spoke and said, "I am a woman and I cannot fight, but rather than be dishonoured, some good man would take up my quarrel. What is more," she said, "Merlin knows well, and so do you, Sir Ulfius, how King Uther came to me in the castle of Tintagil in the likeness of my lord, who had been dead three hours before, and so fathered a child on me that night. And thirteen days after, King Uther married me, and by his command, when the child was born, it was handed over to Merlin and brought up by him. And so I never saw the child again, nor do I know what his name is, for I have never known him yet."
And there Ulfius said to the queen, "Merlin is more to blame than you."
"I know well," said the queen, "that I bore a child by my lord King Uther, but I do not know what has become of him."
Then Merlin took the king by the hand, saying, "This is your mother."
And with that Sir Ector bore witness how he had brought him up by Uther's command. And with that King Arthur took his mother, Queen Igraine, in his arms and kissed her, and they wept over each other. And then the king had a feast made that lasted eight days.
Then one day there came into the court a squire on horseback, leading before him a knight wounded to the death, and told him how there was a knight in the forest who had put up a tent by a spring, "and he has killed my master, a good knight; his name was Miles. And so I beg you that my master may be buried, and that some knight may avenge my master's death."
Then there was great talk in the court of that knight's death, and every man gave his opinion. Then Griflet came, who was only a squire, and he was young, the same age as King Arthur; and he begged the king, for all the service he had done him, to give him the order of knighthood.
"You are very young and tender in years," said Arthur, "to take so high an order on yourself."
"Sir," said Griflet, "I beg you, make me a knight."
"Sir," said Merlin, "it would be a great pity to lose Griflet, for he will be an exceedingly good man when he comes of age, and will stay with you all his life. And if he risks his body against that knight at the spring, he is in great danger of never coming back, for that is one of the best knights in the world, and the strongest man at arms."
"Well," said Arthur.
So at Griflet's wish the king made him a knight.
"Now," said Arthur to Sir Griflet, "since I have made you a knight, you must grant me a gift."
"Whatever you wish," said Griflet.
"You shall promise me on your life that when you have jousted with the knight at the spring, whether you end up on foot or on horseback, you will come straight back to me without any further fighting."
"I promise you," said Griflet, "as you wish."
Then Griflet took his horse in great haste, and set his shield and took a spear in his hand, and so he rode at a great gallop until he came to the spring. And beside it he saw a rich tent, and beside that, under a cloth, stood a fine horse, well saddled and bridled, and on a tree hung a shield of several colours and a great spear. Then Griflet struck the shield with the butt of his spear, so that the shield fell down to the ground. With that the knight came out of the tent, and said, "Fair knight, why did you strike down my shield?"
"Because I will joust with you," said Griflet.
"It is better you don't," said the knight, "for you are only young, and newly made a knight, and your strength is nothing to mine."
"Be that as it may," said Griflet, "I will joust with you."
"I am loath to," said the knight, "but since I must, I will make ready for it. Where are you from?" said the knight.
"Sir, I am from Arthur's court."
So the two knights charged together, and Griflet's spear shattered to pieces; and with that the knight struck Griflet through the shield and the left side, and broke his spear, so that the stump stuck in his body, and horse and knight fell down.
When the knight saw him lying on the ground like that, he dismounted, and was exceedingly heavy-hearted, for he thought he had killed him. And then he unlaced his helmet and gave him air, and so, with the spear-stump still in him, he set him on his horse, and so commended him to God, and said he had a mighty heart, and if he lived he would prove an exceedingly good knight. And so Sir Griflet rode to the court, where there was great grieving over him. But through good doctors he was healed and saved.
Just then twelve knights came into the court, and they were old men, and they came from the Emperor of Rome. And they demanded tribute from Arthur for this realm, or else the emperor would destroy him and his land.
"Well," said King Arthur, "you are messengers, and so you may say what you like, or else you would die for it. But this is my answer: I owe the emperor no tribute, and I will pay him none. But on a fair field I will give him his tribute, and it shall be with a sharp spear, or else with a sharp sword, and that shall not be long in coming, by my father's soul, Uther Pendragon."
And with that the messengers left, exceedingly angry, and King Arthur just as angry, for they had come at a bad time; for the king was exceedingly angry over the wounding of Sir Griflet. And so he commanded a trusted man of his chamber that before daybreak his best horse and armour, with everything that belonged to his person, should be outside the city before the next morning. So before the next morning he met his man and his horse, and so he mounted and set his shield and took his spear, and told his chamberlain to wait there until he came back. And so Arthur rode at an easy pace until it was day, and then he saw three peasants chasing Merlin, and they would have killed him. Then the king rode up to them, and ordered them, "Run, you churls!" Then they were afraid when they saw a knight, and ran.
"O Merlin," said Arthur, "you would have been killed here, for all your arts, if it had not been for me."
"No," said Merlin, "not so, for I could save myself if I wanted to. And you are nearer your death than I am, for you are riding to your death, unless God is your friend."
So as they went along talking like this, they came to the spring, and the rich tent beside it. Then King Arthur saw a knight sitting in a chair, in armour.
"Sir knight," said Arthur, "for what reason do you wait here, so that no knight may ride this way unless he jousts with you?" said the king. "My advice to you is to give up that custom," said Arthur.
"This custom," said the knight, "I have kept and I will keep, in spite of anyone who says no; and whoever is aggrieved by my custom, let him change it, whoever wants to."
"I will change it," said Arthur.
"And I will defend it against you," said the knight.
At once he took his horse and set his shield and took a spear, and they met so hard, each on the other's shield, that both their spears shattered to pieces. With that Arthur at once pulled out his sword.
"No, not so," said the knight. "It is better," said the knight, "for the two of us to run at each other again with sharp spears."
"Gladly," said Arthur, "if I had any more spears."
"I have plenty," said the knight.
So a squire came and brought two good spears, and Arthur chose one and the knight the other. So they spurred their horses and came together with all their might, so that each broke his spear off in his hand. Then Arthur put his hand to his sword.
"No," said the knight, "you shall do better. You are as good a jouster as any I ever met, and for the love of the high order of knighthood, let us joust just once more."
"I agree," said Arthur.
At once two great spears were brought, and each knight took a spear, and with that they charged together, so that Arthur's spear shattered to pieces. But the other knight hit him so hard in the middle of the shield that horse and man fell to the earth. And with that Arthur was fierce, and pulled out his sword, and said, "I will try you on foot, sir knight, for I have lost the honour on horseback."
"I will stay on horseback," said the knight.
Then Arthur was angry, and set his shield towards him with his sword drawn. When the knight saw that, he dismounted, for he thought there was no honour in having a knight at such a disadvantage, himself on horseback and the other on foot. And so he dismounted and set his shield towards Arthur. And there began a hard battle with many great strokes, and they hewed so with their swords that the pieces of their armour flew across the fields, and they both bled so much that the whole place where they fought was soaked with blood. And so they fought a long time, and rested, and then they went back to the battle, and so crashed together like two rams that both fell to the earth. So at last they struck together so that both their swords met squarely. But the knight's sword struck King Arthur's sword into two pieces, and at that he was heavy-hearted.
Then said the knight to Arthur, "You are in my power, to save or to kill as I please. And unless you yield yourself beaten and a recreant, a knight who begs for his life, you shall die."
"As for death," said King Arthur, "it is welcome whenever it comes. But as for yielding to you as a recreant, I would rather die than be so shamed."
And with that the king leapt at Pellinore, and took him by the middle and threw him down, and tore off his helmet. When the knight felt that, he was afraid, for he was an exceedingly big man and a strong one. And at once he brought Arthur under him, and tore off his helmet, and would have struck off his head.
With that Merlin came and said, "Knight, hold your hand! For if you kill that knight you will do this realm the greatest harm that any realm ever suffered. For this knight is a man of more honour than you know."
"Why, who is he?" said the knight.
"It is King Arthur."
Then he would have killed him, for fear of his anger, and raised his sword. And with that Merlin cast an enchantment on the knight, so that he fell to the earth in a deep sleep. Then Merlin took up King Arthur, and rode off on the knight's horse.
"Alas!" said Arthur. "What have you done, Merlin? Have you killed this good knight with your arts? There is no knight alive as honourable as he was. I would give a year's revenue from my land to have him alive again."
"Don't worry," said Merlin, "for he is in better health than you; he is only asleep, and will wake within three hours. I told you," said Merlin, "what a knight he was. You would have been killed here if it had not been for me. Besides, there is no bigger knight alive than he is, and from now on he will do you very good service. And his name is Pellinore, and he will have two sons who will be exceedingly good men; except for one, they will have no equal in prowess and in good living. And their names will be Percival of Wales and Lamorak of Wales. And he will tell you the name of your own son, fathered on your sister, who will be the destruction of all this realm."
Then the king and Merlin left, and went to a hermit who was a good man and a great healer. So the hermit searched all his wounds and gave him good salves. So the king was there three days, and by then his wounds had mended well enough that he could ride and walk, and so they left. And as they rode, Arthur said, "I have no sword."
"No matter," said Merlin. "Near here is a sword that shall be yours, if I can manage it."
So they rode until they came to a lake, which was a fair, broad water, and in the middle of the lake Arthur saw an arm clothed in white samite, a rich silk, that held a fair sword in that hand.
"Look!" said Merlin. "There is the sword I spoke of."
With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake.
"What damsel is that?" said Arthur.
"That is the Lady of the Lake," said Merlin. "And within that lake is a rock, and in it is as fair a place as any on earth, and richly furnished. And this damsel will come to you soon, and then speak courteously to her, so that she will give you that sword."
At once the damsel came to Arthur, and greeted him, and he greeted her in return.
"Damsel," said Arthur, "what sword is that, which the arm over there holds above the water? I wish it were mine, for I have no sword."
"Sir Arthur, king," said the damsel, "that sword is mine, and if you will give me a gift when I ask it of you, you shall have it."
"On my faith," said Arthur, "I will give you whatever gift you ask."
"Well!" said the damsel. "Get into that barge over there, and row yourself to the sword, and take it and the scabbard with you, and I will ask for my gift when I see my time."
So Sir Arthur and Merlin dismounted and tied their horses to two trees, and so they went into the boat. And when they came to the sword that the hand held, Sir Arthur took it up by the handle, and took it with him, and the arm and the hand went under the water. And so they came to land and rode on, and then Sir Arthur saw a rich tent.
"What is that tent over there?"
"It is the tent of the knight you fought with last," said Merlin, "Sir Pellinore. But he is out; he is not there. He has had a fight with a knight of yours called Egglame, and they have fought together, but in the end Egglame fled, or else he would have been dead, and Pellinore has chased him all the way to Caerleon. And we shall meet him soon on the highway."
"That is well said," said Arthur. "Now I have a sword, now I will do battle with him, and be avenged on him."
"Sir, you shall not," said Merlin, "for the knight is weary of fighting and chasing, so that there would be no honour for you in fighting him. Also, he will not easily be matched by any one knight alive. And so it is my advice: let him pass, for he will do you good service before long, and his sons after his days. Also, you will see the day, before long, when you will be very glad to give him your sister in marriage."
"When I see him, I will do as you advise," said Arthur.
Then Sir Arthur looked at the sword, and liked it exceedingly well.
"Which do you like better," said Merlin, "the sword or the scabbard?"
"I like the sword better," said Arthur.
"Then you are the less wise," said Merlin, "for the scabbard is worth ten of the sword. For while you have the scabbard on you, you will never lose any blood, however badly you are wounded. So always keep the scabbard safe with you."
So they rode to Caerleon, and on the way they met Sir Pellinore. But Merlin had worked such a craft that Pellinore did not see Arthur, and he passed by without a word.
"I wonder," said Arthur, "that the knight would not speak."
"Sir," said Merlin, "he did not see you, for if he had seen you, you would not have got away so easily."
So they came to Caerleon, and his knights were exceedingly glad of it. And when they heard of his adventures, they marvelled that he would risk his person like that, alone. But all men of honour said it was a fine thing to serve under such a chieftain, who would put his person at risk in adventures as other poor knights did.
Meanwhile a messenger came from King Rience of North Wales, and he was king of all Ireland too, and of many islands. And this was his message, greeting King Arthur in this way: saying that King Rience had defeated and overcome eleven kings, and every one of them did him homage, and this was how: they gave him their beards, flayed clean off, as much as there was of them. And so the messenger had come for King Arthur's beard. For King Rience had trimmed a cloak with kings' beards, and there was one place lacking on the cloak; and so he sent for his beard, or else he would invade his lands, and burn and kill, and never stop until he had the head and the beard.
"Well," said Arthur, "you have delivered your message, which is the most insulting and ignorant message that any man ever heard sent to a king. Also, you can see that my beard is still very young to make a trimming out of. But tell your king this: I owe him no homage, and none of my forefathers did; but before long he shall do me homage on both his knees, or else he shall lose his head, on my life. For this is the most shameful message that I ever heard of. I can see your king has never yet met a man of honour. But tell him I will have his head unless he does me homage."
Then the messenger left.
"Now, is there anyone here," said Arthur, "who knows King Rience?"
Then a knight called Naram answered, "Sir, I know the king well. He is an exceedingly good fighting man, as few alive are, and an exceedingly proud man. And sir, have no doubt he will make war on you with a mighty army."
"Well," said Arthur, "I will deal with him before long."
Then King Arthur had all the children born on May Day sent for, fathered by lords and born of ladies; for Merlin had told King Arthur that the one who would destroy him would be born on May Day. And so he sent for them all, on pain of death. And so many lords' sons were found, and all were sent to the king, and so Mordred was sent by King Lot's wife. And all were put in a ship and sent out to sea, and some were four weeks old, and some less. And so by chance the ship was driven against a castle, and was broken all to pieces, and most of them were lost, except that Mordred was cast up, and a good man found him, and brought him up until he was fourteen years old, and then he brought him to the court, as it is told afterwards, towards the end of the Death of Arthur. So many lords and barons of this realm were displeased, because their children were lost like this, and many put the blame on Merlin more than on Arthur; so, what with fear and what with love, they held their peace. But when the messenger came back to King Rience, he was mad with rage beyond measure, and gathered a great army, as it is told later in the book of Balin le Savage, which follows next, and how by chance Balin got the sword.
Here ends the first book.
After the death of Uther Pendragon, Arthur his son reigned, and he had great wars in his day to bring all England into his hand. For there were many kings within the realm of England, and in Wales, Scotland and Cornwall. So it happened one time, when King Arthur was at London, that a knight came and told the king the news that King Rience of North Wales had raised a great number of men, and they had entered the land, and were burning and killing the king's loyal subjects.
"If this is true," said Arthur, "it would be a great shame to my rank unless he were mightily resisted."
"It is the truth," said the knight, "for I saw the army myself."
"Well," said the king, "have a proclamation made, that all the lords, knights and gentlemen of arms should gather at a castle called Camelot in those days, and there the king will hold a general council and a great joust."
So when the king had come there with all his barons, and they were lodged as seemed best to them, a damsel had come there who was sent with a message from the great lady Lile of Avalon. And when she came before King Arthur, she told him whom she came from, and how she had been sent to him with a message, for these reasons. Then she let her richly furred cloak fall, and then she was seen to be wearing a noble sword belted at her side. The king marvelled at it, and said, "Damsel, why are you wearing that sword? It does not become you."
"Now I will tell you," said the damsel. "This sword that I am wearing gives me great sorrow and trouble, for I cannot be freed of this sword except by a knight, and he must be an exceedingly good man of his hands and of his deeds, and without baseness or treachery, and without treason. And if I can find such a knight who has all these virtues, he can draw this sword out of the sheath. For I have been at King Rience's court, where I was told there were exceedingly good knights, and he and all his knights have tried it and none can succeed."
"This is a great marvel," said Arthur, "if it is true. I will try to draw out the sword myself, not presuming that I am the best knight, but so that I will start drawing at your sword as an example to all the barons, so that they will try, every one after another, when I have tried it."
Then Arthur took the sword by the sheath and by the belt and pulled at it hard, but the sword would not come out.
"Sir," said the damsel, "you need not pull half so hard, for the man who is to pull it out will do it with little strength."
"You speak well," said Arthur. "Now try, all my barons; but take care that you are not stained with shame, treachery or guile."
"Then it will be no use," said the damsel, "for he must be a clean knight without baseness, and of gentle blood on his father's side and his mother's side."
Most of the barons of the Round Table who were there at that time all tried in turn, but none could succeed. And so the damsel grieved beyond measure, and said, "Alas! I thought the best knights without treachery or treason were in this court."
"On my faith," said Arthur, "there are good knights here, I believe, as good as any in the world, but it is not their fortune to help you, and that displeases me."
Then it so happened at that time that there was a poor knight at King Arthur's court who had been his prisoner for half a year and more for killing a knight who was a cousin of King Arthur's. This knight's name was Balin, and through the good offices of the barons he had been released from prison, for he was known as a good man of his body, and he was born in Northumberland. And so he went quietly into the court, and saw this adventure, and it lifted his heart, and he wanted to try it as the other knights did. But because he was poor and poorly dressed, he did not push himself far forward into the crowd. Yet in his heart he was fully confident that he would do as well as any knight there, if fortune favoured him.
And as the damsel took her leave of Arthur and of all the barons, and was leaving, this knight Balin called to her, and said, "Damsel, I beg you, of your courtesy, allow me to try as these lords have. Though I am so poorly dressed, in my heart I feel as confident as some of these others, and in my heart I feel I shall succeed very well."
The damsel looked at the poor knight, and saw that he was a likely man; but because of his poor clothes she thought he could not be a man of honour, free of baseness or treachery. And then she said to the knight, "Sir, there is no need to put me to more pain or trouble, for it does not seem likely that you will succeed where others have failed."
"Ah, fair damsel," said Balin, "worthiness, and good qualities, and good deeds, are not only in a man's clothes; manhood and honour are hidden within a man's person, and many an honourable knight is not known to all people. And therefore honour and boldness are not in clothes."
"By God," said the damsel, "you speak the truth. Therefore you shall try to do what you can."
Then Balin took the sword by the belt and sheath, and drew it out easily; and when he looked at the sword it pleased him greatly. Then the king and all the barons marvelled greatly that Balin had achieved that adventure, and many knights felt great spite against Balin.
"Certainly," said the damsel, "this is an exceedingly good knight, and the best I ever found, and the most honourable, without treason, treachery or baseness, and he will do many marvels. Now, noble and courteous knight, give me the sword back."
"No," said Balin, "for I will keep this sword, unless it is taken from me by force."
"Well," said the damsel, "you are not wise to keep the sword from me, for with that sword you will kill the best friend you have, and the man you love most in the world, and the sword will be your destruction."
"I will take whatever adventure God sends me," said Balin, "but you shall not have the sword at this time, on my life."
"You will regret it before long," said the damsel, "for I would have the sword more for your good than for mine, for I am exceedingly sad for your sake. For you will not believe that the sword will be your destruction, and that is a great pity."
With that the damsel left, grieving greatly.
Immediately afterwards Balin sent for his horse and armour, and meant to leave the court, and took his leave of King Arthur.
"No," said the king, "I hope you will not leave this fellowship so lightly. I suppose you are displeased that I have treated you unkindly. Blame me the less for it, for I was misinformed about you; I did not think you were such a knight as you are, of honour and prowess. And if you will stay at this court among my fellowship, I will advance you so that you shall be pleased."
"God thank your highness," said Balin. "No man could praise your generosity and highness half as much as they are worth. But at this time I must leave, begging you always for your good grace."
"Truly," said the king, "I am very sorry and angry at your leaving. I beg you, fair knight, not to stay away long, and you shall be most welcome to me and to my barons, and I will make amends for every wrong I have done you."
"God thank your great lordship," said Balin, and with that he made ready to leave.
Then most of the knights of the Round Table said that Balin had not achieved this adventure by strength alone, but by witchcraft.
Meanwhile, while this knight was making ready to leave, there came into the court a lady who was called the Lady of the Lake. And she came on horseback, richly dressed, and greeted King Arthur, and there she asked him for the gift he had promised her when she gave him the sword.
"That is true," said Arthur. "I promised you a gift, but I have forgotten the name of the sword you gave me."
"The name of it," said the lady, "is Excalibur, which is as much as to say Cut-steel."
"You speak well," said the king. "Ask what you will and you shall have it, if it lies in my power to give it."
"Well," said the lady, "I ask for the head of the knight who has won the sword, or else the head of the damsel who brought it. I would not care if I had both their heads, for he killed my brother, a good knight and a true one, and that gentlewoman was the cause of my father's death."
"Truly," said King Arthur, "I cannot grant either of their heads with my honour. So ask for anything else you will, and I will fulfil your desire."
"I will ask for nothing else," said the lady.
When Balin was ready to leave, he saw the Lady of the Lake, who by her doing had killed Balin's mother, and he had been looking for her for three years. And when he was told that she had asked King Arthur for his head, he went straight to her and said, "Ill met! You want my head, and so you shall lose yours." And with his sword he swiftly struck off her head in front of King Arthur.
"Alas, for shame!" said Arthur. "Why have you done this? You have shamed me and all my court, for this was a lady I was indebted to, and she came here under my safe-conduct. I will never forgive you that offence."
"Sir," said Balin, "I am sorry for your displeasure, but this same lady was the falsest lady living, and by enchantment and sorcery she has been the destroyer of many good knights, and she was the cause of my mother being burned, through her falsehood and treachery."
"Whatever cause you had," said Arthur, "you should have spared her in my presence. So make no mistake, you will regret it, for I never had such an insult in my court. Therefore leave my court as fast as you can."
Then Balin took up the lady's head, and carried it with him to his lodging, and there he met his squire, who was sorry that he had displeased King Arthur; and so they rode out of the town.
"Now," said Balin, "we must part. Take this head and carry it to my friends, and tell them how I have fared, and tell my friends in Northumberland that my greatest enemy is dead. Also tell them how I am out of prison, and what adventure happened to me in winning this sword."
"Alas!" said the squire. "You are greatly to blame for displeasing King Arthur."
"As for that," said Balin, "I will hurry, as fast as I can, to meet King Rience and destroy him, or else die in the attempt. And if I have the luck to defeat him, then King Arthur will be my good and gracious lord."
"Where shall I meet you?" said the squire.
"At King Arthur's court," said Balin.
So he and his squire parted at that time. Then King Arthur and all the court grieved greatly, and were ashamed at the death of the Lady of the Lake. Then the king buried her richly.
At that time there was a knight who was the son of the king of Ireland, and his name was Lanceor. He was a proud knight, and counted himself one of the best of the court; and he felt great spite against Balin for achieving the sword, that anyone should be counted bolder, or of more prowess. And he asked King Arthur if he would give him leave to ride after Balin and avenge the insult he had done.
"Do your best," said Arthur. "I am very angry with Balin. I wish he were paid back for the insult he has done to me and to my court."
Then this Lanceor went to his lodging to make himself ready. In the meantime Merlin came to King Arthur's court, and there he was told the adventure of the sword, and of the death of the Lady of the Lake.
"Now I will tell you," said Merlin. "This same damsel who stands here, who brought the sword to your court, I will tell you the reason for her coming: she is the falsest damsel alive."
"Do not say so," they said.
"She has a brother, an exceedingly good knight of prowess and a thoroughly true man. And this damsel loved another knight, who kept her as his lover; and this good knight her brother met the knight who kept her as his lover, and killed him by force of his hands. When this false damsel learned of this, she went to the Lady Lile of Avalon, and begged her for help, to be avenged on her own brother."
"And so," said Merlin, "this Lady Lile of Avalon gave her this sword that she brought with her, and said that no man would pull it out of the sheath unless he was one of the best knights of this realm, and he would be hardy and full of prowess, and with that sword he would kill her brother. This was the reason the damsel came to this court. I know it as well as you do. Would to God she had never come to this court! But she never came into honourable company to do good, but always great harm. And the knight who has achieved the sword will be destroyed by that sword, and that will be a great loss, for there is no knight alive of more prowess than he is. And he will do you, my lord Arthur, great honour and kindness; and it is a great pity that he will not last but a little while, for I know of no man living to match his strength and boldness."
So the knight of Ireland armed himself at all points, and set his shield on his shoulder, and mounted his horse, and took his spear in his hand, and rode after him at a great pace, as fast as his horse could go. And within a little while, on a mountain, he caught sight of Balin, and with a loud voice he cried, "Stop, knight! For you will stop whether you like it or not, and the shield in front of you will not help you."
When Balin heard the shout, he turned his horse fiercely, and said, "Fair knight, what do you want with me? Do you want to joust with me?"
"Yes," said the Irish knight, "that is why I have come after you."
"Perhaps," said Balin, "it would have been better for you to have stayed at home. For many a man expects to put his enemy to shame, and often it falls on himself. From what court have you been sent?" said Balin.
"I have come from the court of King Arthur," said the knight of Ireland, "and I have come here to avenge the insult you did today to King Arthur and to his court."
"Well," said Balin, "I see well I must fight you, and I am sorry for it, to grieve King Arthur or any of his court. And your quarrel with me is a very weak one," said Balin, "for the lady who is dead did me great harm, and otherwise I would have been as unwilling as any knight living to kill a lady."
"Make ready," said the knight Lanceor, "and square up to me, for only one of us will stay alive on this field."
Then they took their spears, and came together as fast as their horses could drive, and the Irish knight struck Balin on the shield, so that his spear all went to splinters. And Balin hit him through the shield, and the hauberk gave way, and so the spear pierced through his body and the horse's rump. And at once Balin turned his horse fiercely, and drew out his sword, and did not know that he had killed him; and then he saw him lying like a dead corpse.
Then he looked around him, and saw a damsel who came riding as fast as the horse could go, on a fine palfrey. And when she saw that Lanceor was dead, she grieved beyond measure, and said, "O Balin, you have killed two bodies and one heart, and two hearts in one body, and you have lost two souls."
And with that she took the sword from her love who lay dead, and fell to the ground in a faint. And when she got up she grieved beyond measure, and her sorrow grieved Balin exceedingly. And he went to her to take the sword out of her hand, but she held it so tight that he could not take it out of her hand without hurting her. And suddenly she set the pommel to the ground, and ran herself through the body.
When Balin saw what she had done, he was exceedingly heavy at heart, and ashamed that so fair a damsel had destroyed herself for love of the man he had killed.
"Alas," said Balin, "I bitterly regret the death of this knight, for the love of this damsel, for there was much true love between them both."
And for sorrow he could not look at him any longer, but turned his horse and looked towards a great forest, and there, by his coat of arms, he recognised his brother Balan. And when they met they took off their helmets and kissed each other, and wept for joy and pity.
Then Balan said, "I little expected to meet you by this sudden chance. I am very glad of your release from your grievous imprisonment, for a man in the castle of Four Stones told me that you had been released, and that man had seen you at the court of King Arthur. And so I came here into this country, for here I expected to find you."
At once the knight Balin told his brother of his adventure of the sword, and of the death of the Lady of the Lake, and how King Arthur was displeased with him. "And so he sent this knight after me, who lies here dead, and the death of this damsel grieves me deeply."
"So it does me," said Balan, "but you must take whatever adventure God sends you."
"Truly," said Balin, "I am very heavy-hearted that my lord Arthur is displeased with me, for he is the most honourable knight who reigns on earth now, and I will win his love or else risk my life. For King Rience is laying siege to the Castle Terrabil, and we will go there in all haste, to prove our honour and prowess on him."
"Gladly," said Balan, "let us do that, and we will help each other as brothers should."
"Now let us go from here," said Balin, "and well met are we."
Meanwhile, as they talked, a dwarf came from the city of Camelot on horseback, as fast as he could, and found the dead bodies. At this he grieved greatly, and pulled out his hair for sorrow, and said, "Which of you knights has done this deed?"
"Why do you ask?" said Balan.
"Because I want to know," said the dwarf.
"It was I," said Balin, "who killed this knight in my own defence, for he came here to chase me, and either I had to kill him or he me. And this damsel killed herself for love of him, and I regret it, and for her sake I will love all women the better."
"Alas," said the dwarf, "you have done yourself great harm, for this knight who lies here dead was one of the most valiant men alive. And be sure of this, Balin: this knight's kin will hunt you through the world until they have killed you."
"As for that," said Balin, "I am not greatly afraid; but I am very heavy-hearted that I have displeased my lord King Arthur by the death of this knight."
So as they talked together, a king of Cornwall came riding up, who was called King Mark. And when he saw these two bodies lying dead, and learned from the two knights mentioned above how they had died, then the king grieved greatly for the true love that had been between them, and said, "I will not leave until I have made a tomb here on this earth."
And there he pitched his tents and searched through all the country to find a tomb, and in a church they found one that was fair and rich. And then the king had them both laid in the earth, and put the tomb over them, and wrote the names of them both on the tomb: how here lies Lanceor, the son of the king of Ireland, who at his own request was killed by the hands of Balin; and how his lady and lover, Colombe, killed herself with her love's sword for grief and sorrow.
Meanwhile, as this was being done, Merlin came in to King Mark, and seeing all that he was doing, said, "Here in this same place there will be the greatest battle between two knights that ever was or ever will be, and they will be the truest lovers, and yet neither of them will kill the other."
And there Merlin wrote on the tomb, in letters of gold, the names of the two who would fight in that place, and their names were Lancelot du Lake and Tristram.
"You are a strange man," said King Mark to Merlin, "to speak of such marvels. You are a rough fellow, and an unlikely one to tell of such deeds. What is your name?" said King Mark.
"At this time," said Merlin, "I will not tell it. But at the time when Sir Tristram is caught with his sovereign lady, then you shall hear and know my name, and at that time you shall hear news that will not please you."
Then Merlin said to Balin, "You have done yourself great harm, because you did not save this lady who killed herself, when you might have saved her if you had wanted to."
"On my life," said Balin, "I could not save her, for she killed herself suddenly."
"I am sorry for it," said Merlin. "Because of the death of that lady you will strike the most dolorous stroke that ever man struck, except the stroke of our Lord. For you will wound the truest knight and the man of most honour who is alive now, and through that stroke three kingdoms will be in great poverty, misery and wretchedness for twelve years, and the knight will not be healed of that wound for many years."
Then Merlin took his leave of Balin.
And Balin said, "If I knew that what you say were true, that I should do such a terrible deed as that, I would kill myself to make you a liar."
With that Merlin suddenly vanished. And then Balan and his brother took their leave of King Mark.
"First," said the king, "tell me your name."
"Sir," said Balan, "you can see he carries two swords; so you may call him the Knight with the Two Swords."
And so King Mark went off to Camelot to King Arthur, and Balin took the road towards King Rience. And as the brothers rode together they met Merlin in disguise, but they did not recognise him.
"Where are you riding?" said Merlin.
"We have little reason to tell you that," said the two knights.
"But what is your name?" said Balin.
"At this time," said Merlin, "I will not tell it to you."
"It looks bad," said the knights. "A man who will not tell his name is no honest man."
"As for that," said Merlin, "be that as it may, I can tell you why you are riding this way: to meet King Rience. But it will do you no good unless you have my advice."
"Ah!" said Balin. "You are Merlin. We will be guided by your advice."
"Come on," said Merlin. "You will win great honour; and see that you act like knights, for you will have great need to."
"As for that," said Balin, "do not be afraid. We will do what we can."
Then Merlin lodged them in a wood among the leaves beside the highway, and took the bridles off their horses and put them out to grass, and they lay down to rest until it was near midnight. Then Merlin told them to get up and make ready, for the king was near them. He had stolen away from his army with some sixty horsemen of his best knights, and twenty of them rode on ahead to warn the Lady de Vance that the king was coming; for that night King Rience was to have slept with her.
"Which is the king?" said Balin.
"Wait," said Merlin. "Here, in a narrow way, you will meet him." And with that he showed Balin and his brother where he was riding.
At once Balin and his brother met the king, and struck him down, and wounded him fiercely, and laid him on the ground. And there they killed men on the right hand and the left, and killed more than forty of his men, and the rest fled. Then they went back to King Rience and would have killed him if he had not surrendered himself to their mercy.
Then he spoke like this: "Knights full of prowess, do not kill me, for you may gain by my life, and by my death you will gain nothing."
Then these two knights said, "You speak truly and well." And so they laid him on a horse-litter.
With that Merlin vanished, and came to King Arthur ahead of them, and told him how his greatest enemy had been captured and defeated.
"By whom?" said King Arthur.
"By two knights," said Merlin, "who would like to please your lordship, and tomorrow you shall know what knights they are."
Soon afterwards the Knight with the Two Swords and Balan his brother came, and brought King Rience of North Wales with them, and there they handed him over to the porters, and gave him into their charge. And so the two of them went back again at the dawning of the day.
King Arthur then came to King Rience, and said, "Sir king, you are welcome. By what chance have you come here?"
"Sir," said King Rience, "I came here by a hard chance."
"Who captured you?" said King Arthur.
"Sir," said the king, "the Knight with the Two Swords and his brother, who are two marvellous knights of prowess."
"I do not know them," said Arthur, "but I am much indebted to them."
"Ah," said Merlin, "I will tell you. It is Balin, who achieved the sword, and his brother Balan, a good knight; there is no better knight living for prowess and worthiness. And it will be the greatest sorrow over him that I ever knew over any knight, for he will not last long."
"Alas," said King Arthur, "that is a great pity; for I am much indebted to him, and I have repaid him badly for his kindness."
"No," said Merlin, "he will do much more for you, and you will know that soon. But, sir, are you prepared?" said Merlin. "For tomorrow, before noon, Nero, King Rience's brother, will attack you with a great army. So make ready, for I will leave you."
Then King Arthur made his army ready in ten divisions, and Nero was ready in the field before the Castle Terrabil with a great army, and he had ten divisions, with many more men than Arthur had. Then Nero had the vanguard with most of his men, and Merlin came to King Lot of the Isle of Orkney, and kept him there with a tale of prophecy until Nero and his men were destroyed. And there Sir Kay the seneschal did exceedingly well, so that for all the days of his life the honour of it never left him. And Sir Hervis de Revel did marvellous deeds with King Arthur, and King Arthur killed twenty knights that day and maimed forty. At that time the Knight with the Two Swords and his brother Balan came in, and the two of them did so marvellously that the king and all the knights marvelled at them. And all who saw them said they were sent from heaven as angels, or as devils from hell; and King Arthur himself said they were the best knights he ever saw, for they struck such blows that all men wondered at them.
Meanwhile someone came to King Lot, and told him that while he lingered there Nero had been destroyed and killed with all his men.
"Alas," said King Lot, "I am ashamed, for through my fault many an honourable man has been killed. For if we had been together, there would have been no army under heaven able to match us. This vagabond with his prophecy has made a fool of me."
Merlin did all that, for he knew well that if King Lot had been there in person at the first battle, King Arthur would have been killed, and all his people destroyed. And Merlin knew well that one of the two kings would be dead that day, and Merlin was unwilling that either of them should be killed; but of the two, he would rather King Lot were killed than King Arthur.
"Now what is best to do?" said King Lot of Orkney. "Is it better for me to make terms with King Arthur or to fight, since the greater part of our people are killed and destroyed?"
"Sir," said a knight, "attack Arthur, for they are weary and worn out with fighting, and we are fresh."
"As for me," said King Lot, "I wish every knight would do his part as I will do mine."
And then they advanced their banners and clashed together and shattered all their spears to pieces; and Arthur's knights, with the help of the Knight with the Two Swords and his brother Balan, got the better of King Lot and his army. But King Lot kept himself always in the very front, and did marvellous deeds of arms, for his whole army was held up by his hands, for he stood against every knight. Alas, he could not last, and that was a great pity, that so worthy a knight as he was should be overmatched, who not long before had been one of King Arthur's knights, and had married King Arthur's sister. And because King Arthur had lain with King Lot's wife, who was Arthur's sister, and fathered Mordred on her, King Lot held out against Arthur.
So there was a knight who was called the Knight with the Strange Beast, and at that time his right name was Pellinore, and he was a good man of prowess. And he struck a mighty blow at King Lot as he fought against all his enemies, and he missed his stroke and struck the horse's neck, so that it fell to the ground with King Lot. And with that, at once, Pellinore struck him a great blow through the helmet and the head, down to the brows. And then all the army of Orkney fled because of the death of King Lot, and many mothers' sons were killed there. But King Pellinore bore the blame for the death of King Lot, and for that reason Sir Gawain avenged the death of his father in the tenth year after he was made a knight, and killed King Pellinore with his own hands. Also there were killed at that battle twelve kings on the side of King Lot and Nero, and all were buried in the Church of Saint Stephen's in Camelot, and the rest of the knights and of the others were buried in a great rock.
So to the burial came King Lot's wife Morgause with her four sons, Gawain, Agravain, Gaheris and Gareth. Also there came King Uriens, Sir Uwain's father, and Morgan le Fay his wife, who was King Arthur's sister. All these came to the burial. But of all these twelve kings, King Arthur had the tomb of King Lot made exceedingly rich, and had his tomb made by itself; and then Arthur had twelve images made of brass and copper, and gilded over with gold, to stand for the twelve kings, and each one of them held a wax taper that burned day and night. And King Arthur was made as a figure standing above them with a drawn sword in his hand, and all the twelve figures had faces like men who had been overcome. All this Merlin made by his subtle craft, and there he told the king, "When I am dead these tapers will burn no longer, and soon after that the adventures of the Holy Grail will come among you and be achieved." Also he told Arthur how Balin, the honourable knight, would strike the Dolorous Stroke, from which great vengeance would fall.
"Oh, where are Balin and Balan and Pellinore?" said King Arthur.
"As for Pellinore," said Merlin, "he will meet you soon. And as for Balin, he will not be long away from you. But the other brother will go away, and you will see him no more."
"On my faith," said Arthur, "they are two marvellous knights, and above all Balin surpasses in prowess any knight I ever found, for I owe him a great deal. I wish to God he would stay with me."
"Sir," said Merlin, "see that you keep the scabbard of Excalibur well, for you will lose no blood while you have the scabbard on you, though you have as many wounds on you as you can have."
So afterwards, out of great trust, Arthur gave the scabbard into the keeping of Morgan le Fay his sister. And she loved another knight better than her husband King Uriens or King Arthur, and she wanted to have Arthur her brother killed. And so she had another scabbard made like it by enchantment, and gave the scabbard of Excalibur to her lover; and the knight's name was Accolon, who afterwards nearly killed King Arthur. After this Merlin told King Arthur of the prophecy that there would be a great battle near Salisbury, and that Mordred his own son would be against him. Also he told him that Bagdemagus was his cousin, and closely related to King Uriens.
Within a day or two King Arthur was somewhat sick, and he had his tent pitched in a meadow, and there he lay down on a straw bed to sleep, but he could get no rest. Just then he heard a great noise of a horse, and with that the king looked out at the entrance of the tent, and saw a knight coming right past him, grieving greatly.
"Wait, fair sir," said Arthur, "and tell me why you are grieving like this."
"You can do little to help me," said the knight, and so rode on to the castle of Meliot.
Soon afterwards Balin came by, and when he saw King Arthur he got down from his horse, and came to the king on foot, and greeted him.
"By my head," said Arthur, "you are welcome. Sir, just now a knight came riding this way grieving greatly, for what reason I cannot tell. So I would ask you, out of your courtesy and your noble nature, to bring that knight back, either by force or else of his own free will."
"I will do more than that for you, my lord," said Balin. And so he rode at better than a walking pace, and found the knight with a damsel in a forest, and said, "Sir knight, you must come with me to King Arthur, to tell him of your sorrow."
"That I will not do," said the knight, "for it will do me great harm, and you no good."
"Sir," said Balin, "I beg you, make ready, for you must go with me, or else I must fight you and bring you by force, and I would be very unwilling to do that."
"Will you be my safeguard," said the knight, "if I go with you?"
"Yes," said Balin, "or else I will die for it."
And so he made ready to go with Balin, and left the damsel where she was. And just as they were in front of King Arthur's tent, someone invisible came and struck the knight who was riding with Balin right through the body with a spear.
"Alas," said the knight, "I have been killed while under your protection, by a knight called Garlon. So take my horse, which is better than yours, and ride to the damsel, and follow the quest I was on as she leads you, and avenge my death when you can."
"That I will do," said Balin, "and I make a vow of it on my knighthood." And so he left this knight with great sorrow.
So King Arthur had this knight buried richly, and had an inscription made on his tomb telling how Herlews le Berbeus was killed there, and by whom the treachery was done, the knight Garlon. But the damsel always carried with her the broken shaft of the spear that Sir Herlews was killed with.
So Balin and the damsel rode into a forest, and there they met a knight who had been out hunting, and that knight asked Balin why he was grieving so greatly.
"I don't care to tell you," said Balin.
"Now," said the knight, "if I were armed as you are, I would fight you."
"There would be little need of that," said Balin. "I am not afraid to tell you." And he told him the whole reason, how it had happened.
"Ah," said the knight, "is that all? Here I promise you, on my life, never to leave you as long as I live."
And so they went to the inn, and the knight armed himself, and so rode on with Balin. And as they came by a hermitage right beside a churchyard, the knight Garlon came invisible, and struck this knight, Perin de Mountbeliard, through the body with a spear.
"Alas," said the knight, "I am killed by this traitor knight who rides invisible."
"Alas," said Balin, "this is not the first insult he has done me."
And there the hermit and Balin buried the knight under a rich stone, in a royal tomb. And in the morning they found letters of gold written there, saying that Sir Gawain would avenge his father King Lot's death on King Pellinore.
Soon after this Balin and the damsel rode until they came to a castle, and there Balin dismounted, and he and the damsel started to go into the castle. And as soon as Balin came inside the castle gate, the portcullis fell down behind him, and a crowd of men fell upon the damsel, and would have killed her. When Balin saw that, he was badly upset, for he could not help the damsel. Then he went up into the tower, and leapt over the walls into the moat, and did not hurt himself; and at once he pulled out his sword and would have fought them. And they all said no, they would not fight him, for they were only keeping the old custom of the castle. And they told him how their lady was sick, and had been bedridden for many years, and she could not be cured unless she had a silver dish full of the blood of a pure maiden who was a king's daughter. "And so the custom of this castle is that no damsel shall pass this way unless she bleeds a silver dish full of her blood."
"Well," said Balin, "she shall bleed as much as she can bleed, but I will not let her lose her life while my life lasts."
And so Balin had her bleed, with her consent, but her blood did not help the lady. And so he and she rested there all night, and were given a very good welcome there, and in the morning they went on their way. And as it is told later in the story of the Holy Grail, Sir Percival's sister helped that lady with her blood, and died of it.
Then they rode for three or four days and never met with any adventure, and by chance they were lodged with a gentleman who was a rich man and lived in comfort. And as they sat at their supper, Balin heard someone near him, in a chair, groaning grievously.
"What is this noise?" said Balin.
"Truly," said his host, "I will tell you. I was at a joust not long ago, and there I jousted with a knight who is brother to King Pellam, and twice I struck him down. And then he promised to pay me back through my best friend; and so he wounded my son, who cannot be healed until I have some of that knight's blood. And he always rides invisible, but I do not know his name."
"Ah!" said Balin. "I know that knight. His name is Garlon. He has killed two knights of mine in the same way, and so I would rather meet that knight than have all the gold in this realm, for the insults he has done me."
"Well," said his host, "I will tell you. King Pellam of Listeneise has had a great feast proclaimed throughout this country, to be held within these twenty days, and no knight may come to it unless he brings his wife with him, or his lady-love. And that knight, your enemy and mine, you will see there that day."
"Then I promise you," said Balin, "some of his blood to heal your son with."
"We will set out tomorrow morning," said his host.
So in the morning all three of them rode toward Pellam's country, and they had fifteen days' journey before they got there; and that same day the great feast began. And so they dismounted and stabled their horses, and went into the castle; but Balin's host could not be let in, because he had no lady. Then Balin was well received and brought to a chamber, and took off his armour; and robes were brought to him, as he pleased, and they wanted Balin to leave his sword behind him.
"No," said Balin, "that I will not do, for it is the custom of my country that a knight always keeps his weapon with him, and I will keep that custom, or else I will leave as I came."
Then they gave him leave to wear his sword, and so he went into the castle hall, and was seated among knights of honour, and his lady in front of him.
Soon Balin asked a knight, "Is there not a knight in this court whose name is Garlon?"
"There he goes, over there," said a knight, "the one with the dark face. He is the most extraordinary knight now living, for he destroys many good knights, for he goes invisible."
"Ah, well," said Balin, "is that him?"
Then Balin thought it over for a long time: "If I kill him here I will not escape, and if I leave him now, perhaps I will never meet him again at such a chance, and he will do much harm if he lives."
With that this Garlon noticed that Balin was looking at him, and then he came and struck Balin in the face with the back of his hand, and said, "Knight, what are you staring at me for? Shame on you. Eat your food and do what you came for."
"That's true enough," said Balin. "This is not the first insult you have done me, and so I will do what I came for." And he rose up fiercely and split Garlon's head to the shoulders.
"Give me the broken spear shaft," said Balin to his lady, "that he killed your knight with."
At once she gave it to him, for she always carried the shaft with her. And with that Balin struck him through the body with it, and said for all to hear, "With that shaft you killed a good knight, and now it sticks in your own body."
And then Balin called his host to him, saying, "Now you can fetch blood enough to heal your son with."
At once all the knights rose from the table to set upon Balin, and King Pellam himself rose up fiercely, and said, "Knight, have you killed my brother? You will die for it before you leave."
"Well," said Balin, "do it yourself, then."
"Yes," said King Pellam, "no man shall fight you but me myself, for the love of my brother."
Then King Pellam caught up a grim weapon in his hand and struck fiercely at Balin. But Balin put his sword between his head and the stroke, and with that his sword burst in pieces. And when Balin was weaponless he ran into a chamber to look for some weapon, and so from chamber to chamber, and he could find no weapon, and King Pellam was always after him. And at last he came into a chamber that was marvellously and richly furnished, with a bed hung with cloth of gold, the richest that could be imagined, and someone lying in it. And beside it stood a table of pure gold, with four pillars of silver holding up the table, and on the table stood a marvellous spear, strangely made. And when Balin saw that spear, he took it in his hand and turned to King Pellam, and struck him exceedingly hard with that spear, so that King Pellam fell down in a faint. And with that the castle's roof and walls broke and fell to the ground, and Balin fell down so that he could not stir hand or foot. And so the greater part of the castle, which had fallen down through that Dolorous Stroke, lay on top of Pellam and Balin for three days.
Then Merlin came there and lifted Balin up, and got him a good horse, for his own was dead, and told him to ride out of that country.
"I want my damsel," said Balin.
"Look," said Merlin, "there she lies dead."
And King Pellam lay like that for many years, badly wounded, and could never be healed until Galahad, the high prince, healed him in the quest of the Holy Grail. For in that place was part of the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, which Joseph of Arimathea brought into this land, and it was Joseph himself who lay in that rich bed. And that was the same spear with which Longius struck our Lord to the heart. And King Pellam was close kin to Joseph, and he was the most honourable man who lived in those days, and his hurt was a great pity, for through that stroke all turned to great grief, sorrow and suffering.
Then Balin left Merlin, and said, "In this world we will never meet again."
So he rode on through the fair countries and cities, and found the people dead, killed on every side. And all who were still alive cried out, "O Balin, you have caused great damage in these countries! Because of the Dolorous Stroke you gave King Pellam, three countries are destroyed, and have no doubt the vengeance will fall on you in the end."
When Balin was past those countries he was exceedingly glad.
So he rode for eight days before he met with any adventure. And at last he came into a fair forest in a valley, and noticed a tower, and close by it he saw a great warhorse tied to a tree, and beside it a fine knight sat on the ground grieving greatly; and he was a handsome man, and well built.
Balin said, "God save you, why are you so sad? Tell me, and I will put it right, if it is in my power."
"Sir knight," he answered, "you are doing me great harm, for I was lost in happy thoughts, and now you are putting me in more pain."
Balin went a little way off from him, and looked at his horse. Then Balin heard him say this: "Ah, fair lady, why have you broken your promise to me? For you promised to meet me here by noon. And I may curse you for ever giving me this sword, for with this sword I will kill myself." And he pulled it out.
And with that Balin leapt to him and took him by the hand.
"Let go of my hand," said the knight, "or else I will kill you."
"There will be no need of that," said Balin, "for I promise you my help to win your lady, if you will tell me where she is."
"What is your name?" said the knight.
"My name is Balin le Savage."
"Ah, sir, I know you well enough. You are the Knight with the Two Swords, and the man of greatest prowess with his hands now living."
"What is your name?" said Balin.
"My name is Garnish of the Mount, a poor man's son, but for my prowess and boldness a duke made me a knight, and gave me lands. His name is Duke Hermel, and his daughter is the one I love, and she loves me, as I believed."
"How far from here is she?" said Balin.
"Only six miles," said the knight.
"Now let us ride from here," said these two knights.
So they rode at better than a walking pace, until they came to a fair castle, well walled and moated.
"I will go into the castle," said Balin, "and see if she is there."
So he went in and searched from chamber to chamber, and found her bed, but she was not in it. Then Balin looked into a fair little garden, and under a laurel tree he saw her lying on a quilt of green samite, and a knight in her arms, the two of them holding each other close, and grass and herbs under their heads. When Balin saw her lying like that with the ugliest knight he had ever seen, and she a fair lady, then Balin went back through all the chambers again, and told the knight how he had found her as if she were fast asleep, and so brought him to the place where she lay sound asleep.
And when Garnish saw her lying like that, out of pure sorrow his mouth and nose burst out bleeding, and with his sword he struck off both their heads. And then he grieved beyond measure, and said, "O Balin, you have brought great sorrow on me, for if you had not shown me that sight I would have got over my sorrow."
"Truly," said Balin, "I did it so that it would raise your spirits, and so that you could see and know her falseness, and to make you give up loving such a lady. God knows I did nothing but what I would want you to do for me."
"Alas," said Garnish, "now my sorrow is doubled, so that I cannot bear it. Now I have killed what I loved most in all my life." And with that he suddenly ran himself through on his own sword up to the hilt.
When Balin saw that, he made off from there, in case people would say he had killed them. And so he rode on, and within three days he came by a cross, and on it were letters of gold written, which said, "It is not for any knight to ride alone toward this castle."
Then he saw an old white-haired gentleman coming toward him, who said, "Balin le Savage, you are going beyond your bounds to come this way. So turn back, and it will be to your good." And at once he vanished away.
And then he heard a horn blow as if for the death of a hunted beast.
"That blast," said Balin, "is blown for me, for I am the prey, and yet I am not dead."
At once with that he saw a hundred ladies and many knights, who welcomed him with friendly faces, and gave him an exceedingly good welcome to all appearances, and led him into the castle, and there was dancing and music and every kind of joy.
Then the chief lady of the castle said, "Knight with the Two Swords, you must fight and joust with a knight near here who guards an island, for no man may pass this way unless he jousts before he passes."
"That is an unlucky custom," said Balin, "that a knight may not pass this way unless he jousts."
"You will only have to fight one knight," said the lady.
"Well," said Balin, "since I must, I am ready. But travelling men are often weary, and their horses too. But though my horse is weary, my heart is not weary. I would gladly be where my death is to be."
"Sir," said a knight to Balin, "I think your shield is not good. I will lend you a bigger one."
"I beg you, do."
And so he took the shield that was unknown and left his own, and so rode to the island, and put himself and his horse in a great boat. And when he came to the other side he met a damsel, and she said, "O Knight Balin, why have you left your own shield? Alas, you have put yourself in great danger, for by your shield you would have been known. It is as great a pity about you as ever there was about any knight, for in prowess and boldness you have no equal living."
"I regret," said Balin, "that I ever came into this country. But I cannot turn back now for shame, and whatever adventure befalls me, be it life or death, I will take the adventure that comes to me."
And then he looked over his armour, and saw that he was well armed, and with that he crossed himself and mounted his horse.
Then in front of him he saw a knight come riding out of a castle, with his horse trapped all in red, and himself in the same colour. When this knight in red saw Balin, he thought it must be his brother Balin, because of his two swords, but because he did not know his shield he decided it was not him. And so they set their spears in rest and came together marvellously fast, and they struck each other on the shields; but their spears and their charge were so mighty that it bore down horse and man, so that they both lay in a faint. But Balin was badly bruised by the fall of his horse, for he was weary from travelling. And Balan was the first to get to his feet, and he drew his sword and went toward Balin, and Balin rose and went against him. But Balan struck Balin first, and Balin put up his shield, and Balan struck him through the shield and cut into his helm. Then Balin struck him back with that ill-fated sword, and very nearly felled his brother Balan, and so they fought there together until their breath failed. Then Balin looked up to the castle and saw the towers full of ladies. So they went into battle again, and wounded each other grievously, and then they stopped for breath many times, and so went into battle again, until all the place where they fought was blood red. And by that time each of them had given the other seven great wounds, so that the least of them might have been the death of the mightiest giant in this world.
Then they went into battle again so marvellously that it was dreadful to hear of that battle, for the great bloodshed; and their hauberks had burst their rivets, so that they were bare on every side. At last Balan, the younger brother, drew back a little and lay down.
Then Balin le Savage said, "What knight are you? For before now I never found a knight who matched me."
"My name," he said, "is Balan, brother to the good knight Balin."
"Alas," said Balin, "that I should ever see this day." And with that he fell backward in a faint.
Then Balan crawled on his hands and feet, and took the helm off his brother, and could not recognise him by his face, it was so hacked and bloody. But when Balin came to, he said, "O Balan, my brother, you have killed me and I you, and so all the wide world will speak of us both."
"Alas," said Balan, "that I ever saw this day, that by ill luck I could not recognise you. For I saw your two swords well enough, but because you had another shield I thought you were another knight."
"Alas," said Balin, "an ill-fated knight in the castle did all this, for he made me leave my own shield, to the destruction of us both. And if I could live, I would destroy that castle for its evil customs."
"That would be well done," said Balan, "for I have never been allowed to leave them since I came here. For here it happened that I killed a knight who guarded this island, and since then I could never leave; and no more could you, brother, if you had managed to kill me, as you have, and escaped with your own life."
Just then the lady of the tower came to them with four knights and six ladies and six yeomen, and there she heard how they made their lament to each other, and said, "We both came out of one tomb, that is to say one mother's womb, and so we shall both lie in one grave."
So Balan begged the lady, out of her kindness, in return for his true service, to bury them both in the same place where the battle was fought. And she granted them, weeping, that it would be done richly, in the best way.
"Now, will you send for a priest, so that we may receive our sacrament, and receive the blessed body of our Lord Jesus Christ?"
"Yes," said the lady, "it shall be done." And so she sent for a priest and gave them their last rites.
"Now," said Balin, "when we are buried in one tomb, and the inscription made over us telling how two brothers killed each other, no good knight or good man will ever see our tomb without praying for our souls."
And so all the ladies and gentlewomen wept for pity. Then soon Balan died, but Balin did not die until the midnight after; and so they were both buried, and the lady had an inscription made for Balan, telling how he was killed there by his brother's hands, but she did not know Balin's name.
In the morning Merlin came and had Balin's name written on the tomb in letters of gold: "Here lies Balin le Savage, who was the Knight with the Two Swords, and he who struck the Dolorous Stroke."
Also Merlin had a bed made there, such that no man should ever lie in it without going out of his mind; yet Lancelot du Lake undid that bed through his nobility.
And soon after Balin was dead, Merlin took his sword, and took off the pommel and put on another pommel. Then Merlin told a knight who stood in front of him to handle that sword, and he tried, and he could not handle it. Then Merlin laughed.
"Why are you laughing?" said the knight.
"This is the reason," said Merlin. "No man shall ever handle this sword but the best knight in the world, and that will be Sir Lancelot or else Galahad his son. And with this sword Lancelot will kill the man he loved best in the world, and that will be Sir Gawain."
All this he had written on the pommel of the sword.
Then Merlin had a bridge of iron and of steel made out to that island, and it was only half a foot wide, and no man shall ever cross that bridge, or have the courage to go over it, unless he is an exceedingly good man and a good knight, without treachery or baseness. Also Merlin left the scabbard of Balin's sword on this side of the island, so that Galahad would find it. Also Merlin by his subtle craft had Balin's sword set in a marble stone standing upright, as big as a millstone, and the stone floated always above the water, and did so for many years. And so by chance it floated down the stream to the City of Camelot, which in English is Winchester. And that same day Galahad, the high prince, came with King Arthur, and so Galahad brought the scabbard with him and won the sword that was there in the marble stone floating on the water. And on Whitsunday he won the sword, as it is told in the book of the Holy Grail.
Soon after this was done, Merlin came to King Arthur and told him of the Dolorous Stroke that Balin gave King Pellam, and how Balin and Balan fought together the most marvellous battle that was ever heard of, and how they were both buried in one tomb.
"Alas," said King Arthur, "this is the greatest pity I ever heard tell of two knights, for I know of no two such knights in the world."
So ends the tale of Balin and of Balan, two brothers born in Northumberland, good knights.
Here follows the third book.
In the beginning of Arthur's reign, after he was chosen king by chance and by grace, most of the barons did not know that he was Uther Pendragon's son, except as Merlin made it openly known. And yet many kings and lords made great war against him for that reason. But Arthur overcame them all well, for for most of the days of his life he was guided much by the counsel of Merlin. So it happened one time that King Arthur said to Merlin, "My barons will give me no rest, but I must take a wife, and I will take none except by your counsel and by your advice."
"It is well done," said Merlin, "that you take a wife, for a man of your goodness and nobility should not be without a wife. Now, is there any woman you love more than another?"
"Yes," said King Arthur. "I love Guinevere, the daughter of King Leodegrance of the land of Cameliard, who keeps in his house the Round Table that you told me he had from my father Uther. And this damsel is the most worthy and the fairest lady that I know living, or that I could ever find."
"Sir," said Merlin, "as for her beauty and fairness, she is one of the fairest alive. But if you did not love her as well as you do, I could find you a damsel of beauty and of goodness who would suit you and please you, if your heart were not set. But where a man's heart is set, he will be unwilling to turn back."
"That is true," said King Arthur.
But Merlin warned the king in veiled words that Guinevere was not good for him to take as his wife, for he warned him that Lancelot would love her, and she him in return. And so he turned his talk to the adventures of the Holy Grail.
Then Merlin asked the king for men to go with him to make enquiries about Guinevere, and the king granted it him. And Merlin went off to King Leodegrance of Cameliard, and told him of the king's wish to have his daughter Guinevere as his wife.
"That is the best news I ever heard," said King Leodegrance, "that so worthy a king, of such prowess and nobility, will marry my daughter. And as for my lands, I would give them to him if I knew it would please him, but he has lands enough; he needs none. But I will send him a gift that will please him much more, for I will give him the Round Table, which Uther Pendragon gave me. And when it is fully complete, there are a hundred and fifty knights at it. As for a hundred good knights, I have them myself, but I lack fifty, for so many have been killed in my days."
And so Leodegrance handed over his daughter Guinevere to Merlin, and the Round Table with the hundred knights, and so they rode briskly, with great royal splendour, partly by water and partly by land, until they came near to London.
When King Arthur heard of the coming of Guinevere and the hundred knights with the Round Table, then King Arthur rejoiced greatly at her coming and at that rich present, and said openly, "This fair lady is exceedingly welcome to me, for I have loved her long, and so there is nothing so dear to me. And these knights with the Round Table please me more than very great riches."
And in all haste the king had the marriage and the coronation arranged in the most honourable way that could be devised.
"Now, Merlin," said King Arthur, "go and find me fifty knights in all this land who are of the most prowess and honour."
Within a short time Merlin had found knights enough to fill twenty-eight places, but he could find no more. Then the Bishop of Canterbury was fetched, and he blessed the seats with great royal splendour and devotion, and there seated the twenty-eight knights in their places. And when this was done Merlin said, "Fair sirs, you must all rise and come to King Arthur to do him homage; he will be the more willing to support you."
And so they rose and did their homage. And when they had gone, Merlin found on every seat letters of gold that told the names of the knights who had sat there. But two seats were empty.
And so at once young Gawain came and asked the king for a gift.
"Ask," said the king, "and I will grant it you."
"Sir, I ask that you will make me a knight on the same day that you marry fair Guinevere."
"I will do it gladly," said King Arthur, "and do you all the honour I can, for I must by right: you are my nephew, my sister's son."
Straight away a poor man came into the court, and brought with him a handsome young man of eighteen years of age riding on a thin mare. And the poor man asked everyone he met, "Where will I find King Arthur?"
"There he is," said the knights. "Do you want something with him?"
"Yes," said the poor man, "that is why I came here."
As soon as he came before the king, he greeted him and said, "O King Arthur, the flower of all knights and kings, I pray Jesus save you. Sir, I was told that at this time of your marriage you would give any man the gift he asked for, except one that was unreasonable."
"That is true," said the king. "I had such proclamations made, and I will keep to it, so long as it does not weaken my realm or my estate."
"You speak well and graciously," said the poor man. "Sir, I ask nothing else but that you will make my son here a knight."
"It is a great thing you ask of me," said the king. "What is your name?" said the king to the poor man.
"Sir, my name is Aries the cowherd."
"Does this come from you or from your son?" said the king.
"No, sir," said Aries, "this wish comes from my son and not from me. For I tell you, I have thirteen sons, and they will all turn to whatever work I set them to, and are very glad to work. But this boy will not work for me, whatever my wife or I may do, but he is always shooting or throwing darts, and glad to see battles and to watch knights, and always, day and night, he begs me to have him made a knight."
"What is your name?" said the king to the young man.
"Sir, my name is Tor."
The king looked at him hard, and saw that he was exceedingly good-looking and exceedingly well built for his years.
"Well," said King Arthur to Aries the cowherd, "bring all your sons before me so that I can see them."
And so the poor man did, and they were all shaped much like the poor man. But Tor was not like any of them, in build or in face, for he was much bigger than any of them.
"Now," said King Arthur to the cowherd, "where is the sword he will be made a knight with?"
"It is here," said Tor.
"Take it out of the sheath," said the king, "and ask me to make you a knight."
Then Tor got down off his mare and drew his sword, kneeling, and asked the king to make him a knight, and that he might be a knight of the Round Table.
"As for a knight, I will make you one." And with that he struck him on the neck with the sword, saying, "Be a good knight, and I pray to God that you may be so; and if you prove to be of prowess and worth, you shall be a knight of the Round Table. Now, Merlin," said Arthur, "say whether this Tor will be a good knight or not."
"Yes, sir, he ought to be a good knight, for he comes from as good a man as any alive, and of kings' blood."
"How so, sir?" said the king.
"I will tell you," said Merlin. "This poor man, Aries the cowherd, is not his father; he is no kin to him at all, for King Pellinore is his father."
"I don't believe it," said the cowherd.
"Bring your wife before me," said Merlin, "and she will not deny it."
At once the wife was fetched, and she was a handsome housewife. And there she answered Merlin very modestly, and there she told the king and Merlin that when she was a girl and went out to milk the cows, a stern knight met her, "and half by force he took my virginity, and at that time he fathered my son Tor, and he took away from me my greyhound that I had with me at that time, and said that he would keep the greyhound for love of me."
"Ah," said the cowherd, "I never suspected this, but I can well believe it, for he never had any of my ways about him."
"Sir," said Tor to Merlin, "do not dishonour my mother."
"Sir," said Merlin, "it brings you more honour than harm, for your father is a good man and a king, and he may very well advance you and your mother, for you were conceived before ever she was married."
"That is true," said the wife.
"It is the less grief to me," said the cowherd.
So in the morning King Pellinore came to the court of King Arthur, who was overjoyed to see him, and told him about Tor, how he was his son, and how he had made him a knight at the request of the cowherd. When Pellinore looked at Tor, he was very pleased with him. So the king made Gawain a knight, but Tor was the first he made at the feast.
"What is the reason," said King Arthur, "that there are two places empty among the seats?"
"Sir," said Merlin, "no man shall sit in those places but those who are of the most honour. But in the Siege Perilous, the Perilous Seat, no man shall sit but one, and if anyone is bold enough to try it he will be destroyed; and he who sits there shall have no equal."
And with that Merlin took King Pellinore by the hand, and at the place next to the two seats and the Siege Perilous he said, in the hearing of all, "This is your place, and of anyone here you are the most worthy to sit in it."
At that Sir Gawain sat in great envy, and told his brother Gaheris, "That knight over there is given great honour, which grieves me badly, for he killed our father King Lot. So I will kill him," said Gawain, "with a sword that was sent to me that is exceedingly sharp."
"You shall not do that," said Gaheris, "not now. For at this time I am only a squire, and when I am made a knight I will be avenged on him. And so, brother, it is best that you wait until another time, when we can get him out of the court; for if we did it now we would disturb this high feast."
"Gladly," said Gawain, "as you wish."
Then the high feast was made ready, and the king was married to Dame Guinevere at Camelot, in the church of Saint Stephen's, with great solemnity. And when every man was seated according to his rank, Merlin went to all the knights of the Round Table and told them to sit still, and that none of them should leave his place. "For you shall see a strange and a marvellous adventure."
Just as they sat there, a white hart came running into the hall, and a little white hound right behind him, and thirty couple of black running hounds came after with a great baying. And the hart went round the Round Table, and past the other tables. The little white hound bit him in the haunch and pulled out a piece, and at that the hart leapt a great leap and knocked over a knight who sat at the side of a table. And with that the knight got up and picked up the hound, and so went out of the hall, and took his horse and rode away with the hound.
At once a lady came in on a white palfrey, a lady's riding horse, and cried aloud to King Arthur, "Sir, do not let me suffer this insult, for the hound that the knight led away was mine."
"I can do nothing about it," said the king.
With this a knight came riding in, fully armed, on a great horse, and took the lady away with him by force, and all the while she cried out and made great lament. When she had gone the king was glad, for she made such a noise.
"No," said Merlin, "you cannot let these adventures go so lightly; for these adventures must be brought back, or else it would be a dishonour to you and to your feast."
"I wish," said the king, "that everything be done by your advice."
"Then," said Merlin, "have Sir Gawain called, for he must bring back the white hart. Also, sir, you must have Sir Tor called, for he must bring back the hound and the knight, or else kill him. Also have King Pellinore called, for he must bring back the lady and the knight, or else kill him. And these three knights will do marvellous deeds before they come back."
Then all three were called, as was told before, and each of them took on his charge, and armed himself securely. But Sir Gawain had the first request, and so we will begin with him.
Sir Gawain rode at better than a walking pace, and his brother Gaheris rode with him in place of a squire, to serve him. So as they rode they saw two knights fighting on horseback exceedingly hard, so Sir Gawain and his brother rode between them, and asked them why they were fighting like that.
One knight answered and said, "We are fighting over a trivial matter, for we two are brothers, born and fathered of one man and one woman."
"Alas," said Sir Gawain, "why are you doing this?"
"Sir," said the elder, "a white hart came this way today, and many hounds chased him, and a little white hound was always right behind him. And we understood it was an adventure sent for the high feast of King Arthur, and so I would have gone after it to win myself honour. And here my younger brother said he would go after the hart, because he was a better knight than I. And for this reason we fell to quarrelling, and so we thought to prove which of us was the better knight."
"This is a trivial cause," said Sir Gawain. "You should quarrel with strangers, and not brother with brother. So unless you will follow my advice I will fight you; that is, you shall surrender to me, and go to King Arthur and surrender to his mercy."
"Sir knight," said the two brothers, "we are worn out with fighting, and we have lost much blood through our own wilfulness, and so we would be unwilling to fight you."
"Then do as I tell you," said Sir Gawain.
"We agree to do your will. But by whom shall we say we were sent there?"
"You may say: by the knight who follows the quest of the white hart. Now what is your name?" said Gawain.
"Sorlouse of the Forest," said the elder.
"And my name," said the younger, "is Brian of the Forest."
And so they left and went to the king's court, and Sir Gawain went on his quest.
And as Gawain followed the hart by the baying of the hounds, there was a great river right in front of him, and the hart swam across. And as Sir Gawain was about to follow after, there stood a knight on the other side, and said, "Sir knight, do not come across after this hart unless you will joust with me."
"I will not fail on that account," said Sir Gawain, "to follow the quest I am on." And so he made his horse swim across the water.
And at once they took their spears and ran together very hard; but Sir Gawain struck him off his horse, and then he turned his horse and ordered him to surrender.
"No," said the knight, "not so, even though you have the better of me on horseback. I ask you, valiant knight, get down on foot, and let us match ourselves with swords."
"What is your name?" said Sir Gawain.
"Allardin of the Isles," said the other.
Then each of them set his shield and they struck at each other, but Sir Gawain struck him so hard through the helmet that it went into the brain, and the knight fell down dead.
"Ah!" said Gaheris. "That was a mighty stroke for a young knight."
Then Gawain and Gaheris rode at better than a walking pace after the white hart, and let slip three couple of greyhounds at the hart. And so they chased the hart into a castle, and in the main courtyard of the castle they killed the hart; Sir Gawain and Gaheris followed after. Just then a knight came out of a chamber with a drawn sword in his hand and killed two of the greyhounds, right in front of Sir Gawain, and the rest he chased out of the castle with his sword.
And when he came back, he said, "O my white hart, I grieve that you are dead, for my sovereign lady gave you to me, and I have kept you badly, and your death will be dearly paid for if I live."
And at once he went into his chamber and armed himself, and came out fiercely, and there he met Sir Gawain.
"Why have you killed my hounds?" said Sir Gawain. "For they only did what is in their nature, and I would rather you had taken out your anger on me than on a dumb beast."
"You speak the truth," said the knight. "I have taken my revenge on your hounds, and I will on you too, before you go."
Then Sir Gawain got down on foot and set his shield, and they struck at each other mightily, and split their shields, and battered their helmets, and broke their hauberks so that the blood ran down to their feet.
At last Sir Gawain struck the knight so hard that he fell to the ground, and then he begged for mercy, and surrendered, and begged him, as he was a knight and a gentleman, to spare his life.
"You die," said Sir Gawain, "for killing my hounds."
"I will make amends," said the knight, "as far as I am able."
Sir Gawain would have no mercy, but unlaced his helmet to strike off his head. Just then his lady came out of a chamber and fell over him, and so he struck off her head by mischance.
"Alas," said Gaheris, "that is foully and shamefully done; that shame will never leave you. Also, you should give mercy to those who ask for mercy, for a knight without mercy is without honour."
Sir Gawain was so stunned by the death of this fair lady that he did not know what he was doing, and said to the knight, "Get up, I will give you mercy."
"No, no," said the knight, "I care nothing for mercy now, for you have killed my love and my lady, whom I loved best of all earthly things."
"I bitterly regret it," said Sir Gawain, "for I meant to strike at you. But now you shall go to King Arthur and tell him of your adventures, and how you were overcome by the knight who went on the quest of the white hart."
"I don't care," said the knight, "whether I live or die."
But for fear of death he swore to go to King Arthur, and Gawain made him carry one greyhound in front of him on his horse, and another behind him.
"What is your name?" said Sir Gawain, "before we part."
"My name," said the knight, "is Ablamar of the Marsh."
So he left for Camelot.
And Sir Gawain went into the castle, and made ready to stay there all night, and was about to take off his armour.
"What are you doing?" said Gaheris. "Will you take off your armour in this country? You can be sure you have many enemies here."
No sooner had he said that than four knights came, well armed, and attacked Sir Gawain hard, and said to him, "You new-made knight, you have shamed your knighthood, for a knight without mercy is dishonoured. You have also killed a fair lady, to your great shame to the world's end. And make no mistake, you will have great need of mercy before you leave us."
And with that one of them struck Sir Gawain such a great blow that he nearly fell to the ground, and Gaheris struck him back hard. And so they fought, on the one side and on the other, until Sir Gawain and Gaheris were in danger of their lives. And one with a bow, an archer, shot Sir Gawain through the arm, so that it pained him terribly. And as they were about to be killed, four fair ladies came and begged the knights to show grace to Sir Gawain. And courteously, at the ladies' request, they gave Sir Gawain and Gaheris their lives, and made them surrender as prisoners. Then Gawain and Gaheris grieved greatly.
"Alas!" said Sir Gawain. "My arm pains me badly; I am likely to be maimed." And so he lamented pitifully.
Early the next morning one of the four ladies, who had heard all his lament, came to Sir Gawain and said, "Sir knight, how are you?"
"Not well," he said.
"It is your own fault," said the lady, "for you have done an exceedingly foul deed in killing the lady, which will be a great disgrace to you. But are you not of King Arthur's kin?" said the lady.
"Yes, truly," said Sir Gawain.
"What is your name?" said the lady. "You must tell me before you go."
"My name is Gawain, son of King Lot of Orkney, and my mother is King Arthur's sister."
"Ah! Then you are King Arthur's nephew," said the lady, "and I will speak for you so that you will have safe conduct to go to King Arthur, for love of him."
And so she left and told the four knights that their prisoner was King Arthur's nephew, and that his name was Sir Gawain, King Lot of Orkney's son. And they gave him the hart's head, because it was his quest. Then at once they released Sir Gawain on this condition: that he should carry the dead lady with him in this way. Her head was hung around his neck, and the whole of her body lay in front of him on his horse's mane. And so he rode off to Camelot.
And as soon as he arrived, Merlin asked King Arthur to have Sir Gawain sworn to tell of all his adventures, and how he killed the lady, and how he would give no mercy to the knight, which was how the lady came to be killed. Then the king and the queen were greatly displeased with Sir Gawain for the killing of the lady. And there, by order of the queen, a jury of ladies was set to judge Sir Gawain. And they sentenced him, for ever, as long as he lived, to be on the side of all ladies, and to fight for their causes; and that he should always be courteous, and never refuse mercy to anyone who asks for mercy. So Gawain was sworn on the Four Gospels that he would never fight against a lady or a gentlewoman, unless he was fighting for one lady and his opponent was fighting for another. And so ends the adventure that Sir Gawain had at the marriage of King Arthur. Amen.
When Sir Tor was ready, he mounted his horse and rode after the knight with the little hound. And as he rode, he suddenly met a dwarf, who struck his horse on the head with a staff, so that it went backward a spear's length.
"Why did you do that?" said Sir Tor.
"Because you shall not pass this way," said the dwarf, "unless you joust with those knights in the tents over there."
Then Tor saw that there were two tents there, with great spears standing outside them, and two shields hanging on trees by the tents.
"I cannot stay," said Sir Tor, "for I am on a quest that I must follow."
"You shall not pass," said the dwarf, and with that he blew his horn.
Then there came a man armed on horseback, and he set his shield in place and came fast toward Tor, and Tor squared up to him, and they ran together so that Tor bore him off his horse. And at once the knight yielded himself to Tor's mercy.
"But, sir," he said, "I have a companion in that tent over there who will fight with you at once."
"He will be welcome," said Sir Tor.
Then he saw another knight coming at a great charge, and they set themselves at each other so that it was a marvel to see. But the knight struck Sir Tor a great stroke in the middle of the shield, so that his spear shattered to pieces. And Sir Tor struck him through the shield, low down, so that the spear went into the knight's side, but the stroke did not kill him. And with that Sir Tor dismounted and struck him a great stroke on the helm, and with that the knight yielded himself and begged him for mercy.
"Gladly," said Sir Tor, "but you and your companion must go to King Arthur, and give yourselves up to him as prisoners."
"By whom shall we say we were sent there?"
"You shall say by the knight who went on the quest of the knight who went with the little hound. Now, what are your two names?" said Sir Tor.
"My name," said the one, "is Sir Felot of Langduk."
"And my name," said the other, "is Sir Petipase of Winchelsea."
"Now go your way," said Sir Tor, "and God speed you and me."
Then the dwarf came and said to Sir Tor, "I beg you to grant me a gift."
"Gladly," said Sir Tor. "Ask."
"I ask no more," said the dwarf, "than that you will allow me to serve you, for I will serve no more cowardly knights who beg for their lives."
"Take a horse," said Sir Tor, "and ride on with me."
"I know you are riding after the knight with the white hound, and I will bring you to where he is," said the dwarf.
And so they rode through a forest, and at last they saw two tents, close by a priory, with two shields, and the one shield was painted white, and the other shield was red.
With that Sir Tor dismounted and gave the dwarf his sword, and so he came to the white tent, and saw three damsels lying in it, on one pallet, asleep. And so he went to the other tent, and found a lady lying asleep in it, but the white hound was there, and it bayed at her hard. And with that the lady went out of the tent, and all her damsels too. But as soon as Sir Tor saw the white hound, he took her by force and handed her to the dwarf.
"What, will you do that," said the lady, "take my hound from me?"
"Yes," said Sir Tor. "I have searched for this hound all the way here from King Arthur's court."
"Well, knight," said the lady, "you will not get far with her before you are met and made to suffer for it."
"I will face whatever adventure comes, by the grace of God," he said, and so he mounted his horse and went on his way toward Camelot. But it was so near night that he could go only a little further.
"Do you know of any lodging?" said Tor.
"I know of none," said the dwarf, "but there is a hermitage close by here, and there you must take lodging as you find it."
And within a while they came to the hermitage and took lodging there. And there was grass, oats and bread for their horses. That was soon seen to, and their own supper was very poor; but there they rested all night until the morning, and heard a mass devoutly, and took their leave of the hermit, and Sir Tor asked the hermit to pray for him. He said he would, and commended him to God. And so they mounted and rode towards Camelot a long while.
With that they heard a knight who was coming after them call out loud, and he said, "Knight, stop and give back my hound that you took from my lady!"
Sir Tor turned back and looked at him, and saw that he was a handsome knight, well mounted, and well armed at every point. Then Sir Tor set his shield in place, and took his spear in his hands, and the other came fiercely at him, and they struck each other down, both horse and man, to the earth. At once they got nimbly to their feet and drew their swords as fiercely as lions, and put their shields in front of them, and struck through the shields so that pieces fell off on both sides. They battered each other's helms too, so that the hot blood ran out, and they hacked and tore apart the thick mail of their hauberks, so that the hot blood ran to the earth, and both had many wounds and were exceedingly weary. But Sir Tor saw that the other knight was weakening, and then he pressed hard upon him, and doubled his strokes, and forced him to the earth on one side. Then Sir Tor told him to yield.
"That I will not," said Abelleus, "while my life lasts and the soul is in my body, unless you give me the hound."
"That I will not do," said Sir Tor, "for it was my quest to bring back your hound, or you, or both."
With that a damsel came riding on a palfrey as fast as she could drive it, and called out to Sir Tor in a loud voice.
"What do you want with me?" said Sir Tor.
"I beg you," said the damsel, "for King Arthur's love, grant me a gift. I ask it of you, good knight, as you are a man of noble birth."
"Now," said Tor, "ask a gift and I will give it to you."
"Thank you," said the damsel. "Now I ask for the head of the false knight Abelleus, for he is the most violent knight alive, and the greatest murderer."
"I regret the gift I have granted you," said Sir Tor. "Let him make amends for the wrong he has done you."
"Now," said the damsel, "he cannot, for he killed my own brother before my own eyes, and my brother was a better knight than he, if he had had the luck. And I knelt half an hour in the mud in front of him to save my brother's life, though my brother had done him no harm, but had fought him by the chance of arms. And for all that I could do, he struck off his head. And so I ask you, as you are a true knight, to give me my gift, or else I will shame you before all the court of King Arthur; for he is the falsest knight living, and a great destroyer of good knights."
Then when Abelleus heard this, he was more afraid, and yielded himself and asked for mercy.
"I cannot now," said Sir Tor, "unless I am to be found false to my promise. For when I would have granted you mercy, you would ask for none, unless you had the hound back, and that was my quest."
And with that he took off his helm, and Abelleus got up and ran, and Sir Tor went after him, and struck his head clean off.
"Now, sir," said the damsel, "it is near night. I beg you to come and lodge with me here at my house; it is close by here."
"Gladly," said Sir Tor, for his horse and he had fared badly since they left Camelot. And so he rode with her, and had an exceedingly good welcome from her. And she had for her husband an old knight, a very fine one, who gave him an exceedingly good welcome, and made both his horse and him thoroughly comfortable. And in the morning he heard mass, and had breakfast, and took his leave of the knight and the lady, who begged him to tell them his name.
"Truly," he said, "my name is Sir Tor, who was lately made a knight, and this was the first quest of arms that I ever undertook: to bring back what this knight Abelleus took away from King Arthur's court."
"O fair knight," said the lady and her husband, "if you come into our country here, come and see our poor house, and it will always be at your command."
So Sir Tor left, and came to Camelot on the third day by noon. And the king and the queen and all the court were exceedingly glad of his coming, and rejoiced greatly that he had come back; for he went from the court with little help, except that King Pellinore his father gave him an old warhorse, and King Arthur gave him armour and a sword, and besides that he had no other help, but rode out like that, alone. And then the king and the queen, on Merlin's advice, made him swear to tell of his adventures, and so he told them and gave proof of his deeds, as has been told before, at which the king and the queen rejoiced greatly.
"No, no," said Merlin, "these are only trifles to what he will do. For he will prove a noble knight of prowess, as good as any living, and well-bred and courteous, and of good qualities, and exceedingly true to his promise, and he will never do a violent wrong."
Because of Merlin's words, King Arthur gave him an earldom of lands that had fallen to the crown. And here ends the quest of Sir Tor, King Pellinore's son.
Then King Pellinore armed himself and mounted his horse, and rode at better than a walking pace after the lady whom the knight had led away. And as he rode in a forest, he saw in a valley a damsel sitting by a spring, with a wounded knight in her arms, and Pellinore greeted her. And when she saw him, she cried out very loud, "Help me, knight, for Christ's sake, King Pellinore!"
And he would not stop, he was so eager in his quest, and she cried after him for help a hundred times. When she saw he would not stay, she prayed to God to send him as much need of help as she had, and that he might feel it before he died. So, as the book tells, the knight who lay wounded there died, and because of that the lady killed herself with his sword out of pure sorrow. As King Pellinore rode through that valley he met a poor man, a labourer.
"Did you see," said Pellinore, "a knight riding by and leading away a lady?"
"Yes," said the man, "I saw that knight, and the lady, who was grieving greatly. And down there in a valley you will see two tents, and one of the knights from the tents claimed that lady from that knight, and said she was his near cousin, and so he should lead her no further. And so they agreed to fight over that quarrel. The one said he would have her by force, and the other said he would have charge of her, because he was her kinsman, and would take her to her family. I left them fighting over this quarrel. And if you ride hard you will find them fighting, and the lady was left behind with the two squires in the tents."
"God thank you," said King Pellinore.
Then he rode at a gallop until he came in sight of the two tents and the two knights fighting. At once he rode to the tents, and saw the lady who was his quest, and said, "Fair lady, you must come with me to the court of King Arthur."
"Sir knight," said the two squires who were with her, "over there are two knights fighting for this lady. Go there and part them, and come to terms with them, and then you can have her as you please."
"You speak well," said King Pellinore.
And at once he rode between them, and parted them, and asked them why they were fighting.
"Sir knight," said the one, "I will tell you. This lady is my near kinswoman, my aunt's daughter, and when I heard her complain that she was with him against her will, I took up the fight with him."
"Sir knight," said the other, whose name was Hontzlake of Wentland, "I won this lady by my prowess in arms this very day at Arthur's court."
"That is untruly said," said King Pellinore, "for you came in suddenly where we were at the high feast, and took this lady away before any man could make himself ready. And so it was my quest to bring her back, and both of you, or else for one of us to remain on the field. So the lady will go with me, or I will die for it, for I have promised it to King Arthur. And so fight no more, for neither of you shall have any part of her this time. And if you wish to fight for her, fight with me, and I will defend her."
"Well," said the knights, "make yourself ready, and we will attack you with all our strength."
And as King Pellinore was turning his horse away from them, Sir Hontzlake ran his horse through with a sword, and said, "Now you're on foot, the same as us!"
When King Pellinore saw that his horse was killed, he leapt nimbly from his horse and pulled out his sword, and put his shield in front of him, and said, "Knight, look to your head, for you'll take a blow for killing my horse."
So King Pellinore gave him such a stroke on the helm that he split his head down to the chin, so that he fell to the earth dead.
And then he turned to the other knight, who was badly wounded. But when that knight saw the blow the other had taken, he would not fight, but knelt down and said, "Take my cousin the lady with you, as you ask, and I beg you, as you are a true knight, to put her to no shame or dishonour."
"What," said King Pellinore, "will you not fight for her?"
"No, sir," said the knight, "I will not fight with a knight of such prowess as you are."
"Well," said Pellinore, "you speak well. I promise you she shall suffer no dishonour from me, as I am a true knight. But now I need a horse," said Pellinore, "and I will take Hontzlake's horse."
"You will not need to," said the knight, "for I will give you a horse that will please you, provided you will lodge with me, for it is near night."
"Gladly," said King Pellinore. "I will stay with you all night."
And there he had a very good welcome with him, and fared on the best, with exceedingly good wine, and had a merry rest that night. And in the morning he heard a mass and dined; and then a fine bay warhorse was brought to him, with King Pellinore's saddle set on it.
"Now, what shall I call you?" said the knight. "For you have my cousin as you desired, by your quest."
"Sir, I will tell you. My name is King Pellinore of the Isles, and I am a knight of the Round Table."
"Now I am glad," said the knight, "that such a noble man will have charge of my cousin."
"Now, what is your name?" said Pellinore. "I beg you to tell me."
"Sir, my name is Sir Meliot de Logres, and this lady my cousin is called Nimue. And the knight who was in the other tent is my sworn brother, an exceedingly good knight, and his name is Brian of the Isles. And he is very unwilling to do wrong, and very unwilling to fight with any man, unless he is hard pressed, so that for shame he cannot refuse."
"It is a wonder," said Pellinore, "that he will not fight with me."
"Sir, he will fight with no man unless it is at his own request."
"Bring him to the court one of these days," said Pellinore.
"Sir, we will come together."
"And you will be welcome," said Pellinore, "to the court of King Arthur, and greatly praised for your coming."
And so he left with the lady, and brought her to Camelot.
So as they rode in a valley, it was full of stones, and there the lady's horse stumbled and threw her down, so that her arm was badly bruised, and she nearly fainted with the pain.
"Alas, sir," said the lady, "my arm is out of joint, and because of it I must rest."
"So you shall," said King Pellinore.
And so he dismounted under a fine tree where there was good grass, and he put his horse to it, and so lay down under the tree and slept until it was nearly night. And when he woke he wanted to ride on.
"Sir," said the lady, "it is so dark that you might as well ride backward as forward."
So they stayed where they were and made their lodging there. Then Sir Pellinore took off his armour. Then a little before midnight they heard the trotting of a horse.
"Be still," said King Pellinore, "for we shall hear of some adventure."
And with that he armed himself. So right in front of him two knights met, the one coming from Camelot and the other from the north, and each greeted the other.
"What news at Camelot?" said the one.
"By my head," said the other, "I have been there and spied on the court of King Arthur, and there is such a fellowship there that it can never be broken, and nearly all the world holds with Arthur, for there is the flower of chivalry. Now for this reason I am riding into the north, to tell our chieftains about the fellowship of knights that Arthur keeps about him."
"As for that," said the other knight, "I have brought a remedy with me, the greatest poison you ever heard of, and I am taking it to Camelot. For we have a friend very close to King Arthur, and well loved by him, who will poison King Arthur; for he has promised our chieftains to do it, and received great gifts for doing it."
"Beware of Merlin," said the other knight, "for he knows all things by the devil's craft."
"I will not hold back for that," said the knight.
And so they parted. Soon after, Pellinore made himself ready, and his lady too, and rode toward Camelot. And as they came by the spring where the wounded knight and the lady had been, there he found the knight, and the lady eaten by lions or wild beasts, all except the head. And at that he grieved greatly, and wept exceedingly hard, and said, "Alas, I might have saved her life; but I was so fierce in my quest that I would not stop."
"Why do you grieve so?" said the lady.
"I do not know," said Pellinore, "but my heart mourns hard for her death, for she was an exceedingly beautiful lady, and a young one."
"Now, will you take my advice?" said the lady. "Take this knight and have him buried at a hermitage, and then take the lady's head and carry it with you to Arthur."
So King Pellinore took this dead knight on his shoulders, and brought him to the hermitage, and gave the hermit charge of the body, so that a service should be said for his soul, "and take his armour for your trouble."
"It shall be done," said the hermit, "as I will answer to God."
And with that they left, and came to where the head of the lady lay, with its fair yellow hair, and it grieved King Pellinore exceedingly when he looked at it, for his heart was much drawn to that face. And so by noon they came to Camelot; and the king and the queen were exceedingly glad of his coming to the court. And there he was made to swear upon the Four Gospels to tell the truth of his quest from beginning to end.
"Ah, Sir Pellinore," said Queen Guinevere, "you were greatly to blame that you did not save this lady's life."
"Madam," said Pellinore, "you would be greatly to blame if you would not save your own life when you could. But, saving your pleasure, I was so fierce in my quest that I would not stop, and I am sorry for it, and shall be all the days of my life."
"Truly," said Merlin, "you ought to be bitterly sorry for it, for that lady was your own daughter, fathered on the lady of the Rule. And the knight who was dead was her love, and was to have married her, and he was a very good knight for a young man, and would have proved a good man. And he was on his way to this court, and his name was Sir Miles of the Launds. And a knight came up behind him and killed him with a spear, and his name is Loraine le Savage, a false knight and a coward. And she, for great sorrow and grief, killed herself with his sword, and her name was Elaine. And because you would not stop and help her, you will see your best friend fail you when you are in the greatest distress that you ever were or ever will be. And that is the penance God has ordained for you for that deed: that the man you trust most of any man alive will leave you where you will be killed."
"I am sorry," said King Pellinore, "that this will befall me, but God can well undo destiny."
Thus, when the quest of the white hart was done, which Sir Gawain followed; and the quest of the little hound, followed by Sir Tor, Pellinore's son; and the quest of the lady whom the knight took away, which King Pellinore followed at that time; then the king established all his knights, and to those who were not rich in lands he gave lands. And he charged them never to commit outrage or murder, and always to flee treason; and by no means to be cruel, but to give mercy to anyone who asks for mercy, on pain of forfeiting their honour and their lordship from King Arthur for evermore; and always to give help to ladies, damsels and gentlewomen, on pain of death. Also, that no man should take up a fight in a wrongful quarrel, not for any law, nor for any worldly goods. To this all the knights of the Round Table were sworn, both old and young. And every year they were sworn again at the high feast of Pentecost.
Here ends the Wedding of King Arthur.
Here follows the fourth book.
So after these quests of Sir Gawain, Sir Tor and King Pellinore, it happened that Merlin fell into a foolish passion for the damsel whom King Pellinore had brought to court; and she was one of the damsels of the lake, and her name was Nimue. But Merlin would give her no rest, but always wanted to be with her. And she always gave him a good welcome until she had learned from him everything she wanted to know; and he was so besotted with her that he could not keep away from her. So one time he told King Arthur that he would not last long, but that for all his crafts he would be put into the earth alive. And so he told the king many things that would come to pass, but always he warned the king to guard his sword and the scabbard well, for he told him how the sword and the scabbard would be stolen from him by a woman, one he trusted most. He also told King Arthur that he would miss him: "And yet you would rather have me back than have all your lands."
"Ah," said the king, "since you know what is going to happen to you, provide against it, and put away that misfortune with your crafts."
"No," said Merlin, "it will not be." And so he left the king.
And within a while the Damsel of the Lake left, and Merlin went with her always, wherever she went. And many times Merlin would have liked to have his way with her in secret by his subtle crafts; then she made him swear that he would never work any enchantment on her, if he wanted to have his will. And so he swore. So she and Merlin went over the sea to the land of Benwick, where King Ban was king, who was fighting a great war against King Claudas. And there Merlin spoke with King Ban's wife, a fair lady and a good one, and her name was Elaine; and there he saw young Lancelot. There the queen grieved greatly for the deadly war that King Claudas was making on her lord and on her lands.
"Do not be so sad," said Merlin, "for this same child, within twenty years from now, will take revenge for you on King Claudas, so that all Christendom will speak of it. And this same child will be the man of greatest honour in the world; and his first name is Galahad, that I know well," said Merlin, "and since then you have had him confirmed as Lancelot."
"That is true," said the queen. "His first name was Galahad. Oh, Merlin," said the queen, "shall I live to see my son such a man of prowess?"
"Yes, lady, on my life you shall see it, and live many winters after."
And so, soon after, the lady and Merlin left, and on the way Merlin showed her many wonders, and they came into Cornwall. And all the time Merlin was pressing the lady to take her maidenhood, and she was exceedingly weary of him, and would gladly have been rid of him, for she was afraid of him because he was a devil's son; and she could not shake him off by any means. And so one time it happened that Merlin showed her a great wonder in a rock, made by enchantment, that went in under a great stone. So by her subtle working she got Merlin to go in under that stone to let her know of the marvels there; but she worked her craft on him there so that he never came out again, for all the craft he could do. And so she left, and left Merlin there.
And King Arthur rode to Camelot, and held a great feast there with mirth and joy, and soon after he returned to Cardoile. And there new tidings came to Arthur that the King of Denmark, and the King of Ireland who was his brother, and the King of the Vale, and the King of Soleise, and the King of the Isle of Longtains, all these five kings with a great army, had entered King Arthur's land, and were burning and killing everything before them, both cities and castles, so that it was pitiful to hear.
"Alas," said Arthur, "I have never yet had one month's rest since I was crowned king of this land. Now I shall never rest until I meet those kings in a fair field, and I make my vow on that. For my true and loyal people shall not be destroyed through my failing. Come with me who will, and stay behind who will."
Then the king had a letter written to King Pellinore, and begged him to make ready in all haste, with as many men as he could most quickly raise, and to hurry after him in all haste. All the barons were secretly angry that the king would leave so suddenly; but the king would by no means wait, but sent letters to those who were not there, and told them to hurry after him, those who were not at the court at that time. Then the king came to Queen Guinevere, and said, "Lady, make yourself ready, for you shall go with me, for I cannot be without you for long. You will make me all the bolder, whatever chance befalls me. I will not have my lady be in any danger."
"Sir," she said, "I am at your command, and I shall be ready whenever you are ready."
So in the morning the king and the queen left with such company as they had, and came into the north, into a forest beside the Humber, and camped there. When the word and the tidings came to the five kings named above that Arthur was in a forest beside the Humber, there was a knight, brother to one of the five kings, who gave them this advice: "You know well that Sir Arthur has the flower of the chivalry of the world with him, as was proved by the great battle he fought with the eleven kings. And therefore hurry to him night and day until we are near him, for the longer he waits the bigger he grows, and we always the weaker. And he is so bold in himself that he has come to the field with few men, and therefore let us set upon him before daybreak, and we shall cut them down. Of his knights not one shall escape."
These five kings agreed to this advice, and so they went on with their army through North Wales, and came upon Arthur by night, and fell on his army while the king and his knights were in their tents. King Arthur was unarmed, and had lain down to rest with his Queen Guinevere.
"Sir," said Sir Kay, "it is not good for us to be unarmed."
"We shall have no need," said Sir Gawain and Sir Griflet, who lay in a little tent beside the king.
With that they heard a great noise, and many cried, "Treason, treason!"
"Alas," said King Arthur, "we are betrayed! To arms, my fellows!" he cried then.
So they were armed at once, from head to foot. Then a wounded knight came to the king, and said, "Sir, save yourself and my lady the queen, for our army is destroyed, and many of our men are killed."
So at once the king and the queen and the three knights took their horses, and rode towards the Humber to cross it; and the water was so rough that they were afraid to cross.
"Now you may choose," said King Arthur, "whether you will stay and take your chance on this side; for if you are taken, they will kill you."
"I would rather," said the queen, "die in the water than fall into your enemies' hands and be killed there."
And as they stood there talking, Sir Kay saw the five kings coming on horseback by themselves, alone, with their spears in their hands, straight towards them.
"Look," said Sir Kay, "there are the five kings. Let us go at them and take them on."
"That would be folly," said Sir Gawain, "for we are only three and they are five."
"That is true," said Sir Griflet.
"No matter," said Sir Kay. "I will take on two of them, and then you three can take on the other three."
And with that Sir Kay let his horse run as fast as it could, and struck one of them through the shield and the body a fathom deep, so that the king fell to the earth stone dead. Sir Gawain saw that, and charged another king so hard that he struck him through the body. And with that King Arthur charged another, and struck him through the body with a spear, so that he fell to the earth dead. Then Sir Griflet charged the fourth king, and gave him such a fall that his neck broke. At once Sir Kay charged the fifth king, and struck him so hard on the helm that the stroke split the helm and the head down to the earth.
"That was a fine stroke," said King Arthur, "and you have kept your promise honourably, and so I shall honour you as long as I live."
And with that they put the queen in a barge on the Humber. But all the while Queen Guinevere praised Sir Kay for his deeds, and said, "Whatever lady you love, if she does not love you back, she would be greatly to blame. And among ladies," said the queen, "I shall spread your noble fame, for you spoke a great word, and you fulfilled it honourably." And with that the queen left.
Then the king and the three knights rode into the forest, for they expected to hear there of those who had escaped; and there he found most of his people, and told them all how the five kings were dead. "And therefore let us hold together until it is day, and when their army sees that their chieftains are killed, they will grieve so wildly that they will be no more able to help themselves."
And just as the king said, so it was; for when they found the five kings dead, they grieved so wildly that they fell from their horses. With that King Arthur came on them with only a few men, and killed them on the left hand and on the right, so that very nearly not a man escaped, but all were killed, to the number of thirty thousand. And when the battle was all over, the king knelt down and humbly thanked God. And then he sent for the queen, and soon she came, and she rejoiced greatly at the winning of that battle.
With that someone came to King Arthur and told him that King Pellinore was within three miles with a great army.
And he said, "Go to him, and let him know how we have fared."
So within a while King Pellinore came with a great army, and greeted the people and the king, and there was great rejoicing on every side. Then the king had a search made to find how many of his side had been killed; and there were found to be only a little over two hundred men killed, and eight knights of the Round Table in their tents. Then the king had a fair abbey raised and planned on the same spot where the battle was fought, and endowed it with a great income, and had it called the Abbey of La Beale Adventure. But when some of them came into the countries where the five kings had been kings, and told them how they had been killed, there was great grief. And all King Arthur's enemies, such as the King of North Wales and the kings of the North, when they knew of the battle, were exceedingly downcast. And so the king returned to Camelot in haste.
And when he had come to Camelot he called King Pellinore to him, and said, "You understand well that we have lost eight of the best knights of the Round Table, and on your advice we will choose eight more, the best we can find in this court."
"Sir," said Pellinore, "I shall advise you the best I can as I see it. There are very noble knights in your court, both old and young; and therefore my advice is that you choose half from the old and half from the young."
"Which are the old?" said King Arthur.
"Sir," said King Pellinore, "it seems to me King Uriens, who has married your sister Morgan le Fay, and the King of the Lake, and Sir Hervise de Revel, a noble knight, and Sir Galagars as the fourth."
"This is well planned," said King Arthur, "and so it shall be. Now, which are the four young knights?" said Arthur.
"Sir," said Pellinore, "the first is Sir Gawain, your nephew, who is as good a knight for his age as any in this land. And the second, as it seems best to me, is Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, who is a good knight and very eager in arms, and whoever lives to see him will see him prove a good knight. And the third, as it seems to me, well fit to be one of the knights of the Round Table, is Sir Kay the Seneschal, for many times he has done very honourably, and now at your last battle he did most honourably in taking it on himself to kill two kings."
"By my head," said Arthur, "he is the most worthy to be a knight of the Round Table of any you have named, even if he had done no other deed of prowess in all his life."
"Now," said King Pellinore, "I shall put two knights before you, and you shall choose which is the more worthy: that is, Sir Bagdemagus, and Sir Tor, my son. But because Sir Tor is my son I may not praise him; but otherwise, if he were not my son, I would dare to say that for his age there is no better knight in this land than he is, nor one of better character, and loath to do any wrong, and loath to take any wrong."
"By my head," said Arthur, "he is as exceedingly good a knight as any you have spoken of today, that I know well," said the king. "For I have seen him proved; but he says little and he does much more. For I know no one in all this court, if he were as well born on his mother's side as he is on yours, who is his equal in prowess and in might. And therefore I will have him this time, and leave Sir Bagdemagus until another time."
So when they had been chosen in this way with the consent of all the barons, the names of every one of the knights named here were found written on their seats; and so they were set in their seats. At this Sir Bagdemagus was furiously angry, that Sir Tor had been advanced before him, and so he left the court suddenly, and took his squire with him, and rode a long way in a forest until they came to a cross; and there they dismounted, and he said his prayers devoutly. Meanwhile his squire found written on the cross that Bagdemagus should never return to the court again until he had won the body of a knight of the Round Table, body for body.
"So, sir," said the squire, "here I find writing about you, and therefore I advise you to go back to the court."
"That I will never do," said Bagdemagus, "until men speak of my great honour, and I am worthy to be a knight of the Round Table."
And so he rode on, and there on the way he found a branch of a holy herb that was the sign of the Holy Grail; and no knight found such tokens unless he lived a good life.
So, as Sir Bagdemagus rode on to seek out many adventures, he happened to come to the rock where the Lady of the Lake had put Merlin under the stone, and there he heard him lamenting greatly. And at that Sir Bagdemagus would have helped him, and went to the great stone; and it was so heavy that a hundred men could not have lifted it. When Merlin knew he was there, he told him to give up his labour, for it was all in vain, for he could never be helped except by her who put him there. And so Bagdemagus left, and achieved many adventures, and proved afterwards a very good knight, and came back to the court and was made a knight of the Round Table. So in the morning new tidings came, and other adventures.
Then it happened that Arthur and many of his knights rode hunting into a great forest; and King Arthur, King Uriens and Sir Accolon of Gaul happened to follow a great hart, for the three of them were well mounted. And so they chased so fast that within a while the three of them were ten miles from their company. And at last they chased so hard that they killed their horses under them. Then all three of them were on foot, and all the time they saw the hart ahead of them, exceedingly weary and making for cover.
"What shall we do?" said King Arthur. "We are in a hard spot."
"Let us go on foot," said King Uriens, "until we can find some lodging."
Then they saw the hart lying on the bank of a great river, and a hound biting at his throat, and more hounds coming after. Then King Arthur blew the horn call for the kill, and dressed the hart.
Then the king looked all about him, and saw before him on a great river a little ship, all hung with silk down to the water; and the ship came straight to them and landed on the sands. Then Arthur went to the bank and looked in, and saw no earthly creature in it.
"Sirs," said the king, "come over here, and let us see what is in this ship."
So all three of them went in, and found it richly hung with silk cloth. By then it was dark night, and suddenly there were a hundred torches all about them, set on every side of the ship's planking, and they gave a great light. And with that twelve fair damsels came out and greeted King Arthur on their knees, and called him by his name, and said he was most welcome, and that he should have the best of such hospitality as they had. The king thanked them courteously. With that they led the king and his two companions into a fair room, and there a cloth was laid, richly furnished with everything that belonged to a table; and there they were served with every wine and every dish they could think of. At this the king marvelled greatly, for he had never fared better in his life at a single supper. And so when they had dined at their leisure, King Arthur was led into a room, and he never saw a more richly furnished room; and King Uriens was served the same, and led into another room like it; and Sir Accolon was led into the third room, exceedingly rich and well furnished. And so they were laid comfortably in their beds. And at once they fell asleep, and slept wonderfully deeply all night. And in the morning King Uriens was in Camelot, in bed in the arms of his wife, Morgan le Fay. And when he awoke he marvelled greatly how he had come there, for on the evening before he had been two days' journey from Camelot. And when King Arthur awoke he found himself in a dark prison, hearing all around him the many laments of wretched knights.
"Who are you that lament like this?" said King Arthur.
"We are twenty knights here, prisoners," they said, "and some of us have lain here seven years, and some more and some less."
"For what reason?" said Arthur.
"We will tell you," said the knights. "The lord of this castle is called Sir Damas, and he is the falsest knight alive, and full of treason, and as complete a coward as any alive. And he has a younger brother, a good knight of prowess, whose name is Sir Ontzlake. And this traitor Damas, the elder brother, will give him no share of his inheritance, except what Sir Ontzlake holds by the prowess of his own hands. And so he holds from him a very fair manor, and a rich one, and Sir Ontzlake lives there honourably, and is well loved by all the people. And this Sir Damas, our master, is as much hated, for he is without mercy, and he is a coward. And there has been great war between the two of them, but Ontzlake always has the better of it; and he keeps offering to fight Sir Damas for the inheritance, body for body, but he will not do it, or else to find a knight to fight for him. Sir Damas agreed to find a knight, but he is so disliked and hated that there is not one knight who will fight for him. And when Damas saw this, that there was not one knight who would fight for him, he has lain in wait every day with many knights, and taken all the knights in this country who come to see and look for adventures; he has taken them by force and brought them to his prison. And so he took us one by one as we rode on our adventures; and many good knights have died of hunger in this prison, eighteen knights in number. And if any of us all who are here, or have been here, had been willing to fight his brother Ontzlake, he would have set us free; but because this Damas is so false and so full of treason, we would never fight for him, even if we die for it. And we are so thin with hunger that we can scarcely stand on our feet."
"God deliver you, of His mercy," said Arthur.
At once, with that, a damsel came to Arthur, and asked him, "How are you?"
"I cannot say," he said.
"Sir," she said, "if you will fight for my lord, you shall be released from prison; and otherwise you will never escape with your life."
"Now," said Arthur, "that is hard. Yet I would rather fight with a knight than die in prison. If by this," said Arthur, "I can be freed, and all these prisoners, I will fight the battle."
"Yes," said the damsel.
"I am ready," said Arthur, "if I had a horse and armour."
"You shall lack nothing," said the damsel.
"It seems to me, damsel, that I have seen you in the court of Arthur."
"No," said the damsel, "I have never been there. I am the daughter of the lord of this castle."
Yet she was false, for she was one of the damsels of Morgan le Fay.
At once she went to Sir Damas, and told him how he would fight the battle for him, and so he sent for Arthur. And when he came he had a good colour and was well made in his limbs, so that all the knights who saw him said it would be a pity for such a knight to die in prison. So Sir Damas and he agreed that he should fight for him on this condition, that all the other knights should be set free; and Sir Damas swore that to Arthur, and Arthur also swore to fight the battle to the uttermost. And with that all twenty knights were brought out of the dark prison into the hall and set free, and so they all stayed to see the battle.
Now we leave Arthur and turn to Accolon of Gaul. When he awoke, he found himself beside a deep well, within half a foot of its edge, in great danger of death. And out of that spring there came a silver pipe, and out of that pipe water ran up high into a basin of marble. When Sir Accolon saw this, he crossed himself and said, "Jesus save my lord King Arthur and King Uriens, for these damsels in this ship have betrayed us. They were devils and not women. And if I can escape this mischance, I shall destroy these false damsels who use enchantments, wherever I can find them."
Just then there came a dwarf with a great mouth and a flat nose, and greeted Sir Accolon, and said that he came from Queen Morgan le Fay, "and she greets you well, and bids you be strong of heart, for you will fight tomorrow with a knight at the hour of prime, at six in the morning. And therefore she has sent you Excalibur, Arthur's sword, and the scabbard. And she bids you, as you love her, to fight the battle to the uttermost, without any mercy, just as you promised her when you spoke together in private. And whatever damsel brings her the head of the knight you will fight with, she will make her a queen."
"Now I understand you well," said Accolon. "I shall keep what I have promised her, now that I have the sword. When did you see my lady Queen Morgan le Fay?"
"Very lately," said the dwarf.
Then Accolon took him in his arms and said, "Commend me to my lady the queen, and tell her that everything I have promised her shall be done, or else I will die for it. Now I suppose," said Accolon, "she has made all these crafts and enchantments for this battle."
"You may well believe it," said the dwarf.
Just then there came a knight and a lady with six squires, and greeted Accolon, and begged him to get up and come and rest at their manor. And so Accolon mounted a spare horse, and went with the knight to a fair manor beside a priory, and there he was given an exceedingly good welcome.
Then Sir Damas sent word to his brother Sir Ontzlake, and told him to make ready by the next morning at the hour of prime, and to be in the field to fight with a good knight, for he had found a good knight who was ready to do battle in every way. When this word came to Sir Ontzlake he was exceedingly downcast, for a little before he had been wounded through both thighs with a spear, and he grieved greatly; but wounded as he was, he would have taken on the battle. So it happened at that time, through Morgan le Fay's contriving, that Accolon was lodged with Sir Ontzlake; and when he heard of that battle, and how Ontzlake was wounded, he said that he would fight for him. Because Morgan le Fay had sent him Excalibur and the sheath to fight the knight in the morning: that was the reason Sir Accolon took the battle on himself. Then Sir Ontzlake was exceedingly glad, and thanked Sir Accolon with all his heart for doing so much for him. And with that Sir Ontzlake sent word to his brother Sir Damas that he had a knight who would be ready in the field for him by the hour of prime.
So in the morning Sir Arthur was armed and well mounted, and asked Sir Damas, "When do we go to the field?"
"Sir," said Sir Damas, "you shall hear mass first."
And so Arthur heard a mass, and when mass was done a squire came on a great horse, and asked Sir Damas if his knight was ready, "for our knight is ready in the field." Then Sir Arthur mounted his horse, and all the knights and common people of that country were there; and so by common counsel twelve good men of the country were chosen to attend on the two knights. And just as Arthur was on horseback, a damsel came from Morgan le Fay, and brought Sir Arthur a sword like Excalibur, and the scabbard, and said to Arthur, "Morgan le Fay sends you your sword here, out of great love."
And he thanked her, and thought it was so; but she was false, for the sword and the scabbard were counterfeit, and brittle, and false.
And then they took up their places at either end of the field, and let their horses run so fast that each struck the other in the middle of the shield with their spearheads, so that both horse and man went to the earth. And then they both leapt up, and drew their swords. While they were fighting like this, the Damsel of the Lake, who put Merlin under the stone, came into the field; and she came there out of love for King Arthur, for she knew how Morgan le Fay had arranged things so that King Arthur would be killed that day, and so she came to save his life. And so they went eagerly at the battle, and gave many great strokes; but all the time Arthur's sword did not bite like Accolon's sword. But for the most part, every stroke that Accolon gave wounded Arthur badly, so that it was a marvel he stood, and all the time his blood ran from him fast.
When Arthur saw the ground so soaked with his blood he was dismayed, and then he suspected treason, that his sword had been changed; for his sword did not bite into steel as it used to, and so he was sorely afraid he would die. For it always seemed to him that the sword in Accolon's hand was Excalibur, for at every stroke Accolon struck he drew blood from Arthur.
"Now, knight," said Accolon to Arthur, "look out for yourself."
But Arthur gave no answer, and gave him such a blow on the helm that it made him stoop, nearly falling to the earth. Then Sir Accolon drew back a little, and came on with Excalibur raised high, and struck Sir Arthur such a blow that he nearly fell to the earth. Then they were both angry, and gave each other many heavy strokes; but all the time Sir Arthur lost so much blood that it was a marvel he stood on his feet. But he was so full of knighthood that he endured the pain like a knight. And Sir Accolon lost not a drop of blood, and so he grew exceedingly lively, and Sir Arthur was exceedingly weak, and truly expected to die. But for all that he kept a face as though he could hold out, and kept Accolon as close as he could. But Accolon was so bold because of Excalibur that he grew exceedingly daring. But all the men who watched said they had never seen a knight fight as well as Arthur did, considering the blood he had lost. So all the people were sorry for him; but the two brothers would not come to terms. Then they went on fighting together like fierce knights, and Sir Arthur drew back a little to rest, and Sir Accolon called him back to the fight and said, "This is no time for me to let you rest."
And with that he came at Arthur fiercely; and Sir Arthur was angry for the blood he had lost, and struck Accolon high on the helm, so mightily that he made him nearly fall to the earth. And with that Arthur's sword burst at the crossguard, and fell in the grass among the blood, and he was left holding the pommel and the grip in his hands. When Sir Arthur saw that, he was in great fear of dying; but all the time he held up his shield, and gave no ground, and did not let his face fall.
Then Sir Accolon began with treacherous words, and said, "Knight, you are beaten, and you can't hold out. You have no weapon, too, and you have lost a great deal of blood, and I am very unwilling to kill you. So yield to me and admit yourself beaten."
"No," said Sir Arthur, "I cannot do that, for I have promised on my life to fight this battle to the very end, while life lasts in me. And so I would rather die with honour than live with shame. And if it were possible for me to die a hundred times, I would rather die that many times than yield to you. For though I lack a weapon, I shall lack no honour, and if you kill me weaponless, the shame will be yours."
"Well," said Accolon, "as for the shame, I won't hold back for that. Now defend yourself, for you are as good as dead."
And with that Accolon gave him such a stroke that he nearly fell to the ground, and he would have had Arthur beg him for mercy. But Sir Arthur pressed in on Accolon with his shield, and struck him such a blow with the pommel in his hand that he went three strides backwards.
When the Damsel of the Lake saw Arthur, how full of prowess his body was, and the false treason that had been worked to have him killed, she had great pity that so good a knight and so honourable a man should be destroyed in that way. And at the next stroke Sir Accolon struck him such a blow that, by the damsel's enchantment, the sword Excalibur fell out of Accolon's hand to the ground. And with that Sir Arthur leapt swiftly to it, and got it in his hand, and at once he knew that it was his sword Excalibur, and said, "You have been away from me far too long, and you have done me great harm." And with that he saw the scabbard hanging by Accolon's side, and suddenly he leapt at him and pulled the scabbard off him, and threw it as far away as he could throw it.
"Now, knight," said Arthur, "this day you have done me great harm with this sword. Now you have come to your death, for I promise you that before we part you shall be paid back with this sword just as you have paid me. For you have made me endure much pain, and I have lost much blood."
And with that Sir Arthur rushed at him with all his might and pulled him to the ground, and then tore off his helmet, and struck him such a blow on the head that the blood came out of his ears, his nose and his mouth.
"Now I will kill you," said Arthur.
"You may well kill me," said Accolon, "if it pleases you, for you are the best knight I ever met, and I see well that God is with you. But because I promised to fight this battle to the very end," said Accolon, "and never to yield and beg for my life while I lived, I will never yield with my own mouth, and God do with my body what He will."
Then Sir Arthur stopped to think, and it seemed to him that he had seen this knight before.
"Now tell me," said Arthur, "or I will kill you: what country are you from, and what court?"
"Sir Knight," said Sir Accolon, "I am of the court of King Arthur, and my name is Accolon of Gaul."
Then Arthur was more dismayed than he had been before, for then he remembered his sister Morgan le Fay, and the enchantment of the ship.
"O sir knight," he said, "I beg you, tell me who gave you this sword, and from whom you had it."
Then Sir Accolon thought it over, and said, "Cursed be this sword, for through it I have got my death."
"That may well be," said the king.
"Now, sir," said Accolon, "I will tell you. This sword has been in my keeping for most of this past year. And Morgan le Fay, King Uriens' wife, sent it to me yesterday by a dwarf, for this purpose: that I should kill King Arthur, her brother. For you must understand that King Arthur is the man in the world she hates most, because he has the most honour and prowess of anyone of her blood. Also she loves me beyond measure as her lover, and I love her in return. And if she could bring about Arthur's death by her arts, she would easily kill her husband King Uriens, and then she had planned for me to be king in this land, and so to reign, and she to be my queen. But that is all over now," said Accolon, "for I am sure of my death."
"Well," said Sir Arthur, "I can tell from what you say that you would have been king in this land. It would have been a great wrong to have destroyed your lord," said Arthur.
"That is the truth," said Accolon. "But now I have told you the truth, so I beg you, tell me where you are from, and of what court."
"O Accolon," said King Arthur, "now I tell you that I am King Arthur, to whom you have done great harm."
When Accolon heard that, he cried aloud, "Fair, sweet lord, have mercy on me, for I did not know you."
"O Sir Accolon," said King Arthur, "you shall have mercy, because I can tell from your words this time that you did not know who I was. But I understand well from your words that you agreed to my death, and so you are a traitor. But I blame you the less, for my sister Morgan le Fay, by her false arts, made you agree and consent to her false desires. But I shall be avenged on her so hard, if I live, that all Christendom will speak of it. God knows I have honoured her and esteemed her above all my kin, and I have trusted her more than my own wife and all my kin besides."
Then Sir Arthur called the keepers of the field, and said, "Sirs, come here, for here are two knights who have fought each other to the great harm of us both, and each of us was likely to have killed the other, if it had so happened. And if either of us had known the other, there would have been no battle here, and no stroke struck."
Then Accolon cried aloud to all the knights and men who were gathered there, and spoke to them in this way: "O lords, this noble knight I have fought with, which I bitterly regret, is the greatest man of prowess, of manhood and of honour in the world, for he is King Arthur himself, the liege lord of us all. And by mischance and misfortune I have fought this battle with the king and lord to whom I am bound."
Then all the people fell down on their knees and begged King Arthur's pardon.
"You shall have mercy," said Arthur. "Here you can see what adventures often befall knights errant, how I have fought with a knight of my own, to my great harm and to his too. But, sirs, because I am badly hurt, and he is too, and I have great need of a little rest, you shall hear my judgement between you two brothers. As for you, Sir Damas, for whom I have been champion and won the field against this knight: even so I will judge that, because you, Sir Damas, are called a proud knight, and full of villainy, and your deeds have no prowess in them, you shall give your brother the whole manor with everything that belongs to it, on these terms: that Sir Ontzlake hold the manor from you, and give you a palfrey every year to ride on, for that will suit you better to ride on than a warhorse. Also I charge you, Sir Damas, on pain of death, that you never harass any knights errant who ride on their adventures. And also that you give back to these twenty knights, whom you have kept prisoner so long, all their armour, so that they are satisfied. And if any of them comes to my court and complains of you, by my head, you shall die for it. Also, Sir Ontzlake, as for you, because you are called a good knight, and full of prowess, and true and noble in all your deeds, this is the charge I give you: that with all good speed you come to me and my court, and you shall be a knight of mine. And if your deeds match your name, I shall so advance you, by the grace of God, that in a short time you will have the means to live as honourably as your brother Sir Damas."
"God thank you for your generosity, your goodness and your bounty. From now on I shall be at your command at all times. For, sir," said Sir Ontzlake, "as God willed it, I was lately wounded through both thighs by a knight seeking adventures, which hurt me badly, or else I would have fought this battle with you."
"Would to God," said Arthur, "it had been so, for then I would not have been hurt as I am. I will tell you the reason why: I would not have been hurt as I am, if it had not been for my own sword, which was stolen from me by treason. And this battle was arranged beforehand to have me killed, and so it was brought about by false treason and by false enchantment."
"Alas," said Sir Ontzlake, "it is a great pity that any man or woman could find it in their hearts to work treason against so noble a man as you are, in your deeds and your prowess."
"I shall reward them," said Arthur, "in a short time, by the grace of God. Now tell me," said Arthur, "how far am I from Camelot?"
"Sir, you are two days' journey from there."
"I would gladly be at some honourable place," said Sir Arthur, "where I might rest."
"Sir," said Sir Ontzlake, "near here there is a rich abbey of nuns, founded by your forefathers, only three miles away."
So the king took his leave of all the people, and mounted on horseback, and Sir Accolon with him. And when they had come to the abbey, he had doctors fetched to examine his wounds and Accolon's both. But Sir Accolon died within four days, for he had lost so much blood that he could not live; but King Arthur recovered well. So when Accolon was dead, he had him sent on a horse-bier with six knights to Camelot, and said, "Carry him to my sister Morgan le Fay, and say that I send him to her as a present, and tell her I have my sword Excalibur and the scabbard."
So they set off with the body.
Meanwhile Morgan le Fay believed King Arthur was dead. So one day she saw King Uriens lying asleep in his bed. Then she called to her a maiden who was in her confidence, and said, "Go and fetch me my lord's sword, for I never saw a better time to kill him than now."
"O madam," said the damsel, "if you kill my lord you can never escape."
"Never you mind," said Morgan le Fay, "for now I see that this is the best time to do it. So hurry, quickly, and fetch me the sword."
Then the damsel left, and found Sir Uwain sleeping on a bed in another room. So she went to Sir Uwain, and woke him, and told him, "Get up, and keep watch on my lady your mother, for she means to kill the king your father as he sleeps in his bed, and I am going to fetch his sword."
"Well," said Sir Uwain, "go on your way, and leave this to me."
At once the damsel brought Morgan the sword with trembling hands, and she took the sword swiftly, and drew it, and went boldly to the bedside, and watched for how and where she could best kill him. And as she lifted up the sword to strike, Sir Uwain leapt at his mother, and caught her by the hand, and said, "Ah, fiend, what are you doing? If you were not my mother, I would strike off your head with this sword. Ah," said Sir Uwain, "men say that Merlin was fathered by a devil, but I can say an earthly devil bore me."
"O fair son, Uwain, have mercy on me. I was tempted by a devil, and so I beg your pardon. I will never do such a thing again. Save my honour and do not give me away."
"On this condition," said Sir Uwain, "I will forgive you: that you will never set about such deeds again."
"No, son," she said, "and I give you my word on it."
Then news came to Morgan le Fay that Accolon was dead, and his body brought to the church, and that King Arthur had his sword again. But when Queen Morgan knew that Accolon was dead, she was so sorrowful that her heart nearly burst. But because she did not want it known, outwardly she kept her composure, and showed no sign of sorrow. But she knew well that if she stayed until her brother Arthur came there, no amount of gold would buy her life.
Then she went to Queen Guinevere, and asked her leave to ride into the country.
"You might wait," said Queen Guinevere, "until your brother the king comes home."
"I cannot," said Morgan le Fay, "for I have such urgent news that I cannot delay."
"Well," said Guinevere, "you may leave when you like."
So early in the morning, before it was day, she took her horse and rode all that day and most of the night, and the next morning by noon she came to the same abbey of nuns where King Arthur lay. And knowing he was there, she asked where he was. And they answered that he had gone to bed to sleep, for he had had very little rest these three nights.
"Well," she said, "I order that none of you wake him until I do."
And then she got down from her horse, meaning to steal his sword Excalibur, and so she went straight to his room, and no one dared disobey her command. And there she found Arthur asleep in his bed, with Excalibur naked in his right hand. When she saw that, she was exceedingly unhappy that she could not get at the sword without waking him, and then she knew well she would have been dead. Then she took the scabbard and went her way on horseback.
When the king woke and missed his scabbard, he was angry, and he asked who had been there. And they said his sister Queen Morgan had been there, and had put the scabbard under her cloak and was gone.
"Alas," said Arthur, "you have kept a false watch over me."
"Sir," they all said, "we did not dare disobey your sister's command."
"Ah," said the king, "have the best horse fetched that can be found, and tell Sir Ontzlake to arm himself in all haste, and take another good horse and ride with me."
So at once the king and Ontzlake were well armed, and rode after this lady. And so they came by a cross and found a cowherd, and they asked the poor man whether any lady had come riding that way.
"Sir," said this poor man, "just now a lady came riding with some forty horses, and she rode to that forest over there."
Then they spurred their horses, and followed fast, and after a while Arthur caught sight of Morgan le Fay. Then he chased as fast as he could. When she saw him following her, she rode at a greater pace through the forest until she came to a plain. And when she saw she could not escape, she rode to a lake nearby, and said, "Whatever becomes of me, my brother shall not have this scabbard." And then she threw the scabbard into the deepest part of the water, so that it sank, for it was heavy with gold and precious stones.
Then she rode into a valley where there were many great stones, and when she saw she must be overtaken, she turned herself, horse and man, by enchantment into a great marble stone. Right after that Sir Arthur and Sir Ontzlake came to where the king could recognise his sister and her men, and one knight from another.
"Ah," said the king, "here you can see the vengeance of God, and now I am sorry that this misfortune has happened."
And then he looked for the scabbard, but it could not be found, so he returned to the abbey he had come from. So when Arthur had gone, she turned them all back into the likeness they had had before, and said, "Sirs, now we can go wherever we like."
Then Morgan said, "Did you see Arthur, my brother?"
"Yes," said her knights, "very well, and you would have found that out if we could have stirred from the spot, for by his warlike face he would have made us run."
"I believe you," said Morgan.
Soon after, as she rode, she met a knight leading another knight on his horse in front of him, bound hand and foot and blindfolded, to drown him in a spring. When she saw this knight bound like that, she asked him, "What are you going to do with that knight?"
"Lady," he said, "I am going to drown him."
"For what reason?" she asked.
"Because I found him with my wife, and she shall have the same death soon."
"That would be a pity," said Morgan le Fay. "Now, what do you say, knight? Is it true, what he says of you?" she said to the knight who was to be drowned.
"No, truly, madam, he does not speak rightly of me."
"Where are you from," said Morgan le Fay, "and of what country?"
"I am of the court of King Arthur, and my name is Manassen, cousin to Accolon of Gaul."
"You speak well," she said, "and for love of him you shall be set free, and you shall have your enemy in the same plight you are in."
So Manassen was untied and the other knight bound. And at once Manassen took off the other knight's armour, and armed himself in it, and so mounted on horseback, with the knight in front of him, and so threw him into the spring and drowned him. And then he rode back to Morgan, and asked if she had any message for King Arthur.
"Tell him that I rescued you, not for love of him but for love of Accolon. And tell him I do not fear him while I can turn myself and those who are with me into the likeness of stones. And let him know I can do much more when I see my time."
And so she went away into the country of Gore, and there she was richly received, and she made her castles and towns exceedingly strong, for she always greatly feared King Arthur.
When the king had rested well at the abbey, he rode to Camelot, and found his queen and his barons very glad of his coming. And when they heard of his strange adventures, as told above, they all marvelled at the falseness of Morgan le Fay; many knights wished her burnt. Then Manassen came to court and told the king of his adventure.
"Well," said the king, "she is a kind sister! I shall be so avenged on her, if I live, that all Christendom will speak of it."
So in the morning a damsel came from Morgan to the king, and she brought with her the richest cloak that was ever seen in that court, for it was set as full of precious stones as they could stand one beside another, and they were the richest stones the king ever saw. And the damsel said, "Your sister sends you this cloak, and asks that you accept this gift from her. And in whatever way she has offended you, she will make amends entirely as you please."
When the king looked at this cloak it pleased him greatly, but he said very little.
With that the Damsel of the Lake came to the king, and said, "Sir, I must speak with you in private."
"Say what you like," said the king.
"Sir," said the damsel, "do not put on this cloak until you have seen more, and on no account let it come on you, or on any knight of yours, until you command the one who brought it to put it on herself."
"Well," said King Arthur, "it shall be done as you advise me."
And then he said to the damsel who had come from his sister, "Damsel, this cloak you have brought me, I want to see it on you."
"Sir," she said, "it would not be fitting for me to wear a king's garment."
"By my head," said Arthur, "you shall wear it before it comes on my back, or on the back of any man here."
And so the king had it put on her, and at once she fell down dead, and never spoke a word again, and was burnt to cinders. Then the king was furiously angry, more than he had been before, and said to King Uriens, "My sister, your wife, is always plotting to betray me, and I know well that either you or my nephew, your son, is in league with her to have me destroyed. But as for you," said the king to King Uriens, "I do not much believe that you are in league with her, for Accolon confessed to me with his own mouth that she would have destroyed you as well as me, so I hold you excused. But as for your son, Sir Uwain, I hold him under suspicion, so I charge you to send him away from my court."
So Sir Uwain was dismissed. And when Sir Gawain knew of it, he made ready to go with him, and said, "Whoever banishes my first cousin banishes me."
So the two of them left, and rode into a great forest, and so they came to an abbey of monks, and there they were well lodged. But when the king learned that Sir Gawain had left the court, there was great sorrow among all the ranks.
"Now," said Gaheris, Gawain's brother, "we have lost two good knights for the love of one."
So in the morning they heard mass in the abbey, and so they rode on until they came to a great forest. Then Sir Gawain saw in a valley, by a tower, twelve fair damsels, and two knights armed on great horses, and the damsels were walking to and fro by a tree. And then Sir Gawain saw that a white shield hung on that tree, and every time the damsels came by it they spat on it, and some threw mud on the shield.
Then Sir Gawain and Sir Uwain went and greeted them, and asked why they were insulting the shield like that.
"Sir," said the damsels, "we will tell you. There is a knight in this country who owns this white shield, and he is an exceedingly good fighter, but he hates all ladies and gentlewomen, and so we heap all this insult on the shield."
"I will tell you," said Sir Gawain, "it ill becomes a good knight to despise all ladies and gentlewomen. And perhaps, though he hates you, he has some particular reason, and perhaps somewhere else he loves ladies and gentlewomen, and is loved in return, if he is such a man of prowess as you say. Now, what is his name?"
"Sir," they said, "his name is Marhaus, the son of the king of Ireland."
"I know him well," said Sir Uwain. "He is as fine a knight as any alive, for I saw him tested once at a joust where many knights were gathered, and that time no man could stand against him."
"Ah, damsels!" said Sir Gawain. "I think you are to blame. For it is to be supposed that whoever hung that shield there will not be long away from it, and then those knights may match him on horseback, and that would be more to your honour than this. For I will not stay any longer to see a knight's shield dishonoured."
And with that Sir Uwain and Gawain moved off a little way from them, and then they saw Sir Marhaus come riding on a great horse straight toward them. And when the twelve damsels saw Sir Marhaus, they fled into the tower as if they were wild, so that some of them fell on the way. Then one of the knights of the tower set his shield, and called out loudly, "Sir Marhaus, defend yourself!"
And so they charged together, so that the knight broke his spear on Marhaus, and Marhaus struck him so hard that he broke his neck and the horse's back. The other knight of the tower saw that, and squared up to Marhaus, and they met so fiercely that the knight of the tower was soon struck down, horse and man, stone dead.
And then Sir Marhaus rode to his shield, and saw how it had been fouled, and said, "For this insult I am partly avenged. But for love of her who gave me this white shield, I will wear you, and hang mine where you were." And so he hung it around his neck.
Then he rode straight to Sir Gawain and Sir Uwain, and asked them what they were doing there. They answered him that they had come from King Arthur's court to look for adventures.
"Well," said Sir Marhaus, "here I am, ready: a knight in search of adventure who will carry out any adventure you wish." And so he rode away from them, to take his distance for the charge.
"Let him go," said Sir Uwain to Sir Gawain, "for he is as fine a knight as any living. I would not, if I had my way, have either of us matched against him."
"No," said Sir Gawain, "not so. It would be a shame to us if he were not tried, however good a knight he may be."
"Well," said Sir Uwain, "I will try him before you, for I am weaker than you, and if he strikes me down, then you can avenge me."
So these two knights came together with a great charge, so that Sir Uwain struck Sir Marhaus and his spear burst in pieces on the shield, and Sir Marhaus struck him so hard that he bore him to the ground, horse and man, and wounded Sir Uwain on the left side.
Then Sir Marhaus turned his horse and rode toward Gawain with his spear. And when Sir Gawain saw that, he set his shield, and they set their spears in rest, and they came together with all the might of their horses, so that each knight struck the other very hard in the middle of the shield. But Sir Gawain's spear broke, and Sir Marhaus' spear held, and with that Sir Gawain and his horse went crashing down to the ground. And Sir Gawain rose swiftly to his feet, and drew his sword, and squared up to Sir Marhaus on foot. And Sir Marhaus saw that, and drew his sword, and began to come at Sir Gawain on horseback.
"Sir knight," said Sir Gawain, "get down on foot, or else I will kill your horse."
"Many thanks," said Sir Marhaus. "Out of your courtesy you teach me good manners, for it is not right for one knight to be on foot and the other on horseback."
And with that Sir Marhaus set his spear against a tree and dismounted, and tied his horse to a tree, and set his shield, and each came at the other fiercely, and they struck at each other with their swords so that their shields flew in pieces, and they battered their helmets and their hauberks, and wounded each other. But from past nine o'clock in the morning Sir Gawain grew ever stronger and stronger, for then it was coming on to the hour of noon, and his strength was increased threefold. Sir Marhaus saw all this, and wondered greatly how his strength increased, and so they wounded each other exceedingly badly. And then, when it was past noon, and when it drew toward evening, Sir Gawain's strength weakened, and he grew exceedingly faint, so that he could scarcely hold out any longer, and Sir Marhaus was then stronger and stronger.
"Sir knight," said Sir Marhaus, "I have felt well that you are an exceedingly good knight, and as marvellous a man of strength as I ever felt, while it lasts. And our quarrel is not great, and so it would be a pity to do you harm, for I can feel that you are exceedingly weak."
"Ah," said Sir Gawain, "noble knight, you say the very word that I should say."
And with that they took off their helmets, and kissed each other, and there they swore together to love each other as brothers. And Sir Marhaus begged Sir Gawain to lodge with him that night. And so they took their horses, and rode toward Sir Marhaus' house. And as they rode along the way, Sir Gawain said, "Sir knight, I wonder that so valiant a man as you are loves no ladies or damsels."
"Sir," said Sir Marhaus, "those who give me that name call me so wrongly. But I know well it is the damsels of the tower who call me so, and others like them. Now I will tell you why I hate them: for many of them are sorceresses and enchantresses, and however good a knight may be in body, and as full of prowess as a man can be, they will make him an utter coward to get the better of him. And this is the chief reason I hate them. And to all good ladies and gentlewomen I owe my service, as a knight ought to."
As the book tells in French, there were many knights who outmatched Sir Gawain, for all the threefold strength that he had: Sir Lancelot du Lake, Sir Tristram, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Percival, Sir Pelleas and Sir Marhaus; these six knights had the better of Sir Gawain. Then within a little while they came to Sir Marhaus' place, which was in a little priory, and there they dismounted, and ladies and damsels unarmed them, and quickly saw to their wounds, for all three of them were hurt. And so all three had good lodging with Sir Marhaus, and a warm welcome. For when he knew that they were the sons of King Arthur's sisters, he made them all the welcome that lay in his power. And so they stayed there a week, and were well healed of their wounds, and at last they left.
"Now," said Sir Marhaus, "we will not part so easily, for I will bring you through the forest." And they rode day after day for a good seven days before they found any adventure.
At last they came into a great forest that was called the country and forest of Arroy, and the country of strange adventures.
"In this country," said Sir Marhaus, "no knight ever came since it was christened but he found strange adventures."
And so they rode, and came into a deep valley full of stones, and nearby they saw a fair stream of water. Above it, at the head of the stream, was a fair spring, and three damsels sitting beside it. And then they rode up to them, and greeted each other. And the eldest had a garland of gold about her head, and she was sixty winters old or more, and her hair was white under the garland. The second damsel was thirty winters old, with a circlet of gold about her head. The third damsel was only fifteen years old, with a garland of flowers about her head. When these knights had looked at them, they asked them why they sat at that spring.
"We are here," said the damsels, "for this reason: in case we see any knights errant, to lead them to strange adventures. And you are three knights who seek adventures, and we are three damsels, and so each one of you must choose one of us. And when you have done so, we will lead you to where three roads part, and there each of you shall choose a road, and his damsel with him. And this day twelve months from now you must meet here again, if God spares your lives, and to this you must pledge your word."
"This is well said," said Sir Marhaus.
"Now each of us shall choose a damsel."
"I will tell you," said Sir Uwain, "I am the youngest and the weakest of us, so I will have the eldest damsel, for she has seen much, and can best help me when I am in need, for I have more need of help than either of you."
"Now," said Sir Marhaus, "I will have the damsel of thirty winters, for she suits me best."
"Well," said Sir Gawain, "I thank you, for you have left me the youngest and the fairest, and she is the one I like best."
Then each damsel took her knight by the reins of his bridle, and brought him to where the three roads parted, and there they swore their oath to meet at the spring that day twelve months, if they were alive. And so they kissed and parted, and each knight set his lady up behind him. And Sir Uwain took the road that lay west, and Sir Marhaus took the road that lay south, and Sir Gawain took the road that lay north.
Now we will begin with Sir Gawain, who kept to that road until he came to a fair manor where there lived an old knight and a good householder. And there Sir Gawain asked the knight if he knew of any adventures in that country.
"I will show you some tomorrow," said the old knight, "and marvellous ones."
So in the morning they rode into the forest of adventures, to a clearing, and there they found a cross. And as they stood and waited there, there came by them the fairest knight and the handsomest man they ever saw, grieving more than any man ever grieved. And then he saw Sir Gawain, and greeted him, and prayed God to send him much honour.
"As for that," said Sir Gawain, "many thanks. And I also pray God to send you honour and renown."
"Ah," said the knight, "I may set that aside, for sorrow and shame come to me after honour."
And with that he rode over to one side of the clearing; and on the other side Sir Gawain saw ten knights who waited there without moving, and made themselves ready with their shields and spears against the one knight who had passed by Sir Gawain.
Then this one knight set a great spear in rest, and one of the ten knights rode against him, but this woeful knight struck him so hard that he fell back over his horse's tail. So this same sorrowful knight served them all, so that at the very least he struck down horse and man, and he did all of it with one spear. And so when all ten were on foot, they went to that one knight, and he stood stock still, and let them pull him down off his horse, and bind him hand and foot, and tie him under the horse's belly, and so they led him away with them.
"O Jesus!" said Sir Gawain. "This is a sorry sight, to see that knight treated like that. And by the look of the knight it seems he lets them bind him so, for he puts up no resistance."
"No," said his host, "that is the truth, for if he wanted to, they would all be too weak to do that to him."
"Sir," said the damsel to Sir Gawain, "I think it would be to your honour to help that sorrowful knight, for I think he is one of the best knights I ever saw."
"I would do it for him," said Sir Gawain, "but it seems he will have no help."
"Then," said the damsel, "I think you have no wish to help him."
As they were talking they saw a knight on the other side of the clearing, all armed except for his head. And on the other side there came a dwarf on horseback, all armed except for his head, with a great mouth and a short nose. And when the dwarf came near he said, "Where is the lady who was to meet us here?" And with that she came out of the wood. And then they began to quarrel over the lady; for the knight said he would have her, and the dwarf said he would have her.
"Shall we do the sensible thing?" said the dwarf. "There is a knight over there at the cross. Let us leave it to him, both of us, and as he judges, so it shall be."
"Gladly," said the knight. And so all three went to Sir Gawain and told him why they were quarrelling.
"Well, sirs," he said, "will you put the matter in my hands?"
"Yes," they both said.
"Now, damsel," said Sir Gawain, "you shall stand between the two of them, and whichever of them you would rather go to, he shall have you."
And when she was set between the two of them, she left the knight and went to the dwarf, and the dwarf took her and went on his way singing, and the knight went on his way grieving greatly.
Then two knights came, fully armed, and called out loudly, "Sir Gawain! Knight of King Arthur's, make ready in all haste and joust with me!"
So they ran together, so that each fell down, and then on foot they drew their swords and fought very vigorously. Meanwhile the other knight went to the damsel, and asked her why she stayed with that knight. "And if you would stay with me, I will be your faithful knight."
"And with you I will be," said the damsel, "for I cannot find it in my heart to be with Sir Gawain. For just now here was a knight who beat ten knights, and in the end he was led away like a coward; and so let us two go while they are fighting."
And Sir Gawain fought with that other knight a long time, but in the end the two of them made peace. And then the knight begged Sir Gawain to lodge with him that night. So as Sir Gawain went along with this knight he asked him, "Who is that knight in this country who struck down the ten knights? For when he had done so manfully, he let them bind him hand and foot, and so they led him away."
"Ah," said the knight, "that is the best knight in the world, I believe, and the man of greatest prowess, and he has been treated the way he was more than ten times. His name is Sir Pelleas, and he loves a great lady in this country, and her name is Ettard. And so, when he fell in love with her, a great three-day joust was proclaimed in this country, and all the knights of this country were there, and gentlewomen too. And whoever proved himself the best knight was to have an exceedingly good sword and a circlet of gold, and the knight was to give the circlet to the fairest lady who was at the jousts. And this knight Sir Pelleas was the best knight there, and there were five hundred knights; but there was never a man that Sir Pelleas met whom he did not strike down, or else knock from his horse. And on every one of the three days he struck down twenty knights, and so they gave him the prize. And at once he went to where the Lady Ettard was, and gave her the circlet, and said openly that she was the fairest lady there, and that he would prove it on any knight who said otherwise."
"And so he chose her for his sovereign lady, and vowed never to love any other but her. But she was so proud that she scorned him, and said that she would never love him even if he died for her. Because of this all the ladies and gentlewomen scorned her for being so proud, for there were fairer ladies there than she was, and there was not one of them there who would not have loved him for his noble prowess, if Sir Pelleas had offered them his love. And so this knight promised the Lady Ettard to follow her into this country, and never to leave her until she loved him. And so he is here, close to her, most of the time, and lodges by a priory, and every week she sends knights to fight with him. And when he has beaten them, then he lets them take him prisoner of his own free will, because he wants a sight of this lady. And she always treats him with great contempt, for sometimes she has her knights tie him to his horse's tail, and sometimes bind him under the horse's belly; and so he is brought to her in the most shameful ways she can think of. And she does all this to make him leave this country, and give up his love; but none of it can make him leave. For if he had chosen to fight on foot, he could have beaten the ten knights on foot as well as on horseback."
"Alas," said Sir Gawain, "it is a great pity for him. And after tonight I will look for him tomorrow in this forest, to give him all the help I can."
So in the morning Sir Gawain took his leave of his host Sir Carados, and rode into the forest; and at last he met Sir Pelleas, grieving beyond measure. So they greeted each other, and Sir Gawain asked him why he was in such sorrow. And Sir Pelleas told Sir Gawain all that has been told above. "But I always let her knights treat me the way you saw yesterday, trusting to win her love in the end, for she knows well that all her knights could not easily win against me, if I chose to fight them to the utmost. So, if I did not love her so much, I would rather die a hundred times, if I could die so often, than put up with that insult. But I trust she will have pity on me at last, for love makes many a good knight suffer to have his desire. But alas, I am unlucky." And with that he grieved and sorrowed so greatly that he could scarcely keep his seat on his horse.
"Now," said Sir Gawain, "leave off your mourning, and I promise you on my life to do all in my power to win you the love of your lady, and I will give you my solemn word on it."
"Ah," said Sir Pelleas, "what court are you from? Tell me, please, my good friend."
And then Sir Gawain said, "I am of the court of King Arthur, and his sister's son, and King Lot of Orkney was my father, and my name is Sir Gawain."
And then he said, "My name is Sir Pelleas, born in the Isles, and I am lord of many isles, and I have never loved lady or damsel until now, in an ill-fated hour. And, sir knight, since you are so close a kinsman to King Arthur, and a king's son, do not betray me, but help me. For I can never come at her except by means of some good knight, for she is in a strong castle close by here, within four miles, and she is lady of all this country. And so I can never come into her presence except by letting her knights take me; and if I did not do that, so that I could have a sight of her, I would have been dead long before now. And yet I never had a kind word from her, but when I am brought before her she rebukes me in the foulest way. And then they take my horse and armour and put me out of the gates, and she will not allow me to eat or drink. And I always offer myself to be her prisoner, but she will not allow that, for I would ask for nothing more, whatever pains I had, if only I could have a sight of her every day."
"Well," said Sir Gawain, "I will put all this right, if you will do as I plan. I will have your horse and your armour, and so I will ride to her castle and tell her that I have killed you. And so I will get inside with her and make her treat me kindly, and then I will play my part faithfully, so that you shall not fail to have her love."
And with that Sir Gawain gave his solemn word to Sir Pelleas to be true and faithful to him; so each gave his word to the other, and so they exchanged horses and armour, and Sir Gawain left, and came to the castle where the lady's tents stood outside the gate. And as soon as Ettard saw Sir Gawain she fled towards the castle. Sir Gawain called out loudly, and told her to wait, for he was not Sir Pelleas. "I am another knight, who has killed Sir Pelleas."
"Take off your helmet," said the Lady Ettard, "so that I can see your face."
And so when she saw that it was not Sir Pelleas, she told him to dismount, and led him into her castle, and asked him in good faith whether he had killed Sir Pelleas. And he told her yes, and told her his name was Sir Gawain, of the court of King Arthur, and his sister's son.
"Truly," she said, "that is a great pity, for he was an exceedingly good knight in his own person. But of all men alive I hated him most, for I could never be rid of him. And since you have killed him, I will be your woman, and do anything that might please you."
So she gave Sir Gawain a warm welcome. Then Sir Gawain said that he loved a lady, and that she would on no account love him.
"She is to blame," said Ettard, "if she will not love you. For you are so well-born a man, and such a man of prowess, that there is no lady in the world too good for you."
"Will you," said Sir Gawain, "promise me on your faith to do all you can to win me the love of my lady?"
"Yes, sir," she said, "and I promise you that on my faith."
"Now," said Sir Gawain, "it is you yourself that I love so well; so I beg you, keep your promise."
"I have no choice," said the Lady Ettard, "unless I am to break my oath." And so she granted him all his desire.
So it was then in the month of May that she and Sir Gawain went out of the castle and had supper in a tent, and a bed was made there, and there Sir Gawain and the Lady Ettard went to bed together. And in another tent she put her damsels to sleep, and in the third tent she put some of her knights to sleep, for by then she had no fear of Sir Pelleas. And there Sir Gawain lay with her in that tent for two days and two nights. And on the third day, early in the morning, Sir Pelleas armed himself, for he had never slept since Sir Gawain left him; for Sir Gawain had promised him on his life to come back to him at his tent by that priory within the space of a day and a night.
Then Sir Pelleas mounted his horse and came to the tents that stood outside the castle, and in the first tent he found three knights in three beds, and three squires lying at their feet. Then he went to the second tent and found four gentlewomen lying in four beds. And then he went to the third tent and found Sir Gawain lying in bed with his Lady Ettard, each with their arms around the other. And when he saw that, his heart nearly burst for sorrow, and he said, "Alas, that ever a knight should be found so false!" And then he took his horse, and could stay no longer for pure sorrow. And when he had ridden nearly half a mile he turned back, and meant to kill them both. And when he saw the two of them lying there so fast asleep, he could scarcely keep his seat on his horse for sorrow, and he said to himself, "However false this knight may be, I will never kill him sleeping, for I will never destroy the high order of knighthood." And with that he left again. And before he had ridden half a mile he turned back again, and this time meant to kill them both, grieving more than any man ever grieved. And when he came to the tents, he tied his horse to a tree, and drew his sword and went with it naked in his hand to where they lay. And still he thought it would be shameful to kill them sleeping, and he laid the naked sword across both their throats, and so took his horse and rode away.
And when Sir Pelleas came back to his tents he told his knights and his squires how he had fared, and said to them, "For the true and good service you have done me I will give you all my goods, for I am going to my bed and will never get up until I am dead. And when I am dead, I order you to take the heart out of my body and carry it to her between two silver dishes, and tell her how I saw her lying with the false knight Sir Gawain."
Then and there Sir Pelleas took off his armour and went to his bed, grieving and sorrowing marvellously.
When Sir Gawain and Ettard woke from their sleep and found the naked sword across their throats, she knew well that it was Sir Pelleas' sword.
"Alas!" she said to Sir Gawain. "You have betrayed me and Sir Pelleas both, for you told me you had killed him, and now I know well it is not so: he is alive. And if Sir Pelleas had been as discourteous to you as you have been to him, you would be a dead knight. But you have deceived me and betrayed me falsely, so that all ladies and damsels may take warning from you and me."
And with that Sir Gawain made himself ready and went into the forest. So it happened then that the Damsel of the Lake, Nimue, met a knight of Sir Pelleas' who was going on foot in the forest, grieving greatly, and she asked him the cause. And so the woeful knight told her how his master and lord had been betrayed through a knight and a lady, and how he would never get up out of his bed until he was dead.
"Bring me to him," she said at once, "and I will guarantee his life: he shall not die for love. And she who has made him love like this shall be in as bad a plight as he is before long, for there is no joy in such a proud lady, who will have no mercy on such a valiant knight."
At once that knight brought her to him, and when she saw him lying in his bed, she thought she had never seen so handsome a knight. And with that she cast an enchantment on him, and he fell asleep. And meanwhile she rode to the Lady Ettard, and ordered that no man should wake him until she came back. So within two hours she brought the Lady Ettard there, and both ladies found him asleep.
"Look," said the Damsel of the Lake, "you ought to be ashamed to murder such a knight."
And with that she cast such an enchantment on her that she loved him so desperately she was nearly out of her mind.
"O Lord Jesus," said the Lady Ettard, "how has it come about that I now love the man I have hated most of any man alive?"
"That is the righteous judgement of God," said the damsel.
And then at once Sir Pelleas woke and looked at Ettard; and when he saw her he knew her, and then he hated her more than any woman alive, and said, "Away, traitress! Never come into my sight again."
And when she heard him say that, she wept and grieved beyond measure.
"Sir Pelleas, sir knight," said the Damsel of the Lake, "take your horse and come away with me out of this country, and you shall love a lady who will love you."
"Gladly," said Sir Pelleas, "for this Lady Ettard has done me great insult and shame." And there he told her the whole story from beginning to end, and how he had meant never to get up again until he was dead. "And now God has sent me such grace that I hate her as much as ever I loved her, thanks be to our Lord Jesus!"
"Thank me," said the Damsel of the Lake.
At once Sir Pelleas armed himself, and took his horse, and ordered his men to bring his tents and his belongings after him to wherever the Damsel of the Lake should direct. So the Lady Ettard died of sorrow, and the Damsel of the Lake gave Sir Pelleas joy, and they loved each other all the days of their lives.
Now we turn to Sir Marhaus, who rode southward with the damsel who was thirty years old. And so they came into a deep forest, and as luck would have it night overtook them, and they rode a long way along a deep track, and at last they came to a farmyard, and there they asked for shelter. But the man of the farmyard would not lodge them, however they tried to bargain with him. But this much the good man did say: "If you will take your chances on your lodging, I will bring you to where you shall be lodged."
"What chance is it that I shall have to take for my lodging?" said Sir Marhaus.
"You will find out when you get there," said the good man.
"Sir, whatever chance it is, bring me there, please," said Sir Marhaus, "for I am weary, and so are my damsel and my horse."
So the good man went and opened the gate, and within an hour he brought him to a fine castle. And then the poor man called the porter, and at once he was let into the castle, and so he told the lord that he had brought him a knight errant and a damsel who wanted lodging with him.
"Let him in," said the lord. "It may be he will regret that they took their lodging here."
So Sir Marhaus was let in by torchlight, and there was a fine company of young men who welcomed him. And then his horse was led into the stable, and he and the damsel were brought into the hall, and there stood a mighty duke with many fine men about him. Then this lord asked him what his name was, and where he came from, and whose household he belonged to.
"Sir," he said, "I am a knight of King Arthur's and a knight of the Round Table, and my name is Sir Marhaus, and I was born in Ireland."
And then the duke said to him, "I am very sorry to hear it, and this is why: I have no love for your lord, nor for any of your fellows of the Round Table. So rest yourself tonight as best you can, for tomorrow I and my six sons will take you on."
"Is there no help for it but that I must fight you and your six sons at once?" said Sir Marhaus.
"No," said the duke, "for I made my vow for this reason: Sir Gawain killed my seven sons in an encounter. So I made my vow that no knight of King Arthur's court should ever lodge with me, or come anywhere I could fight him, without my taking revenge for my sons' death."
"What is your name?" said Sir Marhaus. "I ask you to tell me, if you please."
"Know this: I am the Duke of the South Marches."
"Ah," said Sir Marhaus, "I have heard it said that you have long been a great enemy of my lord Arthur and of his knights."
"You will feel that tomorrow," said the duke.
"Shall I have to fight you?" said Sir Marhaus.
"Yes," said the duke. "You have no choice about it. And so go to your room, and you shall have everything that is fitting for you."
So Sir Marhaus left and was led to a room, and his damsel was led to her room. And in the morning the duke sent to Sir Marhaus and told him to make ready. And so Sir Marhaus got up and armed himself, and then a mass was sung before him, and he had breakfast, and so he mounted his horse in the courtyard of the castle where they were to fight. So there was the duke, all ready on horseback, fully armed, and his six sons beside him, and each of them had a spear in his hand. And so they charged, and the duke and two of his sons broke their spears on him, but Sir Marhaus held up his spear and touched none of them.
Then the four sons came two by two, and two of them broke their spears, and so did the other two. And all this while Sir Marhaus did not touch them. Then Sir Marhaus ran at the duke, and struck him with his spear so that horse and man fell to the ground, and he served his sons the same way. And then Sir Marhaus dismounted and told the duke to yield or else he would kill him. And then some of his sons got up again and would have set on Sir Marhaus. Then Sir Marhaus said to the duke, "Call off your sons, or I'll do my worst to all of you."
Then, when the duke saw he could not escape death, he called out to his sons and ordered them to yield to Sir Marhaus; and they all knelt down and held out the pommels of their swords to the knight, and so he accepted their surrender. And then they helped their father up, and so by common consent they promised Sir Marhaus never to be enemies of King Arthur, and to come at the next Pentecost, the duke and his sons, and put themselves at the king's mercy.
Then Sir Marhaus left, and within two days his damsel brought him to where there was a great tournament that the Lady de Vawse had proclaimed. And whoever did best was to have a rich circlet of gold worth a thousand gold coins. And there Sir Marhaus did so nobly that he was renowned, and at one time had forty knights down, and so the circlet of gold was awarded to him. Then he left them with great honour. And so within seven nights his damsel brought him to an earl's place; his name was Earl Fergus, who was later Sir Tristram's knight. And this earl was only a young man, and had lately come into his lands, and there was a giant close by him called Taulurd, who had another brother in Cornwall called Taulas, whom Sir Tristram killed when he was out of his mind. So this earl complained to Sir Marhaus that there was a giant near him who was destroying all his lands, and that because of him he dared not ride or walk anywhere.
"Sir," said the knight, "does he usually fight on horseback or on foot?"
"No," said the earl, "no horse can carry him."
"Well," said Sir Marhaus, "then I will fight him on foot."
So in the morning Sir Marhaus asked the earl for one of his men to bring him to where the giant was; and so he was brought, for he saw him sitting under a holly tree with many iron clubs and battle-axes around him. So this knight squared up to the giant, holding his shield before him, and the giant took an iron club in his hand, and with the first stroke he split Sir Marhaus' shield in two. And there he was in great danger, for the giant was a crafty fighter; but at last Sir Marhaus struck off his right arm above the elbow.
Then the giant fled, and the knight after him, and so he drove him into the water; but the giant was so tall that he could not wade in after him. And then Sir Marhaus made Earl Fergus' man fetch him stones, and with those stones the knight gave the giant many hard knocks, until at last he made him fall down into the water, and so he died there. Then Sir Marhaus went to the giant's castle, and there he freed twenty-four ladies and twelve knights from the giant's prison, and there he found great riches beyond counting, so that he was never a poor man all the days of his life. Then he went back to Earl Fergus, who thanked him greatly, and would have given him half his lands, but he would take none. So Sir Marhaus stayed with the earl nearly half a year, for he was badly bruised by the giant, and at last he took his leave. And as he rode along the way, he met Sir Gawain and Sir Uwain; and so by chance he met four knights of Arthur's court: the first was Sir Sagramore le Desirous, then Sir Osanna, Sir Dodinas le Savage, and Sir Felot of Listinoise. And there Sir Marhaus struck down these four knights with one spear, and badly hurt them. So he went on his way, to keep the meeting on the appointed day.
Now we turn to Sir Uwain, who rode westward with his damsel of sixty years of age, and she brought him to where there was a tournament near the border of Wales. And at that tournament Sir Uwain struck down thirty knights, and so the prize was given to him, and that was a gerfalcon, and a white horse trapped with cloth of gold. So then Sir Uwain had many strange adventures through the old damsel, and so she brought him to a lady who was called the Lady of the Rock, who was very courteous. Now there were two knights in that country who were brothers, and they were called the two perilous knights: the one knight was called Sir Edward of the Red Castle, and the other Sir Hue of the Red Castle. And these two brothers had robbed the Lady of the Rock of a barony of lands by their extortion. And while this knight was lodging with this lady, she made her complaint to him about these two knights.
"Madam," said Sir Uwain, "they are to blame, for they act against the high order of knighthood, and the oath that they made. And if you please, I will speak with them, because I am a knight of King Arthur's, and I will try to persuade them fairly; and if they will not be persuaded, I will do battle with them, in defence of your right."
"Many thanks," said the lady, "and where I cannot repay you, God will."
So in the morning the two knights were sent for, to come there to speak with the Lady of the Rock; and you may be sure they did not fail to come, for they came with a hundred horsemen. But when this lady saw them come in such strength, she would not let Sir Uwain go out to them on any guarantee or for any fair words, but she made him speak with them from a tower. But in the end these two brothers would not be persuaded, and answered that they would keep what they had.
"Well," said Sir Uwain, "then I will fight one of you, and prove that you are doing this lady wrong."
"We will not do that," they said, "for if we do battle, we two will fight one knight together. And so if you will fight that way, we will be ready at whatever hour you choose. And if you beat us in battle, the lady shall have her lands back."
"Well said," said Sir Uwain. "So make yourselves ready, and be here tomorrow, in defence of the lady's right."
So assurances were given on both sides that no treachery should be done by either side. So then the knights left and made themselves ready, and that night Sir Uwain was given a warm welcome. And in the morning he got up early and heard mass, and had breakfast, and so he rode to the plain outside the gates, where the two brothers waited for him on their horses. So they rode at each other exceedingly hard, so that Sir Edward and Sir Hue broke their spears on Sir Uwain. And Sir Uwain struck Sir Edward so that he fell over his horse, and still his spear did not break. And then he spurred his horse and came at Sir Hue and overthrew him. But they soon got up again, and set their shields and drew their swords, and told Sir Uwain to dismount and fight his battle to the utmost. Then Sir Uwain quickly got clear of his horse, and put his shield before him and drew his sword, and so they squared up to each other, and each gave the other such strokes. And there these two brothers wounded Sir Uwain so grievously that the Lady of the Rock thought he would die. And so they fought together for five hours, like men gone out of their minds with rage. And at last Sir Uwain struck Sir Edward such a stroke on the helmet that his sword cut down to his collarbone; and then Sir Hue lost heart, but Sir Uwain pressed hard on him to kill him. Sir Hue saw that: he knelt down and yielded to Sir Uwain. And Sir Uwain, out of his nobility, accepted his sword, and took him by the hand, and they went into the castle together. Then the Lady of the Rock was exceedingly glad, and the other brother grieved greatly for his brother's death. Then all the lady's lands were restored to her, and Sir Hue was ordered to be at the court of King Arthur at the next feast of Pentecost. So Sir Uwain stayed with the lady nearly half a year, for it was a long time before he could be healed of his great wounds. And so when it drew near the appointed day when Sir Gawain, Sir Marhaus and Sir Uwain were to meet at the crossroads, each knight made his way there to keep the promise they had made. And Sir Marhaus and Sir Uwain brought their damsels with them, but Sir Gawain had lost his damsel, as has been told before.
Then and there, at the twelvemonth's end, all three knights met at the spring, and their damsels with them. But the damsel Sir Gawain had had could say little to his honour. So they parted from the damsels and rode through a great forest, and there they met a messenger who had come from King Arthur, who had been looking for them for nearly a year throughout all England, Wales and Scotland, and had orders, if ever he could find Sir Gawain and Sir Uwain, to bring them back to the court. And then they were all glad, and so they begged Sir Marhaus to ride with them to the king's court. And so within twelve days they came to Camelot, and the king was exceedingly glad of their coming, and so was all the court. Then the king made them swear on a book to tell him all the adventures that had happened to them that year, and so they did. And there Sir Marhaus was well known, for there were knights there he had fought before, and he was named as one of the best knights living.
Before the feast of Pentecost the Damsel of the Lake came and brought Sir Pelleas with her; and at that high feast there was great jousting of knights, and of all the knights who were at those jousts Sir Pelleas won the prize, and Sir Marhaus was named next. But Sir Pelleas was so strong that very few knights could stand a blow of his spear. And at that next feast Sir Pelleas and Sir Marhaus were made knights of the Round Table, for there were two empty seats, because two knights had been killed that year; and King Arthur had great joy of Sir Pelleas and of Sir Marhaus. But Pelleas never loved Sir Gawain afterwards, though he spared him for the love of King Arthur; but many times at jousts and tournaments Sir Pelleas paid Sir Gawain back, for so it is told in the French book. So, many days after, Sir Tristram fought with Sir Marhaus on an island, and there they fought a great battle, but in the end Sir Tristram killed him. And Sir Tristram was so badly wounded that he could scarcely recover, and lay at a nunnery for half a year. And Sir Pelleas was an honourable knight, and was one of the four who achieved the Holy Grail. And the Damsel of the Lake saw to it, by her arts, that he never fought Sir Lancelot du Lake; for wherever Sir Lancelot was at any jousts or any tournament, she would not let him be there that day, unless it was on Sir Lancelot's side.
Here ends the fourth book.
Here follows the fifth book.
When King Arthur had rested after long war, and was holding a royal feast and a Round Table with his allies, the kings, princes and noble knights, all of the Round Table, there came into his hall, as he sat on his royal throne, twelve old men, each of them carrying a branch of olive, as a sign that they came as ambassadors and messengers from the Emperor Lucius, who was called at that time Dictator, or Procurator of the Commonwealth of Rome. These messengers, after they had entered and come into the presence of King Arthur, made their obeisance to him and bowed to him with reverence, and spoke to him in this way: "The high and mighty Emperor Lucius sends greeting to the King of Britain, and commands you to acknowledge him as your lord, and to send him the tribute that this realm owes to the Empire, which your father and others of your predecessors have paid, as is on record. And you, as a rebel who does not acknowledge him as your sovereign, withhold it and keep it back, against the statutes and decrees made by the noble and worthy Julius Caesar, conqueror of this realm and first Emperor of Rome. And if you refuse his demand and his command, know for certain that he will make strong war against you, your realms and your lands, and will punish you and your subjects, so that it will be an example forever to all kings and princes who would deny their tribute to that noble Empire which rules over the whole world."
Then when they had delivered the substance of their message, the king commanded them to withdraw, and said he would take counsel and give them an answer. Then some of the young knights, hearing their message, would have rushed at them and killed them, saying that it was an insult to all the knights who were present to allow them to speak so to the king. And at once the king commanded that none of them, on pain of death, should speak ill of them or do them any harm, and he commanded a knight to bring them to their lodging, "and see that they have all that is necessary and fitting for them, with the best welcome, and that no delicacy is spared, for the Romans are great lords. And though their message does not please me or my court, still I must remember my honour."
After this the king had all his lords and knights of the Round Table called to take counsel on this matter, and asked them to give their advice. Then Sir Cador of Cornwall spoke first, and said, "Sir, this message pleases me well, for we have rested many days and been idle, and now I hope you will make sharp war on the Romans, where I have no doubt we shall win honour."
"I can well believe," said Arthur, "that this matter pleases you well, but this message cannot be answered so lightly, for the demand grieves me badly. For truly I will never pay tribute to Rome, and so I ask you to advise me. I have learned that Belinus and Brenius, kings of Britain, held the Empire in their hands for many days, and also Constantine the son of Helena, which is plain evidence that we owe no tribute to Rome, but that by right we who are descended from them have the right to claim the title of the Empire."
Then King Anguish of Scotland answered, "Sir, by right you ought to be above all other kings, for there is none like you or equal to you in Christendom, in knighthood or in dignity. And I advise you never to obey the Romans, for when they reigned over us they oppressed our forefathers, and burdened this land with great extortions and taxes. And so I make my vow here to avenge myself on them; and to strengthen your cause I will supply twenty thousand good fighting men, and pay their wages at my own cost, and they shall attend on you, with me, whenever it pleases you."
And the king of Little Britain, that is, Brittany, promised him thirty thousand for the same purpose, and King Arthur thanked them for it. And then every man agreed to make war, and to help as far as he was able. That is to say, the lord of West Wales promised to bring thirty thousand men, and Sir Uwain and Sir Ider his son, with their cousins, promised to bring thirty thousand. Then Sir Lancelot and all the others in the same way each promised a great host of men.
And when King Arthur understood their spirit and their good will, he thanked them heartily, and afterwards had the ambassadors called to hear their answer. And in the presence of all his lords and knights he spoke to them in this way: "It is my will that you go back to your lord, the Procurator of the Commonwealth of the Romans, and say this to him: that I set no value on his demand and his command, and that I know of no tribute or payment that I owe to him, or to any earthly prince, Christian or heathen. Rather, I claim to have and hold the sovereignty of the Empire, to which I am entitled by the right of my predecessors, who were once kings of this land. And tell him that I am determined and fully resolved to go with my army, in strength and in power, to Rome, by the grace of God, to take possession of the Empire and to subdue those who are rebels. And so I command him and all the people of Rome that they do homage to me forthwith, and acknowledge me as their Emperor and Governor, on pain of what will follow."
And then he commanded his treasurer to give them great and generous gifts, and to pay all their expenses, and he appointed Sir Cador to escort them out of the land. And so they took their leave and departed, and took ship at Sandwich, and travelled on through Flanders, Germany, the mountains, and all Italy, until they came to Lucius. And after they had made their bow, they reported their answer, just as you have heard it already.
When the Emperor Lucius had fully understood their report, he was badly shaken, as if he were in a rage, and said, "I had supposed that Arthur would have obeyed my command, and come to serve you himself, as was fitting for him or for any other king to do."
"O sir," said one of the senators, "leave off such empty words, for I tell you that my fellows and I were sorely afraid to look upon his face. I'm afraid you have made a rod for your own back, for he means to be lord of this Empire, which is greatly to be feared if he comes. For he is a different man altogether from what you think, and he keeps the noblest court in the world; no other kings or princes can compare with his noble state. On New Year's Day we saw him in his royal state, which was the most royal we ever saw, for he was served at his table by nine kings, and by the noblest fellowship of other princes, lords and knights that there is in the world, and every knight proven, and like a lord, and he keeps the Round Table. And in his own person he is the most manly man alive, and is likely to conquer all the world, for the world is too small for his spirit. And so I advise you to guard your borders well, and the passes in the mountains, for certainly he is a lord to be feared."
"Well," said Lucius, "before Easter I mean to cross the mountains, and so on into France, and there strip him of his lands, with the Genoese and other mighty warriors of Tuscany and Lombardy. And I will send for all those who are subjects and allies of the Empire of Rome to come to my aid."
And at once he sent old, wise knights to the countries that follow: first to Ambage and Arrage, to Alexandria, to India, to Armenia, where the river Euphrates runs into Asia, to Africa, and to Europe the Large, to Ertayne and Elamye, to Arabia, to Egypt, and to Damascus, to Damietta and Cayer, to Cappadocia, to Tarsus, Turkey, Pontus and Pamphylia, to Syria and Galatia. And all these were subject to Rome, and many more, such as Greece, Cyprus, Macedonia, Calabria, Cateland and Portugal, with many thousands of Spaniards. So all these kings, dukes and emirs assembled around Rome, sixteen kings at once, with a great multitude of people. When the emperor learned of their coming, he made ready his Romans and all the people between him and Flanders.
He had also brought with him fifty giants who had been fathered by fiends, and they were appointed to guard his person, and to break the front line of King Arthur's army. And so he set out from Rome, and came down over the mountains to destroy the lands that Arthur had conquered, and came to Cologne, and besieged a castle near it, and soon won it, and garrisoned it with two hundred Saracens, or infidels. And afterwards he destroyed many fair countries which Arthur had won from King Claudas. And so Lucius came with all his army, which was spread out sixty miles wide, and commanded them to meet him in Burgundy, for he meant to destroy the realm of Brittany.
Now we leave Lucius the Emperor and speak of King Arthur, who commanded all the men of his household to be ready at the octave of St. Hilary, a week after the saint's day, to hold a parliament at York. And at that parliament it was decided to seize all the ships of the land, and to be ready within fifteen days at Sandwich. And there he explained to his army how he meant to conquer the Empire, which he ought to have by right. And there he appointed two governors of this realm, that is to say, Sir Baudwin of Britain, to give the best counsel, and Sir Constantine, son of Sir Cador of Cornwall, who after the death of Arthur was king of this realm. And in the presence of all his lords he handed over to them the rule of the realm, and Guinevere his queen. At this Sir Lancelot was angry, for he left Sir Tristram with King Mark for the love of Isolde the Fair. Then Queen Guinevere grieved greatly at the departure of her lord and the others, and fainted so that the ladies carried her into her room. So the king departed with his great army, leaving the queen and the realm in the keeping of Sir Baudwin and Constantine. And when he was on his horse he said in a loud voice, "If I die on this expedition, it is my will that Sir Constantine shall be my heir, and crowned king of this realm, as the next of my blood."
And afterwards he departed and put to sea at Sandwich with all his army, with a great multitude of ships, galleys, small boats and great warships, sailing on the sea.
And as the king lay in his cabin in the ship, he fell into a doze and dreamed a marvellous dream. It seemed to him that a dreadful dragon drowned many of his people, and he came flying out of the west, and his head was enamelled with azure, and his shoulders shone like gold, his belly was like mail of a marvellous hue, his tail was all in tatters, his feet were covered in fine sable fur, and his claws were like fine gold. And a hideous flame of fire flew out of his mouth, as if the land and the water were all ablaze. After that, it seemed to him, there came out of the east a grim boar, all black, in a cloud, and his paws were as big as a post. He was shaggy and rough-looking, he was the foulest beast that ever man saw, and he roared and bellowed so hideously that it was a marvel to hear. Then the dreadful dragon came on and swooped down on the wind like a falcon, giving great strokes on the boar, and the boar struck back at him with his grisly tusks so that the dragon's breast was all bloody, and the hot blood made all the sea red. Then the dragon flew away high up, and came down with such a rush of wind, and struck the boar on the spine, which was ten feet long from the head to the tail, and struck the boar all to powder, both flesh and bones, so that it fluttered all over the sea.
And with that the king woke at once, and was badly shaken by this dream, and sent at once for a wise philosopher, commanding him to tell him the meaning of his dream.
"Sir," said the philosopher, "the dragon that you dreamed of stands for your own person, sailing here, and the colours of his wings are your realms that you have won, and his tail, which is all in tatters, means the noble knights of the Round Table. And the boar that the dragon killed, coming from the clouds, stands for some tyrant who torments the people; or else you are likely to fight with some giant yourself, horrible and abominable, whose equal you never saw in all your days. And so do not be afraid at all of this dreadful dream, but go forward yourself as a conqueror."
Then soon after this they sighted land, and sailed until they arrived at Barflete in Flanders, and when they were there he found many of his great lords ready, as they had been commanded, to wait on him.
Then a farmer of that country came to him, and told him how there was, in the country of Constantine near Brittany, a great giant who had slain, murdered and devoured many people of the country, and had fed himself for seven years on the children of the common people of that land, so that the children were all slain and destroyed. "And just lately he has taken the Duchess of Brittany as she rode with her household, and has carried her off to his lair, which is on a mountain, to rape her and lie with her for the rest of her life. And many people followed her, more than five hundred, but for all that they could not rescue her, and they left her shrieking and crying pitifully. And so I suppose that he has killed her in satisfying his foul lust. She was the wife of your cousin Sir Howell, whom we count very near of your blood. Now, as you are a rightful king, have pity on this lady, and avenge us all, as you are a noble conqueror."
"Alas," said King Arthur, "this is a great misfortune. I would rather have given the best realm I have than not have been a furlong ahead of him, to have rescued that lady. Now, fellow," said King Arthur, "can you take me to where this giant has his haunt?"
"Yes, sir," said the good man. "Look over there, where you see those two great fires. There you will find him, and more treasure than I suppose there is in all France."
When the king had understood this pitiful matter, he went back into his tent. Then he called Sir Kay and Sir Bedivere to him, and commanded them secretly to make ready horses and armour for himself and the two of them, for after evensong he would ride on pilgrimage, with the two of them only, to Saint Michael's Mount. And then at once he made himself ready, and armed himself at all points, and took his horse and his shield. And so the three of them set off from there and rode on as fast as ever they could, until they came to the foreshore below that mount. And there they dismounted, and the king commanded them to wait there, for he would go up that mount himself. And so he climbed up that hill until he came to a great fire, and there he found a sorrowful widow wringing her hands and grieving greatly, sitting by a newly made grave. And then King Arthur greeted her, and asked her why she was lamenting so.
And she answered him and said, "Sir knight, speak softly, for over there is a devil. If he hears you speak he will come and destroy you. I count you an unlucky man. What are you doing here on this mountain? For if there were fifty of you, such as you are, you could not hold out against this devil. Here lies a duchess dead, who was the fairest woman in all the world, wife of Sir Howell, Duke of Brittany. He has murdered her in forcing himself on her, and has split her open to the navel."
"Lady," said the king, "I come from the noble conqueror King Arthur, to negotiate with that tyrant on behalf of his liege people."
"A curse on such negotiations," she said. "He cares nothing for the king, or for any man else. But if you had brought Arthur's wife, Dame Guinevere, he would be gladder than if you had given him half France. Take care, do not go too near him, for he has vanquished fifteen kings, and has had a coat made for himself, full of precious stones, and embroidered with their beards, which they sent him to win his favour, for the safety of their people, this last Christmas. And if you want to, speak with him at that great fire over there, at his supper."
"Well," said Arthur, "I will carry out my message, for all your fearful words."
And he went on along the crest of that hill, and saw where the giant sat at his supper, gnawing on a man's limb, warming his huge limbs by the fire, with no breeches on; and three fair damsels were turning three spits, and on the spits were skewered twelve young children, newly born, like young birds.
When King Arthur saw that pitiful sight, he had great compassion on them, so that his heart bled for sorrow, and he hailed the giant, saying this: "May He who rules all the world give you a short life and a shameful death, and the devil have your soul! Why have you murdered these young innocent children, and murdered this duchess? So get up and arm yourself, you glutton, for this day you shall die by my hand."
Then the glutton at once jumped up, and took a great club in his hand, and struck at the king so that the circlet on his helm fell to the ground. And the king struck him back so that he slashed open his belly and cut off his genitals, so that his guts and his entrails fell down to the ground. Then the giant threw away his club, and caught the king in his arms so that he crushed his ribs. Then the three maidens knelt down and called on Christ for help and comfort for Arthur. And then Arthur writhed and twisted, so that one moment he was underneath and the next on top. And so, writhing and wrestling, they rolled down the hill until they came to the high-water mark, and all the while as they rolled Arthur stabbed him with his dagger.
And it so happened that they came to the place where the two knights were, keeping Arthur's horse. Then, when they saw the king held fast in the giant's arms, they came and freed him. And then the king commanded Sir Kay to strike off the giant's head, and to set it on the broken shaft of a spear, and carry it to Sir Howell, and tell him that his enemy was slain. "And after that, have this head fixed on a gate-tower, so that all the people can see it and look at it. And you two, go up to the mountain and fetch me my shield, my sword and the club of iron. And as for the treasure, take it yourselves, for you will find riches there beyond counting. As long as I have the coat and the club, I want nothing more. This was the fiercest giant I ever met, except one on the mountain of Araby, whom I overcame; but this one was bigger and fiercer."
Then the knights fetched the club and the coat, and some of the treasure they took for themselves, and went back to the army. And at once this became known through all the country, and so the people came and thanked the king.
And he answered them, "Give the thanks to God, and share out the goods among yourselves."
And after that King Arthur told and commanded his cousin Howell that he should arrange for a church to be built on the same hill, in honour of Saint Michael. And in the morning the king moved on with his great army, and came into Champagne, into a valley, and there they pitched their tents. And as the king sat at his dinner, two messengers came in, one of whom was the Marshal of France, and told the king that the emperor had entered France, and had destroyed a great part of it, and was in Burgundy, and had destroyed and made great slaughter of the people, and burnt towns and boroughs, "and so, if you do not come quickly, they will have to surrender their bodies and their goods."
Then the king had Sir Gawain, Sir Bors, Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere called, and commanded them to go straight to Sir Lucius, "and tell him that he is to get out of my land at once; and if he will not, tell him to make ready for battle, and not to harass the poor people."
Then at once these noble knights mounted their horses, and when they came to the green wood, they saw many tents of silk of various colours set up in a meadow beside a river, and the emperor's tent was in the middle, with an eagle displayed above it. Our knights rode toward that tent, and arranged that Sir Gawain and Sir Bors should deliver the message, and left Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere in ambush. And then Sir Gawain and Sir Bors delivered their message, and commanded Lucius, in Arthur's name, to leave his land, or else to make ready for battle without delay.
Lucius answered them and said, "You shall go back to your lord, and tell him that I will subdue him and all his lands."
Then Sir Gawain was angry, and said, "I would rather fight against you than have all France."
"And so would I," said Sir Bors, "rather than have all Brittany or Burgundy."
Then a knight named Sir Gainus, a near cousin of the emperor, said, "Look how full of pride and boasting these Britons are, and they brag as if they held up the whole world."
Then Sir Gawain was badly stung by these words, and pulled out his sword and struck off his head. And with that they turned their horses and rode over rivers and through woods until they came to their ambush, where Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere were waiting. The Romans followed hard after them, on horseback and on foot, across an open field to a wood. Then Sir Bors turned his horse and saw a knight coming on fast, and he struck him through the body with a spear so that he fell down dead to the earth. Then came Caliburn, one of the strongest men of Pavia, and struck down many of Arthur's knights. And when Sir Bors saw him do so much harm, he made for him, and struck him through the breast, so that he fell down dead to the earth. Then Sir Feldenak thought to avenge the death of Gainus on Sir Gawain, but Sir Gawain saw it coming, and struck him on the head, and the stroke did not stop until it came to his breast. And then he turned back and came to his fellows in the ambush. And there was a clash, for the ambush broke out on the Romans, and slew and hewed down the Romans, and forced the Romans to flee and turn back, and the noble knights chased them to their tents.
Then the Romans gathered more men, and foot soldiers came on as well, and there was a new battle, and so many men that Sir Bors and Sir Berel were taken. But when Sir Gawain saw that, he took with him Sir Idrus, the good knight, and said he would never see King Arthur again unless he rescued them, and he pulled out Galatine, his good sword, and went after the men who were leading those two knights away. And he struck down the man who was leading Sir Bors, and took Sir Bors from him and handed him over to his fellows. And Sir Idrus in the same way rescued Sir Berel. Then the battle began to be great, so that our knights were in great danger, and so Sir Gawain sent to King Arthur for help, asking him to hurry, "for I am badly wounded, and our prisoners can pay ransoms beyond counting."
And the messenger came to the king and told him his message. And at once the king had his army assembled; but straight away, before he set out, the prisoners arrived, and Sir Gawain and his fellows had won the field and put the Romans to flight, and afterwards returned and came back with their company in such a way that no man of honour among them was lost, except that Sir Gawain was badly hurt. Then the king had his wounds probed, and comforted him. And so this was the beginning of the first engagement between the Britons and the Romans, and more than ten thousand of the Romans were slain, and there was great joy and merriment that night in King Arthur's army. And in the morning he sent all the prisoners to Paris under the guard of Sir Lancelot, with many knights, and of Sir Cador.
Now we turn to the Emperor of Rome, who learned that these prisoners were to be sent to Paris, and at once he sent certain knights and princes with sixty thousand men to lie in ambush, to rescue his knights and lords who were prisoners. And so the next morning, as Lancelot and Sir Cador, the chieftains and commanders of all those who were escorting the prisoners, were about to pass through a wood, Sir Lancelot sent certain knights ahead to scout whether anyone was in the woods to stop them. And when these knights came into the wood, at once they spotted the great ambush, and went back and told Sir Lancelot that sixty thousand Romans lay in wait for them. And then Sir Lancelot, with such knights as he had, and fighting men to the number of ten thousand, put them in battle order, and met them and fought them bravely, and killed and cut to pieces many of the Romans, and killed many knights and emirs on the side of the Romans and Saracens. There the king of Lyly was killed, and three great lords, Aladuke, Herawd and Heringdale. But Sir Lancelot fought so nobly that no man could withstand a stroke of his hand, and wherever he went he showed his prowess and his might, for he cut men down on every side; and the Romans and Saracens fled from him like sheep from the wolf or from the lion, and he put all of them who were left alive to flight.
And they fought so long that word came to King Arthur, and at once he made himself ready and came to the battle. And when he saw how his knights had won the battle, he embraced them in his arms, knight by knight, and said, "You are worthy to hold all your honour and renown. There was never a king, except myself, who had such noble knights."
"Sir," said Cador, "not one of us failed another. But the prowess and manhood of Sir Lancelot were more than a wonder to tell of, and so too were those of his cousins, who did many noble feats of war that day."
And Sir Cador also told which of his knights had been killed, such as Sir Berel, and others, Sir Moris and Sir Maurel, two good knights. Then the king wept, and dried his eyes with a handkerchief, and said, "Your courage very nearly destroyed you. For even if you had turned back, you would have lost no honour; for I call it folly for knights to stand their ground when they are outmatched."
"No," said Lancelot and the others, "for shame once taken can never be won back."
Now we leave King Arthur and his noble knights, who had won the field and had brought their prisoners to Paris, and speak of a senator who escaped from the battle, and came to Lucius the emperor, and said to him, "Sir emperor, I advise you to withdraw. What are you doing here? You will win nothing in these borderlands but great blows beyond all measure, for today one of Arthur's knights was worth a hundred of ours in the battle."
"Shame on you," said Lucius. "You talk like a coward. Your words grieve me more than all the loss I had today."
And at once he sent out a king called Sir Leomie, with a great army, and ordered him to hurry on ahead, and he would follow close behind. King Arthur was warned in secret, and sent his people to Sessoine, and took the towns and castles there from the Romans. Then the king commanded Sir Cador to take the rearguard, and to take with him certain knights of the Round Table, "and Sir Lancelot, Sir Bors, Sir Kay, Sir Marrok, with Sir Marhaus, shall wait upon our own person." So King Arthur divided his army into several parts, so that his enemies should not escape.
When the emperor had entered the vale of Sessoine, he could see where King Arthur was drawn up for battle with his banner displayed; and he was surrounded on every side by his enemies, so that he had no choice but to fight or surrender, for he could not flee. But he said openly to the Romans, "Sirs, I urge you to fight today and acquit yourselves like men, and remember how Rome rules and is chief and head over all the earth and the whole world, and do not let these Britons stand against us today."
And with that he had his trumpets blow the bloody calls to battle, so that the ground trembled and shook.
Then the armies drew near, and shoved and shouted on both sides, and great blows were struck on both sides, and many men were overthrown, wounded and killed; and great deeds of valour, prowess and feats of war were shown that day, too many to recount, the noble feats of every man, for they would fill a whole volume. But above all, King Arthur rode through the battle urging his knights to do well, and he himself did as nobly with his own hands as any man could do. He drew out Excalibur his sword, and watched always for where the Romans were thickest and were hurting his people most, and at once he turned to that place, and hewed and cut men down on every side, and rescued his people. And he killed a great giant named Galapas, who was a man of huge size and height. He cut him shorter, and struck off both his legs at the knees, saying, "Now you're a better size to deal with than you were!" And afterwards he struck off his head. There Sir Gawain fought nobly and killed three emirs in that battle. And so did all the knights of the Round Table. So the battle between King Arthur and Lucius the Emperor went on a long time. Lucius had many Saracens on his side, and they were killed. And so the battle was great, and often one side had the advantage and then at once the disadvantage, and it went on so long that at last King Arthur saw where Lucius the Emperor was fighting, and doing wonders with his own hands. And at once he rode at him. And each struck the other fiercely, and at last Lucius struck Arthur across the face, and gave him a broad wound. And when King Arthur felt himself hurt, at once he struck him back with Excalibur, so that it split his head from the crown, and did not stop until it came to his breast. And then the emperor fell down dead, and there his life ended.
And when it was known that the emperor was killed, at once all the Romans with all their army took to flight, and King Arthur with all his knights followed the chase, and cut down all those they could overtake. And so the victory was given to King Arthur, and the triumph; and more than a hundred thousand were killed on the side of Lucius. And afterwards King Arthur had the dead bodies searched, and had those of his own following who were killed buried, every man according to his estate and rank. And for those who were wounded, he had the surgeons examine their hurts and wounds, and commanded them to spare no salves or medicines until they were healed.
Then the king rode straight to the place where the Emperor Lucius lay dead, and with him he found killed the Sultan of Syria, and the King of Egypt and the King of Ethiopia, who were two noble kings, with seventeen other kings of various countries, and also sixty senators of Rome, all noble men. All of these the king had embalmed with many good aromatic gums, and afterwards had them wrapped in sixty folds of waxed cloth of sendal, a fine silk, and laid in chests of lead, so that they would not rot or smell; and on all these bodies their shields with their arms and banners were set, so that it would be known what country they were from. And afterwards he found three senators who were alive, and he said to them, "To save your lives, I want you to take these dead bodies and carry them with you to great Rome, and present them to the Potestate, Rome's governor, on my behalf, showing him my letters, and tell them that I in my own person will soon be at Rome. And I expect the Romans will think twice before they demand any tribute of me. And I command you to say, when you come to Rome, to the Potestate and all the Council and Senate, that I send them these dead bodies for the tribute they have demanded. And if they are not content with these, I will pay more when I come, for I owe no other tribute, and no other will I pay. And I think this is enough for Britain, Ireland and all the German lands. And furthermore, I charge you to tell them that I command them, on pain of their heads, never to demand tribute or tax from me or from my lands."
Then with this charge and command, the three senators already named departed with all the dead bodies, laying the body of Lucius all alone in a cart covered with the arms of the Empire; and after it always two bodies of kings in a chariot, and then the bodies of the senators after them. And so they went toward Rome, and delivered their embassy and message to the Potestate and the Senate, recounting the battle fought in France, and how the field was lost and a great many people killed, beyond counting. And so they advised them by no means to make any more war against that noble conqueror Arthur, for his might and prowess were greatly to be feared, seeing the noble kings and the great multitude of knights of the Round Table, with whom no earthly prince can compare.
Now we turn to King Arthur and his noble knights, who, after the great battle won against the Romans, entered Lorraine, Brabant and Flanders, and then went back into Upper Germany, and so over the mountains into Lombardy, and after that into Tuscany. And there was a city there that would by no means surrender or obey, so King Arthur besieged it, and lay a long time around it, and made many assaults on the city; and those inside defended themselves bravely. Then one day the king called Sir Florence, a knight, and said to him that they were short of food, "and not far from here are great forests and woods, where many of my enemies are, with a great deal of cattle. I want you to make ready and go there foraging, and take with you Sir Gawain my nephew, Sir Wisshard, Sir Clegis, Sir Cleremond, and the Captain of Cardiff, with others, and bring back with you all the beasts you can get there."
And at once these knights made ready, and rode over woods and hills, through forests and woods, until they came into a fair meadow full of fair flowers and grass; and there they rested themselves and their horses all that night. And at the break of day the next morning, Sir Gawain took his horse and stole away from his companions, to look for some adventures. And at once he caught sight of an armed man walking his horse at an easy pace along the side of a wood, with his shield laced to his shoulder, sitting on a strong warhorse, with no man with him except a page carrying a mighty spear. The knight bore on his shield three griffins of gold on black, with a carbuncle, and the top band of the shield in silver. When Sir Gawain saw this splendid knight, he set his spear in its rest, and rode straight at him, and asked him where he came from. The other answered and said he was from Tuscany, and he asked Sir Gawain, "What, proud knight, are you challenging me so boldly? You'll get no plunder here. Try what you like: you'll be my prisoner before you leave."
Then Gawain said, "You boast a great deal and speak proud words. I advise you, for all your boasting, to make yourself ready and take up your weapons, before worse harm comes to you."
Then they took their spears and charged at each other with all the might they had, and struck each other through their shields into their shoulders. So at once they pulled out their swords, and struck such great blows that the sparks flew from their helmets. Then Sir Gawain was thoroughly shaken, and with Galatine his good sword he struck through the shield and the thick hauberk made of thick rings of mail, and smashed the precious stones on it all to pieces, and gave him a broad wound, so that men could see both liver and lung. Then that knight groaned, and turned on Sir Gawain, and with a backhand stroke gave him a great wound and cut a vein, which hurt Gawain badly, and he bled heavily.
Then the knight said to Sir Gawain, "Bind up your wound before the bleeding drains your colour, for you are bloodying all your horse and your fine armour. And all the barber-surgeons of Brittany will not be able to stop your blood, for whoever is hurt with this blade will never stop bleeding."
Then Gawain answered, "It troubles me very little. Your big words will not frighten me or lessen my courage; but you will suffer pain and sorrow before we part. But tell me quickly who can stop my bleeding."
"I can do that," said the knight, "if I want to, and so I will, if you will help and support me so that I may be christened and believe in God. And I ask this of you by your manhood, and it will be a great merit for your soul."
"I grant it," said Gawain, "so help me God, to fulfil all your wish. But first tell me what you were looking for here like this, alone, and what land you are from, and whose allegiance you owe."
"Sir," he said, "my name is Priamus, and my father is a great prince, and he has rebelled against Rome and overrun many of their lands. My father is descended in the direct line from Alexander and from Hector. And Duke Joshua and Maccabaeus were of our lineage. I am the rightful heir of Alexandria and Africa, and all the outer islands; yet I will believe in the Lord you believe in, and for your trouble I will give you treasure enough. I was so proud and haughty in my heart that I thought no man was my equal, or like me. I was sent into this war with seven score knights, and now I have met with you, who have given me my fill of fighting. So, sir knight, I beg you to tell me who you are."
"I am no knight," said Gawain. "I have been brought up for many years in the wardrobe of the noble King Arthur, the department that keeps his gear, to look after his armour and his other clothing, and to lace up the short coats that belong to him. Last Christmas he made me a yeoman, and gave me a horse and armour, and a hundred pounds in money; and if fortune is my friend, I have no doubt I will be well advanced and helped by my liege lord."
"Ah," said Priamus, "if his servants are so keen and fierce, his knights must be exceedingly good. Now for the love of the King of Heaven, whether you are a servant or a knight, tell me your name."
"By God," said Sir Gawain, "now I will tell you the truth. My name is Sir Gawain, and I am known in his court and in his chamber, and I am one of the knights of the Round Table. He dubbed me a duke with his own hand. So do not resent it if this grace has fallen to me; it is the goodness of God that lent me my strength."
"Now I am better pleased," said Priamus, "than if you had given me all Provence and rich Paris. I would rather have been torn apart by wild horses than that any servant should have won such renown, or that any page or hard rider should have had the prize over me. But now, sir knight, I warn you that near here is a Duke of Lorraine with his army, and the noblest men of Dauphiny, and lords of Lombardy, with the garrison of Godard, and Saracens of Southland, numbering sixty thousand good men-at-arms. So unless we hurry away from here, it will go hard with us both, for we are badly hurt and not likely ever to recover. But keep an eye on my page, so that he does not blow his horn; for if he does, there are a hundred knights waiting close by here to attend on me, and if they take you, no ransom of gold or silver will set you free."
Then Sir Gawain rode across a river to save himself, and the knight followed him, and so they rode on until they came to his companions, who were in the meadow where they had been all night. As soon as Sir Wisshard caught sight of Sir Gawain and saw that he was hurt, he ran to him weeping with sorrow, and asked him who had hurt him like this. And Gawain told how he had fought with that man, and each of them had wounded the other, and how he had salves to heal them, "but I can tell you other news: soon we will have to fight many enemies."
Then Sir Priamus and Sir Gawain dismounted, and let their horses graze in the meadow, and took off their armour, and then the blood ran fresh from their wounds. And Priamus took from his page a flask full of the four waters that came out of Paradise, and anointed their wounds with a certain balm, and washed them with that water, and within an hour they were both as sound as they had ever been. And then they were all called together to council with a trumpet, and there Priamus told them what lords and knights had sworn to rescue him, and that without fail they would be attacked by many thousands; so he advised them to withdraw.
Then Sir Gawain said it would be a great shame to them to leave without striking a blow. "So I advise that we take up our arms and make ready to meet these Saracens and unbelievers, and with the help of God we shall overthrow them and have a fine day of it against them. And Sir Florence shall stay here in this field to hold the position, as a noble knight, and we shall not abandon those fellows over there."
"Now," said Priamus, "stop talking, for I warn you, you will find many dangerous knights in those woods over there. They will drive out beasts to lure you on. They are past counting, and you are not more than seven hundred, which is far too few to fight with so many."
"Nevertheless," said Sir Gawain, "we will meet them once, and see what they can do, and the best shall have the victory."
Then Sir Florence called Sir Floridas to him, with a hundred knights, and drove off the herd of beasts. Then seven hundred men-at-arms followed him; and Sir Ferant of Spain came galloping out of the woods on a fine steed, and came to Sir Florence and asked him why he was running away. Then Sir Florence took his spear and rode against him, and struck him in the forehead and broke his neck. Then all the others were stirred up, and meant to avenge the death of Sir Ferant, and charged in among them; and there was a great fight, and many were killed and laid on the ground. And Sir Florence with his hundred knights held the position the whole time, and fought bravely.
Then, when Priamus the good knight saw how great the fight was, he went to Sir Gawain and told him to go and help his companions, who were hard pressed by their enemies.
"Sir, don't worry," said Sir Gawain, "for the prize will be theirs. I will not move my horse one step toward them unless I see more of the enemy than there are now; for they are strong enough to match them."
And with that he saw an earl called Sir Ethelwold, and the duke of the Germans, come charging out of a wood with many thousands, and Priamus' knights with them, and they came straight into the battle. Then Sir Gawain encouraged his knights, and told them not to be dismayed, for it would all be theirs. Then they began to gallop, and met their enemies, and men were killed and overthrown on every side. Then the knights of the Round Table thrust in among them, and struck to the earth all those who stood against them, so that they forced them to fall back and flee.
"By God," said Sir Gawain, "this gladdens my heart, for now they are fewer by twenty thousand."
Then Jubance, a giant, entered the battle, and fought and cut men down on every side, and harmed many of our knights, among whom Sir Gherard, a knight of Wales, was killed. Then our knights took heart, and killed many Saracens. And then Sir Priamus came in with his pennon, and rode with the knights of the Round Table, and fought so bravely that many of their enemies lost their lives. And there Sir Priamus killed the Marquis of Moises land, and Sir Gawain and his companions acquitted themselves so well that they won the field. But in that fight Sir Chestelaine was killed, a young squire who was Sir Gawain's ward, and there was great grief for it, and his death was soon avenged. So the battle ended, and many lords of Lombardy and many Saracens were left dead on the field.
Then Sir Florence and Sir Gawain lodged their people safely, and took a great quantity of cattle, and of gold and silver, and great treasure and riches, and went back to King Arthur, who was still at the siege. And when they came to the king, they presented their prisoners and told of their adventures, and how they had defeated their enemies.
"Now God be thanked," said the noble King Arthur. "But what sort of man is that standing by himself? He doesn't look like a prisoner."
"Sir," said Gawain, "this is a good man-at-arms. He matched me, but he has yielded himself to God, and to me, to become a Christian. If it had not been for him, we would never have come back. So I beg you to let him be baptised, for there lives no nobler man, nor a better knight with his hands."
Then the king had him christened at once, and had him called by his first name, Priamus, and made him a duke and a knight of the Round Table. And then at once the king had the assault on the city proclaimed, and there was raising of ladders and breaking of walls, and the ditch was filled, so that men could enter the city with little trouble. Then a duchess came out, and Clarisin the countess, with many ladies and damsels, and knelt before King Arthur, and begged him for the love of God to accept the city's surrender and not to take it by storm, for then many innocent people would be killed. Then the king lowered his visor, with a meek and noble face, and said, "Madam, none of my subjects shall do any wrong to you or your maidens, or to anyone who belongs to you; but the duke shall abide my judgement."
Then at once the king commanded the assault to stop, and at once the duke's eldest son brought out the keys, and kneeling handed them to the king, and begged him for mercy; and the king took possession of the town with the consent of his lords, and took the duke and sent him to Dover, to stay there a prisoner for the rest of his life, and set aside certain rents for the duchess's dower and for her children.
Then he appointed lords to rule those lands, and made laws, as a lord ought to do in his own country; and afterwards he set out on his journey toward Rome, and sent Sir Floris and Sir Floridas ahead with five hundred men-at-arms. And they came to the city of Urbino and laid an ambush there, where it seemed best to them, and rode up before the town, where at once a great many people sallied out and skirmished with the scouts. Then the ambush broke out and won the bridge, and afterwards the town, and set the king's banner on the walls. Then the king came up on a hill, and saw the city and his banner on the walls, by which he knew that the city was won. And at once he sent word and commanded that none of his liegemen should dishonour or lie with any lady, wife or maiden; and when he came into the city, he went to the castle, and comforted those who were in sorrow, and appointed a captain there, a knight of his own country.
And when the people of Milan heard that this same city was won, they sent great sums of money to King Arthur, and begged him as their lord to have pity on them, promising to be his subjects for ever, and to do him homage and fealty for the lands of Piacenza and Pavia, Petersaint, and the Port of Tremble, and to give him a million in gold every year for all his lifetime. Then he rode into Tuscany, and won towns and castles, and laid waste everything in his way that would not obey him, and so on to Spoleto and Viterbo, and from there he rode into the Vale of Vicecount among the vines. And from there he sent to the senators, to learn whether they would acknowledge him as their lord. But soon afterwards, on a Saturday, all the senators who were left alive came to King Arthur, and the noblest cardinals who lived in Rome at that time, and begged him for peace, and offered him a great deal, and asked him as their ruler to give them leave for six weeks to assemble all the Romans, and then to crown him emperor with chrism, the holy anointing oil, as befits so high a rank.
"I agree," said the king, "just as you have proposed, and I will be crowned there at Christmas, and hold my Round Table with my knights as it pleases me."
And then the senators made ready for his enthronement. And on the appointed day, as the romance tells, he came into Rome, and was crowned emperor by the Pope's hand, with all the royal splendour that could be made, and stayed there for a time, and settled all his lands from Rome to France, and gave lands and realms to his servants and knights, to each according to what he deserved, in such a way that no one complained, rich or poor. And he gave Sir Priamus the duchy of Lorraine; and Priamus thanked him, and said he would serve him all the days of his life. And afterwards he made dukes and earls, and made every man rich.
Then after this all his knights and lords gathered before him, and said, "Blessed be God, your war is finished and your conquest achieved, so much so that we know of no one so great or mighty who dares make war against you. So we beg you to return home, and give us leave to go home to our wives, from whom we have been away a long time, and to rest, for your expedition is finished with honour and renown."
Then the king said, "You speak the truth, and it is no wisdom to tempt God. So make yourselves ready, and let us return to England."
Then there was packing of armour and baggage, and a great train of carts. And when leave had been given, he turned back, and commanded that no man, on pain of death, should rob or take food or anything else along the way unless he paid for it. And so he came over the sea and landed at Sandwich, where Queen Guinevere his wife came to meet him; and he was nobly received by all his common people in every city and town, and great gifts were presented to him to welcome him at his homecoming.
Here ends the fifth book, of the conquest that King Arthur won against Lucius the Emperor of Rome.
Here follows the sixth book, which is of Sir Lancelot du Lake.
Soon after King Arthur had come back from Rome to England, all the knights of the Round Table gathered to the king, and held many jousts and tournaments. And some there were who were only plain knights, who grew so much in arms and in honour that they surpassed all their fellows in prowess and noble deeds, and that was well proved on many; but above all it was proved on Sir Lancelot du Lake. For in all tournaments and jousts and deeds of arms, both in sport and in earnest, he surpassed all other knights, and at no time was he ever overcome, unless it was by treason or enchantment. So Sir Lancelot grew so marvellously in renown and in honour that he is the first knight the French book makes mention of after King Arthur came back from Rome. And so Queen Guinevere held him in great favour above all other knights, and certainly he loved the queen in return above all other ladies and damsels all his life, and for her he did many deeds of arms, and saved her from the fire through his noble chivalry.
So Sir Lancelot rested a long while with play and games. And then he thought he would prove himself in strange adventures, and he told his nephew, Sir Lionel, to make himself ready, "for we two will go and look for adventures." So they mounted their horses, armed in every point, and rode into a deep forest and so out onto a wide plain. And then the weather was hot about noon, and Sir Lancelot had a great wish to sleep. Then Sir Lionel noticed a great apple tree that stood by a hedge, and said, "Brother, there is a fine shade over there. We can rest ourselves and our horses there."
"Well said, fair brother," said Sir Lancelot, "for these eight years I have not been as sleepy as I am now."
And so they dismounted there and tied their horses to separate trees, and so Sir Lancelot lay down under an apple tree, with his helmet under his head. And Sir Lionel kept watch while he slept. So Sir Lancelot was sound asleep.
And meanwhile three knights came riding, fleeing as fast as ever they could ride. And there followed them only one knight. And when Sir Lionel saw him, he thought he had never seen so big a knight, nor so fine-looking a man, nor one so well equipped in every point. So within a little while this strong knight had overtaken one of these knights, and there he struck him to the cold earth, so that he lay still. And then he rode at the second knight, and struck him so that man and horse fell down. And then he rode straight at the third knight, and struck him a spear's length out over his horse's rump. And then he dismounted and took his horse by the bridle, and tied all three knights fast with the reins of their own bridles. When Sir Lionel saw him do this, he thought he would try him, and made himself ready, and quietly and secretly he took his horse, and took care not to wake Sir Lancelot. And when he was mounted on his horse, he overtook this strong knight, and told him to turn. And the other struck Sir Lionel so hard that he bore horse and man to the earth, and so he dismounted and tied him fast, and threw him across his own horse. And so he served all four of them, and rode away with them to his own castle. And when he came there he had them stripped of their armour, and had them beaten naked with thorns, and afterwards put them in a deep prison where there were many more knights, who were grieving bitterly.
When Sir Ector de Maris learned that Sir Lancelot had left the court to look for adventures, he was angry with himself, and made himself ready to look for Sir Lancelot. And when he had ridden a long way in a great forest, he met a man who looked like a forester.
"Good fellow," said Sir Ector, "do you know of any adventures near here in this country?"
"Sir," said the forester, "I know this country well. And near here, within this mile, there is a strong manor, well moated, and by that manor, on the left hand, there is a good ford for horses to drink at, and over that ford there grows a fine tree, and on it hang many fine shields that once belonged to good knights. And on the trunk of the tree hangs a basin of copper and brass. Strike that basin three times with the butt of your spear, and soon after you will hear news, or else you will have the best luck that any knight has had for many a year who passed through this forest."
"Many thanks," said Sir Ector, and left, and came to the tree, and saw many fine shields. And among them he saw his brother Sir Lionel's shield, and many more that he knew, belonging to his fellows of the Round Table, which grieved his heart, and he vowed to avenge his brother.
Then at once Sir Ector beat on the basin like a madman, and then he gave his horse a drink at the ford. And a knight came up behind him and told him to come out of the water and make himself ready. And at once Sir Ector turned sharply, and set his spear in rest, and struck the other knight such a great blow that his horse spun round twice.
"That was well done," said the strong knight, "and you have struck me like a true knight."
And with that he drove his horse at Sir Ector, and seized him under his right arm, and carried him clean out of the saddle, and rode away with him into his own hall, and threw him down in the middle of the floor. The name of this knight was Sir Turquine. Then he said to Sir Ector, "Because you have done more to me today than any knight has done these twelve years, now I will grant you your life, as long as you will swear to be my prisoner all the days of your life."
"No," said Sir Ector, "I will never promise you that, but I will do the best I can for myself."
"I am sorry for that," said Sir Turquine.
And then he had him stripped of his armour, and had him beaten naked with thorns, and then put him down in a deep dungeon, where he found many of his fellows that he knew. But when Sir Ector saw Sir Lionel, he grieved greatly.
"Alas, brother," said Sir Ector, "where is my brother Sir Lancelot?"
"Fair brother, I left him asleep under an apple tree when I went away from him, and what has become of him I cannot tell you."
"Alas," said the knights, "unless Sir Lancelot helps us we can never be set free, for we know of no knight now who is able to match our master Turquine."
Now we leave these knights in prison, and speak of Sir Lancelot du Lake, who lies sleeping under the apple tree. Right about noon four queens of high rank came by him. And so that the heat should not trouble them, four knights rode around them, and carried a cloth of green silk on four spears, between them and the sun, and the queens rode on four white mules. And as they rode they heard a great horse neigh fiercely nearby, and then they noticed a sleeping knight who lay in full armour under an apple tree. As soon as these queens looked at his face, they knew it was Sir Lancelot. Then they began to quarrel over that knight, and each one said she would have him for her lover.
"We shall not quarrel," said Morgan le Fay, who was King Arthur's sister. "I will put an enchantment on him so that he will not wake for six hours, and then I will take him away to my castle. And when he is safely in my keeping, I will take the enchantment off him, and then let him choose which of us he will have for his lover."
So this enchantment was cast on Sir Lancelot, and then they laid him on his shield, and carried him that way on horseback between two knights, and brought him to the Castle Chariot. And there they laid him in a cold room, and at night they sent a fair damsel to him with his supper ready prepared. By then the enchantment had passed, and when she came she greeted him, and asked him how he was.
"I cannot say, fair damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "for I don't know how I came into this castle, unless it was by an enchantment."
"Sir," she said, "you must keep your spirits up. And if you are the kind of knight people say you are, I will tell you more tomorrow at first light."
"Many thanks, fair damsel," said Sir Lancelot. "I ask for your good will."
And so she left. And there he lay all that night without comfort from anyone. And early in the morning these four queens came, exceedingly richly dressed, all of them bidding him good morning, and he them in return.
"Sir knight," the four queens said, "you must understand you are our prisoner. And we know you well here, that you are Sir Lancelot du Lake, King Ban's son. And because we know your worth, that you are the noblest knight living, and as we well know, no lady can have your love but one, and that is Queen Guinevere: now you will lose her for ever, and she you. And so you must now choose one of us four. I am Queen Morgan le Fay, queen of the land of Gore, and here is the Queen of North Wales, and the Queen of Eastland, and the Queen of the Out Isles. Now choose one of us, whichever you will have for your lover, for if you do not choose, you will die in this prison."
"This is a hard case," said Sir Lancelot, "that either I must die or else choose one of you. Yet I would rather die in this prison with honour than have one of you for my lover against my will. And so you have your answer: I will have none of you, for you are false enchantresses. And as for my lady, Dame Guinevere, if I were at liberty as I was, I would prove it on you or on your champions that she is the truest lady to her lord alive."
"Well," said the queens, "is this your answer, that you will refuse us?"
"Yes, on my life," said Sir Lancelot, "I refuse you."
So they left and left him there alone, grieving greatly.
Just then, at noon, the damsel came to him with his dinner, and asked him how he was.
"Truly, fair damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "never so badly in all the days of my life."
"Sir," she said, "I am sorry for that. But if you will be guided by me, I will help you out of this distress, and you will suffer no shame or dishonour, provided you keep a promise to me."
"Fair damsel, I will grant it you, for I am badly afraid of these sorceress queens, since they have destroyed many a good knight."
"Sir," said she, "that is true. And because of the renown and goodness they hear of in you, they want your love. And sir, they say your name is Sir Lancelot du Lake, the flower of knights, and they are exceedingly angry with you because you have refused them. But sir, if you would promise me to help my father next Tuesday, who has arranged a tournament between himself and the King of North Wales (for last Tuesday my father lost the field through three knights of Arthur's court), if you will be there next Tuesday and help my father, then tomorrow before first light, by the grace of God, I will set you completely free."
"Fair maiden," said Sir Lancelot, "tell me your father's name, and then I will give you an answer."
"Sir knight," she said, "my father is King Bagdemagus, who was shamefully beaten at the last tournament."
"I know your father well," said Sir Lancelot, "for a noble king and a good knight. And on my life, you shall have me ready to serve your father and you on that day."
"Sir," she said, "many thanks. And tomorrow see that you are ready early, and I will be the one who sets you free and brings you your armour and your horse, shield and spear. And near here, within ten miles, there is an abbey of white monks. There I beg you to wait for me, and I will bring my father to you there."
"All this shall be done," said Sir Lancelot, "as I am a true knight."
And so she left, and came early in the morning, and found him ready. Then she brought him out through twelve locks, and brought him to his armour. And when he was fully armed, she brought him to his own horse, and quickly he saddled him and took a great spear in his hand and so rode off, and said, "Fair damsel, I will not fail you, by the grace of God."
And so he rode into a great forest all that day, and could never find any highway, and so night fell on him. And then he noticed, in a little glen, a tent of red silk.
"By my faith," said Sir Lancelot, "I will lodge in that tent all this night."
And so he dismounted there, and tied his horse to the tent, and there he took off his armour, and there he found a bed, and lay down in it and fell sound asleep.
Then within an hour the knight who owned the tent came, and he thought his lady-love was lying in that bed, and so he lay down beside Sir Lancelot, and took him in his arms and began to kiss him. And when Sir Lancelot felt a rough beard kissing him, he leapt nimbly out of the bed, and the other knight after him, and each of them got his sword in his hand. And out of the tent door went the knight of the tent, and Sir Lancelot followed him, and there in a little glen Sir Lancelot wounded him badly, close to death. And then he yielded to Sir Lancelot, and so Lancelot spared him, on condition that he would tell him why he came into the bed.
"Sir," said the knight, "the tent is my own, and I had arranged for my lady to sleep with me here tonight, and now I am likely to die of this wound."
"I am sorry for your hurt," said Lancelot, "but I was afraid of treason, for I was tricked not long ago. And so come along into your tent and take your rest, and I think I can stop your bleeding."
And so they both went into the tent, and at once Sir Lancelot stopped his bleeding.
With that the knight's lady came, who was an exceedingly beautiful lady, and when she saw that her lord Belleus was badly wounded, she cried out against Sir Lancelot, and grieved beyond measure.
"Peace, my lady and my love," said Belleus, "for this knight is a good man, and a knight-errant."
And there he told her the whole reason how he was wounded. "And when I yielded to him, he spared me courteously and has stopped my bleeding."
"Sir," said the lady, "I beg you to tell me what knight you are, and what is your name?"
"Fair lady," he said, "my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"I always thought so from your speech," said the lady, "for I have often seen you before this, and I know you better than you think. But now, if you would promise me of your courtesy, for the harm you have done to me and my lord Belleus, that when he comes to Arthur's court you will have him made a knight of the Round Table; for he is an exceedingly good man of arms, and a mighty lord of lands in many outlying isles."
"Fair lady," said Sir Lancelot, "let him come to the court at the next high feast, and see that you come with him, and I will do all I can, if he proves himself valiant with his hands, so that you shall have your desire."
So in a little while, as they talked like this, the night passed, and the day shone, and then Sir Lancelot armed himself, and took his horse, and they showed him the way to the abbey, and he rode there within the space of two hours.
And as soon as Sir Lancelot came into the abbey yard, King Bagdemagus' daughter heard a great horse on the paving. And then she got up and went to a window, and there she saw Sir Lancelot. And at once she had men quickly take his horse from him and lead it into a stable, and he himself was led into a fine room, and his armour taken off, and the lady sent him a long gown, and soon she came herself. And then she gave Lancelot an exceedingly warm welcome, and she said he was the knight in the world who was most welcome to her. Then in all haste she sent for her father Bagdemagus, who was within twelve miles of that abbey, and before evening he came, with a fine company of knights with him. And when the king had dismounted from his horse, he went straight to Sir Lancelot's room, and there he found his daughter. And then the king embraced Sir Lancelot in his arms, and each greeted the other warmly.
At once Sir Lancelot made his complaint to the king of how he had been betrayed, and how his brother Sir Lionel had gone from him he did not know where, and how his daughter had freed him from prison. "So as long as I live I will serve her and all her kindred."
"Then I am sure of your help," said the king, "next Tuesday."
"Yes, sir," said Sir Lancelot, "I will not fail you, for I have promised so to my lady your daughter. But, sir, which knights of my lord Arthur's were they who were with the King of North Wales?"
And the king said it was Sir Mador de la Porte, and Sir Mordred, and Sir Gahalantine who had worsted all his knights, for against those three neither he nor his knights could hold out.
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "since I hear that the tournament is to be here, within three miles of this abbey, send me three knights of yours, such as you trust, and see that the three knights all have white shields, and I too, with no painting on the shields. And we four will come out of a little wood between the two sides, and we will fall on the front of our enemies and do them all the harm we can; and that way no one will know what knight I am."
So they took their rest that night, and this was on the Sunday. And so the king left, and sent Sir Lancelot three knights with the four white shields. And on the Tuesday they lodged themselves in a little leafy wood beside the place where the tournament was to be. And there were stands and viewing places so that lords and ladies might watch and award the prize. Then the King of North Wales came into the field with a hundred and sixty helmed knights. And the three knights of Arthur's stood by themselves. Then King Bagdemagus came into the field with eighty helmed knights. And then they set their spears in rest, and came together with a great crash, and at the first encounter twelve knights of King Bagdemagus' side were killed, and six of the King of North Wales' side, and King Bagdemagus' side was driven far back.
With that came Sir Lancelot du Lake, and he thrust in with his spear into the thick of the crowd, and there he struck down five knights with one spear, and he broke the backs of four of them. And in that throng he struck down the King of North Wales, and broke his thigh in that fall. The three knights of Arthur's saw all this that Sir Lancelot did.
"There's a dangerous guest over there," said Sir Mador de la Porte, "so here goes, I'll have a go at him."
So they met, and Sir Lancelot bore him down, horse and man, so that his shoulder came out of joint.
"Now it falls to me to joust," said Mordred, "for Sir Mador has had a bad fall."
Sir Lancelot saw him, and got a great spear in his hand, and met him. And Sir Mordred broke a spear on him, and Sir Lancelot gave him such a blow that the saddlebow broke, and so he flew over his horse's tail, so that his helmet drove into the earth a foot and more, and his neck was nearly broken, and there he lay a long while in a faint.
Then Sir Gahalantine came in with a great spear, and Lancelot against him, with all the strength they could drive, so that both their spears burst right up to their hands. And then they flung out their swords and gave many a grim stroke. Then Sir Lancelot was angry beyond measure, and then he struck Sir Gahalantine on the helmet so that his nose burst out bleeding, and his ears and mouth both, and with that his head hung low. And with that his horse ran away with him, and he fell down to the earth. At once Sir Lancelot got a great spear in his hand, and before that great spear broke, he bore sixteen knights to the earth, some horse and man, and some the man and not the horse. And there was none he hit squarely who bore arms again that day. And then he got another great spear, and struck down twelve knights, and most of them never prospered afterwards. And then the knights of the King of North Wales would joust no more. And there the prize was given to King Bagdemagus.
So each side went off to its own place, and Sir Lancelot rode off with King Bagdemagus to his castle, and there he had an exceedingly warm welcome both from the king and from his daughter, and they offered him great gifts. And in the morning he took his leave, and told the king that he would go and look for his brother Sir Lionel, who had gone from him while he slept. So he took his horse, and commended them all to God. And there he said to the king's daughter, "If you ever have need of my service, I beg you let me know, and I will not fail you, as I am a true knight."
And so Sir Lancelot left, and by chance he came into the same forest where he had been captured sleeping. And in the middle of a highway he met a damsel riding on a white palfrey, and they greeted each other.
"Fair damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "do you know of any adventures in this country?"
"Sir knight," said the damsel, "there are adventures close by, if you dare try them."
"Why should I not try adventures?" said Sir Lancelot. "That is why I came here."
"Well," said she, "you certainly look like a good knight. And if you dare meet a good knight, I will bring you to where the best knight is, and the mightiest you ever met, as long as you will tell me your name, and what knight you are."
"Damsel, I care nothing about telling you my name. Truly my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"Sir, you look the part well. There are adventures near here that are fit for you. For near here lives a knight who will not be overmatched by any man I know, unless you overmatch him, and his name is Sir Turquine. And as I understand, he has in his prison sixty-four good knights of Arthur's court, whom he has won with his own hands. But when you have done that day's work, you must promise me, as you are a true knight, to go with me, and to help me and other damsels who are wronged every day by a false knight."
"All your purpose and desire, damsel, I will fulfil, as long as you will bring me to this knight."
"Now, fair knight, come along."
And so she brought him to the ford and the tree where the basin hung.
So Sir Lancelot let his horse drink, and then he beat on the basin with the butt of his spear, so hard, with all his might, that the bottom fell out. And he went on a long while, but he saw nothing. Then he rode up and down along the gates of that manor for nearly half an hour. And then he caught sight of a great knight driving a horse in front of him, and across the horse there lay an armed knight, tied up. And as they came nearer and nearer, Sir Lancelot thought he ought to know him. Then Sir Lancelot saw that it was Sir Gaheris, Gawain's brother, a knight of the Round Table.
"Now, fair damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "I see a knight coming over there, tied fast, who is a fellow of mine, and he is Sir Gawain's brother. And from the very start I promise you, God willing, to rescue that knight; and unless his master sits better in the saddle, I will free all the prisoners he has from their peril, for I am sure he has two brothers of mine prisoner with him."
By the time each had seen the other, they gripped their spears.
"Now, fair knight," said Sir Lancelot, "put that wounded knight off the horse, and let him rest a while, and let us two try our strength. For as I am told, you do and have done great insult and shame to knights of the Round Table, and so now defend yourself."
"If you're of the Round Table," said Turquine, "I defy you and your whole fellowship."
"That is saying too much," said Sir Lancelot.
And then they set their spears in rest, and came together with their horses as fast as they could run, and each struck the other in the middle of his shield, so that both their horses' backs broke under them, and the knights were both stunned. And as soon as they could get clear of their horses, they took their shields in front of them, and drew their swords, and came together eagerly, and each gave the other many strong strokes, for neither shields nor armour could hold out against their strokes. And so within a little while they both had grim wounds, and bled exceedingly badly. So they went on for two hours or more, pressing and slashing at each other, wherever they could hit any bare place.
Then at last they were both out of breath, and stood leaning on their swords.
"Now, fellow," said Sir Turquine, "hold your hand a while, and answer what I ask you."
"Say on."
Then Turquine said, "You are the biggest man I ever met, and the one with the best wind, and like one knight I hate above all other knights. So as long as you are not he, I will gladly make peace with you, and for your sake I will free all the prisoners I have, which is sixty-four, as long as you will tell me your name. And you and I will be companions together, and I will never fail you as long as I live."
"Well said," said Sir Lancelot. "But since I may have your friendship on those terms, what knight is it that you hate so much above all others?"
"In good faith," said Sir Turquine, "his name is Sir Lancelot du Lake, for he killed my brother, Sir Carados, at the Dolorous Tower, who was one of the best knights alive. And so I except him out of all knights; for if I can once meet him, one of us will make an end of the other, I swear it. And for Sir Lancelot's sake I have killed a hundred good knights, and maimed as many so utterly that they could never help themselves afterwards, and many have died in prison. And I still have sixty-four, and all shall be freed, as long as you will tell me your name, provided you are not Sir Lancelot."
"Now I see well," said Sir Lancelot, "that if I were one kind of man I might have peace, and if I were another, there would be war to the death between us. And now, sir knight, at your request I want you to know for certain that I am Lancelot du Lake, King Ban's son of Benwick, and a true knight of the Round Table. And now I defy you, and do your worst."
"Ah," said Turquine, "Lancelot, you are the most welcome to me of any knight there ever was, for we shall never part until one of us is dead."
Then they crashed together like two wild bulls, rushing and lashing with their shields and swords, so that sometimes they both fell flat on their faces. So they fought on for two hours and more, and would never rest, and Sir Turquine gave Sir Lancelot many wounds, so that all the ground where they fought was spattered with blood.
Then at last Sir Turquine grew faint, and gave back somewhat, and held his shield low out of weariness. Sir Lancelot saw that, and leapt on him fiercely and got him by the visor of his helmet, and pulled him down on his knees, and at once he tore off his helmet, and struck his neck in two. And when Sir Lancelot had done this, he went to the damsel and said, "Damsel, I am ready to go with you wherever you want me, but I have no horse."
"Fair sir," said she, "take this wounded knight's horse, and send him into this manor, and command him to free all the prisoners."
So Sir Lancelot went to Gaheris, and begged him not to take it badly if he borrowed his horse.
"No, fair lord," said Gaheris, "I want you to take my horse to do with as you please, for you have saved both me and my horse. And this day I say you are the best knight in the world, for today, before my eyes, you have killed the mightiest man and the best knight, except you, that I ever saw. And, fair sir," said Gaheris, "I beg you, tell me your name."
"Sir, my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake, who ought by rights to help you for King Arthur's sake, and above all for the sake of my lord Sir Gawain, your own dear brother. And when you go into that manor over there, I am sure you will find many knights of the Round Table there, for I have seen many of their shields that I know on that tree over there. There is Kay's shield, and Sir Brandel's shield, and Sir Marhaus' shield, and Sir Galind's shield, and Sir Brian de Listnois' shield, and Sir Aliduke's shield, with many more that I can't call to mind now, and also my two brothers' shields, Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Lionel. So I beg you, greet them all from me, and say that I tell them to take whatever goods they find there, and that by all means my brothers are to go to the court and wait for me there until I come; for I mean to be there by the feast of Pentecost. For at this time I must ride with this damsel, to keep my promise."
And so he left Gaheris, and Gaheris went into the manor, and there he found a yeoman porter keeping many keys there. At once Sir Gaheris threw the porter to the ground and took the keys from him, and quickly he opened the prison door, and there he let out all the prisoners, and every man loosed the others from their bonds. And when they saw Sir Gaheris, they all thanked him, for they thought, since he was wounded, that it was he who had done it.
"Not so," said Gaheris. "It was Lancelot who killed him, honourably, with his own hands. I saw it with my own eyes. And he sends you all his greetings, and begs you to hurry to the court; and as for Sir Lionel and Ector de Maris, he begs you to wait for him at the court."
"That we will not do," say his brothers. "We will find him, if we live."
"So will I," said Sir Kay. "I will find him before I come to the court, as I am a true knight."
Then all those knights looked for the house where the armour was, and then they armed themselves, and every knight found his own horse, and everything that belonged to him. And when this was done, a forester came with four horses loaded with fat venison.
At once Sir Kay said, "Here is good food for us for one meal, for we haven't had a good meal for many a day."
And so that venison was roasted, baked and boiled. And so after supper some stayed there all night, but Sir Lionel and Ector de Maris and Sir Kay rode after Sir Lancelot, to find him if they could.
Now we turn to Sir Lancelot, who rode with the damsel along a fine highway.
"Sir," said the damsel, "along this road there haunts a knight who preys on all ladies and gentlewomen, and at the very least he robs them or lies with them."
"What?" said Sir Lancelot. "Is he a thief and a knight and a ravisher of women? He brings shame on the order of knighthood, and goes against his oath; it is a pity that he is alive. But, fair damsel, you ride on ahead by yourself, and I will keep myself under cover, and if he troubles you or harms you I will come to your rescue and teach him to behave like a knight."
So the maiden rode on along the road at a soft ambling pace, and after a while that knight came out of the wood on horseback, with his page beside him, and there he pulled the damsel from her horse, and then she cried out. With that Lancelot came as fast as he could until he reached that knight, saying, "You false knight, you traitor to knighthood, who taught you to prey on ladies and gentlewomen?"
When the knight saw Sir Lancelot rebuking him like this he did not answer, but drew his sword and rode at Sir Lancelot. And Sir Lancelot threw his spear away from him, and drew out his sword, and struck him such a blow on the helmet that he split his head and neck down to the throat.
"Now you have the payment you have long deserved!"
"That is true," said the damsel. "For just as Sir Turquine lay in wait to destroy knights, so this knight lay in wait to destroy and harm ladies, damsels and gentlewomen, and his name was Sir Peris de Forest Savage."
"Now, damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "do you want any more service from me?"
"No, sir," she said, "not at this time. But may almighty Jesus keep you wherever you ride or walk, for you are the most courteous knight, and the gentlest to all ladies and gentlewomen, of any now alive. But one thing, sir knight, I think you lack, you who are a knight without a wife: that you will not love some maiden or gentlewoman. For I never heard it said that you loved anyone at all, of any rank, and that is a great pity. But it is rumoured that you love Queen Guinevere, and that she has arranged by enchantment that you shall never love anyone but her, and that no other damsel or lady shall ever make you glad; and for that reason many in this land, of high rank and low, grieve greatly."
"Fair damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "I cannot stop people saying whatever they please about me. But as for being a married man, I do not intend it; for then I would have to lie with her, and give up arms and tournaments, battles and adventures. And as for taking my pleasure with lovers, that I refuse above all for fear of God. For knights who are adulterous or lecherous will not be lucky or fortunate in war: either they will be overcome by a lesser knight than themselves, or else, through ill luck and their own wickedness, they will kill better men than themselves. And so whoever keeps lovers will be unlucky, and everything around them is unlucky."
And so Sir Lancelot and she parted. And then he rode in a deep forest for two days and more, and had poor lodging. So on the third day he rode over a long bridge, and there a very ugly peasant leapt out at him suddenly, and struck his horse on the nose so that it turned around, and asked him why he was riding over that bridge without his permission.
"Why shouldn't I ride this way?" said Sir Lancelot. "I cannot ride round it."
"You don't get to choose," said the peasant, and swung at him with a great club shod with iron.
Then Sir Lancelot drew his sword and beat the blow aside, and split his head down to the chest. At the end of the bridge was a fine village, and all the people, men and women, cried out at Sir Lancelot, and said, "You never did a worse deed for yourself, for you have killed the chief porter of our castle."
Sir Lancelot let them say what they liked, and he went straight into the castle. And when he came into the castle he dismounted, and tied his horse to a ring on the wall, and there he saw a fine green courtyard, and he made his way there, for he thought it was a good place to fight in. So he looked about, and saw many people in doorways and windows, who said, "Fair knight, you are out of luck."
At that very moment two great giants came at him, well armed all except their heads, with two horrible clubs in their hands. Sir Lancelot put his shield in front of him and turned aside the blow of one giant, and with his sword he split his head in two. When his fellow saw that, he ran away as if he were mad, for fear of those horrible strokes, and Lancelot went after him with all his might, and struck him on the shoulder, and split him down to the navel. Then Sir Lancelot went into the hall, and there came before him sixty ladies and damsels, and they all knelt to him, and thanked God and him for their deliverance.
"For, sir," they said, "most of us have been their prisoners here these seven years, and we have worked all kinds of silk work for our food, and we are all gentlewomen of high birth. And blessed be the time, knight, that ever you were born, for you have done the most honourable deed that ever a knight did in this world, and we will bear witness to that. And we all beg you to tell us your name, so that we can tell our friends who freed us from prison."
"Fair damsels," he said, "my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"Ah, sir," they all said, "you may well be he, for we judged that no knight but you could ever get the better of these two giants. For many good knights have tried it, and ended here, and many times we have wished for you, and these two giants feared no knight but you."
"Now you may tell your friends," said Sir Lancelot, "how you were freed and who freed you, and greet them all from me. And if I come into any of your lands, give me such welcome as you have cause to. And whatever treasure there is in this castle I give it to you as a reward for your suffering. And as for the lord who owns this castle, I would have him receive it, as is right."
"Fair sir," they said, "the name of this castle is Tintagil, and a duke once owned it who had married the fair Igraine, and after him Uther Pendragon married her, and fathered Arthur on her."
"Well," said Sir Lancelot, "I understand who this castle belongs to." And so he left them, and commended them to God.
And then he mounted his horse, and rode into many strange and wild countries, and through many rivers and valleys, and he was badly lodged. And at last, as luck would have it, towards nightfall he came to a fine house with a courtyard, and there he found an old gentlewoman who lodged him gladly, and there he was well looked after, he and his horse. And when it was time, his host brought him to a fine room in the garret, over the gate, to his bed. There Sir Lancelot took off his armour, and set it beside him, and went to bed, and he fell asleep at once. So soon afterwards someone came on horseback and knocked at the gate in great haste. And when Sir Lancelot heard this, he got up and looked out of the window, and saw by the moonlight three knights come riding after that one man, and all three laid into him at once with swords, and that one knight turned on them again like a true knight, and defended himself.
"Truly," said Sir Lancelot, "I will help that one knight, for it would be a shame for me to watch three knights on one, and if he is killed I am a partner in his death."
And with that he took his armour, and went out of the window, down a sheet, to the four knights. And then Sir Lancelot said loudly, "Turn to me, knights, and leave off fighting that knight."
And then all three of them left Sir Kay, and turned on Sir Lancelot, and there a great battle began, for all three dismounted, and struck many great blows at Sir Lancelot, and attacked him on every side. Then Sir Kay got ready to help Sir Lancelot.
"No, sir," he said, "I want none of your help. So if you want my help, leave me alone with them."
Sir Kay, to please the knight, let him have his way, and so stood aside. And then, within six strokes, Sir Lancelot had struck them to the ground.
And then all three of them cried, "Sir knight, we yield to you, as a man of might without equal."
"As to that," said Sir Lancelot, "I will not accept your surrender to me. But if you will yield to Sir Kay the Seneschal, on that condition I will spare your lives, and not otherwise."
"Fair knight," they said, "we would be loath to do that. For as for Sir Kay, we chased him here, and would have overcome him if it had not been for you; so to yield to him would make no sense."
"Well, as to that," said Lancelot, "think it over carefully, for you may choose whether you will die or live. For if you yield, it shall be to Sir Kay."
"Fair knight," they said then, "to save our lives we will do as you command us."
"Then," said Sir Lancelot, "on Whitsunday next you shall go to the court of King Arthur, and there you shall yield to Queen Guinevere, and put all three of you at her grace and mercy, and say that Sir Kay sent you there to be her prisoners."
"Sir," they said, "it shall be done, on our lives, if we are still living." And there every knight swore it upon his sword.
And so Sir Lancelot let them go. And then Sir Lancelot knocked at the gate with the pommel of his sword, and with that his host came, and Sir Kay and he went in.
"Sir," said his host, "I thought you were in your bed."
"So I was," said Sir Lancelot, "but I got up and leapt out of my window to help an old comrade of mine."
And so when they came near the light, Sir Kay saw clearly that it was Sir Lancelot, and with that he knelt down and thanked him for all his kindness, for he had saved him from death twice.
"Sir," he said, "I have done nothing but what I ought to do, and you are welcome, and here you shall rest and take your ease."
So when Sir Kay had taken off his armour, he asked for food; so food was fetched for him, and he ate heartily. And when he had had supper they went to bed, and were lodged together in one bed. In the morning Sir Lancelot got up early, and left Sir Kay sleeping, and Sir Lancelot took Sir Kay's armour and his shield, and armed himself, and so he went to the stable, and took his horse, and took his leave of his host, and so he left. Then soon afterwards Sir Kay got up and missed Sir Lancelot. And then he saw that he had his armour and his horse.
"Now, on my faith, I know well that he will trouble some of King Arthur's court; for knights will be bold with him, and think that it is me, and that will deceive them. And because of his armour and shield I am sure I shall ride in peace."
And then soon afterwards Sir Kay left, and thanked his host.
Now we turn to Sir Lancelot, who had ridden a long way through a great forest, and at last he came into low country, full of fine rivers and meadows. And ahead of him he saw a long bridge, and three tents stood on it, of silks of various kinds and colours. And outside the tents hung three white shields on the shafts of spears, and great long spears stood upright by the tents, and at the door of every tent stood three lively squires. And so Sir Lancelot passed by them and said not a word. When he had passed, the three knights said to each other that it was the proud Kay.
"He thinks no knight is as good as he is, and the opposite is often proved."
"On my faith," said one of the knights (his name was Sir Gaunter), "I will ride after him and test him for all his pride, and you can watch how I get on."
So this knight, Sir Gaunter, armed himself, and hung his shield on his shoulder, and mounted a great horse, and took his spear in his hand, and galloped after Sir Lancelot. And when he came near him, he cried, "Stop, you proud knight Sir Kay, for you shall not get away free."
So Sir Lancelot turned, and each of them set his spear in rest, and they came together with all their might. And Sir Gaunter's spear broke, but Sir Lancelot struck him down, horse and man. And when Sir Gaunter was on the ground his brothers said to each other, "That knight is not Sir Kay, for he is bigger than he is."
"I'll bet my head," said Sir Gilmere, "that knight has killed Sir Kay and taken his horse and his armour."
"Whether it is so or not," said Sir Raynold, the third brother, "let us mount our horses now and rescue our brother Sir Gaunter, on pain of death. We shall all have work enough to match that knight, for by the look of him I think it is Sir Lancelot, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Pelleas, the good knight."
Then at once they took their horses and overtook Sir Lancelot. And Sir Gilmere put out his spear and ran at Sir Lancelot, and Sir Lancelot struck him down so that he lay in a faint.
"Sir knight," said Sir Raynold, "you are a strong man, and as I suppose you have killed my two brothers, and for that my heart rises hard against you. And if I could do it with honour I would not fight you, but I must take my part as they did. And so, knight," he said, "defend yourself."
And so they crashed together with all their might, and both their spears shattered to pieces. And then they drew their swords and laid into each other fiercely. Then at once Sir Gaunter got up, and came to his brother Sir Gilmere, and said to him, "Get up, and let us help our brother Sir Raynold, who is fighting that good knight over there with marvellous skill."
With that they leapt on their horses and charged at Sir Lancelot. And when he saw them coming he struck a hard blow at Sir Raynold, so that he fell off his horse to the ground, and then he struck at the other two brothers, and with two strokes he struck them down to the ground. With that Sir Raynold began to get up, with his head all bloody, and came straight at Sir Lancelot.
"Now let it be," said Sir Lancelot. "I was not far from you when you were made a knight, Sir Raynold, and I also know you are a good knight, and I would be loath to kill you."
"Many thanks," said Sir Raynold, "for your kindness. And I dare say, for me and my brothers, that we would not be loath to yield to you, provided we knew your name, for we know well you are not Sir Kay."
"As for that, let it be as it may, for you shall yield yourselves to Dame Guinevere. And see that you are with her on Whitsunday, and yield to her as prisoners, and say that Sir Kay sent you to her."
Then they swore it would be done, and so Sir Lancelot went on his way, and each of the brothers helped the others as well as he could.
So Sir Lancelot rode into a deep forest, and there in a little valley he saw four knights waiting on their horses under an oak, and they were of Arthur's court: one was Sir Sagramour le Desirous, and Ector de Maris, and Sir Gawain, and Sir Uwain. As soon as these four knights saw Sir Lancelot, they thought from his arms that it was Sir Kay.
"Now, on my faith," said Sir Sagramour, "I will test Sir Kay's strength." And he took his spear in his hand, and came towards Sir Lancelot.
Sir Lancelot saw him coming and knew him well, and set his spear in rest against him, and struck Sir Sagramour so hard that horse and man both fell to the ground.
"Look, my fellows," said he, "you can see what a blow he has there; that knight is much bigger than Sir Kay ever was. Now you shall see what I can do to him."
So Sir Ector took his spear in his hand and galloped towards Sir Lancelot, and Sir Lancelot struck him through the shield and shoulder, so that man and horse went to the ground, and still his spear held.
"On my faith," said Sir Uwain, "that is a strong knight, and I am sure he has killed Sir Kay; and I can see by his great strength that he will be hard to match."
And with that Sir Uwain took his spear in his hand and rode towards Sir Lancelot. And Sir Lancelot knew him well, and so he met him on the open ground, and gave him such a blow that he was stunned, so that for a long while he did not know where he was.
"Now I see clearly," said Sir Gawain, "that I must take on that knight."
Then he set his shield and took a good spear in his hand, and Sir Lancelot knew him well. And then they let their horses run with all their might, and each knight struck the other in the middle of the shield. But Sir Gawain's spear burst apart, and Sir Lancelot came down on him so hard that his horse went over upside down. And Sir Gawain had great trouble getting clear of his horse. And so Sir Lancelot rode on at a walk and smiled, and said, "God give joy to the man who made this spear, for there never came a better one into my hand."
Then the four knights went to each other and comforted each other.
"What do you make of this deed?" said Sir Gawain. "One spear has felled all four of us."
"We commend him to the devil," they all said, "for he is a man of great might."
"You may well say that he is a man of might," said Sir Gawain, "for I'll bet my head it is Sir Lancelot; I know him by his riding. Let him go," said Sir Gawain, "for when we come to the court then we shall know."
And then they had great trouble catching their horses again.
Now we leave that and speak of Sir Lancelot, who rode a long while in a deep forest, where he saw a black hound, casting about as if she were on the track of a wounded deer. And with that he rode after the hound, and he saw a large trail of blood lying on the ground. And then Sir Lancelot rode after her. And all the while the hound looked behind her, and so she went through a great marsh, and all the while Sir Lancelot followed. And then he caught sight of an old manor house, and the hound ran there, and so over the bridge. So Sir Lancelot rode over that bridge, which was old and weak; and when he came into the middle of a great hall, there he saw a dead knight lying, who was a handsome man, and the hound was licking his wounds. And with that a lady came out weeping and wringing her hands, and then she said, "O knight, you have brought me too much sorrow."
"Why do you say so?" said Sir Lancelot. "I never did this knight any harm, for this hound brought me here by the trail of blood. And so, fair lady, do not be displeased with me, for I am deeply grieved at your grief."
"Truly, sir," she said, "I believe it is not you who killed my husband, for the man who did that deed is badly wounded, and he is never likely to recover, I can promise him that."
"What was your husband's name?" said Sir Lancelot.
"Sir," she said, "his name was Sir Gilbert the Bastard, one of the best knights in the world, and I do not know the name of the man who killed him."
"Now God send you better comfort," said Sir Lancelot.
And so he left and went into the forest again, and there he met a damsel who knew him well, and she said aloud, "Well met, my lord! And now I beg you, on your knighthood, help my brother, who is badly wounded and never stops bleeding. For today he fought with Sir Gilbert the Bastard and killed him in fair fight, and there my brother was badly wounded. And there is a lady, a sorceress, who lives in a castle near here, and today she told me my brother's wounds would never be healed until I could find a knight who would go into the Chapel Perilous. And there he would find a sword, and a bloody cloth that the wounded knight was wrapped in, and a piece of that cloth and the sword would heal my brother's wounds, provided his wounds were touched with the sword and the cloth."
"This is a marvellous thing," said Sir Lancelot, "but what is your brother's name?"
"Sir," she said, "his name is Sir Meliot de Logres."
"I am sorry to hear it," said Sir Lancelot, "for he is a fellow of the Round Table, and I will do all in my power to help him."
"Then, sir," she said, "follow this highway straight on, and it will bring you to the Chapel Perilous. And I will wait here until God sends you back here again. And unless you succeed, I know no knight alive who can achieve that adventure."
Right away Sir Lancelot left, and when he came to the Chapel Perilous he dismounted, and tied his horse to a little gate. And as soon as he was inside the churchyard he saw on the front of the chapel many fine rich shields turned upside down, and many of those shields Sir Lancelot had seen knights carry before. With that he saw standing near him some thirty great knights, taller by a yard than any man he had ever seen, and all of them grinned and gnashed their teeth at Sir Lancelot. And when he saw their faces he was badly afraid, and so he put his shield in front of him, and took his sword in his hand, ready for battle. And they were all armed in black armour, ready, with their shields and their swords drawn. And when Sir Lancelot went to pass through them, they scattered on every side of him, and gave him the way. And with that he grew bold, and went into the chapel, and then he saw no light but a dim lamp burning, and then he caught sight of a corpse covered with a silk cloth. Then Sir Lancelot stooped down, and cut away a piece of that cloth, and then the ground under him shook as if the earth had quaked a little, and at that he was afraid. And then he saw a fine sword lying by the dead knight, and he took it in his hand and hurried out of the chapel.
As soon as he was in the chapel yard all the knights spoke to him in a grim voice, and said, "Knight, Sir Lancelot, put that sword down or else you will die."
"Whether I live or die," said Sir Lancelot, "you won't get it back with big words. So fight for it, if you want it."
Then right away he passed through them, and beyond the chapel yard a fair damsel met him, and said, "Sir Lancelot, leave that sword behind you, or you will die for it."
"I will not leave it," said Sir Lancelot, "for any pleading."
"No," she said. "If you left that sword, you would never see Queen Guinevere again."
"Then I would be a fool if I left this sword," said Lancelot.
"Now, noble knight," said the damsel, "I beg you to kiss me, just once."
"No," said Sir Lancelot, "God forbid."
"Well, sir," she said, "if you had kissed me, the days of your life would have been over. But now, alas," she said, "I have lost all my labour, for I made this chapel for your sake, and for Sir Gawain's. And once I had Sir Gawain in here, and at that time he fought with that knight who lies dead there in the chapel, Sir Gilbert the Bastard; and at that time he struck the left hand off Sir Gilbert the Bastard. And, Sir Lancelot, now I tell you, I have loved you these seven years, but no woman may have your love except Queen Guinevere. But since I could not have the joy of your body alive, I had no other joy left in this world but to have your body dead. Then I would have embalmed it and tended it, and so kept it all the days of my life, and every day I would have embraced you and kissed you, in spite of Queen Guinevere."
"You speak plainly," said Sir Lancelot. "Jesus keep me from your cunning arts."
And with that he took his horse and so left her. And as the book says, when Sir Lancelot had gone she took such grief that she died within a fortnight, and her name was Hellawes the sorceress, Lady of the Castle Nigramous.
At once Sir Lancelot met the damsel, Sir Meliot's sister. And when she saw him she clapped her hands, and wept for joy. And then they rode to a castle near by where Sir Meliot lay. And as soon as Sir Lancelot saw him he knew him, but he was exceedingly pale, the colour of earth, from bleeding. When Sir Meliot saw Sir Lancelot he went down on his knees and cried aloud, "O lord Sir Lancelot, help me!"
At once Sir Lancelot leapt to him and touched his wounds with Sir Gilbert's sword. And then he wiped his wounds with a piece of the bloody cloth that Sir Gilbert was wrapped in, and at once he was a more whole man than he had ever been in his life. And then there was great joy between them, and they gave Sir Lancelot all the welcome they could. And so in the morning Sir Lancelot took his leave, and told Sir Meliot to hurry to the court of my lord Arthur, "for it is getting near the Feast of Pentecost, and there, by the grace of God, you shall find me."
And with that they parted.
And so Sir Lancelot rode through many strange countries, over marshes and valleys, until by chance he came to a fine castle. And as he passed beyond the castle he thought he heard two bells ring. And then he caught sight of a falcon flying over his head towards a high elm, with long leashes about her feet. And as she flew to the elm to take her perch, the leashes wound themselves around a bough. And when she tried to take flight she hung fast by the legs. And Sir Lancelot saw how she hung, and looked at the beautiful peregrine falcon, and he was sorry for her.
Meanwhile a lady came out of the castle and cried aloud, "O Lancelot, Lancelot, as you are the flower of all knights, help me get my hawk back! For if my hawk is lost my lord will destroy me. For I had charge of the hawk and she slipped away from me, and if my lord my husband learns of it, he is so hot-tempered that he will kill me."
"What is your lord's name?" said Sir Lancelot.
"Sir," she said, "his name is Sir Phelot, a knight who serves the King of North Wales."
"Well, fair lady, since you know my name, and ask me on my knighthood to help you, I will do what I can to get your hawk. And yet God knows I am a poor climber, and the tree is exceedingly high, and there are few boughs to help me."
And with that Sir Lancelot dismounted, and tied his horse to the same tree, and asked the lady to take off his armour. And so when his armour was off, he took off all his clothes down to his shirt and breeches, and with might and main he climbed up to the falcon, and tied the leashes to a big rotten branch, and threw the hawk down, and the branch with her.
At once the lady caught the hawk in her hand. And with that Sir Phelot, her husband, suddenly came out of the trees, fully armed and with his naked sword in his hand, and said, "Well, knight Lancelot, now I have found you just as I wanted you." And he stood at the trunk of the tree to kill him.
"Ah, lady," said Sir Lancelot, "why have you betrayed me?"
"She has done only what I ordered her to," said Sir Phelot, "and so there's no help for it: your hour has come, and you must die."
"That would be a shame to you," said Sir Lancelot, "you, an armed knight, killing a naked man by treachery."
"You'll get no other mercy," said Sir Phelot, "so save yourself if you can."
"Truly," said Sir Lancelot, "this will be your shame. But since you will do nothing else, take my armour with you, and hang my sword on a bough where I can get it, and then do your best to kill me if you can."
"No, no," said Sir Phelot, "for I know you better than you think. So you get no weapon, if I can keep you from it."
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "that ever a knight should die without a weapon!"
And with that he looked above him and below him, and over his head he saw a big leafless bough, and with that he broke it off at the trunk. And then he came lower and watched where his own horse stood, and suddenly he leapt down on the far side of the horse, away from the knight. And then Sir Phelot swung at him fiercely, meaning to kill him. But Sir Lancelot turned the stroke aside with the bough, and with it he struck him on the side of the head, so that he fell down to the ground in a faint. So then Sir Lancelot took his sword out of his hand, and struck his head from his body.
Then the lady cried, "Alas! Why have you killed my husband?"
"I am not the cause of it," said Sir Lancelot, "for you would have killed me by treachery and falsehood, and now it has fallen on you both."
And then she fainted as if she would die. And with that Sir Lancelot got all his armour together as well as he could, and put it on, for fear more men would come, since he was afraid because the knight's castle was so near. And so, as soon as he could, he took his horse and left, and thanked God that he had come safely through that adventure.
So Sir Lancelot rode many wild ways, through borderlands and many wild ways. And as he rode in a valley he saw a knight chasing a lady with a naked sword, to kill her. And by chance, just as this knight was about to kill this lady, she called on Sir Lancelot and begged him to rescue her. When Sir Lancelot saw that wickedness, he took his horse and rode between them, saying, "Knight, shame on you, why would you kill this lady? You bring shame on yourself and on all knights."
"What business have you between me and my wife?" said the knight. "I'll kill her, whether you like it or not."
"That you shall not," said Sir Lancelot, "for sooner than that, we two will fight."
"Sir Lancelot," said the knight, "you are not doing right, for this lady has betrayed me."
"It is not so," said the lady. "Truly he wrongs me. Because I love and cherish my first cousin, he is jealous of him and me; and as I shall answer to God, there was never any sin between us. But, sir," said the lady, "as you are called the most honourable knight in the world, I beg you by true knighthood, keep me and save me. For whatever you say, he will kill me, for he has no mercy."
"Have no fear," said Lancelot. "It shall not be in his power."
"Sir," said the knight, "in your sight I will be ruled as you wish."
And so Sir Lancelot rode on one side and she on the other. He had only ridden a little while when the knight told Sir Lancelot to turn and look behind him, and said, "Sir, there are men-at-arms riding after us over there."
And so Sir Lancelot turned, suspecting no treachery, and with that the knight was on the same side as the lady, and suddenly he struck off his lady's head.
And when Sir Lancelot saw what he had done, he cried out and called him, "Traitor, you have shamed me for ever!"
And at once Sir Lancelot dismounted from his horse, and pulled out his sword to kill him. And with that the knight threw himself flat on the ground, and gripped Sir Lancelot by the thighs, and begged for mercy.
"Shame on you," said Sir Lancelot. "You shameful knight, you can have no mercy. So get up and fight me."
"No," said the knight, "I will never get up until you grant me mercy."
"Now I'll make you a fair offer," said Lancelot. "I will take off my armour down to my shirt, and I will have nothing on me but my shirt, and my sword in my hand. And if you can kill me, you go free for ever."
"No, sir," said Pedivere, "that I will never do."
"Well," said Sir Lancelot, "take this lady and the head, and carry it on you; and here you shall swear on my sword to carry it always on your back, and never to rest until you come to Queen Guinevere."
"Sir," he said, "I will do that, on my life."
"Now," said Lancelot, "tell me, what is your name?"
"Sir, my name is Pedivere."
"In a shameful hour you were born," said Lancelot.
So Pedivere left with the dead lady and the head, and found the queen with King Arthur at Winchester, and there he told the whole truth.
"Sir knight," said the queen, "this is a horrible deed and a shameful one, and a great reproach to Sir Lancelot; and yet his honour is known in many different lands. But this I will give you as penance; make whatever shift you can: you shall carry this lady with you on horseback to the Pope of Rome, and receive your penance from him for your foul deeds. And you shall never rest two nights in the same place; and if you go to any bed, the dead body shall lie with you."
There he swore this oath, and so left. And as the French book tells it, when he came to Rome the Pope told him to go back to Queen Guinevere, and his lady was buried in Rome by the Pope's command. And after this Sir Pedivere turned to great goodness, and was a holy man and a hermit.
Now we turn to Sir Lancelot du Lake, who came home two days before the Feast of Pentecost; and the king and all the court were exceedingly glad of his coming. And when Sir Gawain, Sir Uwain, Sir Sagramour and Sir Ector de Maris saw Sir Lancelot in Kay's armour, then they knew for certain it was he who had struck them all down with one spear. Then there was laughing and smiling among them. And every now and then all the knights whom Sir Turquine had held prisoner came home, and they all honoured Sir Lancelot and praised him.
When Sir Gaheris heard them speak, he said, "I saw the whole battle from beginning to end." And there he told King Arthur exactly how it had gone, and how Sir Turquine was the strongest knight he had ever seen except Sir Lancelot; and there were many knights to bear him witness, nearly sixty. Then Sir Kay told the king how Sir Lancelot had rescued him when he would have been killed, "and how he made the knights yield to me, and not to him." And there they were, all three, and bore witness to it.
"And by Jesus," said Sir Kay, "because Sir Lancelot took my armour and left me his, I rode in perfect peace, and no man would fight me."
Then at once the three knights who had fought with Sir Lancelot at the long bridge came in. And there they yielded themselves to Sir Kay, and Sir Kay refused them, and said he had never fought with them.
"But I will set your hearts at ease," said Sir Kay. "That is Sir Lancelot over there, who overcame you."
When they knew that, they were glad. And then Sir Meliot de Logres came home, and told the king how Sir Lancelot had saved him from death. And all his deeds were made known: how four queens, sorceresses, had held him in prison, and how he was freed by King Bagdemagus's daughter. Also all the great deeds of arms that Sir Lancelot did between the two kings were told, that is to say the King of North Wales and King Bagdemagus. Sir Gahalantine told the whole truth of it, and Sir Mador de la Porte and Sir Mordred, for they were at that same tournament. Then the lady came in who had known Sir Lancelot when he wounded Sir Belleus at the tent. And there, at Sir Lancelot's request, Sir Belleus was made a knight of the Round Table. And so at that time Sir Lancelot had the greatest name of any knight in the world, and he was the most honoured by high and low.
Here ends the noble tale of Sir Lancelot du Lake, which is the sixth book.
Here follows the tale of Sir Gareth of Orkney, who was called Beaumains by Sir Kay, and is the seventh book.
When Arthur held his Round Table at its fullest, it happened that he commanded the high feast of Pentecost to be held at a city and a castle which in those days was called Kynke Kenadonne, on the sands that bordered on Wales. Now the king always had a custom that at the feast of Pentecost especially, above all the other feasts in the year, he would not go to his meal that day until he had heard of or seen some great marvel. And because of that custom all kinds of strange adventures came before Arthur at that feast more than at any other. And so Sir Gawain, a little before noon on the day of Pentecost, saw from a window three men on horseback, and a dwarf on foot. And the three men dismounted, and the dwarf held their horses, and one of the three men was taller than the other two by a foot and a half. Then Sir Gawain went to the king and said, "Sir, go to your meal, for strange adventures are close at hand."
So Arthur went to his meal with many other kings. And all the knights of the Round Table were there, except only those who were prisoners or had been killed in some encounter. For at the high feast they were always to make up the whole number of a hundred and fifty, for then the Round Table was complete.
Just then there came into the hall two men, well equipped and richly dressed, and on their shoulders there leaned the handsomest and the finest young man they had ever seen. He was big and tall, and broad in the shoulders, and fine of face, and he had the fairest and the largest hands that anyone ever saw; but he behaved as though he could not walk or hold himself up unless he leaned on their shoulders. As soon as Arthur saw him there was silence, and room was made, and so they went with him up to the high dais without saying a word. Then this tall young man drew himself back, and easily stood up straight, and said, "King Arthur, God bless you and all your fair fellowship, and especially the fellowship of the Round Table. And this is why I have come here: to beg you and ask you to give me three gifts. And they shall not be unreasonably asked, but such as you may grant me honourably and with dignity, and at no great hurt or loss to you. The first gift I will ask now, and the other two I will ask a year from today, wherever you hold your high feast."
"Now ask," said Arthur, "and you shall have what you ask."
"Now, sir, this is my request for this feast: that you will give me food and drink enough for this twelvemonth, and on that day I will ask my other two gifts."
"My fair son," said Arthur, "ask for something better, I advise you, for this is only a simple request. For my heart goes out to you greatly, and tells me you come of honourable men; and my judgement is badly wrong if you do not prove a man of very great honour."
"Sir," he said, "be that as it may, I have asked what I will ask."
"Well," said the king, "you shall have food and drink enough. I never refused that to anyone, neither my friend nor my foe. But what is your name? I would like to know."
"I cannot tell you," he said.
"That is a marvel," said the king, "that you do not know your own name, and you the handsomest young man I ever saw."
Then the king handed him over to Sir Kay the steward, and ordered him to give him every kind of food and drink of the best, and to see that he had every kind of provision, as though he were a lord's son.
"There will be little need," said Sir Kay, "to go to such expense on him. For I dare swear he is a peasant born, and will never amount to anything; for if he had come of gentlefolk he would have asked you for a horse and armour, but he asks for what suits what he is. And since he has no name, I will give him one, and it shall be Beaumains, that is to say Fair-hands. And I will take him into the kitchen, and there he shall have fat broth every day, so that by the end of the twelvemonth he will be as fat as a pig fattened for pork."
With that the two men left, and left him to Sir Kay, who scorned him and mocked him.
At this Sir Gawain was angry, and Sir Lancelot especially told Sir Kay to stop his mocking, "for I dare bet my head he will prove a man of great honour."
"Let it be," said Sir Kay. "It cannot be, by any reasoning, for he has asked for what suits what he is."
"Beware," said Sir Lancelot. "You gave the good knight Bruin le Noire, Sir Dinadan's brother, a name in the same way, and called him La Cote Male Taile, the Badly Cut Coat, and that turned to your annoyance afterwards."
"As for that," said Sir Kay, "this one will never prove anything of the kind. For Sir Bruin always wanted honour, and this one wants bread and drink and broth. On my life, he was brought up in some abbey, and however it was, they ran short of food and drink, and so he has come here for his keep."
And so Sir Kay told them to find him a place and sit him down to eat. So Beaumains went to the hall door, and sat down among the boys and lads, and there he ate steadily. And then after the meal Sir Lancelot told him to come to his room, and there he would have food and drink enough. And Sir Gawain did the same. But he refused them all; he would do nothing but what Sir Kay commanded him, whatever was offered. But as for Sir Gawain, he had reason to offer him lodging, food and drink, for that offer came from his blood, for he was closer kin to him than he knew. But what Sir Lancelot did was out of his great nobility and courtesy.
So he was put into the kitchen, and slept at night as the kitchen boys did. And so he endured all that twelvemonth, and never displeased man or child, but was always meek and mild. But whenever there was any jousting of knights, he would watch it if he could. And Sir Lancelot would always give him gold to spend, and clothes, and so would Sir Gawain. And wherever there were any contests of strength, he would be there, and no one could throw the bar or the stone within two yards of him. Then Sir Kay would say, "How do you like my kitchen boy?"
So time went on until the feast of Whitsun. And that year the king held it at Caerleon, in the most royal manner that could be, as he did every year. But the king would eat nothing on Whitsunday until he had heard of some adventure. Then a squire came to the king and said, "Sir, you may go to your meal, for here comes a damsel with some strange adventure."
Then the king was glad, and sat down. At that very moment a damsel came into the hall and greeted the king, and begged him for help.
"For whom?" said the king. "What is the adventure?"
"Sir," she said, "I serve a lady of great honour and renown, and she is besieged by a tyrant, so that she cannot get out of her castle. And because the noblest knights in the world are said to be here, I have come to you to beg you for help."
"What is your lady called, and where does she live, and who is she, and what is the name of the man who has besieged her?"
"Sir king," she said, "as for my lady's name, you shall not learn it from me at this time. But I tell you she is a lady of great honour and of great lands. And as for the tyrant who besieges her and lays waste her lands, he is called the Red Knight of the Red Launds."
"I don't know him," said the king.
"Sir," said Sir Gawain, "I know him well, for he is one of the most dangerous knights in the world. Men say he has the strength of seven men, and I once escaped from him with my life, and only barely."
"Fair damsel," said the king, "there are knights here who would do all in their power to rescue your lady. But because you will not tell her name, or where she lives, none of my knights who are here now shall go with you with my consent."
"Then I must say more," said the damsel.
At these words Beaumains came before the king, while the damsel was still there, and said, "Sir king, God thank you, I have been in your kitchen this twelvemonth, and have had my full keep, and now I will ask the two gifts that are still owing."
"Ask, and I will stand by it," said the king.
"Sir, these shall be my two gifts. First, that you will grant me this damsel's adventure, for it belongs to me."
"You shall have it," said the king. "I grant it to you."
"Then, sir, this is the other gift: that you will order Lancelot du Lake to make me a knight, for I will be made a knight by him and by no one else. And when I have gone, I beg you to let him ride after me, and make me a knight when I ask him."
"All this shall be done," said the king.
"Shame on you!" said the damsel. "Am I to have no one but your kitchen page?"
Then she was angry, and took her horse and left. And with that someone came to Beaumains and told him his horse and armour had come for him. And there was the dwarf, come with everything he needed, of the richest kind; and the whole court marvelled greatly where all that gear had come from. So when he was armed, there were only a few men as handsome as he was. And so he came into the hall and took his leave of King Arthur, and Sir Gawain, and Sir Lancelot, and begged Lancelot to hurry after him; and so he left, and rode after the damsel.
But many went after him to see how well he was mounted, and his horse decked in cloth of gold; but he had neither shield nor spear. Then Sir Kay said openly in the hall, "I will ride after my kitchen boy, to find out whether he will recognise me as his better."
"Stay at home all the same," said Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain.
So Sir Kay made himself ready and took his horse and his spear, and rode after him. And just as Beaumains caught up with the damsel, along came Sir Kay and said, "Beaumains! What, sir, don't you know me?"
Then he turned his horse, and saw it was Sir Kay, who had done him all the insults you have heard about before.
"Yes," said Beaumains, "I know you for an ill-bred knight of the court, and so beware of me."
With that Sir Kay put his spear in the rest and charged straight at him. And Beaumains came at him just as fast with his sword in his hand, and so he knocked aside his spear with his sword, and with a thrust ran him through the side, so that Sir Kay fell down as if he were dead. And Beaumains dismounted and took Sir Kay's shield and his spear, and leapt onto his own horse and rode on his way.
Sir Lancelot saw all of this, and so did the damsel. And then Beaumains told his dwarf to jump up on Sir Kay's horse, and so he did. By then Sir Lancelot had come up, and Beaumains offered to joust with him. And each of them made ready, and they came together so fiercely that each bore the other down to the earth, and they were badly bruised. Then Sir Lancelot got up and helped him clear of his horse. And then Beaumains threw his shield away from him, and offered to fight with Sir Lancelot on foot. And so they rushed together like boars, pressing and slashing and thrusting, for the space of an hour. And Sir Lancelot found him so strong that he marvelled at his strength, for he fought more like a giant than a knight, and his fighting was tireless and exceedingly dangerous. For Sir Lancelot had so much to do with him that he was afraid he would be shamed, and said, "Beaumains, don't fight so hard. Your quarrel and mine is not so great that we cannot leave off."
"Truly, that is true," said Beaumains. "But it does me good to feel your strength. And yet, my lord, I have not shown you my utmost."
"In God's name," said Sir Lancelot, "I promise you, on my life, I had all I could do to save myself from you without shame. And so you need have no fear of any knight on earth."
"Do you really think that I could hold my own for any length of time as a proven knight?" said Beaumains.
"Yes," said Lancelot. "Do as you have done, and I will vouch for you."
"Then I beg you," said Beaumains, "give me the order of knighthood."
"Then you must tell me your name," said Lancelot, "and what family you were born of."
"Sir, I will, as long as you will not give me away," said Beaumains.
"No," said Sir Lancelot, "and I promise you that on my life, until it is openly known."
"Then, sir," he said, "my name is Gareth, and I am brother to Sir Gawain, by father and by mother."
"Ah, sir," said Sir Lancelot, "I am all the gladder of you. For I always thought you must be of great blood, and that you had not come to the court for food or for drink."
And then Sir Lancelot gave him the order of knighthood. And then Sir Gareth begged him to leave and let him go on alone.
So Sir Lancelot left him and came to Sir Kay, and had him carried home on his shield; and so he was healed, though he barely escaped with his life. And everyone scorned Sir Kay, and Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot especially said it was not his place to rebuke any young man, for he knew very little what birth he came of, or why he had come to this court. And so we leave Sir Kay and turn to Beaumains.
When he had caught up with the damsel, at once she said, "What are you doing here? You stink of the kitchen. Your clothes are filthy with the grease and tallow you get in King Arthur's kitchen. Do you think," she said, "that I think any better of you for that knight you killed back there? No, truly, for you killed him by a fluke, and like a coward. So turn back, you filthy kitchen page. I know you well, for Sir Kay named you Beaumains. What are you but a lout, and a turner of spits, and a washer of ladles?"
"Damsel," said Beaumains, "say what you like to me, I will not leave you, whatever you say. For I have undertaken to King Arthur to achieve your adventure, and so I will finish it to the end, or die in the attempt."
"Shame on you, kitchen boy! Will you finish my adventure? You'll soon meet someone you wouldn't look in the face once for all the broth you ever swallowed."
"I will try," said Beaumains.
So as they rode in the wood, there came a man running away as fast as ever he could.
"Where are you going?" said Beaumains.
"O lord," he said, "help me! For close by here, in a little valley, there are six thieves who have taken my lord and tied him up, and I am afraid they will kill him."
"Take me there," said Beaumains.
And so they rode together until they came to where the knight lay bound. And then he rode at them, and struck one dead, and then another, and at the third stroke he killed the third thief; and then the other three fled. And he rode after them and caught them up. And then those three thieves turned round and attacked Beaumains hard, but at last he killed them, and came back and untied the knight. And the knight thanked him, and begged him to ride with him to his castle, a little way off, and he would reward him honourably for his good deeds.
"Sir," said Beaumains, "I will have no reward. I was made a knight this day by the noble Sir Lancelot, and so I will have no reward but God's. And besides, I must follow this damsel."
And when he came near her she told him to ride further off from her, "for you stink of the kitchen. Do you think I am pleased with you? For all this deed you have done was just luck. But you will see a sight that will make you turn back, and quickly too."
Then the same knight who had been rescued from the thieves rode after the damsel, and begged her to lodge with him that night. And because it was nearly night, the damsel rode with him to his castle, and there they had a warm welcome. And at supper the knight sat Sir Beaumains facing the damsel.
"Shame, shame," she said. "Sir knight, it is discourteous of you to seat a kitchen page in front of me. It would suit him better to be sticking a pig than to sit in front of a damsel of high birth."
Then the knight was ashamed at her words, and took Beaumains up and sat him at a side table, and sat himself facing him. And so all that night they had good cheer and a pleasant rest.
And in the morning the damsel and he took their leave and thanked the knight, and so they left, and rode on their way until they came to a great forest. And there was a great river there, with only one crossing, and two knights were waiting on the far side to stop them crossing.
"What do you say?" said the damsel. "Will you take on those knights over there, or turn back?"
"No," said Sir Beaumains, "I will not turn back if there were six more of them."
And with that he rushed into the water, and in the middle of the water each of them broke his spear on the other right down to the hand. And then they drew their swords and struck fiercely at each other. And at last Sir Beaumains struck the other knight on the helmet so that his head was stunned, and with that he fell down into the water, and there he was drowned. And then Beaumains spurred his horse up onto the land, where the other knight fell upon him and broke his spear; and so they drew their swords and fought together a long time. At last Sir Beaumains split his helmet and his head down to the shoulders. And so he rode to the damsel and told her to ride on her way.
"Alas," she said, "that a kitchen page should ever have the luck to destroy two such brave knights! You think you have done bravely. That is not so. For as for the first knight, his horse stumbled, and he was drowned there in the water, and it was never by your strength or by your might. And as for the last knight, you came up behind him by bad luck, and by bad luck you killed him."
"Damsel," said Beaumains, "you may say what you like. But whoever I have to fight with, I trust to God to deal with him before he leaves. And so I care nothing for what you say, as long as I can win your lady."
"Shame, shame, you foul kitchen boy! You will see knights who will put a stop to your boasting."
"Fair damsel, speak kindly to me, and then I have no other care. For whatever knights they are, I don't care, and I am not afraid of them."
"Besides," she said, "I am saying it for your own good. You can still turn back with your honour. For if you follow me you are as good as dead, for I can see that all you do is done by chance, and not by the strength of your hands."
"Well, damsel, you may say what you like, but wherever you go I will follow you."
So this Beaumains rode with that lady until evensong time, and all the while she scolded him, and would not stop. And they came to a black clearing; and there was a black hawthorn, and on it hung a black banner, and on the other side there hung a black shield, and beside it stood a black spear, great and long, and a great black horse covered with silk, and a black stone close by.
There sat a knight all armed in black armour, and his name was the Knight of the Black Launds. Then the damsel, when she saw that knight, told Beaumains to flee down the valley, for the knight's horse was not saddled.
"Many thanks," said Beaumains, "for you always want me to be a coward."
With that the Black Knight, when she came near him, spoke and said, "Damsel, have you brought this knight of King Arthur's to be your champion?"
"No, fair knight," she said, "this is only a kitchen boy who was fed in King Arthur's kitchen out of charity."
"Why does he come," said the knight, "dressed like that? It is a shame that he keeps you company."
"Sir, I cannot get rid of him," she said, "for he rides with me against my will. I wish to God you would rid me of him, or kill him if you can, for he is an ill-starred lout, and he has done ill-starred things today. By mere luck I saw him kill two knights at the river crossing; and other deeds he did before that, quite marvellous, and all by luck."
"It amazes me," said the Black Knight, "that any man of honour will fight with him."
"They don't know him," said the damsel, "and because he rides with me, they think he is some man of honourable birth."
"That may be," said the Black Knight. "Even so, though you say he is no man of honour, he is a very likely-looking fellow, and very like to be a strong man. But this much I will grant you," said the Black Knight. "I will put him down on his own two feet, and he will leave his horse and his armour with me, for it would be a shame to me to do him any more harm."
When Sir Beaumains heard him say this, he said, "Sir knight, you are very free with my horse and my armour. I tell you they cost you nothing. And whether you like it or not, I will cross this clearing in spite of you. And you'll get neither horse nor armour of mine, unless you win them with your hands. So let's see what you can do."
"Is that what you say?" said the Black Knight. "Now give up your lady, for it never suits a kitchen page to ride with such a lady."
"You lie," said Beaumains. "I am a gentleman born, and of higher lineage than you, and I will prove it on your body."
Then in great anger they drew apart on their horses, and came together like thunder. And the Black Knight's spear broke, and Beaumains thrust him through both his sides, and with that his own spear broke, and the broken shaft was left in his side. But nevertheless the Black Knight drew his sword, and struck many fierce strokes of great might, and hurt Beaumains very badly. But at last, within an hour and a half, the Black Knight fell down off his horse in a faint, and there he died. And when Beaumains saw how well he was horsed and armed, he dismounted and armed himself in his armour, and so took his horse and rode after the damsel.
When she saw him come near, she said, "Away, kitchen boy, out of the wind, for the smell of your filthy clothes sickens me. Alas," she said, "that such a lout should ever by mischance kill so good a knight as you have done! But all this is your blind luck. But close by here is one who will pay you everything you have coming. And so I still advise you: flee."
"It may happen to me," said Beaumains, "to be beaten or killed. But I warn you, fair damsel, I will not flee away, nor leave your company, for all that you can say. For you keep saying that they will kill me or beat me, but however it happens, I escape, and they lie on the ground. And so you might as well hold your tongue, rather than spend all day rebuking me like this. For I will not go away until I see the very end of this journey, or else I will be killed or soundly beaten. So ride on your way, for follow you I will, whatever happens."
As they rode on together, they saw a knight come riding hard past them, all in green, both his horse and his armour. And when he came near the damsel, he asked her, "Is that my brother the Black Knight you have brought with you?"
"No, no," she said, "this ill-starred kitchen boy has killed your brother by mischance."
"Alas," said the Green Knight, "that is a great pity, that so noble a knight as he was should be killed so unluckily, and above all by a lout's hand, as you say he is. Ah, traitor!" said the Green Knight. "You will die for killing my brother. He was a very noble knight, and his name was Sir Perard."
"I defy you," said Beaumains, "for I tell you I killed him like a knight, and not shamefully."
With that the Green Knight rode to a horn that was green, and it hung on a thorn tree, and there he blew three deadly notes. And two damsels came and armed him quickly. And then he took a great horse, and a green shield, and a green spear. And then they ran together with all their might, and broke their spears right down to their hands. And then they drew their swords, and dealt many heavy strokes, and each of them wounded the other very badly. And at last, as they crossed, Beaumains drove his horse into the side of the Green Knight's horse, so that it fell to the earth. And then the Green Knight got quickly clear of his horse, and squared up on foot. Beaumains saw that, and with that he dismounted, and they rushed together like two mighty champions for a long while, and they both bled badly. With that the damsel came up and said, "My lord the Green Knight, for shame, why do you stand fighting so long with the kitchen boy? Alas, it is a shame that you were ever made a knight, to see such a lad match such a knight, as if the weed should overgrow the corn."
At that the Green Knight was ashamed, and with that he struck a great stroke with all his might, and split his shield right through. When Beaumains saw his shield split in two, he was somewhat ashamed of that stroke and of her words; and then he gave him such a blow on the helmet that he fell on his knees. And then all at once Beaumains pulled him face down on the ground. And then the Green Knight begged him for mercy, and yielded himself to Sir Beaumains, and begged him not to kill him.
"It's all in vain," said Beaumains, "for you shall die, unless this damsel who came with me asks me to save your life."
And with that he unlaced his helmet as if he meant to kill him.
"Shame on you, false kitchen page! I will never ask you to save his life, for I will never put myself so far in your power."
"Then he shall die," said Beaumains.
"Don't you dare kill him, you filthy knave," said the damsel.
"Alas," said the Green Knight, "do not let me die, when a fair word may save me. Fair knight," said the Green Knight, "save my life, and I will forgive you the death of my brother, and become your man for ever, and thirty knights who hold their lands from me shall do you service for ever."
"In the devil's name," said the damsel, "that such a filthy kitchen boy should have you and thirty knights' service!"
"Sir knight," said Beaumains, "none of this does you any good, unless my damsel speaks to me for your life."
And with that he made as if to kill him.
"Leave him be, you filthy knave," said the damsel. "Don't kill him, for if you do you'll be sorry for it."
"Damsel," said Beaumains, "your command is a pleasure to me, and at your command his life shall be saved, and not otherwise." Then he said, "Sir knight with the green arms, I set you free at this damsel's request, for I will not anger her. I will do everything she commands me."
And then the Green Knight knelt down, and did him homage with his sword.
Then the damsel said, "I am sorry, Green Knight, for your hurt, and for your brother's death, the Black Knight. For I had great need of your help, for I am badly afraid to pass through this forest."
"No, don't be afraid," said the Green Knight, "for you shall lodge with me tonight, and tomorrow I will help you through this forest."
So they took their horses and rode to his manor, which was close by.
And all the while she rebuked Beaumains, and would not let him sit at her table; but the Green Knight took him and sat him at a side table.
"It seems a marvel to me," said the Green Knight to the damsel, "why you rebuke this noble knight as you do. For I warn you, damsel, he is a very noble knight, and I know of no knight able to match him. And so you do great wrong to rebuke him, for he will do you very good service. For whatever he makes himself out to be, you will find in the end that he comes of noble blood and of a king's lineage."
"Shame, shame," said the damsel. "It is shameful of you to speak such honour of him."
"Truly," said the Green Knight, "it would be shameful of me to speak any dishonour of him, for he has proved himself a better knight than I am. And yet I have met many knights in my day, and never before now have I found any knight his match."
And so that night they went to rest. And all that night the Green Knight had thirty knights secretly keep watch over Beaumains, to guard him against any treachery.
And so in the morning they all got up, and heard their mass and broke their fast. And then they took their horses and rode on their way, and the Green Knight escorted them through the forest. And there the Green Knight said, "My lord Beaumains, I and these thirty knights will always be at your summons, both early and late, at your call, and wherever you wish to send us."
"That is well said," said Beaumains. "When I call on you, you must yield yourself to King Arthur, and all your knights."
"If you so command us, we shall be ready at all times," said the Green Knight.
"Shame, shame on you, in the devil's name," said the damsel, "that any good knights should be obedient to a kitchen boy!"
So then the Green Knight and the damsel parted. And then she said to Beaumains, "Why are you following me, you kitchen boy? Throw away your shield and your spear, and run away. I advise you while there is still time, or very soon you'll be saying 'alas'. For if you were as strong as ever Wade was, the hero of the old songs, or Lancelot, or Tristram, or the good knight Sir Lamorak, you will not get through a pass here that is called the Pass Perilous."
"Damsel," said Beaumains, "whoever is afraid, let him run away. For it would be a shame to turn back, since I have ridden so far with you."
"Well," said the damsel, "you'll soon turn back, whether you want to or not."
So within a while they saw a tower as white as any snow, with defensive openings all along its battlements, and with a double moat. And over the tower gate there hung some fifty shields of various colours, and below that tower there was a fair meadow. And in it were many knights and squires to be seen, and stands and tents; for there was to be a great tournament there the next morning. And the lord of the tower was in his castle and looked out of a window, and saw a damsel, a dwarf, and a knight armed at all points.
"So help me God," said the lord, "I will joust with that knight, for I see that he is a knight-errant."
And so he armed himself and mounted in haste. And when he was on horseback with his shield and his spear, it was all red, both his horse and his armour, and everything that belonged to him. And when he came near him he thought it was his brother the Black Knight; and then he cried aloud, "Brother, what are you doing in these borders?"
"No, no," said the damsel, "it is not he. This is only a kitchen boy who was brought up on charity in King Arthur's court."
"Nevertheless," said the Red Knight, "I will have words with him before he leaves."
"Ah," said the damsel, "this lout has killed your brother, and Sir Kay named him Beaumains, and this horse and this armour were your brother's, the Black Knight's. I also saw your brother the Green Knight beaten at his hands. Now you can be revenged on him, for I can never be rid of him."
With this the two knights drew apart, and they came together with all their might, and both their horses fell to the ground. And they got clear of their horses, and put their shields before them and drew their swords, and each gave the other steadfast strokes, now here, now there, slashing, circling, thrusting and charging like two boars, for the space of two hours. And then she cried out loud to the Red Knight, "Alas, you noble Red Knight, think what honour has followed you! Never let a kitchen boy hold out against you so long as he is doing."
Then the Red Knight grew angry and doubled his strokes, and wounded Beaumains wonderfully badly, so that the blood ran down to the ground, and it was a wonder to see that hard battle. Yet at last Sir Beaumains struck him to the ground, and as he was about to kill the Red Knight, he begged for mercy, saying, "Noble knight, do not kill me, and I will yield myself to you with fifty knights who are at my command. And I forgive you all the insult you have done me, and the death of my brother the Black Knight."
"All this is no use," said Beaumains, "unless my damsel asks me to save your life."
And with that he made as if to strike off his head.
"Stop, you Beaumains, don't kill him," said the damsel, "for he is a noble knight; and on peril of your head, don't you dare do anything but save him."
Then Beaumains told the Red Knight, "Stand up, and thank the damsel for your life now."
Then the Red Knight begged him to see his castle, and to stay there all night. So the damsel agreed to it, and there they had a merry welcome. But all the while the damsel spoke many foul words to Beaumains, at which the Red Knight marvelled greatly; and all that night the Red Knight had sixty knights watch over Beaumains, so that he should suffer no shame or dishonour. And in the morning they heard mass and dined, and the Red Knight came before Beaumains with his sixty knights, and there he offered him his homage and fealty for all time, he and his knights to do him service.
"I thank you," said Beaumains, "but this you must grant me: when I call on you, you will come before my lord King Arthur, and yield yourselves to him to be his knights."
"Sir," said the Red Knight, "I will be ready, and my company too, at your summons."
So Sir Beaumains left with the damsel, and the whole way she rode beside him scolding him in the foulest manner.
"Damsel," said Beaumains, "you are discourteous to scold me as you do, for it seems to me I have done you good service. And all the time you threaten me that I will be beaten by the knights we meet, but for all your boasting they always end up lying in the dust or in the mud. And so I beg you, scold me no more; and when you see me beaten, or yielding and begging for my life, then you may bid me leave you in disgrace. But first I tell you this: I will not leave you, for I would be worse than a fool if I left you while I am winning honour."
"Well," she said, "very soon you'll meet a knight who will pay you all your wages, for he is the most honoured man in the world, except King Arthur."
"So much the better," said Beaumains. "The more honour he has, the more honour it will be to me to fight him."
Then at once they became aware of a city ahead of them, rich and fair. And between them and the city, a mile and a half off, there was a fair meadow that looked newly mown, and in it were many tents, fair to see.
"Look," said the damsel, "over there is a lord who owns that city, and his custom is, when the weather is fine, to camp in this meadow to joust and fight in tournaments. And there are always five hundred knights and gentlemen of arms around him, and there are all the kinds of games that any gentleman could devise."
"I would gladly see that fine lord," said Beaumains.
"You'll see him soon enough," said the damsel. And as she rode nearer she spotted the tent where he was. "Look," she said, "do you see that tent over there, that is all of the colour of Inde, a deep blue? And everything there is around it, men and women, and the horses in their trappings, the shields and spears, are all of the colour of Inde. And his name is Sir Persant of Inde, the lordliest knight you ever laid eyes on."
"That may well be," said Beaumains, "but however bold a knight he is, I will stay in this field until I see him under his shield."
"Ah, fool," she said, "you had better run while you can."
"Why?" said Beaumains. "If he is the kind of knight you make him out to be, he will not set on me with all his men, or with his five hundred knights. For if no more than one comes at a time, I will not fail him as long as my life lasts."
"Fie, fie," said the damsel, "that a stinking lout should ever make such a boast!"
"Damsel," he said, "you are to blame for scolding me so, for I would rather fight five battles than be scolded like this. Let him come, and then let him do his worst."
"Sir," she said, "I wonder what you are, and what family you come from. You speak boldly, and you have acted boldly, that I have seen. So I beg you, save yourself if you can, for your horse and you have had great hardship, and I am afraid we are staying too long away from the siege. For it is only seven miles from here, and we have passed all the perilous passages except this one only; and here I am badly afraid that you will come to some harm. So I wish you were away from here, so that you would not be bruised or hurt by this strong knight. But I tell you this: Sir Persant of Inde is nothing in might or strength compared to the knight who laid the siege around my lady."
"As for that," said Sir Beaumains, "let it be as it may. For since I have come so near this knight, I will test his might before I leave him, or else I will be shamed if I withdraw from him now. And so, damsel, have no doubt: by the grace of God I will deal with this knight in such a way that within two hours after noon I will be done with him. And then we will come to the siege by daylight."
"Oh Jesus," said the damsel, "I marvel what kind of man you are, for it can only be that you are of noble blood. For no woman ever treated a knight as foully and shamefully as I have treated you, and you have always borne it courteously, and that never came from anything but noble blood."
"Damsel," said Beaumains, "a knight is worth little who cannot bear with a damsel. For whatever you said to me, I took no notice of your words; the more you said, the more you angered me, and I took out my anger on the men I fought. And so all the abuse you heaped on me helped me in my battles, and made me think to show and prove at the end what I was. For perhaps, though I took my food in King Arthur's kitchen, I might have had food enough in other places; but I did all that to prove and test my friends, and that will be known another day. And whether I am a gentleman born or not, I tell you, fair damsel, I have done you a gentleman's service, and perhaps I will do you better service yet before I leave you."
"Alas," she said, "fair Beaumains, forgive me all that I have said or done against you."
"With all my heart," he said, "I forgive you, for you did nothing but what you should have done, for all your evil words pleased me. And damsel," said Beaumains, "since it pleases you to speak so kindly to me, believe me, it gladdens my heart greatly, and now it seems to me there is no knight living whom I am not able enough for."
With this Sir Persant of Inde had spotted them as they waited in the field, and in knightly fashion he sent to ask whether he came in war or in peace.
"Tell your lord," said Beaumains, "I don't care which, but let it be as he pleases himself."
So the messenger went back to Sir Persant and gave him the whole answer.
"Well then, I will fight him to the uttermost," he said. And so he made himself ready and rode against him. And Beaumains saw him and made himself ready, and there they met with all the speed their horses could run, and each broke his spear in three pieces, and their horses crashed together so hard that both horses fell dead on the ground. And swiftly they got clear of their horses and put their shields before them, and drew their swords, and gave many great strokes, so that sometimes they crashed together and fell flat on the ground. So they fought for two hours and more, until their shields and their hauberks were all hacked to pieces, and they were wounded in many places. So at last Sir Beaumains struck him through the side of the body, and then he drew back here and there, and kept up his fight in knightly fashion for a long time. And at last, loath as he was to do it, Beaumains struck Sir Persant on the top of the helm, so that he fell flat on the ground; and then he leapt on him across his body and unlaced his helm to kill him.
Then Sir Persant yielded and begged him for mercy. With that the damsel came and begged him to save his life.
"Gladly," he said, "for it would be a pity for this noble knight to die."
"Many thanks," said Persant, "noble knight and damsel. For now I know for certain it was you who killed my brother the Black Knight at the black thorn. He was a very noble knight; his name was Sir Percard. I am also sure that you are the one who beat my other brother the Green Knight; his name was Sir Pertolepe. You also beat my brother the Red Knight, Sir Perimones. And now, since you have beaten these, I will do this to please you: you shall have homage and fealty from me, and a hundred knights always at your command, to go and ride wherever you command us."
And so they went to Sir Persant's tent and drank wine and ate spiced sweets, and afterwards Sir Persant had him rest on a bed until supper time, and after supper to bed again. When Beaumains was in bed, Sir Persant had a lady, a fair daughter eighteen years old, and he called her to him and charged and commanded her, on his blessing, to go to the knight's bed and lie down by his side. "And don't be cold to him, but be warm with him, and take him in your arms and kiss him, and see that this is done, I charge you, as you want to keep my love and my good will."
So Sir Persant's daughter did as her father told her, and so she went to Sir Beaumains' bed, and undressed in secret, and lay down by him. And then he woke and saw her, and asked her who she was.
"Sir," she said, "I am Sir Persant's daughter, and I have come here by my father's command."
"Are you a maiden or a wife?" he said.
"Sir," she said, "I am a pure maiden."
"God forbid," he said, "that I should dishonour you and do Sir Persant such a shame. So, fair damsel, get out of this bed, or else I will."
"Sir," she said, "I did not come to you of my own will, but as I was commanded."
"Alas," said Sir Beaumains, "I would be a shameful knight if I did your father any dishonour." And so he kissed her, and so she left and came to Sir Persant her father, and told him everything of how she had fared.
"Truly," said Sir Persant, "whoever he is, he is of noble blood."
And so we leave them there till the morning.
And so in the morning the damsel and Sir Beaumains heard mass and had breakfast, and so took their leave.
"Fair damsel," said Persant, "where are you leading this knight?"
"Sir," she said, "this knight is going to the siege that is besieging my sister in the Castle Dangerous."
"Ah, ah," said Persant, "that is the Knight of the Red Launds, the most dangerous knight I know of now living, and a man without mercy, and men say that he has the strength of seven men. God save you from that knight," he said to Beaumains, "for he does that lady a great wrong, and that is a great pity, for she is one of the fairest ladies in the world. And it seems to me that your damsel is her sister. Isn't your name Linet?" he said.
"Yes, sir," she said, "and my lady my sister's name is Dame Lionesse."
"Now I will tell you," said Sir Persant. "This Red Knight of the Red Launds has lain at the siege a long time, almost two years now, and many times he could have had her if he had wanted to. But he draws out the time for this purpose: to have Sir Lancelot du Lake fight him, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak de Galis, or Sir Gawain. And that is the reason he stays so long at the siege."
"Now, my lord Sir Persant of Inde," said the damsel Linet, "I ask you to make this gentleman a knight before ever he fights the Red Knight."
"I will with all my heart," said Sir Persant, "if it pleases him to take the order of knighthood from so simple a man as I am."
"Sir," said Beaumains, "I thank you for your good will, but I am better provided for, for the noble knight Sir Lancelot certainly made me a knight."
"Ah," said Sir Persant, "you could not have been made a knight by a more renowned knight. For of all knights he may be called the chief of knighthood. And all the world says that knighthood is clearly divided among three knights, that is, Lancelot du Lake, Sir Tristram de Liones, and Sir Lamorak de Galis: these are the ones who hold the renown now. There are many other knights, such as Sir Palomides the Saracen and Sir Safere his brother; also Sir Bleoberis and Sir Blamore de Ganis his brother; also Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Percival de Galis. These and many more are noble knights, but there are none who surpass the three I named. And so God speed you well," said Sir Persant, "for if you can match the Red Knight you will be called the fourth knight of the world."
"Sir," said Beaumains, "I would gladly be of good fame and good knighthood. And I tell you that I come of good men, for I dare say my father was a noble man. And on condition that you keep it secret, you and this damsel, I will tell you what family I come from."
"We will not give you away," they both said, "until you command us to, by the faith we owe to God."
"Truly then," he said, "my name is Gareth of Orkney, and King Lot was my father, and my mother is King Arthur's sister; her name is Dame Morgause. And Sir Gawain is my brother, and Sir Agravain and Sir Gaheris, and I am the youngest of them all. And still neither King Arthur nor Sir Gawain knows who I am."
So the book says that the lady who was besieged had word from the dwarf that her sister was coming, and a knight with her, and how he had passed all the perilous passages.
"What kind of man is he?" said the lady.
"He is a noble knight, truly, madam," said the dwarf, "and only a young man, but he is as promising a man as you ever saw."
"Who is he?" said the lady. "And what family does he come from, and who made him a knight?"
"Madam," said the dwarf, "he is the son of the King of Orkney, but I will not tell you his name at this time. But you may be sure that he was made a knight by Sir Lancelot, for he would be made a knight by no one else; and Sir Kay named him Beaumains."
"How did he escape," said the lady, "from the brothers of Persant?"
"Madam," he said, "as a noble knight should. First he killed two brothers at a crossing of a river."
"Ah!" she said. "They were good knights, but they were murderers. One was called Gherard le Breuse, and the other knight was called Sir Arnold le Breuse."
"Then, madam, he encountered the Black Knight, and killed him in open battle, and so he took his horse and his armour and fought the Green Knight and beat him in open battle. And he served the Red Knight in the same way, and after that he served the Blue Knight in the same way and beat him in open battle."
"Then," said the lady, "he has overcome Sir Persant of Inde, one of the noblest knights in the world."
And the dwarf said, "He has beaten all four brothers and killed the Black Knight, and he did more before that: he overthrew Sir Kay and left him half dead on the ground. He also fought a great battle with Sir Lancelot, and there they parted even; and then Sir Lancelot made him a knight."
"Dwarf," said the lady, "I am glad of this news. So go to a hermitage of mine near here, and take with you some of my wine in two silver flagons, each holding two gallons, and also two batches of loaves, with fat venison baked in pastry, and dainty birds. And here I give you a cup of gold, which is rich and precious; and take all this to my hermitage, and put it in the hermit's hands. And after that go to my sister and greet her well, and commend me to that noble knight, and beg him to eat and drink and build up his strength. And tell him I thank him for his courtesy and goodness, that he would take on such labour for me, who never did him any kindness or courtesy. Also beg him to be of good heart and courage, for he will meet a very noble knight, but one who has neither goodness, courtesy, nor gentleness; for he cares for nothing but murder, and that is the reason I cannot praise him or love him."
So this dwarf left, and came to Sir Persant's, where he found the damsel Linet and Sir Beaumains, and there he told them everything as you have heard. And then they took their leave, but Sir Persant took a small ambling horse and escorted them on their way, and then commended them to God. And so within a little while they came to that hermitage, and there they drank the wine, and ate the venison and the baked birds. And so when they had eaten well, the dwarf went back again with his vessels to the castle; and there the Red Knight of the Red Launds met him, and asked him where he came from, and where he had been.
"Sir," said the dwarf, "I have been with the sister of my lady of this castle, and she has been at King Arthur's court, and has brought a knight back with her."
"Then I count her labour as wasted," said the Red Knight, "for even if she had brought Sir Lancelot with her, or Sir Tristram, Sir Lamorak, or Sir Gawain, I would think myself good enough for them all."
"That may well be," said the dwarf, "but this knight has passed all the perilous passages, and killed the Black Knight and two others besides, and beaten the Green Knight, the Red Knight, and the Blue Knight."
"Then he is one of those four I named just now."
"He is none of those," said the dwarf, "but he is a king's son."
"What is his name?" said the Red Knight of the Red Launds.
"That I will not tell you," said the dwarf, "but Sir Kay named him Beaumains in scorn."
"I don't care," said the knight, "what knight he is, for I will soon be done with him. And if I ever get the better of him, he will die a shameful death, as many others have."
"That would be a pity," said the dwarf, "and it is a marvel that you make such shameful war on noble knights."
Now we leave the knight and the dwarf, and speak of Beaumains, who lay all night in the hermitage; and in the morning he and the damsel Linet heard their mass and had breakfast. And then they took their horses and rode right through a fair forest; and then they came to a plain, and saw many pavilions and tents there, and a fair castle, and there was much smoke and a great noise. And when they came near the siege, Sir Beaumains saw, as he rode, very finely armed knights hanging by the neck from great trees, with their shields about their necks and their swords, and gilt spurs on their heels; and so there hung some forty knights there, shamefully, in very rich armour.
Then Sir Beaumains' face fell, and he said, "What does this mean?"
"Fair sir," said the damsel, "don't let your face fall at this sight, for you must take courage, or else you are utterly lost. For all these knights came here to this siege to rescue my sister Dame Lionesse, and when the Red Knight of the Red Launds had overcome them, he put them to this shameful death without mercy or pity. And he will serve you the same way unless you acquit yourself better."
"Now Jesus defend me," said Beaumains, "from such a vile death and such disgrace in arms. For rather than be dealt with like that, I would rather be killed like a man in open battle."
"You would be better so," said the damsel. "For don't trust him; there is no courtesy in him, but everything goes to death or shameful murder. And that is a pity, for he is a very handsome man, well built, and a very noble knight in prowess, and a lord of great lands and possessions."
"Truly," said Beaumains, "he may well be a good knight, but he keeps shameful customs, and it is a marvel that he has lasted so long without any of the noble knights of my lord Arthur's court having dealt with him."
And then they rode to the moats, and saw that the castle was double moated, with very warlike walls; and many great lords were lodged near the walls, and there was a great noise of minstrels. And the sea beat against the walls on one side, where there were many ships, and the noise of the sailors crying "heave-ho". And also, close by, there was a sycamore tree, and on it hung a horn, the biggest they had ever seen, made of an elephant's tusk. And this Knight of the Red Launds had hung it there so that if any knight-errant came, he must blow that horn, and then he would make himself ready and come to him to do battle.
"But, sir, I beg you," said the damsel Linet, "do not blow the horn until it is high noon, for now it is about prime, and his might is growing now, so that, as men say, he has the strength of seven men."
"Ah, fie for shame, fair damsel, never say such a thing to me again. For if he were as good a knight as ever lived, I will never fail him at his greatest might. For either I will win honour honourably, or die like a knight in the field."
And with that he spurred his horse straight to the sycamore tree, and blew the horn so eagerly that the whole siege and the castle rang with it. And then knights leapt out of their tents and pavilions, and those inside the castle looked over the walls and out of the windows.
Then the Red Knight of the Red Launds armed himself in haste, and two barons fastened his spurs on his heels, and everything was blood red, his armour, spear and shield. And an earl buckled his helm on his head, and then they brought him a red spear and a red warhorse, and so he rode into a little valley below the castle, so that everyone in the castle and at the siege could watch the battle.
"Sir," said the damsel Linet to Sir Beaumains, "see that you are glad and light of heart, for over there is your deadly enemy, and at that window over there is my lady, my sister, Dame Lionesse."
"Where?" said Beaumains.
"Over there," said the damsel, and pointed with her finger.
"That is true," said Beaumains. "From far off she seems the fairest lady I ever looked on. And truly," he said, "I ask for no better cause to fight in than this one now, for truly she shall be my lady, and for her I will fight."
And all the while he looked up at the window with a glad face, and the Lady Lionesse curtsied to him down to the ground, holding up both her hands.
With that the Red Knight of the Red Launds called to Sir Beaumains, "Stop your looking, sir knight, and look at me, I advise you. For I warn you plainly, she is my lady, and for her I have fought many hard battles."
"If you have done so," said Beaumains, "it seems to me it was only wasted labour, for she loves no one of your company, and for you to love one who does not love you is nothing but great folly. For if I understood that she was not glad of my coming, I would think twice before I fought for her. But I understand from your besieging of this castle that she could well do without your company. And so know this, you Red Knight of the Red Launds: I love her, and will rescue her, or else die."
"Is that what you say?" said the Red Knight. "It seems to me you ought in reason to take warning from those knights you saw hanging on those trees over there."
"Fie for shame," said Beaumains, "that you should ever say or do such evil, for in that you shame yourself and knighthood. And you can be sure that no lady who knows your wicked customs will love you. And now you think the sight of these hanged knights should frighten me. No, truly, not so: that shameful sight gives me more courage and boldness against you than I would have had against you if you were a well-conducted knight."
"Get ready," said the Red Knight of the Red Launds, "and talk to me no longer."
Then Sir Beaumains told the damsel to move away from him; and then they put their spears in their rests, and came together with all the might they both had, and each struck the other in the middle of the shield, so that the breast straps, girths and cruppers of their horses burst, and both of them fell to the ground with the reins of their bridles in their hands. And so they lay a long while, badly stunned, so that everyone in the castle and at the siege thought their necks were broken. And then many a stranger and others said the strange knight was a big man and a noble jouster, "for before now we never saw any knight match the Red Knight of the Red Launds." So they said, both inside the castle and outside. Then swiftly they got clear of their horses and put their shields before them, and drew their swords and ran together like two fierce lions, and each gave the other such blows on the helm that they both reeled back two strides. And then they both recovered, and hewed great pieces off each other's armour and shields, so that a great part fell into the fields.
And so they fought until it was past noon, and they would never stop, until at last they were both out of breath. And then they stood swaying and staggering, panting, blowing and bleeding, so that most of those who watched them wept for pity. So when they had rested a while they went into battle again, circling, rushing and thrusting like two boars. And at times they took a run at each other like two rams, and crashed together so that sometimes they fell flat on the ground; and at times they were so dazed that each took the other's sword instead of his own.
So they held out until the hour of evensong, so that none of those who watched them could tell which of them was likely to win the battle. And their armour was so hacked to pieces that men could see their naked sides; and in other places they were naked too, but they always defended the naked places. And the Red Knight was a cunning knight in war, and his cunning fighting taught Sir Beaumains to be wise; but he paid for it very dearly before he saw through his way of fighting.
And so by agreement between them they granted each other a rest; and so they sat down on two molehills there beside the place of the fight, and each of them unlaced his helm and took the cool wind. For each of them had his page close by him, to come when they called to unlace their armour and to put it on again at their command. And then, when Sir Beaumains' helm was off, he looked up at the window, and there he saw the fair lady Dame Lionesse, and she gave him such a look that his heart grew light and merry. And with that he told the Red Knight of the Red Launds to make ready, "and let us fight the battle to the uttermost."
"Gladly," said the knight. And then they laced up their helms, and their pages withdrew, and they stepped together and fought vigorously. But the Red Knight of the Red Launds watched his chance, and with a stroke across struck him on the hand, so that his sword fell out of his hand; and then he gave him another blow on the helm, so that he fell flat on the ground, and the Red Knight fell on top of him, to hold him down.
Then the maiden Linet cried aloud, "Oh, Sir Beaumains, where has your courage gone? Alas, my lady my sister is watching you, and she sobs and weeps, and that makes my heart heavy."
When Sir Beaumains heard her say this, he started up with great might and got to his feet, and swiftly he leapt to his sword and gripped it in his hand, and quickened his pace towards the Red Knight, and there they fought a new battle together. But Sir Beaumains then doubled his strokes, and struck so thick and fast that he struck the sword out of his hand, and then he struck him on the helm so that he fell to the ground. And Sir Beaumains fell on him, and unlaced his helm to kill him; and then he yielded and begged for mercy, and said in a loud voice, "Oh noble knight, I yield myself to your mercy."
Then Sir Beaumains thought of the knights he had had hanged so shamefully, and then he said, "I cannot save your life with honour, because of the shameful deaths you have made so many very good knights die."
"Sir," said the Red Knight of the Red Launds, "hold your hand and you will know the reasons why I put them to so shameful a death."
"Speak on," said Sir Beaumains.
"Sir, I once loved a lady, a fair damsel, and she had her brother killed; and she said it was Sir Lancelot du Lake, or else Sir Gawain. And she begged me, as I loved her with all my heart, to make her a promise on the faith of my knighthood to labour in arms every day until I met one of them; and that all whom I could overcome I should put to a vile death. And this is the reason I have put all these knights to death, and so I gave her my word to do every kind of shame to King Arthur's knights, and to take vengeance on all these knights. And, sir, now I will tell you that every day my strength increases until noon, and all that time I have the strength of seven men."
Then many earls and barons and noble knights came and begged that knight to save his life, "and take him as your prisoner." And they all fell on their knees, and begged him for mercy, and that he would save his life.
"And, sir," they all said, "it would be more honourable of you to take his homage and fealty, and let him hold his lands from you, than to kill him. You will gain no advantage by his death, and his misdeeds that are done cannot be undone; and so he will make amends to everyone concerned, and we will all become your men and do you homage and fealty."
"Fair lords," said Beaumains, "you may be sure I am very loath to kill this knight; nevertheless he has done exceedingly evil and shameful things. But since all he did was at a lady's request, I blame him the less. And so for your sake I will release him, so that he will have his life on this condition: that he goes into the castle and yields himself there to the lady, and if she will forgive him and let him go, I am content, provided that he makes her amends for all the wrong he has done against her and her lands. And also, when that is done, that you go to the court of King Arthur, and there ask Sir Lancelot's pardon, and Sir Gawain's, for the ill will you have had against them."
"Sir," said the Red Knight of the Red Launds, "I will do all this as you command, and you shall have sure guarantees and pledges."
And so then, when the guarantee was given, he did his homage and fealty, and all those earls and barons with him.
And then the maiden Linet came to Sir Beaumains, and took off his armour and examined his wounds, and stopped his bleeding, and she did the same for the Red Knight of the Red Launds. And there they stayed ten days in their tents; and the Red Knight had his lords and servants do everything they could to please Sir Beaumains. And so within a while the Red Knight of the Red Launds went to the castle and put himself at her mercy. And so she received him on sufficient security, so that all her injuries were fully made good, everything she could complain of. And then he left for the court of King Arthur, and there, before everyone, the Red Knight of the Red Launds put himself at the mercy of Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain, and there he told openly how he had been overcome and by whom, and he also told of all the battles from the beginning to the end.
"Jesus have mercy," said King Arthur and Sir Gawain, "we wonder greatly what blood he comes of, for he is a noble knight."
"Don't wonder at it," said Sir Lancelot, "for you may be quite sure that he comes of very noble blood. And as for his might and boldness, there are only a few now living who are as mighty as he is, and as noble in prowess."
"It seems from what you say," said King Arthur, "that you know his name, and where he comes from, and what blood he is of."
"I believe I do," said Lancelot, "or else I would not have given him the order of knighthood. But he gave me such a charge at that time that I should never give him away until he asked me to, or else until it was made known openly by someone else."
Now we turn to Sir Beaumains, who asked Linet that he might see her sister, his lady.
"Sir," she said, "I would gladly have you see her."
Then Sir Beaumains armed himself completely, and took his horse and his spear, and rode straight to the castle. And when he came to the gate he found many armed men there, who pulled up the drawbridge and shut the gate tight.
Then he wondered why they would not let him in. And then he looked up at the window; and there he saw the fair Lionesse, who called down from above, "Go on your way, Sir Beaumains, for you shall not have my love wholly yet, not until you are counted one of the number of the worthy knights. And so go and labour to win honour for these twelve months, and then you will hear news."
"Alas, fair lady," said Beaumains, "I have not deserved that you should show me this coldness. I had expected that I would have a warm welcome from you, and as far as I was able I have earned your thanks, and I am quite sure I have bought your love with part of the best blood in my body."
"Fair courteous knight," said Dame Lionesse, "do not be displeased or over-hasty. For believe me, your great toil and your true love shall not be lost, for I take account of your great toil and labour, your worth and your goodness, as I ought to do. And so go on your way, and see that you keep up your heart, for everything will be for your honour and for the best. And by God, a twelvemonth will soon be over. And trust me, fair knight, I shall be true to you, and never betray you, but until my death I shall love you and no one else."
And with that she turned away from the window, and Sir Beaumains rode off away from the castle, grieving greatly. And so he rode here and there and did not know where he was riding, until it was dark night. And then he happened to come to a poor man's house, and there he was given lodging all that night.
But Sir Beaumains had no rest, but tossed and writhed for love of the lady of the castle. And so the next morning he took his horse and rode until the middle of the morning, and then he came to a broad river, and beside it was a great lodge, and there he dismounted to sleep, and laid his head on his shield, and handed his horse over to the dwarf, and ordered him to keep watch all night.
Now we turn to the lady of that same castle, who thought much about Beaumains. And then she called to her Sir Gringamore, her brother, and begged him in every way, as he loved her with all his heart, to ride after Sir Beaumains. "And keep watching him all the time until you find him sleeping, for I am sure that in his low spirits he will dismount somewhere and lie down to sleep. And so keep your watch on him, and as secretly as you can, take his dwarf, and go off with him as fast as you possibly can before Sir Beaumains wakes. For my sister Linet tells me that the dwarf can tell what family he comes from, and what his real name is. And meanwhile my sister and I will ride to your castle to wait for you to bring the dwarf with you. And then, when you have brought him to your castle, I will question him myself. Until I know what his real name is, and what family he comes from, I shall never be merry at heart."
"Sister," said Sir Gringamore, "all this shall be done as you wish."
And so he rode all the next day and the night until he found Sir Beaumains lying by a river, with his head on his shield, to sleep. And then, when he saw Sir Beaumains fast asleep, he came creeping quietly up behind the dwarf, and snatched him up tight under his arm, and so he rode away with him as fast as ever he could to his own castle. And this Sir Gringamore's arms were all black, as was his right. But all the time, as he rode with the dwarf toward his castle, the dwarf cried out to his lord and begged him for help. And with that Sir Beaumains woke, and leapt up quickly, and saw Sir Gringamore riding off with the dwarf, and so Sir Gringamore rode out of his sight.
Then Sir Beaumains put on his helm at once, and buckled on his shield, and took his horse, and rode after him as hard as ever he could ride, through marshes and fields and great valleys, so that many times he and his horse plunged in over their heads in deep bogs. For he did not know the way, but took the shortest way in that frenzy, so that many times he was close to dying. And at last he happened to come to a fine green road, and there he met a poor man of the country, whom he greeted, and asked him whether he had not met a knight on a black horse and in all-black armour, with a little dwarf sitting behind him looking downcast.
"Sir," said the poor man, "Sir Gringamore the knight came by me here, with just such a dwarf as you describe, grieving. And so I advise you not to follow him, for he is one of the most dangerous knights in the world, and his castle is close by here, only two miles off. So we advise you not to ride after Sir Gringamore, unless you bear him good will."
So we leave Sir Beaumains riding toward the castle, and speak of Sir Gringamore and the dwarf. As soon as the dwarf had come to the castle, Dame Lionesse and Dame Linet her sister asked the dwarf where his master was born, and what lineage he came from.
"And unless you tell me," said Dame Lionesse, "you shall never get out of this castle, but stay here a prisoner forever."
"As for that," said the dwarf, "I am not much afraid to tell his name and what family he comes from. Believe me, he is a king's son, and his mother is sister to King Arthur, and he is brother to the good knight Sir Gawain, and his name is Sir Gareth of Orkney. And now that I have told you his real name, I beg you, fair lady, let me go back to my lord, for he will never leave this country until he has me back. And if he is angry he will do a great deal of harm before he is stopped, and bring ruin on you in this country."
"As for that threat," said Sir Gringamore, "be that as it may, we will go to dinner."
And so they washed and went to their meal, and made merry and were at their ease, and because the Lady Lionesse of the castle was there, they rejoiced greatly.
"Truly, madam," said Linet to her sister, "he may well be a king's son, for he has many good qualities. For he is courteous and mild, and the most patient man I ever met. For I dare say there was never a gentlewoman who reviled a man in so foul a way as I have abused him; and every time he gave me gracious and gentle answers back."
And as they sat talking like this, Sir Gareth came in at the gate with an angry face and his sword drawn in his hand, and shouted so that the whole castle could hear it, "You traitor, Sir Gringamore, give me back my dwarf, or by the faith I owe to the order of knighthood, I'll do you all the harm I can!"
Then Sir Gringamore looked out of a window and said, "Sir Gareth of Orkney, stop your boasting. You're not getting your dwarf back."
"You coward knight," said Sir Gareth, "bring him with you, and come and fight me, and win him and keep him."
"So I will," said Sir Gringamore, "if I feel like it. But for all your big words, you're not getting him."
"Ah, fair brother," said Dame Lionesse, "I wish he had his dwarf back, for I would not want him angry. For now that the dwarf has told me all I wanted, I care no more about him. And also, brother, Sir Gareth has done a great deal for me, and freed me from the Red Knight of the Red Launds, and so, brother, I owe him my service before all knights living. And believe me, I love him above all others, and I would very gladly speak with him. But on no account would I want him to know who I am, but to think I was some other lady, a stranger."
"Well," said Sir Gringamore, "since I know your wishes now, I will do as he wants."
And right then he went down to Sir Gareth, and said, "Sir, I beg your pardon, and all the wrong I have done I will make good as you wish. And so I beg you to dismount, and accept such hospitality as I can give you in this castle."
"Shall I have my dwarf?" said Sir Gareth.
"Yes, sir, and all the pleasure I can give you. For as soon as your dwarf told me who you were, and what blood you come from, and what noble deeds you have done in these borderlands, I repented of what I had done."
And then Sir Gareth dismounted, and his dwarf came and took his horse.
"Oh, my good fellow," said Sir Gareth, "I've been through many adventures for your sake."
And so Sir Gringamore took him by the hand and led him into the hall where his own wife was.
And then Dame Lionesse came out dressed like a princess, and she gave him an exceedingly warm welcome, and he her in return; and they talked graciously together and looked lovingly at each other. And many times Sir Gareth thought, "Jesus, if only the lady of the Castle Perilous were as beautiful as she is!" There were all kinds of games and entertainments, dancing and singing. And the more Sir Gareth looked at that lady, the more he loved her; and he so burned with love that he was beside himself and lost his reason. And as night came on they went in to supper, and Sir Gareth could not eat, for his love was so hot that he did not know where he was.
Sir Gringamore noticed all these looks, and then after supper he called his sister Dame Lionesse into a room, and said, "Fair sister, I have watched well the looks between you and this knight. And sister, I want you to know that he is a very noble knight, and if you can make him stay here I will give him every pleasure I can. For even if you were better than you are, you would be well bestowed on him."
"Fair brother," said Dame Lionesse, "I understand well that the knight is good, and that he comes from a noble house. Even so, I will test him further, though I am more beholden to him than to any man on earth. For he has gone through great labour for my love, and passed through many a dangerous passage."
Just then Sir Gringamore went to Sir Gareth, and said, "Sir, be of good cheer, for you shall have no reason to be otherwise. For this lady, my sister, is yours at all times, saving her honour. For believe me, she loves you as well as you love her, and better, if better may be."
"If I knew that," said Sir Gareth, "there would not be a happier man alive than I."
"Upon my honour," said Sir Gringamore, "trust my promise. And as long as it pleases you, you shall stay with me, and this lady shall be with us day and night to give you all the pleasure she can."
"Gladly," said Sir Gareth, "for I have promised to stay near this country for this twelvemonth. And I am quite sure King Arthur and other noble knights will find me wherever I am within this twelvemonth. For I shall be looked for and found, if I am alive."
And then the noble knight Sir Gareth went to Dame Lionesse, whom he now loved very much, and kissed her many times, and each of them rejoiced greatly in the other. And there she promised him her love for certain, to love him and no one else all the days of her life. Then this lady, Dame Lionesse, with her brother's consent, told Sir Gareth the whole truth of who she was, and how she was the same lady he had fought for, and how she was lady of the Castle Perilous. And there she told him how she had had her brother take away his dwarf, for this reason: "to know for certain what your name was, and what family you came from."
And then she had Linet brought before him, the damsel who had ridden with him along so many desolate ways. Then Sir Gareth was gladder than he had been before. And then they plighted their troth to each other, to love, and never to fail while their lives lasted. And they both so burned with love that they agreed to satisfy their desire in secret. And there Dame Lionesse advised Sir Gareth to sleep nowhere else but in the hall. And there she promised him to come to his bed a little before midnight.
This plan was not kept so secret that it was not found out; for they were both young, and tender in years, and had never practised such arts before. And so the damsel Linet was a little displeased, and she thought her sister Dame Lionesse was a little over-hasty, that she could not wait for the time of her marriage; and to save their honour, she meant to cool their hot desire. And so by her subtle arts she arranged that neither of them should have their will of the other, as for their pleasures, until they were married. And so it went on. After supper the hall was cleared, so that every lord and lady should go to their rest. But Sir Gareth said plainly he would go no farther than the hall, for such places, he said, were fitting for a knight-errant to take his rest in. And so great couches were set out, and feather beds on them, and there he lay down to sleep. And within a while Dame Lionesse came, wrapped in a cloak furred with ermine, and lay down beside Sir Gareth. And with that he began to kiss her. And then he looked in front of him, and there he noticed and saw an armed knight coming, with many lights about him; and this knight had a long battle-axe in his hand, and looked grimly as if to strike him. When Sir Gareth saw him coming in that way, he leapt out of his bed, and got his sword in his hand, and leapt straight at that knight. And when the knight saw Sir Gareth coming at him so fiercely, he struck him with a thrust through the thick of the thigh, so that the wound was a hand's breadth wide and had cut through many veins and sinews. And with that Sir Gareth struck him on the helm such a blow that he fell flat on his face; and then he leapt on him and unlaced his helm, and struck his head off his body. And then he bled so fast that he could not stand, but laid himself down on his bed, and there he fainted and lay as if he were dead.
Then Dame Lionesse cried out, so that her brother Sir Gringamore heard, and came down. And when he saw Sir Gareth so shamefully wounded he was very much displeased, and said, "I am ashamed that this noble knight is honoured like this. Sister," said Sir Gringamore, "how can this be, that you are here, and this noble knight wounded?"
"Brother," she said, "I cannot tell you, for it was not done by me, nor with my consent. For he is my lord and I am his, and he is to be my husband. And so, my brother, I want you to know that I am not ashamed to be with him, nor to give him all the pleasure I can."
"Sister," said Sir Gringamore, "and I want you to know it, and Sir Gareth too, that this ill-fated deed was never done by me, nor with my consent."
And there they staunched his bleeding as well as they could, and Sir Gringamore and Dame Lionesse grieved greatly.
And right away Dame Linet came, and picked up the head in the sight of them all, and anointed it with an ointment where it had been struck off; and in the same way she did the other part, where the head had been attached, and then she set them together, and it stuck as fast as it ever had. And the knight got up quickly, and the damsel Linet put him in her room. Sir Gringamore and Dame Lionesse saw all this, and so did Sir Gareth; and he saw well that it was the damsel Linet, who had ridden with him through the perilous passages.
"Ah, damsel," said Sir Gareth, "I never thought you would have done what you have done."
"My lord Gareth," said Linet, "everything I have done I will stand by, and everything I have done shall be for your honour and good name, and for all of us."
And so within a while Sir Gareth was nearly healed, and grew lively and cheerful, and sang, danced and played games; and he and Dame Lionesse burned so hot with love that they made an agreement that on the tenth night after, she should come to his bed. And because he had been wounded before, he laid his armour and his sword close beside his bed.
Just as she had promised, she came; and she was no sooner in his bed than she saw an armed knight coming toward the bed. With that she warned Sir Gareth, and quickly, through the good help of Dame Lionesse, he was armed; and they crashed together with great anger and malice all about the hall. And there was a great light, as if there were twenty torches both in front and behind, so that Sir Gareth strained himself until his old wound burst open bleeding again. But he was hot and full of courage and paid no attention, but with his great strength he struck down that knight, and pulled off his helm, and struck off his head. Then he hacked the head into a hundred pieces. And when he had done that he picked up all those pieces, and threw them out of a window into the ditches of the castle. And by the time this was done he was so faint from bleeding that he could scarcely stand. And when he was almost out of his armour he fell in a deathly faint on the floor; and then Dame Lionesse cried out so that Sir Gringamore heard. And when he came and found Sir Gareth in that state he grieved greatly; and there he brought Sir Gareth round, and gave him a drink that revived him wonderfully well. But the grief that Dame Lionesse showed there no tongue can tell, for she carried on as if she would have died.
Just then this damsel Linet came before them all, and she had fetched all the lumps of the head that Sir Gareth had thrown out of the window, and there she anointed them as she had done before, and set them together again.
"Well, damsel Linet," said Sir Gareth, "I have not deserved all this insult you are doing me."
"Sir knight," she said, "I have done nothing that I will not stand by, and everything I have done shall be to your honour, and for all of us."
And then Sir Gareth's bleeding was staunched. But the doctors said that no man alive could heal him completely of his wound unless the one who had caused that stroke by enchantment healed him.
So we leave Sir Gareth there with Sir Gringamore and his sisters, and turn to King Arthur, who held his feast at the next feast of Pentecost. And there came the Green Knight with fifty knights, and they all surrendered to King Arthur. And so there came the Red Knight, his brother, and surrendered to King Arthur, and sixty knights with him. Also there came the Blue Knight, their brother, with a hundred knights, and they surrendered to King Arthur. And the Green Knight's name was Pertolepe, and the Red Knight's name was Perimones, and the Blue Knight's name was Sir Persant of Inde. These three brothers told King Arthur how they had been overcome by a knight that a damsel had with her, whom she called Beaumains.
"Jesus," said the king, "I wonder what knight he is, and what lineage he comes from. He was with me a twelvemonth, and he was kept poorly and shamefully, and Sir Kay named him Beaumains in scorn."
So, just as the king stood talking like this with these three brothers, Sir Lancelot du Lake came and told the king that a fine lord had come, with six hundred knights with him.
Then the king went out of Caerleon, for the feast was there, and this lord came to him, and greeted the king courteously.
"What do you want," said King Arthur, "and what is your errand?"
"Sir," he said, "I am called the Red Knight of the Red Launds, but my name is Sir Ironside. And sir, believe me, I am sent here to you by a knight who is called Beaumains, for he won me in open battle, hand to hand, and no knight but he has ever had the better of me these thirty years. And he commanded me to surrender myself to you, to do with as you will."
"You are welcome," said the king, "for you have long been a great enemy to me and my court, and now I trust to God I shall treat you so that you will be my friend."
"Sir, both I and these five hundred knights shall always be at your summons to do you service, as far as lies in our power."
"Jesus have mercy," said King Arthur, "I am much beholden to that knight who has exerted himself so to do honour to me and my court. And as for you, Ironside, who are called the Red Knight of the Red Launds, you are said to be a dangerous knight. And if you will hold your lands from me, I will honour you and make you a knight of the Round Table; but then you must be a murderer no longer."
"Sir, as for that, I have promised Sir Beaumains never again to keep such customs. For all the shameful customs I kept, I kept at the request of a lady I loved. And so I must go to Sir Lancelot and to Sir Gawain, and ask their forgiveness for the ill will I had toward them; for all those I put to death were put to death only for the love of Sir Lancelot and of Sir Gawain."
"They are here now," said the king, "in front of you. Now you may say to them what you will."
And then he knelt down to Sir Lancelot and to Sir Gawain, and begged them to forgive him for the enmity he had ever had against them.
Then they all said graciously at once, "God forgive you, and so do we. And we beg you to tell us where we may find Sir Beaumains."
"Fair lords," said Sir Ironside, "I cannot tell you, for he is very hard to find. For young knights such as he is, when they are on their adventures, never stay in any one place."
But as for the praise that the Red Knight of the Red Launds, and Sir Persant and his brother, gave Beaumains, it was a marvel to hear.
"Well, my fair lords," said King Arthur, "you may be sure I shall do you honour for the love of Sir Beaumains, and as soon as ever I meet him I shall make you all knights of the Round Table on one day. And as for you, Sir Persant of Inde, you have always been called a very noble knight, and so your three brothers have always been called. But I wonder," said the king, "that I hear nothing of the Black Knight, your brother. He was a very noble knight."
"Sir," said Pertolepe, the Green Knight, "Sir Beaumains killed him in an encounter with his spear. His name was Sir Percard."
"That was a great pity," said the king, and so said many knights. For these four brothers were very well known in King Arthur's court as noble knights, for they had long made war on the knights of the Round Table.
Then Pertolepe, the Green Knight, said to the king, "At a crossing of the water of Mortaise Sir Beaumains met two brothers who for the most part always kept that crossing, and they were two deadly knights. And there he killed the eldest brother in the water: he struck him on the head such a blow that he fell down in the water, and there he was drowned, and his name was Sir Gherard le Breusse. And afterwards he killed the other brother on the land, and his name was Sir Arnold le Breusse."
So then the king and they went to their meal, and were served in the best way. And as they sat at the meal, the Queen of Orkney came in, with a great number of ladies and knights. And then Sir Gawain, Sir Agravain and Gaheris got up, and went to her and greeted her on their knees, and asked her blessing; for they had not seen her in fifteen years. Then she spoke out loud to her brother King Arthur: "What have you done with my young son Sir Gareth? He was here among you a twelvemonth, and you made a kitchen boy of him, which is a shame to you all. Alas, what have you done with my dear son, who was my joy and delight?"
"Oh, dear mother," said Sir Gawain, "I didn't know him."
"Nor I," said the king, "and I regret it now. But thanks be to God, he has proved as honourable a knight as any now living of his years, and I shall never be glad until I can find him."
"Ah, brother," said the queen to King Arthur, and to Sir Gawain, and to all her sons, "you brought great shame on yourselves when you kept my son among you in the kitchen and fed him like a poor hog."
"Fair sister," said King Arthur, "you may be quite sure I didn't know him, and no more did Sir Gawain, nor his brothers. But since it is so," said the king, "that he has gone away from us all like this, we must work out a way to find him. Also, sister, it seems to me you might have let me know of his coming, and then, if I had not treated him well, you might have blamed me. For when he came to this court he came leaning on two men's shoulders, as though he could not walk. And then he asked me for three gifts; and one he asked that same day, which was that I would give him enough food for that twelvemonth. And the other two gifts he asked that day a twelvemonth later, and those were that he might have the adventure of the damsel Linet, and the third, that Sir Lancelot should make him a knight when he asked him. And so I granted him all he wanted, and many in this court wondered that he asked for his keep for a twelvemonth. And from that, many of us judged that he did not come of a noble house."
"Sir," said the Queen of Orkney to King Arthur her brother, "believe me, I sent him to you very well armed and horsed, and handsomely turned out, and with plenty of gold and silver to spend."
"That may be," said the king, "but we saw none of it, except that on the same day he left us, knights told me that a dwarf suddenly came here, and brought him armour and a good horse, very well and richly equipped. And we all wondered where those riches came from, so that we all judged he came of honourable people."
"Brother," said the queen, "I believe all you say, for ever since he was grown he has been wonderfully clever, and he was always faithful and true to his promise. But I wonder," she said, "that Sir Kay mocked him and scorned him, and gave him that name Beaumains. Yet Sir Kay," said the queen, "named him more truly than he thought, for I dare say, if he is alive, he is as fair-handed a man, and as well made, as any man living."
"Sister," said Arthur, "let this talk be. By the grace of God he shall be found, if he is within these seven kingdoms. And let all this pass, and be merry, for he has proved himself a man of honour, and that is my joy."
Then Sir Gawain and his brothers said to Arthur, "Sir, if you will give us leave, we will go and look for our brother."
"No," said Sir Lancelot, "you won't need to do that." And so said Sir Baudwin of Britain. "For on our advice the king shall send a messenger to Dame Lionesse, and ask her to come to the court in all the haste she can, and have no doubt, she will come. And then she can give you the best advice on where you will find him."
"That is well said," said the king.
So then courteous letters were written, and the messenger sent off, and he travelled night and day until he came to the Castle Perilous. And then the lady, Dame Lionesse, was sent for where she was, with Sir Gringamore her brother and Sir Gareth. And when she understood this message, she told him to ride on his way to King Arthur, and she would come after in all fitting haste. Then, when she came to Sir Gringamore and to Sir Gareth, she told them all how King Arthur had sent for her.
"That is because of me," said Sir Gareth.
"Now advise me," said Dame Lionesse, "what I shall say, and how I shall conduct myself."
"My lady and my love," said Sir Gareth, "I beg you, on no account let it be known where I am. But I know well my mother is there, and all my brothers, and they will take it on themselves to look for me; I know very well they will. But this, madam, is what I would have you say, and advise the king, when he questions you about me. Then you may say that this is your advice: that, if it pleases his good grace, you will have it proclaimed, for the feast of the Assumption of our Lady, that whatever knight proves himself best there shall have you and all your land. And if it so happens that he is a married man, then his wife shall have the prize, and a circlet of gold set with stones of magic power, to the value of a thousand pounds, and a white gyrfalcon."
So Dame Lionesse set off and came to King Arthur, where she was nobly received, and there she was closely questioned by the king and by the Queen of Orkney. And she answered that she could not tell where Sir Gareth was. But this much she said to Arthur: "Sir, I will have a tournament proclaimed, to be held before my castle at the Assumption of our Lady, and the proclamation shall be this: that you, my lord Arthur, shall be there, and your knights, and I will see to it that my knights shall be against yours. And then I am sure you will hear of Sir Gareth."
"That is well thought out," said King Arthur; and so she left. And the king and she made great preparations for that tournament.
When Dame Lionesse had come to the Isle of Avalon, which was the same isle where her brother Sir Gringamore lived, then she told them all what she had done, and what promise she had made to King Arthur.
"Alas," said Sir Gareth, "I have been so unluckily wounded since I came into this castle, that I won't be able to perform like a knight at that tournament; for I have never been fully healed since I was hurt."
"Cheer up," said the damsel Linet, "for I undertake to make you whole within these fifteen days, and as vigorous as you ever were."
And then she laid an ointment and a salve on him, as she saw fit, so that he was never so fresh nor so vigorous. Then the damsel Linet said, "Send to Sir Persant of Inde, and summon him and his knights to be here with you, as they have promised. Also, send to Sir Ironside, who is the Red Knight of the Red Launds, and order him to be ready with you with his whole company of knights, and then you will be able to match King Arthur and his knights."
So this was done, and all the knights were sent for to the Castle Perilous. And then the Red Knight answered, and said to Dame Lionesse and to Sir Gareth, "Madam, and my lord Sir Gareth, you should know that I have been at King Arthur's court, and Sir Persant of Inde and his brothers too, and there we have done our homage as you commanded us."
Also Sir Ironside said, "I have undertaken, with Sir Persant of Inde and his brothers, to take sides against my lord Sir Lancelot and the knights of that court. And this I have done for the love of my lady Dame Lionesse, and of you, my lord Sir Gareth."
"You have done well," said Sir Gareth. "But believe me, you will be very hard matched against the noblest knights in the world. And so we must provide ourselves with good knights, wherever we can get them."
"That is well said," said Sir Persant, "and honourably."
And so the proclamation was made in England, Wales and Scotland, Ireland, Cornwall, and in all the Out Isles, and in Brittany and in many countries: that at the feast of the Assumption of our Lady next coming, men should come to the Castle Perilous beside the Isle of Avalon; and there all the knights who came should have the choice whether they wished to be on the one side, with the knights of the castle, or on the other side, with King Arthur. And it was two months to the day before the tournament was to be. And so many good knights came who were free of any lord, and for the most part they held against King Arthur and his knights of the Round Table, and came in on the side of those of the castle. For Sir Epinogrus was the first, and he was the son of the King of Northumberland; and Sir Palomides the Saracen was another, and Sir Safere his brother, and Sir Segwarides his brother, but they were christened; and Sir Malegrine another; and Sir Brian de les Isles, a noble knight; and Sir Grummore Grummursum, a good knight of Scotland; and Sir Carados of the Dolorous Tower, a noble knight; and Sir Turquine his brother; and Sir Arnold and Sir Gauter, two brothers, good knights of Cornwall. There came Sir Tristram de Liones, and with him Sir Dinas the Seneschal, and Sir Sadok; but this Sir Tristram was not a knight of the Round Table at that time, but he was one of the best knights in the world. And so all these noble knights joined the lady of the castle, and the Red Knight of the Red Launds; but as for Sir Gareth, he would take on himself no more than any other ordinary knight.
And then there came with King Arthur Sir Gawain, Agravain and Gaheris, his brothers. And then his nephews Sir Uwain le Blanchemains, and Sir Aglovale, Sir Tor, Sir Percival de Galis, and Sir Lamorak de Galis. Then came Sir Lancelot du Lake with his brothers, nephews and cousins, such as Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, and Sir Galihodin, Sir Galihud, and many more of Sir Lancelot's blood; and Sir Dinadan, Sir La Cote Male Taile, his brother, a good knight, and Sir Sagramore, a good knight; and the greater part of the Round Table. Also there came with King Arthur these knights: the King of Ireland, King Agwisance, and the King of Scotland, King Carados, and King Uriens of the land of Gore, and King Bagdemagus and his son Sir Meliagaunce, and Sir Galahalt the noble prince. All these kings, princes and earls, barons and other noble knights, such as Sir Brandiles, Sir Uwain les Avoutres, and Sir Kay, Sir Bedivere, Sir Meliot de Logres, Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir Godelake: all these came with King Arthur, and more than can be listed.
Now we leave these kings and knights, and let us speak of the great preparations that were made inside the castle and around the castle for both sides. The Lady Dame Lionesse made great preparations on her side for her noble knights, with every kind of lodging and food, coming by land and by water, so that nothing was lacking for her side, nor for the other; but there was plenty to be had for gold and silver for King Arthur and his knights. And then King Arthur's harbingers came, the officers sent ahead to find lodging for him and his kings, dukes, earls, barons and knights. And then Sir Gareth begged Dame Lionesse and the Red Knight of the Red Launds, and Sir Persant and his brother, and Sir Gringamore, that on no account should any of them tell his name, and that they should make no more of him than of the least knight there. "For," he said, "I will not be known by anyone, great or small, neither at the beginning nor at the end."
Then Dame Lionesse said to Sir Gareth, "Sir, I will lend you a ring, but I would beg you, as you love me with all your heart, to let me have it back when the tournament is over, for that ring makes me much more beautiful than I am by nature. And the power of my ring is this: what is green it will turn to red, and what is red it will turn in likeness to green, and what is blue it will turn to the likeness of white, and what is white it will turn in likeness to blue, and so it will do with every kind of colour. Also, whoever wears my ring shall lose no blood. And for great love I will give you this ring."
"Many thanks, my own lady," said Sir Gareth, "for this ring suits me exceedingly well, for it will change every likeness I am in, and that will make sure I am not known."
Then Sir Gringamore gave Sir Gareth a bay warhorse that was an exceedingly good horse; and he also gave him good, sound armour, and a noble sword that Sir Gringamore's father had once won from a heathen tyrant. And so every knight made himself ready for that tournament. And King Arthur had come two days before the Assumption of our Lady. And there was every kind of royal show, with all the minstrelsy that could be found. Also Queen Guinevere came, and the Queen of Orkney, Sir Gareth's mother.
And on the day of the Assumption, when mass and matins were done, the heralds with trumpets were commanded to sound to the field. And so Sir Epinogrus, the son of the King of Northumberland, came out from the castle, and Sir Sagramore le Desirous met him, and each of them broke his spear right to his hand. And then Sir Palomides came in out of the castle, and Gawain met him, and each of them struck the other so hard that both the good knights and their horses fell to the earth. And then knights of each side rescued their knights. And then Sir Safere and Sir Segwarides came in, brothers to Sir Palomides; and there Sir Agravain met Sir Safere, and Sir Gaheris met Sir Segwarides. So Sir Safere struck down Agravain, Sir Gawain's brother; and so did Sir Segwarides, Sir Safere's brother. And Sir Malegrine, a knight of the castle, met Sir Uwain le Blanchemains, and there Sir Uwain gave Sir Malegrine such a fall that he almost broke his neck.
Then Sir Brian de les Isles and Grummore Grummursum, knights of the castle, met Sir Aglovale and Sir Tor, and Sir Tor struck Sir Grummore Grummursum down to the ground. Then Sir Carados of the Dolorous Tower and Sir Turquine, knights of the castle, came in; and against them came Sir Percival de Galis and Sir Lamorak de Galis, who were two brothers. And there Sir Percival met Sir Carados, and each of them broke his spear right up to his hand; and then Sir Turquine met Sir Lamorak, and each of them struck the other down to the ground, horse and all, and each side rescued its man and got them on horseback again. And Sir Arnold and Sir Gauter, knights of the castle, met Sir Brandiles and Sir Kay, and these four knights came together mightily, and broke their spears right up to their hands. Then Sir Tristram, Sir Sadok and Sir Dinas, knights of the castle, came in, and there Sir Tristram met Sir Bedivere, and there Sir Bedivere was struck to the ground, both horse and man. And Sir Sadok met Sir Petipase, and there Sir Sadok was unhorsed. And there Uwain les Avoutres struck down Sir Dinas, the Seneschal. Then Sir Persant of Inde, a knight of the castle, came in, and against him came Sir Lancelot du Lake, and there he struck Sir Persant to the ground, horse and man. Then Sir Pertolepe came from the castle, and against him came Sir Lionel, and there Sir Pertolepe, the Green Knight, struck down Sir Lionel, Sir Lancelot's brother. All this was noted by noble heralds, who bore himself best, and their names.
And then Sir Perimones, the Red Knight, Sir Persant's brother, who was a knight of the castle, came into the field, and he met Sir Ector de Maris, and each struck the other so hard that both their horses and they themselves fell to the ground. And then the Red Knight of the Red Launds and Sir Gareth came in from the castle, and against them came Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Bleoberis; and there the Red Knight and Sir Bors struck each other so hard that their spears burst, and their horses fell grovelling to the ground. Then Sir Bleoberis broke his spear on Sir Gareth, but from that stroke Sir Bleoberis fell to the ground. When Sir Galihodin saw that, he told Sir Gareth to defend himself, and Sir Gareth struck him to the ground. Then Sir Galihud got a spear to avenge his brother, and Sir Gareth served him the same way, and Sir Dinadan and his brother La Cote Male Taile, and Sir Sagramore le Desirous, and Sir Dodinas le Savage. All these he bore down with one spear.
When King Agwisance of Ireland saw Sir Gareth go on like this, he wondered who he could be, who one time seemed green, and another time, when he came back again, seemed blue. And so at every course that he rode to and fro he changed his colour, so that neither king nor knight could readily recognise him. Then Sir Agwisance, the King of Ireland, met Sir Gareth, and there Sir Gareth struck him from his horse, saddle and all. And then King Carados of Scotland came, and Sir Gareth struck him down, horse and man. And he served King Uriens of the land of Gore the same way. And then Sir Bagdemagus came in, and Sir Gareth struck him to the ground, horse and man. And Bagdemagus's son, Meliagaunce, broke a spear on Sir Gareth mightily and like a true knight. And then Sir Galahalt, the noble prince, called out loud, "Knight with the many colours, you have jousted well! Now make yourself ready, so that I can joust with you."
Sir Gareth heard him, and he got a great spear, and so they met, and there the prince broke his spear; but Sir Gareth struck him on the left side of the helm, so that he reeled this way and that, and he would have fallen if his men had not caught him.
"God help me," said King Arthur, "that same knight with the many colours is a good knight."
So the king called Sir Lancelot to him, and asked him to joust with that knight.
"Sir," said Lancelot, "I can well find it in my heart to leave him alone this time, for he has had labour enough today. And when a good knight does so well on a given day, it is no good knight's part to rob him of his honour, especially when he sees a knight has done such great labour. For perhaps," said Sir Lancelot, "his quarrel lies here today, and perhaps he is the best loved by this lady of all who are here; for I can see well that he strains and drives himself to do great deeds. And therefore," said Sir Lancelot, "as far as I am concerned, he shall have the honour today. Even if it lay in my power to take it from him, I would not."
Then, when this was done, swords were drawn, and then a hard tournament began. And there Sir Lamorak did marvellous deeds of arms; and between Sir Lamorak and Sir Ironside, who was the Red Knight of the Red Launds, there was a strong fight; and between Sir Palomides and Bleoberis there was a strong fight; and Sir Gawain and Sir Tristram met, and there Sir Gawain had the worst of it, for Sir Tristram pulled Sir Gawain from his horse, and there he was a long while on foot, and trampled. Then Sir Lancelot came in, and he struck Sir Turquine, and Sir Turquine him; and then his brother Sir Carados came, and both at once they attacked him, and he, as the noblest knight in the world, fought both of them honourably, so that all men wondered at the nobility of Sir Lancelot. And then Sir Gareth came in, and saw that it was Sir Lancelot who was fighting the two dangerous knights. And then Sir Gareth came up on his good horse and drove them apart, and he would not strike a single stroke at Sir Lancelot. Sir Lancelot noticed that, and judged that it must be the good knight Sir Gareth. And then Sir Gareth rode here and there, and struck on the right hand and on the left, and all the people could easily see where he rode. And by chance he met his brother Sir Gawain, and there he got the better of Sir Gawain, for he knocked off his helm; and he served five or six knights of the Round Table the same way, so that all men said he took the most pains, and did his duty best.
For when Sir Tristram watched how he first jousted and afterwards fought so well with a sword, he rode to Sir Ironside and to Sir Persant of Inde, and asked them, by their faith, "What sort of knight is that knight over there, who appears in so many different colours? Truly, it seems to me," said Tristram, "that he puts himself to great pains, for he never stops."
"Don't you know who he is?" said Sir Ironside.
"No," said Sir Tristram.
"Then you shall know that this is the one who loves the lady of the castle, and she loves him in return; and this is the one who beat me when I besieged the lady of this castle, and this is the one who beat Sir Persant of Inde and his three brothers."
"What is his name," said Sir Tristram, "and what blood does he come of?"
"At King Arthur's court he was called Beaumains, but his true name is Sir Gareth of Orkney, Sir Gawain's brother."
"On my life," said Sir Tristram, "he is a good knight, and a great man of arms, and if he is young he will prove a very noble knight."
"He is only a boy," they all said, "and he was made a knight by Sir Lancelot."
"Then he is all the better for it," said Tristram.
And then Sir Tristram, Sir Ironside, Sir Persant and his brother rode together to help Sir Gareth; and then many strong strokes were given.
And then Sir Gareth rode out to one side to mend his helm; and then his dwarf said, "Give me your ring, so that you don't lose it while you drink."
And so, when he had drunk, he put on his helm, and eagerly took his horse and rode into the field, and left his ring with his dwarf; and the dwarf was glad the ring was off him, for then he knew very well that he would be recognised. And then, when Sir Gareth was in the field, all the people saw him well and plainly, that he was in yellow colours; and there he tore off helms and pulled down knights, so that King Arthur wondered what knight he was, for the king saw by his hair that it was the same knight.
But before, he had been in so many colours, and now he was in only one colour, and that was yellow.
"Now go," said King Arthur to several heralds, "and ride around him, and find out what sort of knight he is, for I have asked many knights today who are on his side, and they all say they don't know him."
And so a herald rode as near Gareth as he could, and there he saw written around his helm in gold: "This helm is Sir Gareth of Orkney's."
Then the herald shouted like a madman, and many heralds with him, "This is Sir Gareth of Orkney in the yellow arms!" At this all of Arthur's kings and knights looked at him and watched him; and then they all pressed forward to see him, and all the while the heralds shouted, "This is Sir Gareth of Orkney, King Lot's son!"
And when Sir Gareth saw that he had been found out, he doubled his strokes, and struck down Sir Sagramore, and his brother Sir Gawain.
"Oh, brother," said Sir Gawain, "I thought you would not have struck me."
So when he heard him say that, he pushed his way here and there, and so with great difficulty he got out of the thick of the crowd, and there he met his dwarf.
"Oh, boy," said Sir Gareth, "you've played me a foul trick today, keeping my ring. Give it back to me at once, so that I can hide myself with it."
And so he gave it to him. And then none of them knew what had become of him; but Sir Gawain had more or less seen where Sir Gareth rode, and he rode after him with all his might. Sir Gareth noticed that, and rode swiftly into the forest, so that Sir Gawain did not know what had become of him. And when Sir Gareth knew that Sir Gawain had gone by, he asked the dwarf for his best advice.
"Sir," said the dwarf, "it seems to me it would be best, now that you have escaped from being spied on, that you send my lady Dame Lionesse her ring."
"That's good advice," said Sir Gareth. "Now take it here and carry it to her, and say that I commend myself to her good grace, and tell her I will come when I can, and I beg her to be true and faithful to me as I will be to her."
"Sir," said the dwarf, "it shall be done as you command."
And so he rode on his way, and did his errand to the lady. Then she said, "Where is my knight, Sir Gareth?"
"Madam," said the dwarf, "he told me to say that he would not be long away from you."
And so the dwarf came back swiftly to Sir Gareth, who would very gladly have had a lodging, for he needed rest. And then there came thunder and rain, as if heaven and earth were coming together. And Sir Gareth was more than a little weary, for all that day he had had very little rest, neither his horse nor he. So this Sir Gareth rode on in that forest until night came. And all the while it lightened and thundered, as if it had gone mad. At last by chance he came to a castle, and there he heard the watchmen on the walls.
Then Sir Gareth rode up to the gate-tower of the castle, and asked the porter politely to let him into the castle. The porter answered him rudely, and said, "You'll get no lodging here."
"Fair sir, don't say that, for I am a knight of King Arthur's; and I beg the lord or the lady of this castle to give me shelter for the love of King Arthur."
Then the porter went to the duchess, and told her that there was a knight of King Arthur's who wanted shelter.
"Let him in," said the duchess, "for I want to see that knight, and for King Arthur's sake he shall not be without shelter."
Then she went up into a tower over the gate, with a great blaze of torches. When Sir Gareth saw that torchlight he called out loud, "Whether you are lord or lady, giant or champion, I care nothing for that, so long as I may have shelter tonight. And if it happens that I must fight, don't spare me tomorrow morning when I have rested, for both I and my horse are weary."
"Sir knight," said the lady, "you speak like a knight, and boldly. But you may be sure that the lord of this castle does not love King Arthur, nor anyone of his court, for my lord has always been against him. And therefore you would do better not to come into this castle; for if you come in tonight, you must come in on these terms: that wherever you meet my lord, by path or by road, you must yield yourself to him as his prisoner."
"Madam," said Sir Gareth, "who is your lord, and what is his name?"
"Sir, my lord's name is the Duke de la Rowse."
"Well, madam," said Sir Gareth, "I promise you that wherever I meet your lord I will yield myself to him and to his good grace, on the understanding that he will do me no harm. And if I find that he means to, I will free myself if I can, with my spear and my sword."
"You speak well," said the duchess.
And then she had the drawbridge let down, and so he rode into the hall, and there he dismounted, and his horse was led into a stable. And in the hall he took off his armour, and said, "Madam, I will not stir out of this hall tonight; and when it is daylight, whoever wants to fight me will find me ready."
Then he was seated at supper, and had many good dishes. Then Sir Gareth had a fine appetite, and he ate his food like a knight, and eagerly. There were many fair ladies near him, and some said they had never seen a finer-looking man, nor one who ate so well. Then they gave him an exceedingly warm welcome, and soon, when he had had his supper, his bed was made up there; so he rested all night.
And in the morning he heard mass, and broke his fast, and took his leave of the duchess and of them all, and thanked her graciously for his lodging and for his good welcome. And then she asked him his name.
"Madam," he said, "truly my name is Gareth of Orkney, and some men call me Beaumains."
Then she knew well that it was the same knight who had fought for Dame Lionesse. So Sir Gareth left, and rode up onto a mountain, and there a knight met him, whose name was Sir Bendelaine, and he said to Sir Gareth, "You won't pass this way. Either you joust with me, or you're my prisoner."
"Then I will joust," said Sir Gareth.
And so they let their horses run, and there Sir Gareth struck him clean through the body; and Sir Bendelaine rode on to his castle near by, and there he died. So Sir Gareth, wanting to rest, came riding up to Bendelaine's castle. Then his knights and servants saw that it was he who had killed their lord. Then they armed twenty good men, and came out and attacked Sir Gareth; and he had no spear, only his sword, and he set his shield in front of him; and there they broke their spears on him, and they attacked him exceedingly hard. But all the while Sir Gareth defended himself like a knight.
So when they saw that they could not overcome him, they rode away from him, and decided among themselves to kill his horse; and so they came in on Sir Gareth, and with spears they killed his horse, and then they attacked him hard. But when he was on foot, there was not one he fought whom he did not give such a blow that he never recovered. So he killed them one by one until there were only four, and then they fled; and Sir Gareth took a good horse that was one of theirs, and rode on his way.
Then he rode at a great pace until he came to a castle, and there he heard a great mourning of ladies and gentlewomen. So a page came by him.
"What is this noise," said Sir Gareth, "that I hear inside this castle?"
"Sir knight," said the page, "there are thirty ladies inside this castle, and all of them are widows; for there is a knight who lies in wait every day outside this castle, and his name is the Brown Knight without Pity, and he is the most dangerous knight alive now. And therefore, sir," said the page, "I advise you to flee."
"No," said Sir Gareth, "I will not flee, though you are afraid of him."
And then the page saw the Brown Knight coming. "Look," said the page, "there he comes."
"Let me deal with him," said Sir Gareth.
And when each caught sight of the other they let their horses run, and the Brown Knight broke his spear, and Sir Gareth struck him clean through the body, so that he threw him to the ground stone dead. So Sir Gareth rode into the castle, and asked the ladies if he might rest there.
"Alas," said the ladies, "you cannot be lodged here."
"Give him a good welcome," said the page, "for this knight has killed your enemy."
Then they all gave him as good a welcome as lay in their power. But you may be sure they gave him a good welcome only as they could, for they could do no better, for they were poor.
And so in the morning he went to mass, and there he saw the thirty ladies kneeling, and lying grovelling on various tombs, grieving greatly and sorrowing. Then Sir Gareth knew well that their lords lay in the tombs.
"Fair ladies," said Sir Gareth, "you must be at King Arthur's court at the next feast of Pentecost, and say that I, Sir Gareth, sent you there."
"We shall do this," said the ladies.
So he left, and by chance he came to a mountain, and there he found a fine-looking knight who called to him, "Stop, sir knight, and joust with me."
"Who are you?" said Sir Gareth.
"My name," he said, "is the Duke de la Rowse."
"Ah, sir, you are the same knight in whose castle I once lodged; and there I promised your lady that I would yield myself to you."
"Ah," said the duke, "so you're that proud knight who offers to fight my knights? Then make yourself ready, for I will fight you."
So they let their horses run, and there Sir Gareth struck the duke down from his horse. But the duke swiftly got clear of his horse, and set his shield and drew his sword, and told Sir Gareth to dismount and fight with him. So he did dismount, and they fought a great fight together for more than an hour, and each wounded the other very badly. At last Sir Gareth got the duke to the ground, and would have killed him, and then he yielded to him.
"Then you must go," said Sir Gareth, "to Sir Arthur my lord at the next feast, and say that I, Sir Gareth of Orkney, sent you to him."
"It shall be done," said the duke, "and I will do homage and fealty to you, with a hundred knights with me; and all the days of my life I will do you service wherever you command me."
So the duke left, and Sir Gareth stood there alone; and there he saw an armed knight coming towards him. Then Sir Gareth took the duke's shield, and mounted his horse, and so without waiting they ran together as if it had been thunder. And there that knight wounded Sir Gareth in the side with his spear. And then they dismounted and drew their swords, and gave such great strokes that the blood ran trailing to the ground. And so they fought for two hours.
At last the damsel Linet came, whom some men called the Damsel Savage, and she came riding on an ambling mule; and there she cried out loud, "Sir Gawain, Sir Gawain, stop fighting your brother Sir Gareth!"
And when he heard her say so, he threw away his shield and his sword, and ran to Sir Gareth, and took him in his arms, and then knelt down and begged his pardon.
"Who are you," said Sir Gareth, "who just now were so strong and so mighty, and now so suddenly yield to me?"
"Oh, Gareth, I am your brother Sir Gawain, who has had great sorrow and labour for your sake."
Then Sir Gareth unlaced his helm, and knelt down to him, and begged his pardon. Then they both rose, and embraced each other in their arms, and wept a long while before they could speak, and each of them gave the other the prize of the fight. And there were many kind words between them.
"Alas, my fair brother," said Sir Gawain, "by God, I ought by rights to honour you even if you were not my brother, for you have done honour to King Arthur and all his court, for in this twelvemonth you have sent him more honourable knights than six of the best of the Round Table have done, except Sir Lancelot."
Then the Damsel Savage came up, who was the Lady Linet, who had ridden with Sir Gareth so long, and there she staunched Sir Gareth's wounds and Sir Gawain's.
"Now what will you do?" said the Damsel Savage. "It seems to me it would be well if Arthur knew about you both, for your horses are so bruised that they cannot carry you."
"Now, fair damsel," said Sir Gawain, "I beg you to ride to my lord my uncle, King Arthur, and tell him what has happened to me here, and I expect he will not be long in coming."
Then she took her mule, and swiftly she came to King Arthur, who was only two miles from there. And when she had told him the news, the king had a palfrey brought for him. And when he was on its back he told the lords and ladies to come after, whoever wished; and there was saddling and bridling of queens' horses and princes' horses, and lucky was the one who could be ready soonest.
So when the king came to where they were, he saw Sir Gawain and Sir Gareth sitting on a little hillside, and then the king got down from his horse. And when he came near Sir Gareth he tried to speak but could not; and with that he sank down in a faint for gladness. And so they leapt up and went to their uncle, and begged him of his good grace to take comfort. Believe me, the king rejoiced greatly, and many a pitiful lament he made to Sir Gareth, and all the while he wept like a child. With that his mother came, the Queen of Orkney, Dame Morgause, and when she saw Sir Gareth plainly face to face she could not weep, but suddenly fell down in a faint, and lay there a long while as if she were dead. And then Sir Gareth comforted his mother in such a way that she recovered and grew cheerful. Then the king commanded that all the knights who were under his rule should make their lodging right there, for the love of his nephews. And so it was done, and every kind of provision was supplied, so that nothing was lacking that could be got, tame or wild, for gold or silver. And then, through the care of the Damsel Savage, Sir Gawain and Sir Gareth were healed of their wounds; and there they stayed eight days.
Then King Arthur said to the Damsel Savage, "I wonder that your sister, Dame Lionesse, does not come here to me, and especially that she does not come to visit her knight, my nephew Sir Gareth, who has had so much labour for her love."
"My lord," said the damsel Linet, "of your good grace you must hold her excused, for she does not know that my lord, Sir Gareth, is here."
"Go for her, then," said King Arthur, "so that we can settle what is best to be done, according to the wishes of my nephew."
"Sir," said the damsel, "that shall be done."
And so she rode to her sister. And as swiftly as she could, Dame Lionesse made herself ready; and she came in the morning with her brother Sir Gringamore, and with her forty knights. And so when she had come she had all the welcome that could be given, both from the king and from many other kings and queens.
And among all these ladies she was named the fairest, and without equal. Then, when Sir Gareth saw her, there were many fond looks and fond words, so that all men of honour were glad to see them. Then King Arthur came, and many other kings, and Dame Guinevere, and the Queen of Orkney. And there the king asked his nephew, Sir Gareth, whether he would have that lady as his lover, or have her as his wife.
"My lord, you may be sure that I love her above all ladies living."
"Now, fair lady," said King Arthur, "what do you say?"
"Most noble king," said Dame Lionesse, "you may be sure that I would rather have and hold my lord Sir Gareth as my husband than any king or prince who is christened; and if I cannot have him, I promise you I will never have anyone. For, my lord Arthur," said Dame Lionesse, "believe me, he is my first love, and he shall be the last; and if you will allow him his will and free choice, I dare say he will have me."
"That is the truth," said Sir Gareth. "If I do not have you, and hold you as my wife, no lady or gentlewoman will ever gladden me."
"What, nephew," said the king, "is that the way the wind blows? Believe me, I would not for the loss of my crown be the cause of parting your hearts; and you may be sure you cannot love so well that I will not rather increase it than hinder it. And you shall also have my love and my lordship in the fullest way that lies in my power."
And Sir Gareth's mother said the same.
Then provision was made for the day of the marriage; and on the king's advice it was arranged that it should be at the following Michaelmas, at Kink Kenadon by the seaside, for that is a plentiful country. And so it was proclaimed in every place throughout the realm. And then Sir Gareth sent his summons to all those knights and ladies whom he had won in battle before, that they should be at his wedding day at Kink Kenadon by the sands.
And then Dame Lionesse, and the damsel Linet, with Sir Gringamore, rode to their castle; and she gave Sir Gareth a fine and rich ring, and he gave her another. And King Arthur gave her a rich rosary of gold beads; and so she left.
And King Arthur and his fellowship rode towards Kink Kenadon, and Sir Gareth escorted his lady on her way, and so came back to the king again and rode with him.
Lord, what a welcome Sir Lancelot gave Sir Gareth, and he him! For there was never any knight Sir Gareth loved so well as he did Sir Lancelot, and he would nearly always be in Sir Lancelot's company. For after Sir Gareth had seen what Sir Gawain's character was, he withdrew himself from his brother Sir Gawain's fellowship, for he was vengeful, and where he hated he would be avenged by murder; and Sir Gareth hated that.
So Michaelmas drew near; and Dame Lionesse, the lady of the Castle Perilous, came there, and her sister, Dame Linet, with Sir Gringamore, her brother, with them, for he had the escorting of these ladies. And there they were lodged as King Arthur arranged. And on Michaelmas Day the Bishop of Canterbury performed the wedding between Sir Gareth and the Lady Lionesse with great solemnity. And King Arthur had Gaheris marry the Damsel Savage, who was Dame Linet; and King Arthur had Sir Agravain marry Dame Lionesse's niece, a fair lady, whose name was Dame Laurel.
And so, when this ceremony was done, the Green Knight, Sir Pertolepe, came in with thirty knights, and there he did homage and fealty to Sir Gareth, and these knights were to hold their lands of him for evermore. Sir Pertolepe also said, "I beg you that at this feast I may be your chamberlain."
"Willingly," said Sir Gareth, "since it pleases you to take so humble an office."
Then the Red Knight came in, with sixty knights with him, and did homage and fealty to Sir Gareth, and all those knights were to hold their lands of him for evermore. And then this Sir Perimones asked Sir Gareth to grant that he might be his chief butler at that high feast.
"Gladly," said Sir Gareth, "you shall have this office, and a better one if it were mine to give."
Then Sir Persant of Inde came in, with a hundred knights with him, and there he did homage and fealty, and all his knights were to do him service, and hold their lands of him for ever; and there he asked Sir Gareth to make him his chief sewer at the feast, the officer who sets the dishes on the table and tastes them.
"Gladly," said Sir Gareth, "you shall have it, and a better one if it were mine to give."
Then the Duke de la Rowse came, with a hundred knights with him, and there he did homage and fealty to Sir Gareth, and so they were to hold their lands of him for ever. And he asked Sir Gareth that he might serve him the wine on that day of the feast.
"Gladly," said Sir Gareth, "and a better office if it were mine to give."
Then the Red Knight of the Red Launds came in, who was Sir Ironside, and he brought three hundred knights with him, and there he did homage and fealty, and all these knights were to hold their lands of him for ever. And then he asked Sir Gareth to be his carver.
"Gladly," said Sir Gareth, "if it pleases you."
Then thirty ladies came into the court, and all of them looked like widows, and those thirty ladies brought many fair gentlewomen with them. And all of them knelt down at once before King Arthur and Sir Gareth, and there all those ladies told the king how Sir Gareth had freed them from the Dolorous Tower, and killed the Brown Knight without Pity: "And therefore we, and our heirs for evermore, will do homage to Sir Gareth of Orkney."
So then the kings and queens, princes and earls, barons and many bold knights, went to their meal; and you may well believe there was every kind of food in plenty, every kind of revel and game, with every kind of minstrelsy that was used in those days. There were also great jousts for three days. But the king would not allow Sir Gareth to joust, because of his new bride; for, as the French book says, Dame Lionesse asked the king that no one who was married should joust at that feast.
So on the first day Sir Lamorak de Galis jousted, for he unhorsed thirty knights, and did exceedingly marvellous deeds of arms; and then King Arthur made Sir Persant and his two brothers Knights of the Round Table to their lives' end, and gave them great lands. On the second day Tristram jousted best, and he unhorsed forty knights, and did marvellous deeds of arms there. And there King Arthur made Ironside, who was the Red Knight of the Red Launds, a Knight of the Round Table to his life's end, and gave him great lands. On the third day Sir Lancelot du Lake jousted, and he unhorsed fifty knights, and did many marvellous deeds of arms, so that all men wondered at him. And there King Arthur made the Duke de la Rowse a Knight of the Round Table to his life's end, and gave him great lands to live on. But when these jousts were done, Sir Lamorak and Sir Tristram left suddenly, and would not make themselves known, at which King Arthur and all the court were greatly displeased. And so they held the court forty days with great solemnity. And this Sir Gareth was a noble knight, and a well-governed one, and well-spoken.
Thus ends this tale of Sir Gareth of Orkney, who married Dame Lionesse of the Castle Perilous. And Sir Gaheris also married her sister, Dame Linet, who was called the Damsel Savage. And Sir Agravain married Dame Laurel, a fair lady and a great one; and King Arthur gave great riches and mighty lands with them, so that they might live royally to their lives' end.
Here follows the eighth book, which is the first book of Sir Tristram de Liones, and tells who his father and his mother were, and how he was born and brought up, and how he was made a knight.
There was a king called Meliodas, and he was lord and king of the country of Liones, and this Meliodas was as fine a knight as any living at that time. And as fortune had it he married King Mark of Cornwall's sister, and she was called Elizabeth, and she was said to be both good and beautiful. And at that time King Arthur reigned, and he was king of all England, Wales and Scotland, and of many other realms. Yet there were many kings who were lords of many countries, but they all held their lands from King Arthur; for in Wales there were two kings, and in the north there were many kings, and in Cornwall and in the west there were two kings; also in Ireland there were two or three kings, and all of them were under the rule of King Arthur. So was the King of France, and the King of Brittany, and all the lordships as far as Rome.
So when this King Meliodas had been with his wife, within a while she was big with child, and she was a very gentle lady, and she loved her lord well, and he loved her in return, so there was great joy between them. Now there was a lady in that country who had long loved King Meliodas, and by no means could she ever win his love. So one day, as King Meliodas rode hunting, for he was a great huntsman, she had it arranged that by an enchantment she made him chase a hart by himself alone, until he came to an old castle, and there at once he was taken prisoner by the lady who loved him. When Elizabeth, King Meliodas' wife, missed her lord, she was nearly out of her mind, and big with child as she was, she took a gentlewoman with her and ran into the forest to look for her lord. And when she was far into the forest she could go no farther, for her labour came on her fast. And she had many terrible pains; her gentlewoman helped her all she could, and so by a miracle of Our Lady of Heaven she was delivered, with great pain. But she had taken such a chill for lack of help that the deep pull of death took her, so that she must die and leave this world; there was no help for it.
And when this Queen Elizabeth saw that there was no help for it, she grieved greatly, and said to her gentlewoman, "When you see my lord, King Meliodas, commend me to him, and tell him what pains I suffer here for his love, and how I must die here for his sake for lack of good help; and let him know that I am very sorry to leave this world and him, and so beg him to be a friend to my soul. Now let me see my little child, for whom I have had all this sorrow."
And when she saw him she said this: "Ah, my little son, you have murdered your mother, and so I think that you, who are a murderer so young, are very likely to be a valiant man when you are grown. And because I shall die of giving birth to you, I charge you, gentlewoman, to beg my lord, King Meliodas, that when he is christened he have him named Tristram, which is as much as to say a sorrowful birth."
And with that the queen gave up the ghost and died. Then the gentlewoman laid her in the shade of a great tree, and then she wrapped the child as well as she could against the cold. Just then the barons came, following after the queen, and when they saw that she was dead, and took it for certain that the king was dead too, then some of them would have killed the child, because they wanted to be lords of the country of Liones.
But then, through the fair speech of the gentlewoman and the efforts she made, most of the barons would not agree to it. And then they had the dead queen carried home, and there was much grieving for her.
Then in the meantime Merlin freed King Meliodas from prison, on the morning after his queen died. And so when the king came home most of the barons rejoiced greatly. But the sorrow the king felt for his queen, no tongue could tell. So then the king had her buried richly, and afterwards he had his child christened as his wife had commanded before her death. And then he had him named Tristram, the sorrowful-born child. Then King Meliodas lived seven years without a wife, and all this time Tristram was well brought up. Then it happened that King Meliodas married King Howell of Brittany's daughter, and soon she had children by King Meliodas. Then she was downcast and angry that her children would not inherit the country of Liones, and so this queen planned to poison young Tristram. So she had poison put in a silver cup in the room where Tristram and her children were together, intending that when Tristram was thirsty he should drink that drink. And so it happened one day that the queen's son, while he was in that room, saw the cup with the poison, and he thought it was good drink, and because the child was thirsty he took the cup with the poison and drank deeply; and with that the child suddenly burst and was dead.
When the queen of Meliodas learned of her son's death, you may be sure she was downcast. But still the king knew nothing of her treason. All the same the queen would not give this up, but she had more poison prepared again, and put it in a cup. And as fortune had it King Meliodas, her husband, found the cup with the wine where the poison was, and since he was very thirsty he took the cup to drink from it. And as he was about to drink from it the queen saw him, and then she ran to him and snatched the cup from him. The king wondered why she did so, and remembered how her son had been suddenly killed with poison. And then he took her by the hand and said, "You lying traitress, you will tell me what kind of drink this is, or I will kill you."
And with that he drew his sword, and swore a great oath that he would kill her unless she told him the truth.
"Ah, mercy, my lord," she said, "and I will tell you everything."
And then she told him why she had wanted to kill Tristram: so that her children would inherit his land.
"Well," said King Meliodas, "then you shall have the law."
And so she was condemned to be burned, with the agreement of the barons. And then a great fire was made, and just as she was at the fire to be executed, young Tristram knelt before King Meliodas and begged him to grant him a favour.
"Gladly," said the king.
Then young Tristram said, "Give me the life of your queen, my stepmother."
"That is wrongly asked," said King Meliodas, "for by rights you ought to hate her, since she would have killed you with that poison if she could have had her way; and it is mostly for your sake that I want her to die."
"Sir," said Tristram, "as for that, I beg you of your mercy to forgive her for it. And as for my part, may God forgive her, and I do. And since it pleased your highness to grant me my favour, for the love of God I ask you to keep your promise."
"Since that is how it is," said the king, "I will that you have her life." Then the king said, "I give her to you; go to the fire and take her, and do with her what you will."
So Sir Tristram went to the fire, and by the king's command saved her from death. But after that King Meliodas would never have anything to do with her, at bed or at table. But through young Tristram's good offices he made the king and her reconciled. But then the king would not allow young Tristram to stay any longer at his court.
And then he appointed a gentleman who was well learned and well taught, and his name was Gouvernail; and then he sent young Tristram with Gouvernail into France, to learn the language, and good manners, and deeds of arms. And Tristram was there more than seven years. And then, when he could speak the language well, and had learned all that he could learn in that country, he came home again to his father, King Meliodas. And so Tristram learned to be a harper beyond all others, so that there was none like him in any country, and so in his youth he set himself to learn the harp and instruments of music.
And afterwards, as he grew in might and strength, he worked always at hunting and hawking, more than any gentleman we ever heard read of. And as the book says, he devised the proper horn calls for the beasts of the hunt (the great game of venery, the lesser beasts of the chase, and every kind of vermin), and all these terms of hawking and hunting we still have. And that is why the book of hunting and hawking is called the book of Sir Tristram. So, it seems to me, all gentlemen who bear ancient coats of arms ought by rights to honour Sir Tristram for the fine terms that gentlemen have and use, and will use until the Day of Judgement, so that by them, in a way, all men of honour can tell a gentleman from a yeoman, and a yeoman from a peasant. For the man who is well-born will be drawn to well-born ways, and will follow the customs of noble gentlemen.
So Sir Tristram lived in Cornwall until he was big and strong, eighteen years old. And then King Meliodas had great joy of Sir Tristram, and so did the queen, his wife. For ever after, all her life, because Sir Tristram had saved her from the fire, she never hated him again, but loved him always, and gave Tristram many great gifts; for people of every rank loved him, wherever he went.
Then it happened that King Anguish of Ireland sent to King Mark of Cornwall for his tribute, which Cornwall had paid for many years. And all that time King Mark had been seven years behind with the tribute. And King Mark and his barons gave the messenger from Ireland this answer: that they would pay none. And they told the messenger to go to his King Anguish and tell him, "We will pay him no tribute. But tell your lord, if he insists on having tribute from us of Cornwall, to send a trusty knight of his land who will fight for his right, and we will find another to defend our right."
With this answer the messengers left for Ireland. And when King Anguish heard the messengers' answer he was furiously angry. And then he called to him Sir Marhaus, the good knight, who was nobly proven, and a knight of the Round Table. And this Marhaus was the brother of the queen of Ireland. Then the king said this: "Fair brother, Sir Marhaus, I beg you to go into Cornwall for my sake, and fight for our tribute, which by right we ought to have; and whatever you spend, you shall have plenty, more than you will need."
"Sir," said Marhaus, "you may be sure I will not be unwilling to fight for the right of you and your land against the best knight of the Round Table; for I know them, most of them, and what their deeds are. And to advance my deeds and to increase my honour I will very gladly go on this venture for our right."
So in all haste provision was made for Sir Marhaus, and he had everything he needed; and so he left Ireland, and landed in Cornwall right beside the Castle of Tintagil. And when King Mark understood that he had landed there to fight for Ireland, then King Mark was in great sorrow, when he understood that the good and noble knight Sir Marhaus had come. For they knew of no knight who dared fight him. For at that time Sir Marhaus was called one of the most famous and renowned knights in the world. And so Sir Marhaus stayed on the sea, and every day he sent to King Mark to pay the tribute that was seven years behind, or else to find a knight to fight him for the tribute. This kind of message Sir Marhaus sent to King Mark every day.
Then the men of Cornwall had proclamations made everywhere that whatever knight would fight to save Cornwall from the tribute would be rewarded so that he would be the better for it all his life. Then some of the barons spoke to King Mark and advised him to send to King Arthur's court to look for Sir Lancelot du Lake, who was at that time named the most marvellous knight in all the world. Then there were some other barons who advised the king not to do so, and said that it was labour in vain, because Sir Marhaus was a knight of the Round Table, and so any of them would be unwilling to fight another, unless it were some knight who chose of his own accord to fight disguised and unknown. So the king and all his barons agreed that there was no point in looking for any knight of the Round Table. Meanwhile word and rumour came to King Meliodas of how Sir Marhaus was waiting for a fight close by Tintagil, and how King Mark could find no knight at all to fight for him. When young Tristram heard of this he was angry, and deeply ashamed that no knight in Cornwall dared fight Sir Marhaus of Ireland.
With that Tristram went to his father, King Meliodas, and asked his advice on what was best to do to free Cornwall from the tribute. "For it seems to me," said Sir Tristram, "it would be a shame if Sir Marhaus, the Irish queen's brother, went away without someone having fought him."
"As for that," said King Meliodas, "believe me, son Tristram, Sir Marhaus is called one of the best knights in the world, and a knight of the Round Table; and so I know of no knight in this country who is able to match him."
"Alas," said Sir Tristram, "that I am not made a knight! If Sir Marhaus should leave for Ireland like this, may God never let me have honour: if I were made a knight I would match him. And sir," said Tristram, "I beg you to give me leave to ride to King Mark; and, if you are not displeased, I will be made a knight by King Mark."
"I am content," said King Meliodas, "that you be ruled as your heart rules you."
Then Sir Tristram thanked his father warmly. And then he made himself ready to ride into Cornwall.
In the meanwhile there came a messenger with love letters to Sir Tristram from the daughter of King Faramon of France, and they were very pitiful letters, and in them were written many laments of love; but Sir Tristram took no joy in her letters, and paid them no regard. She also sent him a little hound that was exceedingly beautiful. But when the king's daughter understood that Sir Tristram would not love her, as the book says, she died of sorrow. And then the same squire who brought the letter and the hound came back to Sir Tristram, as you will hear later in the tale.
So this young Sir Tristram rode to his uncle, King Mark of Cornwall. And when he came there he heard it said that no knight would fight Sir Marhaus. Then Sir Tristram went to his uncle and said, "Sir, if you will give me the order of knighthood, I will fight Sir Marhaus."
"Who are you," said the king, "and where have you come from?"
"Sir," said Tristram, "I come from King Meliodas, who married your sister, and I am a gentleman, you may be sure."
King Mark looked at Sir Tristram and saw that he was only a young man in years, but he was exceedingly well made and big.
"Fair sir," said the king, "what is your name, and where were you born?"
"Sir," he answered, "my name is Tristram, and I was born in the country of Liones."
"Well spoken," said the king. "And if you will do this battle I will make you a knight."
"That is why I come to you," said Sir Tristram, "and for no other reason."
So then King Mark made him a knight. And with that, as soon as he had made him a knight, he sent a messenger to Sir Marhaus with letters saying that he had found a young knight ready to take on the battle to the uttermost.
"That may well be," said Sir Marhaus, "but tell King Mark I will not fight any knight unless he is of royal blood, that is to say, either a king's son or a queen's son, born of a prince or a princess."
When King Mark heard that, he sent for Sir Tristram de Liones and told him what Sir Marhaus had answered. Then Sir Tristram said, "Since he says so, let him know that on my father's side and my mother's side I come of blood as noble as his. For, sir, now you shall know that I am King Meliodas' son, born of your own sister, Dame Elizabeth, who died in the forest giving birth to me."
"Oh, Jesus," said King Mark, "you are welcome, fair nephew, to me."
Then in all haste the king had Sir Tristram horsed, and armed him in the best way that could be had or got for gold or silver. And then King Mark sent to Sir Marhaus, and let him know that a better-born man than he was himself would fight him, "and his name is Sir Tristram de Liones, fathered by King Meliodas, and born of King Mark's sister." Then Sir Marhaus was glad and happy that he would fight such a gentleman. And so, by the agreement of King Mark and of Sir Marhaus, they arranged that they would fight on an island near Sir Marhaus' ships; and so Sir Tristram was put into a boat, both his horse and he, and everything that belonged to him, both for himself and for his horse. Sir Tristram lacked nothing. And when King Mark and his barons of Cornwall saw young Sir Tristram set off in such style to fight for the right of Cornwall, there was no man or woman of rank who did not weep to see and understand that so young a knight would put himself in danger for their right.
So, to cut this tale short, when Sir Tristram had landed on the island he looked to the far side, and there he saw six ships at anchor near the shore; and in the shadow of the ships, on the land, the noble knight Sir Marhaus of Ireland was waiting. Then Sir Tristram commanded his servant Gouvernail to bring his horse ashore and set his armour in order in every respect. And then, when he had done so, he mounted his horse; and when he was in his saddle, well equipped, and his shield set on his shoulder, Tristram asked Gouvernail, "Where is this knight I am to fight?"
"Sir," said Gouvernail, "don't you see him? I thought you had seen him. He is waiting over there in the shadow of his ships, on horseback, with his spear in his hand and his shield on his shoulder."
"That's true," said the noble knight Sir Tristram. "Now I see him well enough."
Then he commanded his servant Gouvernail to go back to his boat: "And commend me to my uncle King Mark, and ask him, if I am killed in this battle, to bury my body as he thinks best. And as for me, let him know that I will never yield out of cowardice; and if I am killed and do not flee, then they have lost no tribute because of me. And if it happens that I flee, or yield and beg for my life, tell my uncle never to bury me in Christian ground. And on your life," said Sir Tristram to Gouvernail, "do not come near this island until you see me beaten or killed, or else see me win against that knight over there."
So they parted from each other, weeping bitterly.
And then Sir Marhaus looked Sir Tristram over, and said this: "Young knight, Sir Tristram, what are you doing here? I am very sorry for your boldness. For believe me, I have been tested, and the best knights of this land have been tested by my hand; and I have also matched myself with the best knights of the world. And so take my advice and go back to your boat."
"Fair knight, and well-proven knight," said Sir Tristram, "you may be sure I cannot abandon you in this quarrel, for it is for your sake I was made a knight. And you may be sure that I am a king's son by birth, fathered on a queen; and I have made such a promise, at my uncle's request and at my own seeking, that I will fight you to the uttermost, and free Cornwall from the old tribute. And believe me also, Sir Marhaus, this is the chief reason you give me the heart to fight you: because you are called one of the most renowned knights in the world, and because of that report and fame you have, you give me the courage to fight you, for I have never yet been tested against a good knight. And since I took the order of knighthood this very day, I am well pleased that I can fight so good a knight as you are. And now believe me, Sir Marhaus, I mean to win honour on your body; and if I am not yet proven, I trust to God that I shall be honourably proven on your body, and free the country of Cornwall for ever from every kind of tribute to Ireland, for ever."
When Sir Marhaus had heard him say what he would, he answered him like this: "Fair knight, since you mean to win honour from me, I tell you that you can lose no honour by me if you can stand three blows from me. For I tell you that for my noble deeds, proven and seen, King Arthur made me a knight of the Round Table."
Then they set their spears in rest, and they met so fiercely that they struck each other down, horse and all. But Sir Marhaus gave Sir Tristram a great wound in the side with his spear. And then they got clear of their horses, and drew their swords, and threw their shields in front of them. And then they laid into each other like men who were wild and full of fight. And when they had struck at each other like this for a long time, then they left off their blows and thrust at each other's breathing holes and visors; and when they saw that this could not help them, then they crashed together like rams, each trying to bear the other down. So they fought on for more than half a day, and each of them was badly wounded, so that the blood ran down fresh from them onto the ground. By then Sir Tristram was fresher than Sir Marhaus, and had better wind, and was bigger. And with a mighty stroke he hit Sir Marhaus on the helmet with such a blow that it went through his helmet, and through the steel cap under it, and through the skull; and the sword stuck so fast in the helmet and in his skull that Sir Tristram pulled three times at his sword before he could pull it out of his head. And there Marhaus fell down on his knees, with the edge of Tristram's sword left in his skull. And suddenly Sir Marhaus got up, stumbling, and threw his sword and his shield away from him, and so ran to his ships and fled; and Sir Tristram kept his shield and his sword.
And when Sir Tristram saw Sir Marhaus pull back, he said, "Ah, Sir Knight of the Round Table, why are you pulling back? You bring great shame on yourself and your kin. I am only a young knight, and was never tested before now, and rather than pull back from you I would sooner be hacked into a hundred pieces."
Sir Marhaus answered not a word, but went his way, groaning badly.
"Well, Sir Knight," said Sir Tristram, "I promise you your sword and your shield shall be mine; and I will wear your shield in every place I ride on my adventures, and in the sight of King Arthur and all the Round Table."
At once Sir Marhaus and his company left for Ireland. And as soon as he came to the king, his brother-in-law, he had his wounds probed. And when his head was probed a piece of Sir Tristram's sword was found in it, and no surgeons could ever get it out of his head, and so he died of Sir Tristram's sword. And that piece of the sword the queen, his sister, kept with her always, for she meant to be avenged if she could.
Now we turn back to Sir Tristram, who was badly wounded, and bled so heavily that, after a little while, when he had taken a chill, he could scarcely move his limbs. And then he sat himself down gently on a little hill, and bled fast. Then Gouvernail, his man, came at once with his boat; and the king and his barons came in procession to meet him. And when he had come to land, King Mark took him in his arms, and the king and Sir Dinas the Seneschal led Sir Tristram into the castle of Tintagil. And then his wounds were probed in the best way, and he was laid in his bed. And when King Mark saw his wounds he wept from his heart, and so did all his lords.
"So help me God," said King Mark, "I would not have my nephew die for all my lands."
So Sir Tristram lay there a month and more, and all the time he was likely to die of the blow that Sir Marhaus first gave him with the spear. For, as the French book says, the spearhead was poisoned, so that Sir Tristram could not be healed. Then King Mark and all his barons were exceedingly downcast, for they thought nothing else but that Sir Tristram would not recover. Then the king had all kinds of doctors and surgeons sent for, both men and women, and there was none who would promise him his life. Then there came a lady who was a very wise lady, and she said plainly to King Mark, and to Sir Tristram, and to all his barons, that he would never be healed unless Sir Tristram went into the same country the poison came from, and in that country he would be healed, or else never. That is what the lady said to the king.
When King Mark understood that, he had a fine ship made ready for Sir Tristram, well stocked with food, and Sir Tristram was put into it, and Gouvernail with him, and Sir Tristram took his harp with him; and so he was put out to sea to sail to Ireland. And so by good fortune he landed in Ireland right beside a castle where the king and the queen were; and as he arrived he sat up in his bed and played a merry song on his harp, such a one as they had never heard in Ireland before that time.
And when the king and the queen were told of such a knight who was such a harper, the king at once sent for him, and had his wounds probed, and then asked him his name. Then he answered, "I am from the country of Liones, and my name is Tramtrist, and I was wounded like this in a battle when I fought for a lady's right."
"So help me God," said King Anguish, "you shall have all the help in this land that you can have here. But I tell you, in Cornwall I had as great a loss as ever a king had, for there I lost the best knight in the world. His name was Marhaus, a very noble knight, and a knight of the Round Table."
And there he told Sir Tristram why Sir Marhaus had been killed. Sir Tristram put on a face as if he were sorry, and he knew better than the king how it had happened.
Then the king, out of great favour, had Tramtrist put in his daughter's charge and keeping, because she was a fine surgeon. And when she had probed him she found poison at the bottom of his wound, and so she healed him in a while. And because of that Tramtrist fell deeply in love with Isolde the Fair, for she was at that time the most beautiful maiden and lady in the world. And there Tramtrist taught her to play the harp, and she began to take a great fancy to him. And at that time Sir Palomides, the Saracen, was in that country, and much made of by the king and the queen. And every day Sir Palomides came close to Isolde the Fair and offered her many gifts, for he loved her exceedingly. Tramtrist saw all this, and he knew very well that Sir Palomides was a noble knight and a mighty man. And believe me, Sir Tramtrist bore Sir Palomides a great grudge, for Isolde the Fair told Tramtrist that Palomides was willing to be christened for her sake. So there was great rivalry between Tramtrist and Sir Palomides.
Then it happened that King Anguish had great jousts and a great tournament proclaimed for a lady who was called the Lady of the Launds, and she was a close cousin of the king. And whatever man won her should marry her three days later and have all her lands. This proclamation was made in England, Wales and Scotland, and also in France and in Brittany. One day Isolde the Fair came to Sir Tramtrist and told him about this tournament. He answered and said, "Fair lady, I am only a weak knight, and not long ago I would have been dead had it not been for your good ladyship. Now, fair lady, what would you have me do in this matter? You know well, my lady, that I cannot joust."
"Ah, Tramtrist," said Isolde the Fair, "why won't you fight at that tournament? I know well Sir Palomides will be there, and will do all he can; and so, Tramtrist, I beg you to be there, for otherwise Sir Palomides is likely to win the prize."
"Madam," said Tramtrist, "as for that, it may be so, for he is a proven knight, and I am only a young knight and lately made; and in the first battle I fought I had the bad luck to be badly wounded, as you see. But if I knew you would be my good lady, I will be at that tournament, provided you keep my secret and let no creature know that I am going to joust except yourself and those you trust to keep your secret. I will risk my poor person there for your sake, so that perhaps Sir Palomides will know when I come."
"As to that," said Isolde the Fair, "do your best. And as far as I can," said Isolde the Fair, "I will provide you with a horse and armour of my own choosing."
"As you wish, so be it," said Sir Tramtrist. "I will be at your command."
So on the day of the jousts Sir Palomides came with a black shield, and he overthrew many knights, so that all the people marvelled at him. For he got the better of Sir Gawain, Gaheris, Agravain, Bagdemagus, Kay, Dodinas le Savage, Sagramore le Desirous, Gumret le Petit, and Griflet le Fise de Dieu. All these Sir Palomides struck down to the earth on the first day. And then knights of every kind were afraid of Sir Palomides, and many called him the Knight with the Black Shield. So that day Sir Palomides won great honour.
Then King Anguish came to Tramtrist and asked him why he would not joust.
"Sir," he said, "I was hurt only lately, and I don't yet dare to risk myself."
Then there came the same squire who had been sent to Sir Tristram from the King of France's daughter. And when he saw Sir Tristram he fell flat at his feet. Isolde the Fair saw all this, and what courtesy the squire showed to Sir Tristram. And with that Sir Tristram suddenly ran to his squire, whose name was Hebes le Renoumes, and begged him earnestly not to tell his name on any account.
"Sir," said Hebes, "I will not reveal your name unless you command me to."
Then Sir Tristram asked him what he was doing in those parts.
"Sir," he said, "I came here with Sir Gawain to be made a knight, and, if it pleases you, to be made a knight by your hands."
"Wait for me secretly tomorrow morning, and in the field I will make you a knight."
Then Isolde the Fair had a strong suspicion about Tramtrist, that he was some proven man of honour, and with that she took comfort, and loved him more than she had before. And so in the morning Sir Palomides made himself ready to come into the field, as he had the first day. And there he struck down the King with the Hundred Knights, and the King of Scots. Then Isolde the Fair had fitted out Sir Tristram well, with a white horse and white armour. And just then she had him let out at a secret back gate, and so he came into the field as if he had been a bright angel. And at once Sir Palomides saw him, and with that he set a spear in rest against Sir Tramtrist, and he did the same against him. And there Sir Tristram struck Sir Palomides down to the earth. And then there was a great uproar among the people: some said Sir Palomides had had a fall, some said the Knight with the Black Shield had had a fall. And you may be sure Isolde the Fair was exceedingly glad. And then Sir Gawain and his nine companions marvelled at what knight it could be who had struck down Sir Palomides. Then no one would joust with Tramtrist, but everyone there refused him, great and small. Then Sir Tristram made Hebes a knight, and made him put himself forward, and he did very well that day. So afterwards Sir Hebes stayed with Sir Tristram.
And when Sir Palomides had taken this fall, you may be sure he was deeply ashamed, and as secretly as he could he slipped away out of the field. Sir Tristram saw all this, and he rode swiftly after Sir Palomides and overtook him, and told him to turn, for he wanted to test him better before he left. Then Sir Palomides turned, and each of them slashed at the other with their swords. But at the first stroke Sir Tristram struck Palomides down, and gave him such a blow on the head that he fell to the earth. So then Tristram told him to yield and do as he commanded, or else he would kill him. When Sir Palomides saw the look on his face, he feared his blows so much that he granted everything he asked.
"Well said," said Sir Tristram. "This shall be your charge. First, on pain of your life, that you give up my lady Isolde the Fair, and in no way whatever come near her. Also, that for this twelvemonth and a day you wear no armour and no gear of war. Now promise me this, or you die here."
"Alas," said Palomides, "I am shamed for ever."
Then he swore as Sir Tristram had commanded him. Then, out of resentment and anger, Sir Palomides cut off his armour and threw it away.
And so Sir Tristram turned back to the castle where Isolde the Fair was. And on the way he met a damsel who was asking after Sir Lancelot, who had honourably won the Dolorous Gard; and this damsel asked Sir Tristram who he was. For she had been told that it was he who had struck down Sir Palomides, by whom the ten knights of King Arthur's had been struck down. Then the damsel begged Sir Tristram to tell her who he was, and whether he was Sir Lancelot du Lake, for she thought there was no knight in the world who could do such deeds of arms unless it were Lancelot.
"Fair damsel," said Sir Tristram, "believe me, I am not Sir Lancelot, for I was never of such prowess. But it is all in God's hands, and He may make me as good a knight as the good knight Sir Lancelot."
"Now, noble knight," she said, "put up your visor."
And when she saw his face she thought she had never seen a better man's face, nor a finer-looking knight. And then, when the damsel knew for certain that he was not Sir Lancelot, she took her leave and went away from him. And then Sir Tristram rode secretly to the back gate, where Isolde the Fair was waiting for him, and there she gave him a warm welcome, and thanked God for his good success. So soon after, within a little while, the king and the queen learned that it was Tramtrist who had struck down Sir Palomides; then he was made much more of than he had been before.
So Sir Tramtrist stayed there a long time, well cared for by the king and the queen, and above all by Isolde the Fair. Then one day the queen and Isolde the Fair prepared a bath for Sir Tramtrist. And while he was in his bath the queen and Isolde, her daughter, wandered up and down the room; and meanwhile Gouvernail and Hebes waited on Tramtrist, and the queen looked at his sword where it lay on his bed. And then, by ill luck, the queen drew out his sword and looked at it a long while, and both of them thought it an exceedingly fine sword; but a foot and a half from the point a great piece had been broken out of the edge. And when the queen saw that gap in the sword, she remembered a piece of a sword that had been found in the skull of Sir Marhaus, the good knight who was her brother.
"Alas," she said then to her daughter, Isolde the Fair, "this is the same traitor knight who killed my brother, your uncle."
When Isolde heard her say so she was badly shaken, for she loved Tramtrist exceedingly well, and she knew full well how cruel her mother the queen could be.
At once the queen went to her own room, and searched her chest, and there she took out the piece of the sword that had been pulled out of Sir Marhaus' head after he was dead. And then she ran with that piece of iron to the sword that lay on the bed. And when she put that piece of steel and iron to the sword, it fitted as exactly as it could have done when it was newly broken. And then the queen gripped that sword fiercely in her hand, and with all her might she ran straight at Tramtrist where he sat in his bath, and there she would have run him through if Sir Hebes had not caught her in his arms and pulled the sword from her; otherwise she would have thrust him through.
Then, when she was stopped from her evil intent, she ran to King Anguish, her husband, and said on her knees, "O my lord, here in your house you have the traitor knight who killed my brother and your servant, that noble knight, Sir Marhaus."
"Who is that," said King Anguish, "and where is he?"
"Sir," she said, "it is Sir Tramtrist, the same knight my daughter healed."
"Alas," said the king, "that makes me very sorry, for he is as noble a knight as I ever saw in the field. But I charge you," said the king to the queen, "not to meddle with that knight; leave him to me."
Then the king went into the room to Sir Tramtrist, but by then he had gone to his own room, and the king found him fully armed and ready to mount his horse. When the king saw him all armed and ready to ride, the king said, "No, Tramtrist, it will do you no good to match yourself against me. But this much I will do, for my honour and for the love I bear you: since you are within my court, it would be no honour to me to kill you. So on this condition I will give you leave to depart from this court in safety: that you tell me who your father was, and what your name is, and whether you killed Sir Marhaus, my brother."
"Sir," said Tristram, "now I will tell you the whole truth. My father's name is Sir Meliodas, King of Liones, and my mother was called Elizabeth, who was sister to King Mark of Cornwall; and my mother died giving birth to me in the forest, and because of that she commanded, before she died, that when I was christened they should christen me Tristram. And because I did not want to be known in this country I turned my name around and had myself called Tramtrist. And I fought over the tribute of Cornwall for my uncle's sake, and for the right of Cornwall, which you had held for many years. And believe me," said Tristram to the king, "I fought that battle for the love of my uncle, King Mark, and for the love of the country of Cornwall, and to increase my honour; for on the same day that I fought with Sir Marhaus I was made a knight, and never before then had I fought with any knight; and he went away from me alive, and left his shield and his sword behind."
"God help me," said the king, "I cannot deny that you did as a knight should, and it was your part to do it for your cause, and to increase your honour as a knight should. Even so, I cannot keep you in this country and keep my honour, unless I am willing to displease my barons, and my wife and her kin."
"Sir," said Tristram, "I thank you for the good lordship I have had from you here, and for the great kindness my lady, your daughter, has shown me. And so," said Sir Tristram, "it may happen that you will gain more by my life than by my death, for in the lands of England I may be able to do you a service some day, so that you will be glad you ever showed me your good lordship. What is more, I promise you, as I am a true knight, that in every place I will be my lady your daughter's servant and knight, in right and in wrong, and I will never fail her, but do as much as a knight may do. Also I beg your good grace that I may take my leave of my lady, your daughter, and of all the barons and knights."
"Gladly," said the king.
Then Sir Tristram went to Isolde the Fair and took his leave of her. And then he told her everything: who he was, and how he had changed his name because he did not want to be known, and how a lady had told him that he would never be healed until he came into this country where the poison was made, "which brought me close to my death, if your ladyship had not been there."
"O gentle knight," said Isolde the Fair, "I am full of sorrow at your going, for I never saw a man I wished so well." And with that she wept from the heart.
"Madam," said Sir Tristram, "you must understand that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, begotten by King Meliodas, and born of his queen. And I promise you faithfully that I will be your knight all the days of my life."
"Many thanks," said Isolde the Fair, "and I promise you in return that I will not be married for these seven years except with your consent; and whomever you wish me to marry, him I will have, if he will have me and you consent."
And then Sir Tristram gave her a ring, and she gave him another; and with that he left her, grieving and lamenting greatly. And he went straight to the court among all the barons, and there he took his leave of great and small, and openly he said among them all, "Fair lords, it is so now that I must depart. If there is any man here whom I have offended, or who has any grievance against me, let him make his complaint here before me, before I go, and I will make it right as far as I can. And if there is anyone who wants to do me wrong, or speak wrong or shame of me behind my back, let him say it now or never, and here is my body to prove it on his, body against body."
And they all stood still; there was not one who would say a word. Yet there were some knights there who were of the queen's blood, and of Sir Marhaus' blood, but they would not meddle with him.
So Sir Tristram departed, and took to the sea, and with a good wind he landed at Tintagil in Cornwall. And when King Mark was well and prospering, news came that Sir Tristram had arrived, healed of his wounds. King Mark was exceedingly glad of it, and so were all the barons. And when he saw his time Sir Tristram rode to his father, King Meliodas, and there he had all the welcome that the king and the queen could give him. And then King Meliodas and his queen generously shared out lands and goods to Sir Tristram.
Then, with the leave of King Meliodas, his father, he went back to the court of King Mark, and there he lived in great joy for a long time, until at last there arose a jealousy and an ill will between King Mark and Sir Tristram, for they both loved one lady. And she was the wife of an earl called Sir Segwarides. And this lady loved Sir Tristram exceedingly well. And he loved her in return, for she was an exceedingly beautiful lady, and Sir Tristram saw that plainly. Then King Mark understood it and was jealous, for King Mark loved her exceedingly well.
So it happened one day that this lady sent a dwarf to Sir Tristram, and bade him, as he loved her, to be with her the following night. "Also she charges you," said the dwarf, "not to come to her unless you are well armed, for her husband is called a good knight."
Sir Tristram answered the dwarf, "Commend me to my lady, and tell her I will not fail, but I will be with her at the time she has set me."
And with this answer the dwarf left. And King Mark saw that the dwarf had been with Sir Tristram on a message from Segwarides' wife. Then King Mark sent for the dwarf, and when he came he made the dwarf by force tell him everything, why and for what reason he had come on a message to Sir Tristram.
"Now," said King Mark, "go where you like, and on pain of death say not a word about what you said to me."
So the dwarf left the king.
And that same night that the meeting was set between Segwarides' wife and Sir Tristram, King Mark armed himself and made himself ready, and took two knights who were in his confidence with him; and so he rode ahead to lie in wait by the road for Sir Tristram. And as Sir Tristram came riding on his way with his spear in his hand, King Mark came charging at him suddenly with his two knights. And all three struck at him with their spears, and King Mark wounded Sir Tristram in the chest very badly. And then Sir Tristram set his spear in rest, and struck his uncle, King Mark, so hard that he hurled him to the earth, and bruised him so that he lay still in a swoon, and it was a long time before he could move himself. And then he ran at the one knight, and then at the other, and struck them to the cold earth, so that they lay still. And with that Sir Tristram rode on, badly wounded, to the lady, and found her waiting for him at a back gate.
And there she welcomed him warmly, and they embraced each other in their arms, and she had his horse stabled in the best way, and then she unarmed him. And so they ate a light supper, and went to bed with great joy and pleasure; and in his passion he paid no heed to the fresh wound that King Mark had given him. And so Sir Tristram bled all over both the upper sheet and the lower, and the pillows, and the head sheet. And after a while someone came ahead who warned her that her husband was close by, within a bowshot. So she made Sir Tristram get up, and he armed himself, and took his horse, and so left. By then Segwarides, her husband, had come, and when he found her bed disordered and torn, and went near and looked at it by candlelight, he saw that a wounded knight had lain there.
"Ah, false traitress," he said then, "why have you betrayed me?" And with that he swung out a sword, and said, "Unless you tell me who has been here, here you die."
"Ah, my lord, mercy," said the lady, and held up her hands, saying, "Do not kill me, and I will tell you everything about who has been here."
"Tell me the whole truth at once," said Segwarides.
At once, out of fear, she said, "Sir Tristram was here with me, and on the way, as he came toward me, he was badly wounded."
"Ah, false traitress," said Segwarides, "where has he gone?"
"Sir," she said, "he has armed and gone on horseback, not half a mile from here yet."
"That's well said," said Segwarides.
Then he armed himself quickly, and got his horse, and rode after Sir Tristram, who was riding straight to Tintagil. And after a while he overtook Sir Tristram, and then he called on him, "Turn, false traitor knight!"
And Sir Tristram at once turned to face him. And with that Segwarides struck Sir Tristram with a spear so that it burst all to pieces; and then he swung out his sword and struck hard at Sir Tristram.
"Sir knight," said Sir Tristram, "I advise you to strike no more. Even so, for the wrongs I have done you, I will hold back from you as long as I can."
"No," said Segwarides, "that shall not be, for either you die or I do."
Then Sir Tristram drew his sword, and drove his horse at him fiercely, and he struck Sir Segwarides through the waist of the body so that he fell to the earth in a swoon. And so Sir Tristram rode away and left him there. And so he rode to Tintagil and took his lodging secretly, for he did not want it known that he was hurt. Sir Segwarides' men rode after their master too, and found him lying in the field badly wounded, and brought him home on his shield, and there he lay a long time before he was healed; but at last he recovered. King Mark, too, would not let it be known that he and Sir Tristram had met that night. And as for Sir Tristram, he did not know that it was King Mark who had met him. And so the king came casually to Sir Tristram, to comfort him as he lay sick in his bed. But as long as King Mark lived he never loved Sir Tristram after that; though there was fair speech, there was no love. And so many weeks and days passed, and all was forgiven and forgotten; for Sir Segwarides did not dare fight with Sir Tristram, because of his noble prowess, and also because he was King Mark's nephew. So he let it pass: for a man with a private hurt is loath to have a public shame.
Then it happened one day that the good knight Bleoberis de Ganis, brother to Blamore de Ganis, and a close cousin of the good knight Sir Lancelot du Lake, this Bleoberis came to the court of King Mark, and there he asked King Mark for a favour: to give him whatever gift he would ask for in his court. When the king heard him ask this, he wondered at the request; but because he was a knight of the Round Table, and of great renown, King Mark granted him all he asked.
"Then," said Sir Bleoberis, "I will have the fairest lady in your court that I care to choose."
"I cannot say no," said King Mark. "Now choose as you like."
And so Sir Bleoberis chose Sir Segwarides' wife, and took her by the hand, and so went his way with her; and so he took his horse and had her set up behind his squire, and rode on his way.
When Sir Segwarides heard that his lady had gone with a knight of King Arthur's court, he armed himself and rode after that knight to rescue his lady. So when Bleoberis had gone with this lady, King Mark and all the court were angry that she was taken away. Then there were certain ladies who knew that there was great love between Sir Tristram and her, and also that that lady loved Sir Tristram above all other knights. Then there was one lady who rebuked Sir Tristram in the most horrible way, and called him a coward knight, that he could, to the shame of his knighthood, see a lady so shamefully carried off from his uncle's court. But what she meant was that the two of them had loved each other with all their hearts.
But Sir Tristram answered her like this: "Fair lady, it is not my part to meddle in such matters while her lord and husband is here. And if it had been that her lord was not here in this court, then for the honour of this court perhaps I would have been her champion. And if it turns out that Sir Segwarides does not fare well, it may happen that I will have words with that good knight before he leaves this country."
Then within a while one of Sir Segwarides' squires came, and told the court that Sir Segwarides was badly beaten and wounded almost to death: as he tried to rescue his lady, Sir Bleoberis had overthrown him and badly wounded him. Then King Mark was downcast at this, and all the court. When Sir Tristram heard of it he was ashamed and badly grieved; and then he was soon armed and on horseback, and Gouvernail, his servant, carried his shield and spear. And as Sir Tristram rode hard he met Sir Andred, his cousin, who by King Mark's command had been sent to bring in, if it lay in his power, two knights of Arthur's court who were riding through the country looking for adventures. When Sir Tristram saw Sir Andred he asked him what news.
"God help me," said Sir Andred, "it was never worse with me. For here, by King Mark's command, I was sent to fetch two knights of King Arthur's court, and one of them beat me and wounded me, and cared nothing for my message."
"Fair cousin," said Sir Tristram, "ride on your way, and if I can meet them it may happen that I will avenge you."
So Sir Andred rode into Cornwall, and Sir Tristram rode after the two knights, one of whom was called Sagramore le Desirous, and the other Dodinas le Savage.
Then within a while Sir Tristram saw them ahead of him, two fine-looking knights.
"Sir," said Gouvernail to his master, "sir, I would advise you not to fight with them, for they are two proven knights of Arthur's court."
"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "have no fear: I will fight with them, to increase my honour, for it is many a day since I did any deeds of arms."
"Do as you like," said Gouvernail.
And with that Sir Tristram at once asked them where they came from, and where they were going, and what they were doing in those borders. Sir Sagramore looked at Sir Tristram, and scorned his words, and asked him in return, "Fair knight, are you a knight of Cornwall?"
"Why do you ask?" said Sir Tristram.
"Because it is seldom seen," said Sir Sagramore, "that you Cornish knights are valiant men-at-arms. For within these two hours one of your Cornish knights met us, and he talked big, and at once, with little strength, he was laid on the ground. And I believe," said Sir Sagramore, "you will get the same welcome he got."
"Fair lords," said Sir Tristram, "it may happen that I can hold out better than he did. And whether you like it or not, I will fight with you, because it was my cousin you beat. So do your best here, and believe me, unless you acquit yourselves better here on this ground, one knight of Cornwall will beat you both."
When Sir Dodinas le Savage heard him say so he took a spear in his hand, and said, "Sir knight, look out for yourself!"
And then they drew apart and came together as if it had been thunder. And Sir Dodinas' spear burst in pieces, but Sir Tristram struck him with greater force, so that he knocked him clean over his horse's rump, and very nearly broke his neck. When Sir Sagramore saw his companion take such a fall he wondered what knight this might be. And he lowered his spear with all his might, and Sir Tristram did the same against him, and they came together like thunder, and there Sir Tristram struck Sir Sagramore so strong a blow that he bore him and his horse to the earth, and in the fall he broke his thigh.
When this was done Sir Tristram asked them, "Fair knights, will you have any more? Are there no bigger knights in the court of King Arthur? It is a shame on you to speak dishonour of us knights of Cornwall, for it may happen that a Cornish knight can match you."
"That is the truth," said Sir Sagramore, "we have proved that well. But I beg you," said Sir Sagramore, "tell us your real name, by the faith and loyalty you owe to the high order of knighthood."
"You charge me with a great thing," said Sir Tristram, "and since you want to know it, you shall know and understand that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, King Meliodas' son, and nephew to King Mark."
Then those two knights were glad that they had met Tristram, and so they begged him to stay in their company.
"No," said Sir Tristram, "for I must fight with one of your companions; his name is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis."
"God speed you well," said Sir Sagramore and Dodinas.
Sir Tristram left and rode on his way. And then he saw ahead of him, in a valley, Sir Bleoberis riding with Sir Segwarides' lady, who rode behind his squire on a palfrey.
Then Sir Tristram rode at more than a walk until he had overtaken him. Then Sir Tristram spoke. "Stop," he said, "knight of Arthur's court! Bring that lady back, or hand her over to me."
"I will do neither," said Bleoberis, "for I fear no Cornish knight so badly that I would care to hand her over."
"Why," said Sir Tristram, "can't a Cornish knight do as well as any other knight? This same day, within these three miles, two knights of your court met me, and before we parted they found one Cornish knight good enough for them both."
"What were their names?" said Bleoberis.
"They told me," said Sir Tristram, "that one of them was called Sir Sagramore le Desirous, and the other Dodinas le Savage."
"Ah," said Sir Bleoberis, "have you met them? God help me, they were two good knights and men of great honour, and if you have beaten them both you must be a good knight indeed. But even if you have beaten them both, you will not frighten me: you will have to beat me before you have this lady."
"Then defend yourself," said Sir Tristram.
So they drew apart and came together like thunder, and each bore the other down, horse and all, to the earth.
Then they got clear of their horses, and laid into each other eagerly and mightily with swords, now circling and sidestepping to the right and to the left for more than two hours. And sometimes they rushed together with such force that they both lay sprawling on the ground. Then Sir Bleoberis de Ganis leapt back, and said, "Now, good and gentle knight, hold your hands a while, and let us talk together."
"Say what you like," said Tristram, "and I will answer you."
"Sir," said Bleoberis, "I would like to know where you are from, and whose son you are, and what your name is."
"God help me," said Sir Tristram, "I am not afraid to tell you my name. Believe me, I am King Meliodas' son, and my mother is King Mark's sister, and my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and King Mark is my uncle."
"Truly," said Bleoberis, "I am very glad of you, for you are the one who killed Marhaus the knight, hand to hand on an island, over the tribute of Cornwall. You also overcame Sir Palomides, the good knight, at a tournament on an island, where you beat Sir Gawain and his nine companions."
"God help me," said Sir Tristram, "believe me, I am the same knight. Now I have told you my name; tell me yours, and gladly."
"Believe me, my name is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, and my brother is called Sir Blamore de Ganis, who is reckoned a good knight; and we are the sons of a sister of my lord Sir Lancelot du Lake, whom we count one of the best knights in the world."
"That is the truth," said Sir Tristram. "Sir Lancelot is called peerless in courtesy and in knighthood; and for his sake," said Sir Tristram, "I will not, if I can help it, fight with you any more, for the great love I have for Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"In good faith," said Bleoberis, "as for me, I would be loath to fight with you. But since you have followed me here to have this lady, I will offer you kindness, courtesy and gentleness right here on this ground. This lady shall stand between us both, and whichever of us she wants to go to, let him have her in peace."
"Gladly," said Tristram, "for, as I judge it, she will leave you and come to me."
"You will soon find out," said Bleoberis.
So when she was set between the two of them she said these words to Sir Tristram: "Believe me, Sir Tristram de Liones, until lately you were the man in the world I most loved and trusted, and I thought you loved me in return above all ladies. But when you saw this knight lead me away you made no move to rescue me, but let my lord Segwarides ride after me. Until that time I thought you loved me; and so now I will leave you, and never love you again."
And with that she went over to Sir Bleoberis.
When Sir Tristram saw her do so he was furiously angry with that lady, and ashamed to go back to the court.
"Sir Tristram," said Sir Bleoberis, "you are at fault, for I hear from this lady's words that before this day she trusted you above all earthly knights, and, as she says, you have deceived her. So believe me, no man can hold one who wants to go. And rather than have you heartily displeased with me, I would wish you had her, if she would stay with you."
"No," said the lady, "God help me, I will never go with him; for the one I loved most, I thought he loved me. And so, Sir Tristram," she said, "ride back the way you came, for even if you had beaten this knight, as you were likely to, I would never have gone with you. And I will beg this knight, as fairly as I can by his knighthood, that before he leaves this country he will take me to the abbey where my lord Sir Segwarides lies."
"God help me," said Bleoberis, "I'll have you know, good knight Sir Tristram, that because King Mark gave me the choice of a gift in his court, this lady pleased me best. Nevertheless, she is wedded and has a husband, and I have fulfilled my quest; she shall be sent back to her husband, and most especially for your sake, Sir Tristram. And if she would go with you, I would wish you had her."
"I thank you," said Sir Tristram, "but because of her love I shall be careful what kind of lady I love or trust. For if her husband, Sir Segwarides, had been away from the court, I would have been the first to follow you. But since you have refused me," he said to the lady, "as I am a true knight, I shall know her exceedingly well before I love or trust her."
And so they took their leave of one another and parted.
And so Sir Tristram rode to Tintagil, and Sir Bleoberis rode to the abbey where Sir Segwarides lay badly wounded, and there he handed over his lady, and departed as a noble knight. And when Sir Segwarides saw his lady, he was greatly comforted; and then she told him that Sir Tristram had fought a great battle with Sir Bleoberis, and made him bring her back. These words pleased Sir Segwarides very well, that Sir Tristram would do so much; and so that lady told King Mark all about the battle between Sir Tristram and Sir Bleoberis.
Then, when this was done, King Mark was always scheming in his heart how he might destroy Sir Tristram. And then he devised a plan to send Sir Tristram to Ireland for Isolde the Fair. For Sir Tristram had praised her beauty and her goodness so highly that King Mark said he would marry her, and so he asked Sir Tristram to make the journey to Ireland as his messenger. And all this was done with the aim of getting Sir Tristram killed. Nevertheless, Sir Tristram would not refuse the errand for any danger or peril that might befall, for the sake of pleasing his uncle; instead he made himself ready to go in the finest style that could be devised. For Sir Tristram took with him the finest knights he could find at the court; and they were dressed, in the fashion of that time, in the finest manner. So Sir Tristram departed and took to the sea with all his company. And soon, when he was out on the open sea, a storm caught him and his company, and drove them back to the coast of England; and there they came ashore close by Camelot, and were very glad to reach land.
And when they had landed Sir Tristram pitched his tent on the land of Camelot, and there he had his shield hung on the tent. And that same day two of King Arthur's knights came by, one of them Sir Ector de Maris, and the other Sir Morganor. And they touched the shield, and called on him to come out of the tent to joust, if he would joust.
"You shall have your answer," said Sir Tristram, "if you will wait a little while."
So he made himself ready, and first he struck down Sir Ector de Maris, and then he struck down Sir Morganor, all with one spear, and badly bruised them. And as they lay on the ground they asked Sir Tristram who he was, and of what country he was a knight.
"Fair lords," said Sir Tristram, "believe me, I am from Cornwall."
"Alas," said Sir Ector, "now I am ashamed that any Cornish knight should ever overcome me."
And then, out of vexation, Sir Ector took off his armour, and went on foot, and would not ride.
Then it happened that Sir Bleoberis and Sir Blamore de Ganis, who were brothers, had summoned King Anguish of Ireland to come to Arthur's court on pain of losing King Arthur's good grace. And if the King of Ireland did not come in on the day assigned and set, the king would lose his lands. So it happened that on the day assigned, neither King Arthur nor Sir Lancelot could be there to give the judgment, for King Arthur was with Sir Lancelot at the castle of Joyous Gard. And so King Arthur appointed King Carados and the King of Scots to be judges there that day. So when the kings were at Camelot, King Anguish of Ireland had come to learn who his accusers were. Then Sir Blamore de Ganis was there, and accused the King of Ireland of treason, saying that he had killed a cousin of his in his court in Ireland by treason. The king was badly shaken by the accusation, because he had come at King Arthur's summons, and before he came to Camelot he did not know why he had been sent for. And when the king heard Sir Blamore say what he had to say, he understood well that there was no other remedy but to answer him as a knight; for the custom in those days was that if any man was accused of any treason or murder he had to fight body for body, or else find another knight to fight for him. And all kinds of murder in those days were called treason.
So when King Anguish understood the charge against him he was exceedingly downcast, for he knew Sir Blamore de Ganis for a noble knight, and one born of noble knights. Then the King of Ireland was poorly provided with an answer; so the judges gave him until the third day to give his answer. So the king went to his lodging.
Meanwhile a lady came by Sir Tristram's tent, grieving greatly.
"What is the matter with you," said Sir Tristram, "that you grieve so?"
"Ah, fair knight," said the lady, "I am disgraced unless some good knight helps me. For a great lady of high honour sent by me a fair child, and a rich one, to Sir Lancelot du Lake, and near here a knight met me, and threw me down from my palfrey, and took the child away from me."
"Well, my lady," said Sir Tristram, "for the sake of my lord Sir Lancelot I will get that child back for you, or else I will be beaten for it."
And so Sir Tristram took his horse, and asked the lady which way the knight had ridden; and she told him. And he rode after him, and within a while he overtook that knight. And then Sir Tristram called on him to turn and give back the child.
The knight turned his horse and made ready to fight. And then Sir Tristram struck him such a blow with his sword that he tumbled to the ground. And then he yielded to Sir Tristram.
"Then come along," said Sir Tristram, "and take the child back to the lady."
So he took his horse meekly and rode with Sir Tristram; and on the way Sir Tristram asked him his name.
Then he said, "My name is Breuse Saunce Pité."
So when he had handed the child back to the lady, he said, "Sir, as for this, the child is put right."
Then Sir Tristram let him go again, which he bitterly regretted afterwards, for he was a great enemy to many good knights of King Arthur's court.
Then, when Sir Tristram was in his tent, Gouvernail his man came and told him that King Anguish of Ireland had come there, and was in great distress; and there Gouvernail told Sir Tristram how King Anguish had been summoned and accused of murder.
"God help me," said Sir Tristram, "this is the best news that has come to me these seven years, for now the King of Ireland will need my help. For I dare say there is no knight in this country who is not of Arthur's court who dares do battle with Sir Blamore de Ganis; and to win the love of the King of Ireland I will take the battle on myself. And so, Gouvernail, I charge you, take me to the king."
Then Gouvernail went to King Anguish of Ireland, and greeted him courteously. The king welcomed him and asked him what he wanted.
"Sir," said Gouvernail, "there is a knight close by who wishes to speak with you. He told me to say he would do you service."
"What knight is he?" said the king.
"Sir," he said, "it is Sir Tristram de Liones, who wants to repay you in this country for the good grace you showed him in your lands."
"Come on, fellow," said the king, "come with me at once and take me to Sir Tristram."
So the king took a small riding horse and only a few companions with him, and rode until he came to Sir Tristram's tent. And when Sir Tristram saw the king he ran to him and would have held his stirrup. But the king leapt nimbly from his horse, and each of them embraced the other in his arms.
"My gracious lord," said Sir Tristram, "many thanks for the great kindnesses you showed me in your borders and lands. And at that time I promised to do you service, if ever it lay in my power."
"And, noble knight," said the king to Sir Tristram, "now I have great need of you. I never had such great need of any knight's help."
"How so, my good lord?" said Sir Tristram.
"I will tell you," said the king. "I am summoned and accused, far from my own country, of the death of a knight who was kin to the good knight Sir Lancelot. And for this Sir Blamore de Ganis, brother to Sir Bleoberis, has called on me to fight with him, or else to find a knight to fight in my place. And I know well," said the king, "that those who come of King Ban's blood, such as Sir Lancelot and these others, are exceedingly good knights, and as hard to beat in battle as any men I know of now alive."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "for the good lordship you showed me in Ireland, and for the sake of my lady your daughter, Isolde the Fair, I will take the battle on myself for you, on this condition, that you grant me two things. The first is that you swear to me that you are in the right, and that you never consented to the knight's death."
"Sir," then said Sir Tristram, "the second is that when I have fought this battle, if God gives me the grace to succeed, you will give me a reward, whatever reasonable thing I ask of you."
"God help me," said the king, "you shall have whatever you ask."
"That is well said," said Sir Tristram.
"Now give your answer that your champion is ready, for I would rather die in your cause than be shamed as a recreant."
"I have no doubts about you," said the king, "though if you had to fight with Sir Lancelot du Lake..."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "as for Sir Lancelot, he is called the noblest knight in the world, and you may be sure that the knights of his blood are noble men, and fear shame. And as for Bleoberis, brother to Sir Blamore, I have done battle with him, so on my life it is no shame to call him a good knight."
"It is rumoured," said the king, "that Blamore is the bolder knight."
"Sir, as for that, let it be. He shall never be refused, even if he were the best knight who now carries shield or spear."
So King Anguish went to King Carados and the kings who were acting as judges at that time, and told them that he had found his champion ready. Then, by the command of the kings, Sir Blamore de Ganis and Sir Tristram were sent for to hear the charge. And when they had come before the judges there were many kings and knights who looked at Sir Tristram, and much talk they had of him, because he had killed Sir Marhaus, the good knight, and because he had outjousted Sir Palomides, the good knight. So when they had taken their charge they withdrew to make ready to do battle.
Then Sir Bleoberis said to his brother, Sir Blamore, "Dear brother, remember what kin we come of, and what a man Sir Lancelot du Lake is, neither further nor nearer to us than brothers' children; and there was never any of our kin who was shamed in battle. Brother, suffer death rather than be shamed."
"Brother," said Blamore, "have no doubts of me, for I shall never shame any of my blood. Though I am sure that the knight over there is called as good a knight as any in the world in his day, yet I shall never yield, nor say the shameful word. He may well happen to strike me down with his great might of chivalry, but he shall kill me before I yield as a recreant."
"God speed you," said Sir Bleoberis, "for you will find him the mightiest knight you ever fought with, for I know him, since I have fought with him."
"God speed me," said Sir Blamore de Ganis.
And with that he took his horse at one end of the lists, and Sir Tristram at the other end of the lists, and so they set their spears in rest and came together as if it had been thunder; and there Sir Tristram, through his great might, struck Sir Blamore and his horse to the ground. Then at once Sir Blamore got clear of his horse and pulled out his sword and threw his shield in front of him, and told Sir Tristram to dismount: "For though a horse has failed me, I trust to God the earth will not fail me."
And then Sir Tristram dismounted, and squared up to fight; and there they laid into each other hard, pressing and circling, thrusting and dashing, with many heavy blows, so that the kings and knights wondered greatly that they could stand. For all the while they fought like madmen, so that knights were never seen to fight more fiercely than they did; for Sir Blamore was so hasty that he would take no rest, so that all men wondered that they had breath to stand on their feet; and all the place they fought in was bloody. And at last Sir Tristram struck Sir Blamore such a blow on the helm that he fell down there on his side, and Sir Tristram stood and looked at him.
Then, when Sir Blamore could speak, he said this: "Sir Tristram de Liones, I beg you, as you are a noble knight, and the best knight I ever met, that you kill me outright. For I would not live to be made lord of all the earth, for I would rather die with honour than live with shame. And you must kill me, Sir Tristram, or else you will never win the field, for I will never say the shameful word. And so, if you dare kill me, kill me, I beg you."
When Sir Tristram heard him speak so knightly, he did not know what to do with him. He thought of both sides: of what blood he came, and that for Sir Lancelot's sake he would be loath to kill him; and on the other side, that he had no choice at all but to make him say the shameful word, or else kill him.
Then Sir Tristram leapt back, and went to the kings who were the judges, and there he knelt down before them, and begged them, for their honour, and for King Arthur's and Sir Lancelot's sake, to take this matter into their own hands.
"For, my fair lords," said Sir Tristram, "it would be a shame and a pity for this noble knight who lies over there to be killed. For you hear well that he will not be shamed, and I pray to God that he is never killed nor shamed because of me. And as for the king I am fighting for, I will ask him, as I am his true champion and true knight in this field, to have mercy on this good knight."
"God help me," said King Anguish, "I will, for your sake. Sir Tristram, I will be ruled as you wish, for I know you for my true knight; and so I will heartily pray the kings who are here as judges to take it into their hands."
And the kings who were judges called Sir Bleoberis to them, and asked his advice.
"My lords," said Bleoberis, "though my brother is beaten, and has had the worse of it through might of arms, I dare say that though Sir Tristram has beaten his body he has not beaten his heart, and I thank God he is not shamed this day. And rather than have him shamed, I beg you," said Bleoberis, "let Sir Tristram kill him outright."
"It shall not be so," said the kings, "for the other party, both the king and the champion, have pity on Sir Blamore's knighthood."
"My lords," said Bleoberis, "I am well content to do as you will."
Then the kings called the King of Ireland, and found him gracious and ready to come to terms. And then, by all their advice, Sir Tristram and Sir Bleoberis lifted up Sir Blamore, and the two brothers were reconciled with King Anguish, and kissed and made friends for ever. And then Sir Blamore and Sir Tristram kissed each other, and there they swore their oaths that neither of the two brothers would ever fight with Sir Tristram, and Sir Tristram swore the same oath. And for that noble battle all the blood of Sir Lancelot loved Sir Tristram for ever.
Then King Anguish and Sir Tristram took their leave, and sailed to Ireland with great pomp and joy. So when they were in Ireland the king had it made known throughout the land how, and in what way, Sir Tristram had acted for him. Then the queen and everyone there made as much of him as they could. But no tongue could tell the joy that Isolde the Fair had of Sir Tristram, for of all earthly men she loved him most.
Then one day King Anguish asked Sir Tristram why he did not ask for his reward, for whatever he had promised him he should have without fail.
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "now it is time. This is all I will ask: that you give me Isolde the Fair, your daughter, not for myself, but for my uncle, King Mark, who shall have her for his wife, for I have promised him so."
"Alas," said the king, "I would rather than all the land I have that you would marry her yourself."
"Sir, if I did, then I would be shamed for ever in this world, and false to my promise. And so," said Sir Tristram, "I pray you keep the promise you made me. For this is my wish, that you give me Isolde the Fair to go with me into Cornwall to be married to King Mark, my uncle."
"As for that," said King Anguish, "you shall have her with you, to do with her as you please. That is to say, if you care to marry her yourself, that is what I would like best; and if you will give her to King Mark, your uncle, that is your choice."
So, to cut a long story short, Isolde the Fair was made ready to go with Sir Tristram, and Dame Bragwaine went with her as her chief lady-in-waiting, with many others.
Then the queen, Isolde's mother, gave a drink to her and to Dame Bragwaine, her daughter's lady-in-waiting, and to Gouvernail, and charged them that on the day King Mark was married, that same day they should give him that drink, so that King Mark should drink to Isolde the Fair, "and then," said the queen, "I promise you each will love the other all the days of their lives."
So this drink was given to Dame Bragwaine and to Gouvernail. And then at once Sir Tristram put to sea, and Isolde the Fair with him. And when they were in their cabin, it so happened that they were thirsty, and they saw a little flask of gold standing beside them, and it seemed by the colour and the taste that it was noble wine. Then Sir Tristram took the flask in his hand, and said, "Madam Isolde, here is the best drink you ever drank, which Dame Bragwaine, your maid, and Gouvernail, my servant, have kept for themselves."
Then they laughed and were merry, and each drank freely to the other, and they thought that no drink they ever drank to each other was so sweet or so good. But by the time that drink was in their bodies, they loved each other so well that their love never parted, for good or for ill. And so it happened, the first love between Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair, which love never parted all the days of their lives.
So then they sailed on until by chance they came near a castle that was called Pluere, and landed there to rest, expecting to find good lodging. But as soon as Sir Tristram was inside the castle they were taken prisoner; for the custom of the castle was this: whoever rode by that castle and brought any lady with him had to fight with the lord, who was called Breunor. And if Breunor won the field, then the stranger knight and his lady were to be put to death, whoever they were; and if the strange knight won the field against Sir Breunor, then he was to die, and his lady too. This custom had been kept for many winters, and so it was called the Castle Pluere, that is to say the Weeping Castle.
So while Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair were in prison, it happened that a knight and a lady came to them where they were, to cheer them up.
"I wonder," said Tristram to the knight and the lady, "why the lord of this castle keeps us in prison. It was never the custom of any place of honour that I ever came to, when a knight and a lady asked for lodging and were taken in, to destroy them afterwards, being his guests."
"Sir," said the knight, "this is the old custom of this castle: that when a knight comes here he must fight with our lord, and the one who is weaker must lose his head. And when that is done, if the lady he brings is uglier than our lord's wife, she must lose her head; and if she is proved fairer than our lady, then the lady of this castle shall lose her head."
"God help me," said Sir Tristram, "this is a foul custom and a shameful one. But I have one advantage," said Sir Tristram. "I have a lady who is fair enough; I never saw a fairer in all the days of my life, and I have no fear that she will lose her head for lack of beauty. And rather than lose my own head I will fight for it on a fair field. So, sir knight, I pray you tell your lord that I will be ready tomorrow morning, with my lady, and myself ready to do battle, if I may have my horse and my armour."
"Sir," said that knight, "I promise you your wish shall be well granted." And then he said, "Take your rest, and see that you are up early and make yourself and your lady ready, for you shall lack nothing that you need."
And with that he left. And early the next morning that same knight came to Sir Tristram, and fetched him and his lady out, and brought him his own horse and armour, and told him to make ready for the field, for all the ranks and the common people of that lordship were there ready to watch that battle and that judgement.
Then Sir Breunor, the lord of that castle, came with his lady by the hand, veiled, and asked Sir Tristram where his lady was. "For if your lady is fairer than mine, then with your sword strike off my lady's head; and if my lady is fairer than yours, with my sword I must strike off her head. And if I can beat you, your lady shall still be mine, and you shall lose your head."
"Sir," said Tristram, "this is a foul custom and a horrible one; and rather than have my lady lose her head, I would sooner lose my own."
"No, no," said Sir Breunor, "the ladies shall first be shown side by side, and one of them shall have her judgement."
"No, I will not have it so," said Sir Tristram, "for there is no one here who will give a just judgement. But I have no doubt," said Sir Tristram, "that my lady is fairer than yours, and that I will prove and make good with my hand. And whoever says the contrary, I will prove it on his head."
And with that Sir Tristram showed Isolde the Fair, and turned her three times round, with his naked sword in his hand. And when Sir Breunor saw that, he turned his lady round the same way. But when Sir Breunor looked at Isolde the Fair, he thought he had never seen a fairer lady, and then he feared his lady's head would be off. And so all the people who were there gave judgement that Isolde the Fair was the fairer lady and the better made.
"How now," said Sir Tristram, "it seems to me it would have been a pity for my lady to lose her head. But because you and she have kept this wicked custom for a long time, and many good knights and ladies have been destroyed by the two of you, for that reason it would be no loss to destroy you both."
"God help me," said Sir Breunor, "to tell the truth, your lady is fairer than mine, and I am bitterly sorry for it. And so I hear the people saying quietly, for of all women I never saw one so fair. And so, if you kill my lady, I have no doubt I will kill you and have your lady."
"You shall win her," said Sir Tristram, "as dearly as ever knight won lady. And because of your own judgement, which you would have carried out on my lady if she had been the uglier, and because of the evil custom, give me your lady," said Sir Tristram.
And with that Sir Tristram strode up to him and took his lady from him, and with a backhand stroke he struck off her head clean.
"Well, knight," said Sir Breunor, "now you have done me an insult. Now take your horse. Since I am without a lady, I will win your lady if I can."
Then they took their horses and came together as if it had been thunder; and Sir Tristram struck Sir Breunor clean off his horse, and he quickly got up. And as Sir Tristram came past him again, he ran his horse through both the shoulders, so that the horse plunged here and there and fell dead to the ground. And all the while Sir Breunor ran after him to kill Sir Tristram, but Sir Tristram was quick and nimble, and got clear of his horse swiftly. And before Sir Tristram could set his shield and his sword, the other gave him three or four heavy blows. Then they rushed together like two boars, circling and sidestepping mightily and skilfully, like two noble knights. For this Sir Breunor was a proven knight, and before that had been the death of many good knights, so that it was a pity he had lasted so long.
So they fought, crashing here and there, for nearly two hours, and both were badly wounded. Then at last Sir Breunor rushed at Sir Tristram and took him in his arms, for he trusted greatly in his strength. At that time Sir Tristram was called the strongest and the tallest knight in the world; for he was said to be bigger than Sir Lancelot, but Sir Lancelot had the better wind. So at once Sir Tristram threw Sir Breunor down flat on his face, and then he unlaced his helm and struck off his head. And then all those who belonged to the castle came to him, and did him homage and swore him fealty, begging him to stay there a little while longer to undo that foul custom. Sir Tristram agreed to it. Meanwhile one of the knights of the castle rode to Sir Galahalt, the high prince, who was Sir Breunor's son, and who was a noble knight, and told him what misfortune had befallen his father and his mother.
Then Sir Galahalt came, and the King with the Hundred Knights with him; and this Sir Galahalt offered to fight with Sir Tristram hand to hand. And so they made ready to go into battle on horseback with great spirit. Then Sir Galahalt and Sir Tristram met so hard that each bore the other down, horse and all, to the ground. And then they got clear of their horses like noble knights, and set their shields, and drew their swords in anger and rancour, and they laid into each other with many heavy blows, now striking, now thrusting, circling and sidestepping like noble knights. So they fought for a long time, nearly half a day, and both were badly wounded. At last Sir Tristram grew quick and strong, and doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Galahalt back on the one side and on the other, so that he was likely to have been killed.
With that the King with the Hundred Knights came, and all that company went fiercely at Sir Tristram. When Sir Tristram saw them coming at him, he knew well he could not hold out. Then, as a knight wise in war, he said to Sir Galahalt, the high prince, "Sir, you show me no knighthood in letting all your men fight with me at once; and since you seem to me a noble knight with your own hands, it is a great shame to you."
"God help me," said Sir Galahalt, "there is no other way but that you must yield to me, or else die," said Sir Galahalt to Sir Tristram.
"I will rather yield to you than die, for this is more by the might of your men than of your hands."
And with that Sir Tristram took his own sword by the point, and put the pommel into the hand of Sir Galahalt.
With that the King with the Hundred Knights came up, and began to attack Sir Tristram hard.
"Leave him be," said Sir Galahalt. "Don't you dare touch him, for I have given this knight his life."
"That is your shame," said the King with the Hundred Knights. "Has he not killed your father and your mother?"
"As for that," said Sir Galahalt, "I can hardly blame him much, for my father held him in prison, and forced him to do battle with him. And my father had a custom, and a shameful custom it was, that whatever knight came there to ask for lodging, his lady had to die unless she was fairer than my mother; and if my father overcame that knight, he had to die. This was a shameful custom and practice, that a knight who asked for lodging should have such lodging as that. And because of this custom I would never have anything to do with him."
"God help me," said the king, "this was a shameful custom."
"Truly," said Sir Galahalt, "so it seemed to me; and it seemed to me it would have been a great pity for this knight to have been killed, for I dare say he is the noblest man alive, unless it is Sir Lancelot du Lake. Now, fair knight," said Sir Galahalt, "I ask you to tell me your name, and where you are from, and where you are going."
"Sir," he said, "my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and I was sent on an errand from King Mark of Cornwall to King Anguish of Ireland, to fetch his daughter to be his wife; and here she is, ready to go with me into Cornwall, and her name is Isolde the Fair."
"And, Sir Tristram," said Sir Galahalt, the high prince, "you are well met in these borders. And if you will promise me to go to Sir Lancelot du Lake, and keep company with him, you shall go where you will, and your fair lady with you; and I promise you that never in all my days shall such customs be kept in this castle as have been kept here."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "now let me tell you, God help me, that I thought you were Sir Lancelot du Lake when I first saw you, and so I feared you the more. And, sir, I promise you," said Sir Tristram, "as soon as I can I will see Sir Lancelot and join his fellowship; for of all the knights in the world, his fellowship is what I most desire."
And then Sir Tristram took his leave when he saw his time, and put to sea. And in the meantime word came to Sir Lancelot and to Sir Tristram that Sir Carados, the mighty king, who was built like a giant, had fought with Sir Gawain, and given him such blows that he fainted in his saddle; and after that he took him by the collar and pulled him out of his saddle, and bound him fast to his saddlebow, and so rode on his way with him towards his castle. And as he rode, by chance Sir Lancelot met with Sir Carados, and at once he recognised Sir Gawain, who lay bound behind him.
"Ah," said Sir Lancelot to Sir Gawain, "how goes it with you?"
"Never so hard," said Sir Gawain, "unless you help me. For, God help me, unless you rescue me I know of no knight who can, except either you or Sir Tristram."
At this Sir Lancelot was grieved by Sir Gawain's words. And then Sir Lancelot said to Sir Carados, "Put down that knight and fight with me."
"You're nothing but a fool," said Sir Carados, "for I'll serve you the same way."
"As for that," said Sir Lancelot, "don't spare me, for I warn you I will not spare you."
And then he bound Sir Gawain hand and foot, and so threw him to the ground. And then he took his spear from his squire, and rode away from Sir Lancelot to take his distance for the charge. And so each met the other, and they broke their spears right down to their hands; and then they pulled out their swords, and crashed together on horseback for more than an hour. And at last Sir Lancelot struck Sir Carados such a blow on the helm that it pierced his skull. So then Sir Lancelot took Sir Carados by the collar and pulled him down under his horse's feet, and then he dismounted and pulled off his helm and struck off his head. And then Sir Lancelot unbound Sir Gawain.
So this same tale was told to Sir Galahalt and to Sir Tristram (here you may hear of the nobleness that follows Sir Lancelot).
"Alas," said Sir Tristram, "if I did not have this errand in hand with this fair lady, truly I would never stop until I had found Sir Lancelot."
Then Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair went to sea and came into Cornwall, and there all the barons met them.
And at once they were richly married with great pomp. But always, as the French book says, Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair loved each other still. Then there were great jousts and great tourneying, and many lords and ladies were at that feast, and Sir Tristram was praised most of all. So the feast lasted a long time. And after the feast was done, within a little while after, two ladies who were with Queen Isolde plotted together, out of hatred and envy, to destroy Dame Bragwaine, who was maid and lady-in-waiting to Isolde the Fair. And she was sent into the forest to fetch herbs, and there she was waylaid, and bound feet and hands to a tree, and so she was kept bound for three days. And by chance Sir Palomides found Dame Bragwaine, and there he saved her from death, and brought her to a nunnery close by, to recover.
When Isolde the queen missed her maid, you may be sure she was as downcast as ever any queen was, for of all earthly women she loved her best; the reason was that she had come with her out of her own country. And so one day Queen Isolde walked into the forest to put her thoughts aside, and there she went by herself to a spring and lamented bitterly. And suddenly Palomides came to her, who had heard all her lament, and said, "Madam Isolde, if you will grant me my wish, I will bring Dame Bragwaine to you safe and sound."
And the queen was so glad of his offer that, on the spur of the moment and without thinking, she granted all he asked.
"Well, madam," said Palomides, "I trust to your promise, and if you will wait here half an hour I will bring her to you."
"I will wait for you," said Isolde the Fair.
And Sir Palomides rode off on his way to that nunnery, and quickly came back with Dame Bragwaine. But by her own will she would not have come back, because for love of the queen she had put her life in danger. Nevertheless, half against her will, she went with Sir Palomides to the queen. And when the queen saw her she was exceedingly glad.
"Now, madam," said Palomides, "remember your promise, for I have kept mine."
"Sir Palomides," said the queen, "I do not know what your wish is, but I want you to know that though I promised you freely, I meant no harm, and I warn you I will do no harm."
"Madam," said Sir Palomides, "for now you shall not know my wish. But before my lord your husband you shall know that I will have the wish you have promised me."
And with that the queen left, and rode home to the king, and Sir Palomides rode after her. And when Sir Palomides came before the king, he said, "Sir King, I ask you, as you are a just king, to judge my case rightly."
"Tell me your case," said the king, "and you shall have justice."
"Sir," said Palomides, "I promised your Queen Isolde to bring back Dame Bragwaine, whom she had lost, on this agreement: that she would grant me a wish that I would ask, and she granted it to me without grudging or thinking it over."
"What do you say, my lady?" said the king.
"It is as he says, God help me," said the queen. "To tell you the truth, I promised him what he asked out of the love and joy I had in seeing her."
"Well, madam," said the king, "even if you were hasty in granting him whatever wish he asked, I will have you keep your promise."
"Then," said Palomides, "I want you to know that I will have your queen, to lead her away and keep her wherever I please."
At that the king stood still, and thought of Sir Tristram, and judged that he would rescue her. And then the king answered hastily, "Take her, with whatever adventures may come of it, for I expect you won't enjoy her for long."
"As for that," said Palomides, "I dare well risk the adventure."
And so, to cut a long story short, Sir Palomides took her by the hand and said, "Madam, do not be unwilling to go with me, for I want nothing but your own promise."
"As for that," said the queen, "I am not much afraid to go with you, though you have the advantage of me through my promise; for I have no doubt I shall be honourably rescued from you."
"As for that," said Sir Palomides, "let it be as it may."
So Queen Isolde was set behind Palomides on his horse, and he rode on his way.
At once the king sent for Sir Tristram, but he could not be found anywhere, for he was in the forest hunting; for that was always his custom, when he was not bearing arms, to chase and to hunt in the forests.
"Alas," said the king, "now I am shamed for ever, since by my own consent my lady and my queen will be destroyed."
Then a knight came forward. His name was Lambegus, and he was one of Sir Tristram's knights.
"My lord," said this knight, "since you have trust in my lord, Sir Tristram, you may be sure that for his sake I will ride after your queen and rescue her, or else I shall be beaten."
"Many thanks," said the king. "As I live, Sir Lambegus, I will repay you for it."
And then Sir Lambegus armed himself, and rode after them as fast as he could. And then within a while he overtook Sir Palomides. And then Sir Palomides left the queen.
"Who are you?" said Palomides. "Are you Tristram?"
"No," he said, "I am his servant, and my name is Sir Lambegus."
"I'm sorry for that," said Palomides. "I'd rather you had been Sir Tristram."
"I well believe you," said Lambegus, "but when you meet Sir Tristram you'll have your hands full."
And then they crashed together and burst their spears to pieces, and then they pulled out their swords, and hewed at helms and hauberks. At last Sir Palomides gave Sir Lambegus such a wound that he fell to the ground like a dead knight.
Then he looked round for Isolde the Fair, and by then she was gone, he did not know where. You may be sure Sir Palomides was never so downcast. For the queen had run into the forest, and there she found a spring, and she had thought to drown herself in it. And as good fortune would have it, a knight came to her who had a castle near by; his name was Sir Adtherp. And when he found the queen in that distress he rescued her, and brought her to his castle. And when he knew who she was he armed himself, and took his horse, and said he would be avenged on Palomides. And so he rode on until he met with him, and there Sir Palomides wounded him badly, and by force made him tell him why he had done battle with him, and how he had taken the queen to his castle.
"Now take me there," said Palomides, "or you'll die at my hands."
"Sir," said Sir Adtherp, "I am so wounded I cannot follow, but ride this way and it will bring you to my castle, and the queen is inside it."
Then Sir Palomides rode on until he came to the castle. And at a window Isolde the Fair saw Sir Palomides; then she had the gates shut fast. And when he saw he could not get into the castle, he took off his horse's bridle and saddle, and turned his horse out to graze, and sat himself down at the gate like a man out of his wits, who cared nothing for himself.
Now we turn to Sir Tristram. When he came home and learned that Isolde the Fair had gone off with Sir Palomides, believe me, he was angry beyond measure.
"Alas," said Sir Tristram, "this day I am shamed."
Then he called to Gouvernail his man, "Hurry and get me armed and on horseback, for I know well that Lambegus has neither the might nor the strength to stand against Sir Palomides. Alas that I was not there in his place!"
So as soon as he was armed and mounted, Sir Tristram and Gouvernail rode after them into the forest, and within a while he found his knight Lambegus wounded almost to the death. And Sir Tristram carried him to a forester, and charged him to look after him well. And then he rode on, and there he found Sir Adtherp badly wounded, and he told him how the queen would have drowned herself if it had not been for him, and how for her sake and her love he had taken it upon himself to fight Sir Palomides.
"Where is my lady?" said Sir Tristram.
"Sir," said the knight, "she is safe enough inside my castle, if she can keep herself within it."
"Many thanks," said Sir Tristram, "for your great goodness."
And so he rode until he came near that castle. And then Sir Tristram saw Sir Palomides sitting asleep at the gate, with his horse grazing close in front of him.
"Now you go, Gouvernail," said Sir Tristram, "and tell him to wake up and make himself ready."
So Gouvernail rode up to him and said, "Sir Palomides, get up, and put on your armour."
But he was so lost in thought that he did not hear what Gouvernail said. So Gouvernail came back and told Sir Tristram that he was asleep, or else he was mad.
"Go back again," said Sir Tristram, "and tell him to get up, and tell him that I am here, his mortal enemy."
So Gouvernail rode back again and prodded him with the butt of his spear, and said, "Sir Palomides, make yourself ready, for believe me, Sir Tristram is waiting over there, and sends you word that he is your mortal enemy."
And with that Sir Palomides got up quietly, without a word, and went to his horse, and saddled him and bridled him, and lightly he leapt up, and took his spear in his hand. And each of them set his spear in rest and they crashed together fast; and there Tristram struck Sir Palomides down over his horse's tail. Then Sir Palomides quickly put his shield in front of him and drew his sword. And there a hard fight began on both sides, for they both fought for the love of one lady, and all the while she lay on the walls and watched them fight beyond measure. And each of them was wounded exceedingly badly, but Palomides was much the worse wounded. So they fought, circling and sidestepping, for more than two hours, until Isolde the Fair nearly fainted from grief and sorrow.
"Alas," she said, "the one I loved and love still, and the other I do not love; and yet it would be a great pity for me to see Sir Palomides killed. For I know well that by the time this is over Sir Palomides is as good as a dead knight. And because he is not christened I would be loath for him to die a Saracen."
And with that she came down and begged Sir Tristram to fight no more.
"Ah, madam," he said, "what do you mean? Do you want me shamed? You know well that I will be ruled by you."
"I do not want your dishonour," said Isolde the Fair, "but I wish that for my sake you would spare this ill-fated Saracen Palomides."
"Madam," said Sir Tristram, "I will stop fighting for now, for your sake."
Then she said to Sir Palomides, "This shall be your charge: you are to leave this country for as long as I am in it."
"I will obey your command," said Sir Palomides, "though it is sorely against my will."
"Then take your way," said Isolde the Fair, "to the court of King Arthur, and there commend me to Queen Guinevere, and tell her I send her word that there are only four lovers in this land, that is, Sir Lancelot du Lake and Queen Guinevere, and Sir Tristram de Liones and Queen Isolde."
And so Sir Palomides went away, very heavy-hearted. And Sir Tristram took the queen and brought her back to King Mark, and then there was great rejoicing at her homecoming. And who was made much of but Sir Tristram! Then Sir Tristram had his knight Sir Lambegus fetched from the forester's house, and it was a long time before he was healed, but at last he made a good recovery.
So they lived a long while in joy and pleasure. But all the while Sir Andred, who was Sir Tristram's close cousin, lay in wait to watch Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair, so as to catch them and bring scandal on them. So one day Sir Tristram was talking with Isolde the Fair in a window, and Sir Andred saw it, and told the king. Then King Mark took a sword in his hand and came at Sir Tristram, and called him a false traitor, and would have struck him. But Sir Tristram was close to him, and ran in under his sword, and took it out of his hand.
And then the king cried, "Where are my knights and my men? I order you to kill this traitor!"
But at that time there was not one who would stir at his words. When Sir Tristram saw that there was not one who would stand against him, he shook the sword at the king, and made as though he would have struck him. And then King Mark ran, and Sir Tristram went after him, and struck him five or six blows on the neck with the flat of the sword, so that he made him fall flat on his face. And then Sir Tristram went his way and armed himself, and took his horse and his man, and so he rode into that forest.
And there one day Sir Tristram met two brothers who were knights of King Mark's, and there he struck off the head of the one, and wounded the other to the death; and he made him carry his brother's head in his helmet to the king. And thirty more he wounded there. And when that knight came before the king to give his message, he died there in front of the king and the queen. Then King Mark called his council to him, and asked his barons' advice about what was best to do with Sir Tristram.
"Sir," said the barons, and Sir Dinas the Seneschal in particular, "sir, our advice to you is to send for Sir Tristram, for we want you to know that many men would side with Sir Tristram if he were in a hard spot. And sir," said Sir Dinas, "you must understand that Sir Tristram is called peerless and without equal among Christian knights, and for might and boldness we know of no knight as good, unless it is Sir Lancelot du Lake. And if he leaves your court and goes to King Arthur's court, you may be sure he will win himself such friends there that he will care nothing for your malice. And so, sir, I advise you to take him back into your favour."
"I am content," said the king, "that he be sent for, so that we may be friends."
Then the barons sent for Sir Tristram under a safe-conduct. And so when Sir Tristram came to the king he was made welcome, and nothing was said of what had passed, and there was sport and pleasure. And then the king and the queen went hunting, and Sir Tristram with them.
The king and the queen pitched their pavilions and their tents in that forest beside a river, and there was hunting and jousting every day, for there were always thirty knights ready to joust against all who came by at that time. And there by chance came Sir Lamorak de Galis and Sir Driant; and there Sir Driant jousted very well, but at last he had a fall. Then Sir Lamorak offered to joust. And when he began, he dealt so with the thirty knights that there was not one of them he did not give a fall, and some of them were badly hurt.
"I wonder," said King Mark, "what knight he is who does such deeds of arms."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I know him well for as noble a knight as few now living are, and his name is Sir Lamorak de Galis."
"It would be a great shame," said the king, "for him to go away like this, unless some of you can meet him better."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "it seems to me there would be no honour for a noble man in fighting him. Because at this time he has done more than enough for any ordinary knight alive, it seems to me it would be a great shame and a low thing to put him to the test any more at this time, since he and his horse are both weary. For the deeds of arms he has done today, if they are well considered, would be enough for Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"As for that," said King Mark, "I ask you, as you love me and my lady the queen, Isolde the Fair, take your arms and joust with Sir Lamorak de Galis."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "you are telling me to do a thing that is against knighthood. And I can well judge that I shall give him a fall, for it is no great feat, since my horse and I are both fresh, and his horse and he are not. And believe me, he will take it as a great unkindness, for one good knight is always loath to take another at a disadvantage. But because I do not wish to displease you, as you ask me, so I will do, and obey your command."
And so Sir Tristram armed himself and took his horse, and rode out, and there Sir Lamorak met him mightily. And what with the force of his own spear and of Sir Tristram's spear, Sir Lamorak's horse fell to the earth, with him sitting in the saddle. Then as nimbly as he could he got clear of the saddle and his horse, and put his shield in front of him and drew his sword.
And then he called to Sir Tristram, "Get down, knight, if you dare!"
"No," said Sir Tristram, "I will have no more to do with you, for I have done too much to you already, to my dishonour and to your credit."
"As for that," said Sir Lamorak, "I owe you no thanks. Since you have outjousted me on horseback, I demand of you, and I beg you, if you are Sir Tristram, fight with me on foot."
"I will not," said Sir Tristram. "And believe me, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and I know well that you are Sir Lamorak de Galis. And what I have done to you was against my will, but I was asked to do it. But as for doing what you ask at this time, I will have no more to do with you, for I am ashamed of what I have done."
"As for the shame," said Sir Lamorak, "on your side or on mine, carry it yourself if you like. For though a mare's son has failed me, a queen's son shall not fail you. And so, if you are the knight men call you, I demand of you, get down and fight with me."
"Sir Lamorak," said Sir Tristram, "I understand that your heart is high, and you have cause for it, to tell you the truth. For it would grieve me if any knight kept himself fresh and then struck down a weary knight; for there was never knight or horse made that could always stand firm or hold out. And so," said Sir Tristram, "I will not fight you, for I am sorry for what I have done."
"As for that," said Sir Lamorak, "I shall pay you back, if ever I see my chance."
So he rode away from him with Sir Driant, and on the way they met a knight who had been sent from Morgan le Fay to King Arthur. And this knight had a fine horn mounted with gold, and the horn had this power: that no lady or gentlewoman could drink from that horn unless she was true to her husband; and if she was false she would spill all the drink, and if she was true to her lord she could drink in peace. And it was because of Queen Guinevere, and to spite Sir Lancelot, that this horn was being sent to King Arthur. And Sir Lamorak forced that knight to tell the whole reason why he carried that horn.
"Now you shall carry this horn," said Lamorak, "to King Mark, or else choose to die for it. For I tell you plainly, to spite and shame Sir Tristram you shall carry that horn to King Mark, his uncle, and tell him that I sent it to him to test his lady, and if she is true to him he will find it out."
So the knight went on his way to King Mark, and brought him that rich horn, and said that Sir Lamorak had sent it to him, and told him besides what power the horn had. Then the king made Queen Isolde drink from it, and a hundred ladies, and of all those who drank there were only four ladies who drank clean.
"Alas," said King Mark, "this is a great insult." And he swore a great oath that she should be burned, and the other ladies too.
Then the barons gathered together, and said plainly that they would not have those ladies burned for a horn made by sorcery, which came from as false a sorceress and witch as was then alive. For that horn never did any good, but caused strife and quarrelling, and all her days she had been an enemy to all true lovers. So there were many knights who swore that if ever they met Morgan le Fay, they would show her short courtesy. Sir Tristram too was exceedingly angry that Sir Lamorak had sent that horn to King Mark, for he knew well that it was done to spite him. And so he meant to pay Sir Lamorak back.
Then Sir Tristram took to going to Queen Isolde by day and by night whenever he could, and all the while Sir Andred his cousin watched him night and day so as to catch him with Isolde the Fair. And so one night Sir Andred spied out the hour and the time when Sir Tristram went to his lady. Then Sir Andred got together twelve knights, and at midnight he fell on Sir Tristram secretly and suddenly, and there Sir Tristram was taken naked in bed with Isolde the Fair. And then he was bound hand and foot, and so he was kept until day.
And then, with the consent of King Mark, and of Sir Andred, and of some of the barons, Sir Tristram was led to a chapel that stood on the rocks above the sea, to receive his sentence there; and so he was led there bound, with forty knights. And when Sir Tristram saw that there was no other help for it, but he must die, then he said, "Fair lords, remember what I have done for the country of Cornwall, and what danger I have been in for the good of you all. For when I fought for the tribute of Cornwall with Sir Marhaus, the good knight, I was promised a better reward, when all of you refused to take on the fight. And so, as you are good, well-born knights, do not see me die so shamefully, for it is a shame to all knighthood to see me die like this. For I dare say," said Sir Tristram, "that I never met a knight but I was as good as he, or better."
"Shame on you," said Sir Andred, "you false traitor, with your boasting! For all your bragging you shall die this day."
"O Andred, Andred," said Sir Tristram, "you ought to be my kinsman, and now you are utterly unfriendly to me. But if there were no one here but you and me, you would not put me to death."
"No?" said Sir Andred, and with that he drew his sword, and would have killed him.
When Sir Tristram saw him make such a show, he looked at both his hands, which were bound fast to two knights; and suddenly he pulled them both to him, and wrenched his hands free. And then he leapt at his cousin, Sir Andred, and wrested his sword out of his hands; then he struck Sir Andred so that he fell to the earth. And so Sir Tristram fought until he had killed ten knights. So then Sir Tristram took the chapel and held it mightily. Then there was a great outcry, and the people flocked to Sir Andred, more than a hundred of them. When Sir Tristram saw the people coming at him, he remembered that he was naked, and bolted the chapel door fast, and broke the bars of a window, and so he leapt out and fell on the crags in the sea. And so at that time neither Sir Andred nor any of his companions could get to him, at that time.
So when they had gone, Gouvernail, and Sir Lambegus, and Sir Sentraille de Lushon, who were Sir Tristram's men, went looking for their master. When they heard he had escaped, they were exceedingly glad; and they found him on the rocks, and pulled him up with towels. And then Sir Tristram asked them where Isolde the Fair was, for he thought she had been carried off by Andred's people.
"Sir," said Gouvernail, "she has been put in a lepers' hut."
"Alas," said Sir Tristram, "that is a most unfitting place for such a fair lady, and if I can help it she shall not be there long."
And so he took his men and went to where Isolde the Fair was, and fetched her away, and brought her into a forest to a fine manor house, and Sir Tristram stayed there with her. So the good knight told his men to leave him: "For at this time I cannot help you." So they all went away except Gouvernail.
And so one day Sir Tristram went into the forest to amuse himself, and then it happened that he fell asleep there. And there came a man whose brother Sir Tristram had killed some time before, and when this man found him he shot him through the shoulder with an arrow; and Sir Tristram leapt up and killed that man. And in the meantime King Mark was told how Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair were in that same manor, and as soon as ever he could he came there with many knights to kill Sir Tristram. And when he got there he found him gone; and there he took Isolde the Fair home with him, and kept her so closely guarded that by no means could she ever get word of Tristram or send to him, nor he to her. And then, when Sir Tristram came back towards the old manor, he found the tracks of many horses, and from that he knew his lady was gone. And then Sir Tristram grieved greatly, and suffered great pain for a long time, for the arrow he had been wounded with was poisoned.
Then Isolde the Fair found a way to tell a lady who was a cousin of Dame Bragwaine, and she came to Sir Tristram, and told him that he could not be healed by any means: "For your lady, Isolde the Fair, cannot help you, and so she bids you hurry to Brittany, to King Howell, and there you will find his daughter, Isolde of the White Hands, and she will help you."
Then Sir Tristram and Gouvernail found themselves a ship, and so they sailed to Brittany. And when King Howell knew that it was Sir Tristram, he was very glad of him.
"Sir," he said, "I have come to this country to have help from your daughter, for I am told that there is no one else who can heal me but she."
And so within a while she healed him.
There was an earl called Grip, and this earl made great war on the king, and got the better of the king, and besieged him. And one time Sir Kehydius, who was King Howell's son, was badly wounded, near to death, as he sallied out.
Then Gouvernail went to the king and said, "Sir, I advise you to ask my lord, Sir Tristram, to help you in your need."
"I will do as you advise," said the king.
And so he went to Sir Tristram, and begged him to help him in his wars: "For my son, Sir Kehydius, cannot go into the field."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I will go to the field and do what I can."
Then Sir Tristram sallied out of the town with such a company as he could get together, and did such deeds that all Brittany talked of him. And then at last, by great might and force, he killed the Earl Grip with his own hands, and he killed more than a hundred knights that day. And then Sir Tristram was received with honour, with a procession.
Then King Howell took him in his arms, and said, "Sir Tristram, I will give up all my kingdom to you."
"God forbid," said Sir Tristram, "for I am bound to serve you for your daughter's sake."
Then, through the great efforts of King Howell and his son Kehydius, and by great offers, great love grew up between Isolde and Sir Tristram, for that lady was both good and beautiful, and a woman of noble blood and good name. And because Sir Tristram had such welcome and riches and every other pleasure he had there, he had almost forsaken Isolde the Fair. And so at one time Sir Tristram agreed to marry Isolde of the White Hands. And at last they were married, and solemnly held their wedding. And so, when they were both in bed, Sir Tristram remembered his old lady, Isolde the Fair. And then such a sudden grief took hold of him that he was utterly dismayed, and he gave her no other welcome than embracing and kissing. As for any other bodily desire, Sir Tristram never thought of it, nor lay with her: so the French book says. It says too that the lady thought there was no pleasure but kissing and embracing.
And in the meantime there was a knight in Brittany whose name was Suppinabiles, and he came over the sea to England, and then he came to the court of King Arthur, and there he met Sir Lancelot du Lake, and told him of Sir Tristram's marriage.
Then Sir Lancelot said, "Shame on him, a knight untrue to his lady, that so noble a knight as Sir Tristram should be found false to his first lady, Isolde the Fair, Queen of Cornwall! But tell him this," said Sir Lancelot, "that of all knights in the world I loved him most, and took most joy in him, and all for his noble deeds. And let him know that the love between him and me is over for ever, and that from this day on I give him warning as his mortal enemy."
Then Sir Suppinabiles went back to Brittany, and there he found Sir Tristram, and told him that he had been at King Arthur's court.
Then Sir Tristram said, "Did you hear anything of me?"
"God help me," said Sir Suppinabiles, "I heard Sir Lancelot speak great shame of you there, saying that you are a false knight to your lady; and he told me to let you know that he will be your mortal enemy wherever he may meet you."
"I am sorry for that," said Tristram, "for of all knights, his was the company I loved to be in."
So Sir Tristram lamented greatly, and was ashamed that noble knights should speak ill of him for the sake of his lady. And meanwhile Isolde the Fair wrote a letter to Queen Guinevere, complaining of Sir Tristram's faithlessness, and of how he had married the King of Brittany's daughter. Queen Guinevere sent her another letter, and told her to take heart, for she would have joy after sorrow; for Sir Tristram was known as so noble a knight that ladies would use sorcery to make such noble men marry them. "But in the end," Queen Guinevere said, "it shall be this way: that he will hate her, and love you better than ever he did before."
So we leave Sir Tristram in Brittany, and speak of Sir Lamorak de Galis. As he was sailing, his ship struck a rock and was lost with all aboard, except Sir Lamorak and his squire. And there he swam mightily, and fishermen of the Isle of Servage picked him up; and his squire was drowned. And the seamen had great labour to save Sir Lamorak's life, for all the comfort they could give him.
And the lord of that isle was called Sir Nabon le Noire, a great mighty giant. And this Sir Nabon hated all King Arthur's knights, and would do them no favour of any kind. And these fishermen told Sir Lamorak all Sir Nabon's ways: how no knight of King Arthur's ever came there but he destroyed him. And at the last fight he had, Sir Nanowne le Petite was killed, whom he put to a shameful death to spite King Arthur, for he was torn limb from limb.
"I am sorry for that knight's death," said Sir Lamorak, "for he was my cousin; and if I were as well as ever I was, I would avenge his death."
"Hush," said the fishermen, "and say nothing of that here, for before ever you leave this place Sir Nabon must know that you have been here, or else we would die for your sake."
"So long as I am healed," said Lamorak, "of the sickness I have taken in the sea, I want you to tell him that I am a knight of King Arthur's, for I was never afraid to own my lord."
Now we turn to Sir Tristram. One day he took a little boat, with his wife Isolde of the White Hands and Sir Kehydius her brother, to amuse themselves along the coast. And when they were out from the land, a wind drove them in to the coast of Wales, onto this Isle of Servage, where Sir Lamorak was, and there the boat broke up; and there Dame Isolde was hurt. And as best they could they got into the forest, and there by a spring he saw Segwarides and a damsel. And then they greeted each other.
"Sir," said Segwarides, "I know you for Sir Tristram de Liones, the man in the world I have most cause to hate, because you came between me and my wife. But as for that," said Sir Segwarides, "I will never hate a noble knight for the sake of a faithless woman. And so I beg you, be my friend, and I will be yours as far as I can. For believe me, you are in a hard spot in this valley, and we shall each have enough to do to help the other."
And then Sir Segwarides brought Sir Tristram to a lady nearby who had been born in Cornwall, and she told him all the dangers of that valley, and how no knight ever came there but he was taken prisoner or killed.
"Believe me, fair lady," said Sir Tristram, "I killed Sir Marhaus and freed Cornwall from the tribute to Ireland, and I am the one who freed the King of Ireland from Sir Blamore de Ganis, and I am the one who beat Sir Palomides. And you may be sure I am Sir Tristram de Liones, who by the grace of God shall free this woeful Isle of Servage."
So Sir Tristram was well looked after. Then someone told him there was a knight of King Arthur's who had been wrecked on the rocks.
"What is his name?" said Sir Tristram.
"We do not know," said the fishermen, "but he makes no secret that he is a knight of King Arthur's, and he cares nothing for the mighty lord of this isle."
"I beg you," said Sir Tristram, "if you can, bring him here so that I may see him, and if he is any of Arthur's knights I shall know him."
Then the lady asked the fishermen to bring him to her house. So the next day they brought him there in a fisherman's clothes; and as soon as Sir Tristram saw him he smiled at him and knew him well, but he did not know Sir Tristram.
"Fair sir," said Sir Tristram, "it seems to me from your face that you have been ill not long ago, and I also think I ought to know you from before."
"I can well believe," said Sir Lamorak, "that you have seen me and met me."
"Fair sir," said Sir Tristram, "tell me your name."
"I will tell you on one condition," said Sir Lamorak, "that is, that you tell me whether or not you are the lord of this island, the one called Nabon le Noire."
"Truly," said Sir Tristram, "I am not he, nor do I hold land from him. I am his enemy as much as you are, and so I shall be found before I leave this isle."
"Well," said Sir Lamorak, "since you have spoken so freely to me, my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis, son of King Pellinore."
"Truly, I well believe it," said Sir Tristram, "for if you said otherwise I know the contrary."
"Who are you," said Sir Lamorak, "who know me?"
"I am Sir Tristram de Liones."
"Ah, sir, do you not remember the fall you gave me once, and afterwards refused to fight me on foot?"
"That was not for any fear I had of you," said Sir Tristram, "but I was ashamed at that time to have any more to do with you, for it seemed to me you had had enough. But, Sir Lamorak, in return for my kindness you brought shame on many ladies when you sent the horn from Morgan le Fay to King Mark, for you did it to spite me."
"Well," he said, "if it were to do again, I would do it, for I would rather strife and quarrelling fell out in King Mark's court than in Arthur's court, for the honour of the two courts is not alike."
"As to that," said Sir Tristram, "I know it well. But what was done was done to spite me; but all your malice, I thank God, did no great harm. And so," said Sir Tristram, "you shall put aside all your malice, and so will I, and let us try how we may win honour between us on this giant Sir Nabon le Noire, who is lord of this island, and destroy him."
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak, "now I understand your knighthood. What all men say cannot be false: for goodness, nobility and honour you are peerless among all knights, and for your courtesy and your gentleness I showed you discourtesy, and now I am sorry for it."
In the meantime word came that Sir Nabon had had it proclaimed that all the people of that isle were to be at his castle on the fifth day after. And that same day Nabon's son was to be made a knight, and all the knights of that valley and round about were to be there to joust, and all those of the realm of Logres were to be there to joust against those of North Wales. And five hundred knights came there, and the people of the country brought Sir Lamorak there, and Sir Tristram, and Sir Kehydius, and Sir Segwarides, for they dared not do otherwise. And then Sir Nabon lent Sir Lamorak a horse and armour, at Sir Lamorak's request. And Sir Lamorak jousted and did such deeds of arms that Nabon and all the people said there was never a knight they had ever seen do such deeds of arms. For, as the French book says, he outjousted everyone who was there, most of the five hundred knights, so that not one of them kept his saddle against him.
Then Sir Nabon offered to play his own game with him: "For I never saw any knight do so much in one day."
"Gladly," said Sir Lamorak, "I will play as well as I can, but I am weary and badly bruised."
And there each of them took a spear, but Nabon would not meet Sir Lamorak in the joust, but struck his horse in the forehead, and so killed it. And then Sir Lamorak went on foot, and turned his shield and drew his sword, and there a hard fight began on foot. But Sir Lamorak was so badly bruised and so short of breath that he circled and sidestepped somewhat backwards.
"Fair fellow," said Sir Nabon, "hold your hand, and I will show you more courtesy than ever I showed a knight, because I have seen your noble knighthood today. And so stand aside, and I will find out whether any of your companions will fight me."
Then, when Sir Tristram heard that, he stepped forward and said, "Nabon, lend me a horse and sound armour, and I will fight you."
"Well, fellow," said Sir Nabon, "go to that pavilion over there, and arm yourself in the best you find there, and I will play a marvellous game with you."
Then Sir Tristram said, "Mind you play well, or else perhaps I shall teach you a new game."
"That is well said, fellow," said Sir Nabon.
So when Sir Tristram was armed as he liked best, and well shielded and sworded, he squared up to him on foot; for he knew well that Sir Nabon would not wait for a stroke of the spear, and so he would kill all the knights' horses.
"Now, fair fellow, Sir Nabon, let us play."
So then they fought on foot for a long time, circling and sidestepping, striking and thrusting, for a long while without any rest. At last Sir Nabon begged him to tell him his name.
"Sir Nabon, I tell you my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, a knight of Cornwall under King Mark."
"You are welcome," said Sir Nabon, "for of all knights I have most wanted to fight with you or with Sir Lancelot."
So then they went at each other fiercely, and Sir Tristram killed Sir Nabon. And straight away he leapt at his son, and struck off his head; and then all the country said they would hold their lands from Sir Tristram.
"No," said Sir Tristram, "I will not have it so. Here is an honourable knight, Sir Lamorak de Galis, and for my part he shall be lord of this country, for he has done great deeds of arms here."
"No," said Sir Lamorak, "I will not be lord of this country, for I have not deserved it as well as you. And so give it to whoever you like, for I will have none of it."
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "since neither you nor I will have it, let us give it to someone who has not deserved it so well."
"Do as you please," said Segwarides, "for the gift is yours; for I would have none of it, even if I had deserved it."
So it was given to Segwarides, and he thanked them for it; and so he was lord, and governed it honourably. And then Sir Segwarides set all the prisoners free, and put that valley under good government. And so he went back to Cornwall, and told King Mark and Isolde the Fair how Sir Tristram had made him lord of the Isle of Servage, and there he proclaimed through all Cornwall all the adventures of these two knights, so that they were known openly. But Isolde the Fair was full of sorrow when she heard that Sir Tristram was married to Isolde of the White Hands.
So we turn to Sir Lamorak, who rode towards Arthur's court; and Sir Tristram's wife and Kehydius took a ship and sailed to Brittany, to King Howell, where he was welcome. And when he heard of these adventures they marvelled at his noble deeds.
Now we turn to Sir Lamorak. When he had parted from Sir Tristram he rode out of the forest until he came to a hermitage. When the hermit saw him, he asked him where he had come from.
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak, "I come from this valley."
"Sir," said the hermit, "that amazes me. For these twenty years I never saw any knight pass through this country but he was either killed or shamefully wounded, or passed as a poor prisoner."
"Those evil customs," said Sir Lamorak, "are done away with, for Sir Tristram has killed your lord, Sir Nabon, and his son."
Then the hermit was glad, and all his brothers, for he said there was never such a tyrant among Christian men. "And so," said the hermit, "we will hold this valley and its liberties from Sir Tristram."
So the next day Sir Lamorak left; and as he rode he saw four knights fighting against one, and that one knight defended himself well, but at last the four knights had him down. And then Sir Lamorak went between them, and asked them why they wanted to kill that one knight, and said it was a shame, four against one.
"You may be sure," said the four knights, "that he is false."
"That is your story," said Sir Lamorak, "and when I have heard him speak as well, I will say as you say." Then Lamorak said, "Ah, knight, can you not clear yourself of being a false knight?"
"Sir," he said, "I can clear myself, both with my word and with my hands, and I will prove it on any one of the best of them, my body against his body."
Then they all spoke at once: "We will not risk our bodies for you. But you may be sure," they said, "that if King Arthur himself were here, it would not be in his power to save this man's life."
"That is too much said," said Sir Lamorak, "but many men say more behind a man's back than they will say to his face. And because of your words, you shall understand that I am one of the least of King Arthur's court. For the honour of my lord, now do your worst, and in spite of you I shall rescue him."
And then all of them rushed at Sir Lamorak at once, but with two strokes Sir Lamorak quickly killed two of them, and then the other two fled. So then Sir Lamorak turned back to that knight, and asked him his name.
"Sir," he said, "my name is Sir Frol of the Out Isles."
Then he rode with Sir Lamorak and kept him company. And as they rode along the way they saw a handsome knight riding towards them, all in white.
"Ah," said Frol, "that knight over there jousted with me not long ago and struck me down, and so I will joust with him."
"You shall not do so," said Sir Lamorak, "if you take my advice, unless you tell me your quarrel, whether you jousted at his request or he at yours."
"No," said Sir Frol, "I jousted with him at my own request."
"Sir," said Lamorak, "then I advise you to have no more to do with him, for it seems to me by his bearing that he must be a noble knight, and no joker; for I think he must be of the Round Table."
"I will not hold back for that," said Sir Frol. And then he shouted, "Sir knight, get ready to joust!"
"There is no need for that," said the White Knight, "for I have no wish to joust with you."
But still they set their spears in rest, and the White Knight overthrew Sir Frol, and then he rode on his way at an easy pace. Then Sir Lamorak rode after him, and begged him to tell him his name: "For it seems to me you must be of the fellowship of the Round Table."
"On one condition," he said, "I will tell you my name: that you will not give my name away, and also that you will tell me yours."
"Then," he said, "my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis."
"And my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake."
Then they put up their swords, and kissed each other warmly, and each rejoiced greatly in the other.
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak, "if it please you, I will do you service."
"God forbid," said Lancelot, "that anyone of such noble blood as you should do me service." Then he said, "Besides, I am on a quest that I must do by myself alone."
"Now God speed you," said Sir Lamorak, and so they parted.
Then Sir Lamorak came to Sir Frol and got him on his horse again.
"What knight is that?" said Sir Frol.
"Sir," he said, "it is not for you to know, and it is no part of my business to tell you."
"Then you are all the more discourteous," said Sir Frol, "and so I will leave you."
"You may do as you please," said Sir Lamorak, "and yet by keeping my company you have saved the fairest flower of your garland." And so they parted.
Then within two or three days Sir Lamorak found a knight asleep by a spring, and his lady sat beside him and kept watch. Just then Sir Gawain came and took the knight's lady, and set her up behind his squire. So Sir Lamorak rode after Sir Gawain, and said, "Sir Gawain, turn back."
And then Sir Gawain said, "What do you want with me? For I am King Arthur's nephew."
"Sir," he said, "for that reason I will spare you; otherwise that lady would stay with me, or else you would have to joust with me."
Then Sir Gawain turned and rode at the knight the lady belonged to, with his spear; but the knight, by sheer strength, struck Sir Gawain down, and took his lady with him. Sir Lamorak saw all this, and said to himself, "Unless I avenge my companion, he will speak dishonour of me in King Arthur's court."
Then Sir Lamorak turned back and offered to joust with that knight.
"Sir," he said, "I am ready."
And there they came together with all their might, and there Sir Lamorak struck the knight through both sides, so that he fell to the earth dead.
Then that lady rode to that knight's brother, who was called Belliance le Orgulous, who lived close by, and she told him how his brother had been killed.
"Alas," he said, "I will be avenged."
And so he got on his horse, and armed himself, and within a while he overtook Sir Lamorak, and called to him, "Turn and leave that lady, for you and I must play a new game. For you have killed my brother Sir Frol, who was a better knight than ever you were."
"That may well be," said Sir Lamorak, "but today in the field I was found the better."
So they rode at each other, and each unhorsed the other, and they turned their shields and drew their swords, and fought mightily, like proven noble knights, for the space of two hours. So then Sir Belliance begged him to tell him his name.
"Sir," he said, "my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis."
"Ah," said Sir Belliance, "you are the man in the world I hate most, for I killed my sons for your sake, when I saved your life, and now you have killed my brother Sir Frol. Alas, how could I ever be reconciled with you? So defend yourself, for you shall die; there is no other remedy."
"Alas," said Sir Lamorak, "I ought to have known you full well, for you are the man who has done most for me."
And with that Sir Lamorak knelt down, and begged him for mercy.
"Get up," said Sir Belliance, "or else I shall kill you where you kneel."
"There will be no need for that," said Sir Lamorak, "for I will yield to you, not for fear of you, nor for your strength, but your goodness makes me utterly loath to fight you. And so I beg you, for God's sake, and for the honour of knighthood, forgive me all the wrong I have done you."
"Alas," said Belliance, "stop your kneeling, or else I shall kill you without mercy."
Then they went back to the fight, and each wounded the other, so that all the ground where they fought was bloody. And at last Belliance drew back and sat himself down gently on a little hill, for he was so faint from bleeding that he could not stand. Then Sir Lamorak threw his shield onto his back, and asked him how he was.
"Well," said Sir Belliance.
"Ah, sir, yet I shall show you favour in your distress."
"Ah, Sir Belliance, good knight," said Sir Lamorak, "you are a fool, for if I had had you at such an advantage as you had me, I would have killed you. But your gentleness is so good and so generous that I must forgive you my ill will."
And then Sir Lamorak knelt down, and first unlaced the other's visor, and then his own, and then they kissed each other with weeping tears. Then Sir Lamorak led Sir Belliance to an abbey close by, and there Sir Lamorak would not leave Belliance until he was healed. And then they swore together that neither of them would ever fight against the other. So Sir Lamorak left and went to the court of King Arthur.
Here we leave Sir Lamorak and Sir Tristram. And here begins the history of La Cote Male Taile.
To King Arthur's court there came a young man, big and strongly built, and he was richly dressed; and he asked the king to make him a knight. But his outer coat sat crooked on him, even though it was rich cloth of gold.
"What is your name?" said King Arthur.
"Sir," he said, "my name is Bruin le Noire, and in a short while you shall know that I am of good family."
"That may well be," said Sir Kay the Seneschal, "but in mockery you shall be called La Cote Male Taile, which is to say, the badly cut coat."
"It is a great thing that you ask," said the king. "And why do you wear that rich coat? Tell me, for I can well believe there is some reason for it."
"Sir," he answered, "I had a father, a noble knight, and as he rode hunting one day it happened that he lay down to sleep. And there came a knight who had long been his enemy, and when he saw that he was fast asleep he hacked him all to pieces. And my father was wearing this same coat at the time, and that is what makes this coat sit so badly on me, for the sword strokes are on it just as I found it, and it will never be mended by me. So I wear this coat to keep my father's death in mind until I am avenged. And because you are called the noblest king in the world, I have come to you so that you should make me a knight."
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak and Sir Gaheris, "it would be well done to make him a knight, for he looks well in body and in face, so that he will prove a good man, and a good knight, and a mighty one. For, sir, if you remember, just such a one was Sir Lancelot du Lake when he first came to this court, and very few of us knew where he came from; and now he has proved himself the man of greatest honour in the world, and all your court and all your Round Table is honoured and bettered by Sir Lancelot more than by any knight now living."
"That is true," said the king, "and tomorrow, at your request, I shall make him a knight."
So the next morning a hart was found, and King Arthur rode out there with a company of his knights to kill the hart. And this young man whom Sir Kay had named La Cote Male Taile was left behind with Queen Guinevere. And by sudden chance there was a fearsome lion kept in a strong tower of stone, and it happened that at that very time he broke loose, and came charging at the queen and her knights. And when the queen saw the lion she cried out and fled, and begged her knights to rescue her. And of them all only twelve stood their ground, and all the others fled.
Then La Cote Male Taile said, "Now I see well that not all the coward knights are dead."
And with that he drew his sword and squared up to the lion. And that lion gaped wide and came at him, rearing up, to kill him. And then he struck him in the middle of the head such a mighty stroke that it split his head apart, and he crashed to the ground. Then the queen was told how the young man whom Sir Kay in scorn had named La Cote Male Taile had killed the lion. With that the king came home. And when the queen told him of that adventure, he was well pleased, and said, "I'll stake my head on it, he will prove a noble man and a faithful knight, and true to his word."
Then the king made him a knight on the spot.
"Now, sir," said this young knight, "I ask you and all the knights of your court to call me by no other name but La Cote Male Taile. Since Sir Kay has named me so, so I will be called."
"I agree to that gladly," said the king.
Then that same day a damsel came into the court, and she brought with her a great black shield, with a white hand in the middle of it holding a sword. There was no other device on that shield. When King Arthur saw her he asked her where she came from and what she wanted.
"Sir," she said, "I have ridden long, and many a day, with this shield, by many roads, and this is why I have come to your court. There was a good knight who owned this shield, and this knight had undertaken a great deed of arms, to carry it through to the end. And so it was his misfortune that another strong knight met him by sudden chance, and there they fought a long time, and each wounded the other exceedingly badly; and they were so weary that they left that battle even. So this knight who owned this shield saw no other way but that he must die. And then he commanded me to carry this shield to the court of King Arthur, asking and praying some good knight to take this shield, and to fulfil the quest that he was on."
"Now what do you say to this quest?" said King Arthur. "Is there any of you here who will undertake to bear this shield?"
Then there was not one who would speak a single word. Then Sir Kay took the shield in his hands.
"Sir knight," said the damsel, "what is your name?"
"Believe me," he said, "my name is Sir Kay the Seneschal, known far and wide."
"Sir," said that damsel, "put down that shield, for believe me, it is not for you. The knight who bears this shield must be a better knight than you."
"Damsel," said Sir Kay, "believe me, I took this shield in my hands with your leave, to look at it, not with that intent. But go wherever you like, for I'm not going with you."
Then the damsel stood still for a long while and looked at many of those knights. Then the knight La Cote Male Taile spoke up.
"Fair damsel," he said, "I will take the shield and that adventure upon me, if only I knew which way my journey would lead; for since I was made a knight this day, I would take this adventure upon me."
"What is your name, fair young man?" said the damsel.
"My name," he said, "is La Cote Male Taile."
"Well may you be called that," said the damsel, "the knight with the badly cut coat. But if you are bold enough to take it on yourself to bear that shield and to follow me, believe me, your skin will be as well hacked as your coat."
"As for that," said La Cote Male Taile, "when I am so hacked, I will ask you for no salve to heal me with."
And just then two squires came into the court and brought him great horses, and his armour, and his spears, and at once he was armed and took his leave.
"It is not by my will," said the king, "that you take that hard adventure upon you."
"Sir," he said, "this adventure is mine, and the first that ever I took upon me, and I will follow it, whatever becomes of me."
Then that damsel left, and La Cote Male Taile followed close after her. And within a while he overtook the damsel, and at once she abused him in the foulest way.
Then Sir Kay arranged for Sir Dagonet, King Arthur's fool, to follow after La Cote Male Taile. And there Sir Kay had Sir Dagonet horsed and armed, and told him to follow La Cote Male Taile and offer to joust with him; and so he did. And when he saw La Cote Male Taile, he shouted and told him to make ready to joust. So Sir La Cote Male Taile struck Sir Dagonet over his horse's rump. Then the damsel mocked La Cote Male Taile.
"Shame on you!" she said. "Now you're disgraced in Arthur's court, when they send a fool to fight you, and at your very first joust too."
So she rode on a long way, and scolded. And within a while there came Sir Bleoberis, the good knight, and there he jousted with La Cote Male Taile, and there Sir Bleoberis struck him so hard that horse and all fell to the ground. Then La Cote Male Taile got up quickly, and set his shield, and drew his sword, and would have fought to the uttermost, for he was mad with rage.
"Not so," said Sir Bleoberis de Ganis. "At this time I will not fight on foot."
Then the damsel Maledisant rebuked him in the foulest way, and told him, "Turn back, coward!"
"Ah, damsel," he said, "I beg you for mercy, abuse me no more. My grief is enough without your adding to it. I never count myself the worse knight when a mare's son lets me down, and I don't count myself the worse knight for a fall from Sir Bleoberis either."
So he rode with her like this for two days. And by chance there came Sir Palomides and met him, and he served him in the same way as Bleoberis had done before.
"What are you doing here in my company?" said the damsel Maledisant. "You can't keep your seat against any knight, or stand up to a single blow from him, unless it's Sir Dagonet."
"Ah, fair damsel, I am none the worse for taking a fall from Sir Palomides, and yet I have no great dishonour from it, for neither Bleoberis nor Palomides would fight with me on foot."
"As for that," said the damsel, "believe me, they think it beneath them, and scorn to get off their horses to fight such an ignorant knight as you are."
So in the meantime there came Sir Mordred, Sir Gawain's brother, and so he fell into company with the damsel Maledisant. And then they came before the Castle Orgulous, and there was a custom there that no knight could pass that castle without either jousting or being taken prisoner, or at the least losing his horse and his armour. And two knights came out against them, and Sir Mordred jousted with the first, and that knight of the castle struck Sir Mordred down off his horse. And then La Cote Male Taile jousted with the other, and each of them struck the other down, horse and all, to the ground. And when they got clear of their horses, each of them took the other's horse. And then La Cote Male Taile rode at the knight who had struck down Sir Mordred, and jousted with him. And there Sir La Cote Male Taile hurt and wounded him exceedingly badly, and put him off his horse as if he were dead. So he turned to the one he had met before, and that knight took flight towards the castle, and Sir La Cote Male Taile rode after him into the Castle Orgulous, and there La Cote Male Taile killed him.
And at once a hundred knights came around him and attacked him. And when he saw that his horse would be killed, he dismounted and got clear of his horse, and put the bridle under its feet, and so put it out of the gate. And when he had done that, he charged in among them, and set his back against the wall of a lady's chamber, thinking to himself that he would rather die there with honour than put up with the abuse of the damsel Maledisant. And in the meantime, as he stood and fought, the lady whose chamber it was went out quietly by her back gate, and outside the gates she found La Cote Male Taile's horse, and quickly she took him by the bridle and tied him to the back gate. And then she went quietly back to her chamber to watch how that one knight fought against a hundred knights. And when she had watched him a long time, she went to a window behind his back.
"Knight," she said, "you fight marvellously well, but for all that you must die in the end, unless through your mighty prowess you can make your way to that back gate over there, for I have tied your horse there to wait for you. But believe me, you must think of your honour and not think of dying, for you cannot make your way to that back gate unless you act nobly and mightily."
When La Cote Male Taile heard her say this, he gripped his sword in his hands, and put his shield well in front of him, and pushed his way through the thickest of the crowd. And when he came to the back gate he found four knights there ready for him, and with the first two strokes he killed two of the knights, and the others fled. And so he won his horse and rode away from them. And all of it, just as it happened, was told in King Arthur's court, how he killed twelve knights within the Castle Orgulous; and so he rode on his way.
And in the meanwhile the damsel said to Sir Mordred, "I expect my fool of a knight is either killed or taken prisoner."
Then they saw him come riding. And when he had come up to them, he told them all how he had fared, and how he had escaped in spite of them all. "And some of the best of them will tell no tales."
"You're lying," said the damsel, "and I dare prove it. They let you pass as a fool and a disgrace to all knighthood."
"You may prove that," said La Cote Male Taile.
With that she sent a courier of hers, who always rode with her, to learn the truth of this deed. And so he rode there quickly, and asked how, and in what manner, La Cote Male Taile had escaped out of the castle. Then all the knights cursed him, and said that he was a fiend and no man: "For he has killed twelve of our best knights here, and until today we thought that would have been too much for Sir Lancelot du Lake or for Sir Tristram de Liones. And in spite of us all he has gone from us, against our will."
With this answer the courier left, and came to Maledisant his lady, and told her everything, how Sir La Cote Male Taile had fared at the Castle Orgulous. Then she hung her head, and said little.
"By my head," said Sir Mordred to the damsel, "you are much to blame for rebuking him so, for I warn you plainly, he is a good knight, and I have no doubt that he will prove a noble knight. But as yet he cannot sit firm on horseback, for being a good horseman must come from practice and exercise. But when it comes to the strokes of his sword, then he is noble and mighty, and Sir Bleoberis and Sir Palomides saw that. For believe me, they are wily men of arms, and they know at once, when they see a young knight, by his riding, how sure they are to give him a fall from his horse or a great blow. But for the most part they will not get down on foot with young knights, for they are strong and well armed. For in the same way Sir Lancelot du Lake, when he was first made knight, was often worsted on horseback, but on foot he always won back his renown, and killed and trampled many knights of the Round Table. And so the shame Sir Lancelot dealt to many knights makes men of prowess wary. For I have often seen old, proven knights shamed and killed by men who were only young beginners."
So they rode on, talking earnestly together along the way.
Here we leave this tale for a while, and speak of Sir Lancelot du Lake: how, when he had come to the court of King Arthur, he heard tell of the young knight La Cote Male Taile, how he killed the lion, and how he took upon himself the adventure of the black shield, which was called at that time the hardiest adventure in the world.
"God save me," said Sir Lancelot to many of his companions, "it was a shame to all the noble knights to let such a young knight take such an adventure upon him, to his destruction. For I want you to know," said Sir Lancelot, "that that damsel Maledisant has carried that shield many a day to seek out the most proven knights. And she was the one from whom Breuse Saunce Pité took that shield, and afterwards Tristram de Liones rescued that shield from him and gave it back to the damsel, a little before the time that Sir Tristram fought with my nephew Sir Blamore de Ganis, over a quarrel between the King of Ireland and him."
Then many knights were sorry that Sir La Cote Male Taile had gone out on that adventure.
"Truly," said Sir Lancelot, "I mean to ride after him."
And within seven days Sir Lancelot overtook La Cote Male Taile, and then he greeted him and the damsel Maledisant. And when Sir Mordred saw Sir Lancelot, he left their company. And so Sir Lancelot rode with them for a whole day, and all the while that damsel rebuked La Cote Male Taile. And then Sir Lancelot answered for him, and then she left off, and rebuked Sir Lancelot.
So in the meantime Sir Tristram sent a letter by a damsel to Sir Lancelot, excusing himself for his marriage to Isolde of the White Hands; and he said in the letter that, as he was a true knight, he had never lain with Isolde of the White Hands. And Sir Tristram wrote to Sir Lancelot exceedingly courteously and like a gentleman, all the while begging him to be his good friend, and a good friend to Isolde the Fair of Cornwall, and that Sir Lancelot would speak for him if ever he saw her. And within a short time, by the grace of God, said Sir Tristram, he would speak with Isolde the Fair, and with him too, very soon. Then Sir Lancelot left the damsel and Sir La Cote Male Taile, to read that letter over and to write another letter to Sir Tristram de Liones.
And in the meanwhile La Cote Male Taile rode with the damsel until they came to a castle called Pendragon. And there were six knights standing in front of him, and one of them offered to joust with La Cote Male Taile. And there La Cote Male Taile struck him over his horse's rump. And then the other five knights set on him all at once with their spears, and there they struck La Cote Male Taile down, horse and man. And then they dismounted quickly, and all laid hands on him at once, and took him prisoner, and so led him into the castle and kept him there as a prisoner.
And in the morning Sir Lancelot got up, and sent the damsel off with letters to Sir Tristram, and then he took his way after La Cote Male Taile. And on the way, on a bridge, there was a knight who offered to joust with Sir Lancelot, and Sir Lancelot struck him down. And then they fought a noble battle together on foot, and a mighty one, and at last Sir Lancelot struck him down grovelling on his hands and his knees. And then that knight yielded, and Sir Lancelot received him kindly.
"Sir," said the knight, "I ask you to tell me your name, for my heart warms to you greatly."
"No," said Sir Lancelot, "at this time I will not tell you my name, unless you first tell me yours."
"Certainly," said the knight. "My name is Sir Nerovens, and I was made a knight by my lord Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"Ah, Nerovens de Lile," said Sir Lancelot, "I am very glad that you have proved a good knight; for now, believe me, my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"Alas," said Sir Nerovens de Lile, "what have I done!"
And with that he fell flat at his feet, and would have kissed them, but Sir Lancelot would not let him; and then each of them rejoiced greatly in the other. And then Sir Nerovens told Sir Lancelot that he should not go by the Castle of Pendragon. "For there is a lord there, a mighty knight, and many knights with him, and tonight I heard it said that yesterday they took a knight prisoner who was riding with a damsel, and they say he is a knight of the Round Table."
"Ah," said Sir Lancelot, "that knight is my companion, and I shall rescue him or else lose my life for it."
And with that he rode hard until he came before the Castle of Pendragon. And at once six knights came out, and all made ready to set on Sir Lancelot at once. Then Sir Lancelot set his spear in rest, and struck the foremost so that he broke his back in two; and three of them hit him and three missed. And then Sir Lancelot passed through them, and swiftly he turned back in again, and struck another knight through the breast and out through the back more than a yard, and with that his spear broke. So then all the four knights who remained drew their swords and slashed at Sir Lancelot. And Sir Lancelot placed his strokes so well that with four separate strokes they were out of their saddles, exceedingly badly wounded. And straight away he rode charging into that castle.
And at once the lord of the castle, who at that time was called Sir Brian de les Isles, who was a noble man and a great enemy to King Arthur, was armed within a short while and on horseback. And then they set their spears in rest and crashed together so hard that both their horses went down to the ground. And then they got clear of their saddles, and set their shields, and drew their swords, and rushed at each other like madmen, and many strokes were given in a short while. At last Sir Lancelot gave Sir Brian such a blow that he went down on his knees, and then Sir Lancelot rushed on him, and with great force pulled off his helm. And when Sir Brian saw that he would be killed, he yielded, and put himself at his mercy and in his grace. Then Sir Lancelot made him free all the prisoners he had in his castle, and in it Sir Lancelot found thirty of Arthur's knights and forty ladies, and so he freed them, and then he rode on his way. And as soon as La Cote Male Taile was freed, he got his horse, and his armour, and his damsel Maledisant.
Meanwhile Sir Nerovens, whom Sir Lancelot had fought with before at the bridge, sent a damsel after Sir Lancelot to learn how he fared at the Castle of Pendragon. And then those within the castle wondered what knight he was, when Sir Brian and his knights freed all those prisoners.
"Don't wonder at it," said the damsel, "for the best knight in this world was here and did this day's work. And believe me," she said, "it was Sir Lancelot."
Then Sir Brian was very glad, and so was his lady, and all his knights, that such a man should have beaten them. And when the damsel and La Cote Male Taile understood that it was Sir Lancelot du Lake who had ridden with them in their company, and she remembered how she had rebuked him and called him a coward, then she was exceedingly downcast.
So then they took their horses and rode off at a good pace after Sir Lancelot. And within two miles they overtook him, and greeted him, and thanked him, and the damsel begged Sir Lancelot's pardon for her ill conduct, saying, "For now I know that the flower of all knighthood is divided evenly between Sir Tristram and you. For God knows," said the damsel, "that I have long been looking for you, my lord Sir Lancelot, and for Sir Tristram, and now I thank God I have met you. And once at Camelot I met Sir Tristram, and there he won back for me this black shield, with the white hand holding a naked sword, which Sir Breuse Saunce Pité had taken from me."
"Now, fair damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "who told you my name?"
"Sir," she said, "there came a damsel from a knight you fought with at the bridge, and she told me your name was Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"Blame on her, then," said Sir Lancelot, "but her lord, Sir Nerovens, must have told her. But, damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "I will ride with you on this condition: that you do not rebuke this knight Sir La Cote Male Taile any more. For he is a good knight, and I have no doubt he will prove a noble knight; and it was for his sake, and for pity that he should not be destroyed, that I followed him, to help him in this great need."
"Ah, Jesus thank you," said the damsel. "For now I will tell you and him both: I never rebuked him out of any hate I had for him, but for the great love I had for him. For all along I thought that he was too young and too tender to take these adventures upon him. And so, if I had had my way, I would have driven him off, out of the fear I had for his life; for it can be no young knight's deed to carry this adventure through to the end."
"By God," said Sir Lancelot, "that is well said. And where you are called the Damsel Maledisant, the evil-speaking, I will call you the Damsel Bienpensant, the kind-thinking."
And so they rode on a long while until they came to the border of the country of Surluse, and there they found a fine village with a strong bridge like a fortress. And when Sir Lancelot and the others were at the bridge, a crowd of gentlemen and yeomen leapt out in front of them.
"Fair lords," they said, "you may not pass this bridge and this fortress because of that black shield that I see one of you carrying; and so only one of you shall pass at a time. So choose which of you shall go onto this bridge first."
Then Sir Lancelot offered himself to go onto this bridge first.
"Sir," said La Cote Male Taile, "I beg you, let me go into this fortress, and if I fare well I will send for you; and if it happens that I am killed, so be it. And if it turns out that I am taken prisoner, then you can rescue me."
"I am unwilling," said Sir Lancelot, "to let you take this passage."
"Sir," said La Cote Male Taile, "I beg you, let me put my body to this adventure."
"Now go your way," said Sir Lancelot, "and Jesus speed you."
So he went in, and at once two brothers met him; the one was called Sir Plaine de Force, and the other was called Sir Plaine de Amours. And at once they came at Sir La Cote Male Taile; and first La Cote Male Taile struck down Plaine de Force, and after that he struck down Plaine de Amours. And then they took up their shields and swords, and told La Cote Male Taile to dismount, and so he did. And there was slashing and thrusting with swords, and so they began to press La Cote Male Taile very hard, and they gave him many great wounds on his head, and on his breast, and on his shoulders. And every now and then he gave heavy blows back. And then the two brothers circled and sidestepped to get on both sides of Sir La Cote Male Taile, but by sheer force and knightly prowess he got them in front of him. And then, when he felt himself so wounded, he doubled his strokes, and gave them so many wounds that he felled them to the ground, and would have killed them if they had not yielded.
And straight away Sir La Cote Male Taile took the best horse of the three of them, and so rode on his way to the next fortress and bridge. And there he met the third brother, whose name was Sir Plenorius, a very noble knight, and there they jousted together, and each struck the other down, horse and man, to the ground. And then they got clear of their horses, and set their shields, and drew their swords, and gave many heavy blows; and one while the one knight was forward on the bridge, and another while the other. And so they fought for two hours and more, and never rested. And all the while Sir Lancelot and the damsel watched them.
"Alas," said the damsel, "my knight is fighting exceedingly hard and too long."
"Now you can see," said Sir Lancelot, "that he is a noble knight; for, considering this is his first battle, and his grievous wounds, and wounded as he is, it is a marvel that he can endure this long battle with that good knight."
Meanwhile Sir La Cote Male Taile sank right down on the ground; what with his wounds and what with the loss of blood, he could not stand. Then the other knight took pity on him.
"Fair young knight," he said, "don't be dismayed, for if you had been fresh when you met me, as I was, I know well that I would not have lasted as long as you have done. And so, for your noble deeds of arms, I will show you kindness and courtesy in every way I can."
And at once this noble knight, Sir Plenorius, took him up in his arms and led him into his tower. And then he had wine brought for him, and had him examined, and his bleeding wounds stopped.
"Sir," said La Cote Male Taile, "leave me, and hurry to that bridge again, for there you will meet a very different kind of knight from me."
"Why," said Plenorius, "is there another kind of knight behind you, of your company?"
"Yes," said La Cote Male Taile, "there is a much better knight than I am."
"What is his name?" said Plenorius.
"You won't learn it from me," said La Cote Male Taile.
"Well," said the knight, "he shall be met, whoever he is."
Then Sir Plenorius heard a knight calling, who said, "Sir Plenorius, where are you? Either you hand over to me the prisoner you have led into your tower, or else come out and fight me."
Then Plenorius got his horse, and came galloping with a spear in his hand towards Sir Lancelot. And then they set their spears in rest, and came together like thunder, and each struck the other so mightily that their horses fell down under them. And then they got clear of their horses, and pulled out their swords, and like two bulls they laid into each other with great strokes and thrusts. But all the while Sir Lancelot gained ground on him, and Sir Plenorius circled to try to get round him. But Sir Lancelot would not allow that, but drove him back and back, until he came near his tower gate.
And then Sir Lancelot said, "I know you well for a good knight, but believe me, your life and death are in my hand; and so yield to me, and hand over your prisoner."
The other answered not a word, but struck mightily on Sir Lancelot's helm, so that the fire sprang out of his eyes. Then Sir Lancelot doubled his strokes, so thick, and struck at him so mightily, that he made him kneel on his knees. And with that Sir Lancelot leapt on him, and pulled him down grovelling. Then Sir Plenorius yielded himself, and his tower, and all his prisoners, to do with as he wished.
Then Sir Lancelot received him and accepted his pledge. And then he rode to the other bridge, and there Sir Lancelot jousted with three more of his brothers: one was called Pillounes, and the second was called Pellogris, and the third Sir Pellandris. And first, on horseback, Sir Lancelot struck them down, and afterwards he beat them on foot, and made them yield to him. And then he returned to Sir Plenorius, and there in his prison he found King Carados of Scotland, and many other knights, and they were all freed. And then Sir La Cote Male Taile came to Sir Lancelot, and then Sir Lancelot would have given him all these fortresses and these bridges.
"No," said La Cote Male Taile, "I will not take Sir Plenorius' lands. Provided that he will promise you, my lord Sir Lancelot, to come to King Arthur's court and be his knight, he and all his brothers, I will beg you, my lord, to let him keep his lands."
"I am content," said Sir Lancelot, "on condition that he will come to the court of King Arthur and become his man, and his five brothers too. And as for you, Sir Plenorius," said Sir Lancelot, "I will undertake that at the next feast, if a seat falls vacant, you shall be a knight of the Round Table."
"Sir," said Plenorius, "at the next feast of Pentecost I will be at Arthur's court, and at that time I will be guided and ruled as King Arthur and you wish."
Then Sir Lancelot and Sir La Cote Male Taile rested there until Sir La Cote Male Taile was healed of his wounds, and there they had merry times and good rest, and many good games, and there were many fair ladies.
And in the meanwhile Sir Kay the Seneschal and Sir Brandiles came, and at once they joined their company. And then, within ten days, those knights of Arthur's court left these fortresses. And as Sir Lancelot came by the Castle of Pendragon, he put Sir Brian de les Isles out of his lands, because he would never take service with King Arthur; and all that Castle of Pendragon and all its lands he gave to Sir La Cote Male Taile. And then Sir Lancelot sent for Nerovens, whom he had once made a knight, and he gave him the whole rule of that castle and of that country, under La Cote Male Taile. And so they all rode together to Arthur's court. And at the next Pentecost, Sir Plenorius and Sir La Cote Male Taile, whose right name was Sir Bruin le Noire, were both made knights of the Round Table; and King Arthur gave them great lands. And there Bruin le Noire married that damsel Maledisant. And afterwards she was called Beauvivante, the fair-living, but ever after, for the most part, he was called La Cote Male Taile. And he proved an exceedingly noble knight, and a mighty one, and he did many honourable deeds afterwards in his life. And Sir Plenorius proved a noble knight and full of prowess, and all the days of their lives, for the most part, they waited on Sir Lancelot; and Sir Plenorius' brothers were always knights of King Arthur. And also, as the French book mentions, Sir La Cote Male Taile avenged his father's death.
Now we leave Sir La Cote Male Taile here, and turn to Sir Tristram de Liones, who was in Brittany. When Isolde the Fair learned that he was married, she sent him, by her maid Bragwaine, letters as piteous as could be thought of and written, and her conclusion was that, if it pleased Sir Tristram, he should come to her court, and bring Isolde of the White Hands with him, and they would be looked after as well as she was herself. Then Sir Tristram called Sir Kehydius to him, and asked him whether he would go with him into Cornwall secretly. He answered him that he was ready at all times. And then he had a little ship made ready in secret, and in it they went, Sir Tristram, Kehydius, Dame Bragwaine, and Gouvernail, Sir Tristram's squire. So when they were at sea a contrary wind blew them onto the coast of North Wales, near the Castle Perilous. Then Sir Tristram said, "You will wait for me here for these ten days, and Gouvernail, my squire, with you. And if it happens that I have not come back by that day, take the shortest way into Cornwall; for in this forest there are many strange adventures, as I have heard tell, and I mean to try some of them before I leave. And when I can, I will hurry after you."
Then Sir Tristram and Kehydius took their horses and left their company. And so they rode a mile and more into that forest; and at last Sir Tristram saw ahead of him a fine-looking knight, armed, sitting by a spring, and a strong, mighty horse tied to an oak very near him, and a man waiting on horseback beside him, leading a horse loaded with spears. And this knight who sat at the spring seemed by his face to be exceedingly downcast. Then Sir Tristram rode up to him and said, "Fair knight, why do you sit there drooping so? You look like a knight-errant by your arms and armour, and so square up to joust with one of us, or with both."
At that the knight said nothing, but took his shield and buckled it about his neck, and nimbly he took his horse and leapt onto him. And then he took a great spear from his squire, and rode off a furlong. Sir Kehydius asked Sir Tristram's leave to joust first.
"Do your best," said Sir Tristram.
So they met, and there Sir Kehydius had a fall, and was badly wounded high up above the breast. Then Sir Tristram said, "Knight, that was well jousted. Now make yourself ready for me."
"I am ready," said the knight.
And then that knight took a bigger spear in his hand, and charged against Sir Tristram, and there by great force that knight struck Sir Tristram down from his horse, and he had a great fall. Then Sir Tristram was deeply ashamed, and nimbly he got clear of his horse, and put his shield before his shoulder, and drew his sword. And then Sir Tristram asked that knight, by his knighthood, to dismount and fight with him on foot.
"Gladly," said the knight; and so he dismounted, and got clear of his horse, and threw his shield onto his shoulder, and drew his sword, and there they fought a long battle together, very nearly two hours. Then Sir Tristram said, "Fair knight, hold your hand, and tell me where you come from, and what your name is."
"As for that," said the knight, "I will think about it; but if you will tell me your name, perhaps I will tell you mine."
"Now, fair knight," he said, "my name is Sir Tristram de Liones."
"Sir," said the other knight, "and my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis."
"Ah, Sir Lamorak," said Sir Tristram, "well met! Now remember the insult you did me by sending the horn to King Mark's court, meaning to have my lady the queen, Isolde the Fair, killed or dishonoured. And so know this," said Sir Tristram, "one of us will die before we part."
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak, "remember that we were together on the Isle of Servage, and at that time you promised me great friendship."
Then Sir Tristram would make no more delay, but laid into Sir Lamorak; and so they fought a long time, until each was weary of the other. Then Sir Tristram said to Sir Lamorak, "In all my life I never met a knight so strong and with such staying power as you. And so," said Sir Tristram, "it would be a pity if either of us should come to harm here."
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak, "for your renown and your name, I want you to have the honour of this battle, and so I will yield to you."
And with that he took his sword by the point to yield himself.
"No," said Sir Tristram, "you shall not do that, for I know very well that you make this offer out of your courtesy, more than from any fear or dread you have of me."
And with that Sir Tristram offered him his sword and said, "Sir Lamorak, as an overcome knight I yield to you, as to a man of the noblest prowess I ever met."
"No," said Sir Lamorak, "I will do you a courtesy. I ask that we swear together that neither of us shall ever fight the other after this day."
And with that Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak swore that neither of them would ever fight against the other, not for good fortune nor for bad.
And meanwhile there came Sir Palomides, the good knight, following the Questing Beast, which had a head shaped like a serpent's head, and a body like a leopard, haunches like a lion, and feet like a hart; and in its body there was a noise as if it were the noise of thirty couple of hounds on the scent, and that beast made such a noise wherever it went; and Sir Palomides followed this beast forever, for it was called his quest. And just as he was following this beast, it came past Sir Tristram, and soon after came Palomides. And to cut a long story short, he struck down Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak both with one spear; and so he went on after the beast Glatisant, which was called the Questing Beast; and so these two knights were exceedingly angry that Sir Palomides would not fight with them on foot. Here men of honour may understand that no man was ever made who could stand at all times, but sometimes he was put to the worse by ill luck; and at times the worse knight put the better knight to shame.
Then Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak got Sir Kehydius onto a shield between the two of them, and took him to a forester's lodge, and there they gave him into the forester's charge to look after him well, and they stayed with him three days. Then the two knights took their horses, and at the crossroads they parted. And then Sir Tristram said to Sir Lamorak, "I ask you, if you happen to meet Sir Palomides, tell him that he will find me at the same spring where I met him, and there I, Sir Tristram, will prove whether he is a better knight than I am."
And so each went his separate way from the other, and Sir Tristram rode close to where Sir Kehydius was; and Sir Lamorak rode until he came to a chapel, and there he put his horse out to pasture. And at once there came Sir Meliagaunce, who was King Bagdemagus' son, and he put his horse out to pasture there, and was not aware of Sir Lamorak; and then this knight Sir Meliagaunce made his lament over the love he had for Queen Guinevere, and there he made a woeful complaint. Sir Lamorak heard all this, and in the morning Sir Lamorak took his horse and rode into the forest, and there he met two knights waiting under the cover of the wood.
"Fair knights," said Sir Lamorak, "what are you doing, waiting and watching here? And if you are knights-errant who want to joust, look, I am ready."
"No, sir knight," they said, "not so. We are not waiting here to joust with you, but we are lying in wait here for a knight who killed our brother."
"What knight was that," said Sir Lamorak, "whom you would so gladly meet?"
"Sir," they said, "it is Sir Lancelot who killed our brother, and if we can ever meet him he will not escape, but we will kill him."
"You are taking a great deal on yourselves," said Sir Lamorak, "for Sir Lancelot is a noble, proven knight."
"As for that, we have no doubt, for there is not one of us who is not good enough for him."
"I will not believe that," said Sir Lamorak, "for never in all the days of my life have I heard of any knight that Sir Lancelot was not too strong for."
Just as they stood talking like this, Sir Lamorak saw Sir Lancelot come riding straight towards them; then Sir Lamorak greeted him, and he greeted him in return. And then Sir Lamorak asked Sir Lancelot if there was anything he could do for him in these borders.
"No," said Sir Lancelot, "not at this time, thank you."
Then each went his way from the other, and Sir Lamorak rode back to where he had left the two knights, and then he found them hidden in the leafy wood.
"Shame on you," said Sir Lamorak, "you false cowards! It is a pity and a shame that any of you should take the high order of knighthood."
So Sir Lamorak left them, and within a while he met Sir Meliagaunce. And then Sir Lamorak asked him why he loved Queen Guinevere as he did: "For I was not far from you when you made your complaint by the chapel."
"Were you?" said Sir Meliagaunce. "Then I will stand by it: I love Queen Guinevere. What do you want to do about it? I will prove and make good that she is the fairest lady and the most beautiful in the world."
"As to that," said Sir Lamorak, "I say no to it, for Queen Morgause of Orkney, Sir Gawain's mother, is the fairest queen and lady alive."
"That is not so," said Sir Meliagaunce, "and I will prove it with my hands on your body."
"Will you indeed?" said Sir Lamorak. "I could not ask for a better quarrel to fight in."
Then they parted from each other in great anger. And then they came riding together as if it were thunder, and each struck the other so hard that their horses fell backwards to the earth. And then they got clear of their horses, and set their shields, and drew their swords. And then they crashed together like wild boars, and so they fought a long while. For Meliagaunce was a good man and of great strength, but Sir Lamorak was far too strong for him, and kept driving him back, though each had wounded the other badly.
And as they stood fighting like this, by chance Sir Lancelot and Sir Bleoberis came riding by. And then Sir Lancelot rode between them, and asked them why they were fighting each other like this: "And you are both knights of King Arthur's!"
"Sir," said Meliagaunce, "I will tell you why we are fighting this battle. I praised my lady, Queen Guinevere, and said she was the fairest lady in the world, and Sir Lamorak said no to it, for he said Queen Morgause of Orkney was fairer than she and more beautiful."
"Ah, Sir Lamorak, why do you say that?" said Sir Lancelot. "It is not your place to run down your princess, when you are under her rule, as we all are."
And with that he dismounted and said, "For this quarrel, get ready, for I will prove on your body that Queen Guinevere is the fairest lady and the most gracious in the world."
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak, "I am loath to fight you in this quarrel, for every man thinks his own lady the fairest; and though I praise the lady I love most, you should not be angry; for though my lady Queen Guinevere is fairest in your eyes, you may be sure that Queen Morgause of Orkney is fairest in mine, and so every knight thinks his own lady the fairest. And believe me, sir, you are the man in the world, except Sir Tristram, whom I am most loath of all to fight. But if you insist on fighting me, I will hold out against you as long as I can."
Then Sir Bleoberis spoke up and said, "My lord Sir Lancelot, I never knew you so ill-advised as you are now, for Sir Lamorak is speaking to you only reasonably and knightly. For I tell you, I have a lady, and I think she is the fairest lady in the world. Would that be good reason for you to be angry with me for such words? And you know well that Sir Lamorak is as noble a knight as any I know, and he has always borne you and us good will, and so I beg you, be good friends."
Then Sir Lancelot said to Sir Lamorak, "I beg you, forgive me my ill will, and if I was ill-advised I will make amends."
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak, "amends are soon made between you and me."
And so Sir Lancelot and Sir Bleoberis went on their way, and Sir Meliagaunce and Sir Lamorak took their horses, and each went his way from the other.
And within a while King Arthur came, and met Sir Lamorak, and jousted with him; and there he struck Sir Lamorak down, and wounded him badly with a spear, and so he rode away from him; and so Sir Lamorak was angry that he would not fight with him on foot, although Sir Lamorak did not know it was King Arthur.
Now we leave this tale, and speak of Sir Tristram, who as he rode met Sir Kay the Seneschal; and there Sir Kay asked Sir Tristram what country he was from. He answered that he was from the country of Cornwall.
"That may well be," said Sir Kay, "for I never yet heard of any good knight who came out of Cornwall."
"That is ill said," said Sir Tristram, "but if it pleases you to tell me your name, I ask you to."
"Sir, you may be sure," said Sir Kay, "that my name is Sir Kay the Seneschal."
"Is that your name?" said Sir Tristram. "Now believe me, you are called the most shameful-tongued knight now living. All the same, you are called a good knight, but you are called unlucky, and exceedingly perverse with your tongue."
And so they rode together until they came to a bridge. And there was a knight who would not let them pass until one of them jousted with him; and so that knight jousted with Sir Kay, and there that knight gave Sir Kay a fall. His name was Sir Tor, Sir Lamorak's half-brother. And then the two of them rode to their lodging, and there they found Sir Brandiles, and Sir Tor came there soon after. And as these four knights sat at supper, three of them said every shameful thing about Cornish knights. Sir Tristram heard all that they said, and he said little, but he thought the more; but at that time he did not reveal his name.
In the morning Sir Tristram took his horse and waited for them on their way. And there Sir Brandiles offered to joust with Sir Tristram, and Sir Tristram struck him down, horse and all, to the earth. Then Sir Tor le Fise de Vayshoure rode against Sir Tristram, and there Sir Tristram struck him down, and then he rode on his way; and Sir Kay followed him, but he wanted none of his company. Then Sir Brandiles came to Sir Kay and said, "I would gladly know what that knight's name is."
"Come on with me," said Sir Kay, "and we will ask him to tell us his name."
So they rode together until they came near him, and then they saw where he sat by a spring, and had taken off his helmet to drink at the spring. And when he saw them coming he laced on his helmet quickly, and took his horse, and offered to joust with them.
"No," said Sir Brandiles, "we jousted with you lately enough; we have not come for that. But we have come for this: to ask you, by your knighthood, to tell us your name."
"My fair knights, since that is your wish, and to please you, you shall know that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, nephew to King Mark of Cornwall."
"Well and good," said Sir Brandiles, "and well met! And believe me, we are very glad that we have found you, and we belong to a fellowship that would be very glad of your company. For you are the knight in the world whose company the noble fellowship of the Round Table most desires to have."
"God thank them," said Sir Tristram, "for their great goodness. But as yet I feel well that I am not fit to be of their fellowship, for I have never yet done such worthy deeds as would make me fit for the company of such a fellowship."
"Ah," said Sir Kay, "if you are Sir Tristram de Liones, you are the man now said to have the most prowess, except Sir Lancelot du Lake; for there is no one alive, Christian or heathen, who can find another knight like him, to speak of his prowess, and of his hands, and his truth as well. For no creature has ever yet been able to say dishonour of him and make it good."
So they talked a long while, and then they parted from each other, each going whatever way seemed best to them.
Now you shall hear what the cause was that King Arthur came into the Forest Perilous, which was in North Wales, through the doing of a lady. Her name was Annowre, and this lady came to King Arthur at Cardiff; and by fair promises and fair pledges she made King Arthur ride with her into that Forest Perilous; and she was a great sorceress; and she had loved King Arthur for many days, and because she wanted him to lie with her she came into that country. So when the king had gone with her, many of his knights followed after King Arthur when they missed him, such as Sir Lancelot, Brandiles, and many others; and when she had brought him to her tower she wanted him to lie with her; and then the king remembered his lady, and would not lie with her for any craft she could work. Then every day she would make him ride into that forest to fight with his own knights, meaning to have King Arthur killed. For when this Lady Annowre saw that she could not have him at her will, then she worked by false means to have King Arthur destroyed, and killed.
Then the Lady of the Lake, who was always friendly to King Arthur, understood by her subtle crafts that King Arthur was likely to be destroyed. And so this Lady of the Lake, who was called Nimue, came into that forest to look for Sir Lancelot du Lake or Sir Tristram to help King Arthur; for this Lady of the Lake knew well that on that same day King Arthur would be killed, unless he had help from one of these two knights. And so she rode up and down until she met Sir Tristram, and as soon as she saw him she knew him.
"Oh my lord Sir Tristram," she said, "well met, and blessed be the time that I have met you! For this same day, and within these two hours, the foulest deed that was ever done in this land will be done."
"Oh fair damsel," said Sir Tristram, "can I set it right?"
"Come with me," she said, "and as fast as you can, for you will see the most honourable knight in the world in a hard spot."
Then Sir Tristram said, "I am ready to help such a noble man."
"He is neither better nor worse," said the Lady of the Lake, "than the noble King Arthur himself."
"God forbid," said Sir Tristram, "that he should ever be in such distress."
Then they rode together at a great pace, until they came to a little tower or castle; and below that castle they saw a knight standing on foot fighting with two knights; and so Sir Tristram watched them, and at last the two knights struck down the one knight, and one of them unlaced his helmet to kill him. And the Lady Annowre got King Arthur's sword into her hand to strike off his head. And with that Sir Tristram came with all his might, crying, "Traitress, traitress, leave that!"
And at once Sir Tristram struck one of the knights through the body so that he fell dead; and then he rushed at the other and struck his back in two; and meanwhile the Lady of the Lake cried to King Arthur, "Don't let that false lady escape!"
Then King Arthur overtook her, and with the same sword he struck off her head, and the Lady of the Lake took up her head and hung it by the hair from her saddlebow. And then Sir Tristram got King Arthur onto a horse and rode on with him, but he charged the Lady of the Lake not to reveal his name for the time being.
When the king was on horseback he thanked Sir Tristram heartily, and wanted to know his name; but he would not tell him, except that he was a poor knight-errant; and so he kept King Arthur company until he met some of his knights. And within a while he met Sir Ector de Maris, and he did not know King Arthur or Sir Tristram, and he wanted to joust with one of them. Then Sir Tristram rode at Sir Ector, and struck him from his horse. And when he had done so he came back to the king and said, "My lord, there is one of your knights; he can keep you company. And another day, I trust to God, you will understand from that deed I have done for you that I would do you service."
"Alas," said King Arthur, "let me know who you are."
"Not at this time," said Sir Tristram.
So he left, and left King Arthur and Sir Ector together.
And then on the day appointed Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak met at the spring; and then they took Kehydius from the forester's house, and so they rode with him to the ship where they had left Dame Bragwaine and Gouvernail, and so they all sailed into Cornwall together. And by the agreement and the advice of Dame Bragwaine, when they had landed they rode to Sir Dinas the Seneschal, a trusty friend of Sir Tristram's. And so Dame Bragwaine and Sir Dinas rode to King Mark's court, and told the queen, Isolde the Fair, that Sir Tristram was near her in that country. Then for very pure joy Isolde the Fair fainted; and when she could speak she said, "Noble knight Seneschal, help me to speak with him, or my heart will burst."
Then Sir Dinas and Dame Bragwaine brought Sir Tristram and Kehydius secretly into the court, to a chamber that Isolde the Fair had appointed for it; and as for the joy there was between Isolde the Fair and Sir Tristram, there is no tongue that can tell it, nor heart think it, nor pen write it. And as the French book tells, the very first time that Sir Kehydius ever saw Isolde the Fair he was so in love with her that for very pure love he could never draw back from it. And in the end, as you shall hear before the book is ended, Sir Kehydius died for the love of Isolde the Fair. And then he secretly wrote her letters and ballads, of the finest that were in fashion in those days. And when Isolde the Fair understood his letters she took pity on his lament, and without thinking she wrote another letter to comfort him with.
And all this while Sir Tristram was in a tower at the command of Isolde the Fair, and whenever she could she came to Sir Tristram. So one day King Mark was playing chess below a chamber window; and at that time Sir Tristram and Sir Kehydius were inside the chamber above King Mark, and as ill luck would have it Sir Tristram found the letter that Kehydius had sent to Isolde the Fair, and he had also found the letter that she wrote to Kehydius, and at that same time Isolde the Fair was in the same chamber. Then Sir Tristram came to Isolde the Fair and said, "Madam, here is a letter that was sent to you, and here is the letter that you sent to the man who sent you that letter. Alas, madam, for the good love I have loved you with! And I have forsaken many lands and riches for your love, and now you are a traitress to me, which gives me great pain. But as for you, Sir Kehydius, I brought you out of Brittany into this country, and I won back the lands of your father, King Howell, and on top of that I married your sister Isolde of the White Hands for the goodness she did me. And yet, as I am a true knight, she is still a virgin as far as I am concerned. But know this, Sir Kehydius: for this falsehood and treason you have done me, I will take my revenge on you."
And with that Sir Tristram drew out his sword and said, "Sir Kehydius, defend yourself!"
And then Isolde the Fair fell to the ground in a faint. And when Sir Kehydius saw Sir Tristram coming at him he saw no other remedy, but leapt out of a bay window, right over the head of King Mark where he sat playing chess. And when the king saw someone come hurtling over his head he said, "Fellow, who are you, and why are you leaping out of that window?"
"My lord the king," said Kehydius, "it happened that I was asleep in the window above your head, and as I slept I dozed off, and so I fell down."
And so Sir Kehydius excused himself.
Then Sir Tristram was badly afraid that the king would find out he was there; and so he withdrew into the stronghold of the Tower, and armed himself in such armour as he had, to fight with anyone who would stand against him. And so when Sir Tristram saw there was no resistance against him, he sent Gouvernail for his horse and his spear, and like a knight he rode out of the castle openly, which was called the Castle of Tintagil. And right at the gate he met Gingalin, Sir Gawain's son. And at once Sir Gingalin put his spear in its rest, and charged at Sir Tristram and broke his spear; and Sir Tristram at that time had only a sword, and gave him such a blow on the helmet that he fell down from his saddle, and his sword slid down and cut clean through his horse's neck. And so Sir Tristram rode his way into the forest, and King Mark saw all this happen. And then he sent a squire to the hurt knight, and commanded him to come to him, and so he did. And when King Mark learned that it was Sir Gingalin, he welcomed him and gave him a horse, and asked him what knight it was who had fought with him.
"Sir," said Gingalin, "I do not know what knight he was, but I know very well that he sighs and grieves greatly."
Then within a while Sir Tristram met a knight of his own who was called Sir Fergus. And when he had met him he grieved so greatly that he fell down off his horse in a faint, and he was in such sorrow for three days and three nights. Then at last Sir Tristram sent Sir Fergus to the court, to ask what news there was. And as he rode along the way he met a damsel who came from Sir Palomides, to find out and learn how Sir Tristram was doing. Then Sir Fergus told her how he was almost out of his mind.
"Alas," said the damsel, "where shall I find him?"
"In such and such a place," said Sir Fergus.
Then Sir Fergus found Queen Isolde sick in her bed, grieving more than any earthly woman ever grieved. And when the damsel found Sir Tristram she grieved greatly because she could not help him, for the more she made of him, the greater was his pain. And at last Sir Tristram took his horse and rode away from her. And then it was three days before she could find him, and then she brought him food and drink, but he would have none of it; and then another time Sir Tristram escaped from the damsel, and it happened that he rode by the same castle where Sir Palomides and Sir Tristram fought when Isolde the Fair parted them. And there by chance the damsel met Sir Tristram again, grieving more than any earthly creature ever grieved; and she went to the lady of that castle and told her of Sir Tristram's misfortune.
"Alas," said the lady of that castle, "where is my lord, Sir Tristram?"
"Right here by your castle," said the damsel.
"It is a happy chance," said the lady, "that he is so near me. He shall have the best food and drink; and I have a harp of his, on which he taught me, for in fine harping he takes the prize of the world."
So this lady and the damsel brought him food and drink, but he ate little of it. Then one night he sent his horse away from him, and then he unlaced his armour, and then Sir Tristram would go into the wilderness, and break down the trees and boughs; and at other times, when he found the harp that the lady had sent him, then he would harp, and play on it and weep at the same time. And sometimes, when Sir Tristram was in the wood and the lady did not know where he was, then she would sit down and play on that harp: then Sir Tristram would come to that harp, and listen to it, and sometimes he would harp himself. So he lived there for a quarter of a year. Then at last he ran away, and she did not know what had become of him. And then he was naked, and grew lean and wasted; and so he fell in with herdsmen and shepherds, and every day they would give him some of their food and drink. And when he did any mischief they would beat him with rods, and so they clipped his hair with shears and made him look like a fool.
And one day Dagonet, King Arthur's fool, came into Cornwall with two squires; and as they rode through that forest they came to a fair well where Sir Tristram used to stay. And the weather was hot, and they dismounted to drink from that well, and meanwhile their horses broke loose. Just then Sir Tristram came up to them, and first he dunked Sir Dagonet in that well, and then his squires, and the shepherds laughed at it. And straight away he ran after their horses and brought them back one by one, and then, wet as they were, he made them jump up and ride on their way. So Sir Tristram lived there half a year naked, and would never come into town or village.
Meanwhile the damsel that Sir Palomides had sent to look for Sir Tristram went back to Sir Palomides and told him all the misery that Sir Tristram was suffering.
"Alas," said Sir Palomides, "it is a great pity that so noble a knight should ever be brought so low for the love of a lady. But all the same, I will go and look for him, and comfort him if I can."
Now a little before that time Isolde the Fair had ordered Sir Kehydius out of the country of Cornwall. So Sir Kehydius left with a sorrowful heart, and by chance he met Sir Palomides, and they joined company. And each of them complained to the other of the burning love they had for Isolde the Fair.
"Now let us," said Sir Palomides, "look for Sir Tristram, who loved her as well as we do, and let us see whether we can bring him back to himself."
So they rode into that forest, and for three days and three nights they never once took lodging, but went on looking for Sir Tristram.
And once, by chance, they met King Mark, who had ridden away from his men all alone. When they saw him Sir Palomides knew him, but Sir Kehydius did not.
"Ah, false king," said Sir Palomides, "it is a pity you are alive, for you are a destroyer of all honourable knights, and by your malice and your vengeance you have destroyed that most noble knight, Sir Tristram de Liones. And so defend yourself," said Sir Palomides, "for you shall die this day."
"That would be a shameful thing," said King Mark, "for you two are armed and I am unarmed."
"As for that," said Sir Palomides, "I shall find a remedy. Here is a knight with me, and you shall have his armour."
"No," said King Mark, "I will not fight with you, for you have no quarrel with me. All the trouble that Sir Tristram has came from a letter that he found. As for me, I did him no wrong, and God knows I am very sorry for his distress and his sickness."
So when the king had excused himself in this way they were friends, and King Mark would have taken them to Tintagil; but Sir Palomides would not go, and turned towards the realm of Logres, and Sir Kehydius said that he would go into Brittany.
Now we turn back to Sir Dagonet. When he and his squires were on horseback again, he decided that the shepherds had set that fool on to treat them so, because they had laughed at them. And so they rode up to the herdsmen and beat them soundly. Sir Tristram saw them beating the men who used to give him food and drink, and he ran over there and got Sir Dagonet by the head, and threw him to the ground so hard that he was badly bruised and lay still. And then he wrenched his sword out of his hand, and with it he ran at one of his squires and struck off his head, and the other fled. And so Sir Tristram went on his way with that sword in his hand, running as if he were raving mad.
Then Sir Dagonet rode to King Mark and told him how he had fared in that forest. "And so," said Sir Dagonet, "beware, King Mark, and do not come near that well in the forest, for there is a naked fool there, and that fool and I, fool, met together, and he nearly killed me."
"Ah," said King Mark, "that is Sir Matto le Breune, who went out of his wits because he lost his lady. For when Sir Gaheris struck down Sir Matto and won his lady from him, he was never in his right mind again, and that was a pity, for he was a good knight."
Then Sir Andred, who was Sir Tristram's cousin, had a lady who was his lover say and spread it about that she had been with Sir Tristram before he died. And she brought this tale to King Mark's court: that she had buried him by a spring, and that before he died he had begged King Mark to make his cousin, Sir Andred, king of the country of Liones, of which Sir Tristram was lord. Sir Andred did all this because he wanted to have Sir Tristram's lands. And when King Mark heard that Sir Tristram was dead he wept and grieved greatly.
But when Queen Isolde heard this news she was in such sorrow that she was nearly out of her mind; and so one day she resolved to kill herself and not to live on after Sir Tristram's death. And so one day Isolde the Fair got hold of a sword secretly and carried it into her garden, and there she drove the sword through a plum tree up to the hilt, so that it stuck fast, and it stood breast-high. And as she was about to run upon the sword and kill herself, King Mark saw it all: how she knelt down and said, "Sweet Lord Jesus, have mercy on me, for I cannot live after the death of Sir Tristram de Liones, for he was my first love and he shall be the last."
And with these words King Mark came up and took her in his arms, and then he took up the sword, and carried her away with him into a tower; and there he had her guarded, and kept a close watch on her, and after that she lay sick a long while, near to the point of death.
Meanwhile Sir Tristram ran naked in the forest with the sword in his hand, and so he came to a hermitage, and there he lay down and slept. And while he slept the hermit stole his sword away, and laid food down beside him. So he was kept there ten days, and at last he left and came back to the herdsmen.
And there was a giant in that country called Taulas, and for fear of Sir Tristram he had not dared to go about freely for more than seven years, but mostly kept himself in a strong castle of his own. And so this Taulas heard that Sir Tristram was dead, from the rumour at King Mark's court. Then this Taulas went about freely every day. And so it happened one day that he came to the herdsmen, wandering and sauntering, and there he sat down to rest among them.
Meanwhile there came a knight of Cornwall who had a lady with him, and his name was Sir Dinant. And when the giant saw him he left the herdsmen and hid under a tree, and so the knight came to that spring, and there he dismounted to rest. And as soon as he was off his horse this giant Taulas came between the knight and his horse, and took the horse and leapt on it. Then at once he rode at Sir Dinant and took him by the collar, and pulled him up in front of him on the horse, and was about to strike off his head.
Then the herdsmen said to Sir Tristram, "Help that knight over there."
"You help him," said Sir Tristram.
"We don't dare," said the herdsmen.
Then Sir Tristram noticed the knight's sword where it lay; and so he ran over there and took up the sword and struck off Sir Taulas's head, and so he went his way back to the herdsmen.
Then the knight took up the giant's head and carried it with him to King Mark, and told him what adventure had happened to him in the forest, and how a naked man had rescued him from the grim giant, Taulas.
"Where did you have this adventure?" said King Mark.
"Truly," said Sir Dinant, "at the fair spring in your forest where many knights-errant meet, and that is where the madman is."
"Well," said King Mark, "I will see that wild man."
So within a day or two King Mark commanded his knights and his huntsmen to be ready in the morning to hunt, and so in the morning he went into that forest. And when the king came to that well he found lying beside it a fine naked man, and a sword by him. Then King Mark blew his horn and sounded the strake, the call that gathers in the hunt, and with that his knights came to him. And then the king commanded his knights: "Take that naked man gently, and bring him to my castle."
So they did, softly and gently, and threw cloaks over Sir Tristram, and so led him to Tintagil; and there they bathed him, and washed him, and gave him hot broths until they had brought him well back to his memory. But all this while there was no one who knew Sir Tristram, or what man he was.
So it happened one day that the queen, Isolde the Fair, heard of such a man, who had run naked in the forest, and how the king had brought him home to the court. Then Isolde the Fair called Dame Bragwaine to her and said, "Come with me, for we will go and see this man that my lord brought from the forest the other day."
So they went out, and asked where the sick man was. And then a squire told the queen that he was in the garden taking his rest, and resting himself in the sun. So when the queen looked at Sir Tristram she did not remember him. But all the while she kept saying to Dame Bragwaine, "It seems to me I must have seen him before in many places."
But as soon as Sir Tristram saw her he knew her well enough. And then he turned his face away and wept.
Now the queen always had with her a little hound that Sir Tristram had given her the first time she ever came into Cornwall, and that hound would never leave her unless Sir Tristram was near where Isolde the Fair was; and this hound had been sent from the King of France's daughter to Sir Tristram for great love. And as soon as this little hound caught the scent of Sir Tristram, she leapt up on him and licked his cheeks and his ears, and then she whined and gave tongue, and she sniffed at his feet and at his hands, and at every part of his body she could get to.
"Ah, my lady," said Dame Bragwaine to Isolde the Fair, "alas, alas," she said, "I see it is my own lord, Sir Tristram."
And with that Isolde fell down in a swoon, and lay so a long while. And when she could speak she said, "My lord Sir Tristram, blessed be God that you are alive! And now I am sure you will be discovered by this little hound, for she will never leave you. And I am sure too that as soon as my lord, King Mark, knows who you are he will banish you out of the country of Cornwall, or else he will destroy you. For God's sake, my own lord, give way to King Mark, and then make your way to the court of King Arthur, for there you are loved; and whenever I can I shall send to you; and when you wish you may come to me, and at all times, early and late, I will be at your command, to live as poor a life as ever queen or lady did."
"Oh, madam," said Sir Tristram, "go away from me, for I have escaped great anger and danger for your love."
Then the queen left, but the hound would not leave him; and with that King Mark came up, and the hound went for him, and bayed at them all. With that Sir Andred spoke and said, "Sir, this is Sir Tristram, I can tell by the hound."
"No," said the king, "I cannot believe that."
Then the king asked him on his faith who he was, and what his name was.
"So help me God," said he, "my name is Sir Tristram de Liones. Now do with me what you will."
"Ah," said King Mark, "I am sorry you have recovered."
And then he had his barons called to sentence Sir Tristram to death. But many of his barons would not agree to it, and especially Sir Dinas the Seneschal, and Sir Fergus. And so, on the advice of them all, Sir Tristram was banished out of the country for ten years, and he swore his oath to it on a book before the king and his barons. And so he was made to leave the country of Cornwall; and many barons brought him to his ship, some of whom were his friends and some his enemies.
And in the meantime there came a knight of King Arthur's, whose name was Dinadan, and he had come to look for Sir Tristram. Then they showed him where he was, armed at all points, going to the ship.
"Now, fair knight," said Sir Dinadan, "before you leave this court, I ask you to joust with me."
"With a good will," said Sir Tristram, "if these lords will give me leave."
Then the barons granted it, and so they ran together, and there Sir Tristram gave Sir Dinadan a fall. And then he begged Sir Tristram to give him leave to go in his company.
"You shall be very welcome," said Sir Tristram then.
And so they took their horses and rode to their ships together. And when Sir Tristram was out at sea he said, "Give my greetings to King Mark and all my enemies, and tell them I will come back when I can. And I am well rewarded for fighting Sir Marhaus, and freeing all this country from bondage; and I am well rewarded for the fetching of Queen Isolde out of Ireland, and the cost of it, and the danger I was in first and last, and on the way home what danger I had to bring Queen Isolde back from the Castle Pluere; and I am well rewarded for when I fought with Sir Bleoberis for Sir Segwarides' wife; and I am well rewarded for when I fought with Sir Blamore de Ganis for King Anguish, father of Isolde the Fair; and I am well rewarded for when I struck down the good knight Sir Lamorak de Galis at King Mark's request; and I am well rewarded for when I fought with the King with the Hundred Knights and the King of North Wales, who would both have put his land in bondage, and by me they were put to shame; and I am well rewarded for the killing of Taulas, the mighty giant, and many other deeds I have done for him, and now I have my reward. And tell King Mark that many noble knights of the Round Table have spared the barons of this country for my sake. And am I not well rewarded for when I fought with the good knight Sir Palomides and rescued Queen Isolde from him? And at that time King Mark said before all his barons that I should have been better rewarded."
And with that he put to sea.
And at the next landing place, close by the sea, Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan were met by Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Bors de Ganis; and there Sir Ector jousted with Sir Dinadan, and struck him and his horse down. And then Sir Tristram wanted to joust with Sir Bors, and Sir Bors said that he would not joust with any Cornish knights, for they are not counted men of honour; and all this happened on a bridge. And with that Sir Bleoberis and Sir Driant came up, and Sir Bleoberis offered to joust with Sir Tristram, and there Sir Tristram struck down Sir Bleoberis.
Then Sir Bors de Ganis said, "I never knew a Cornish knight of such great valour, or so brave, as that knight who wears the trappings embroidered with crowns."
And then Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan left them and rode into a forest, and there a damsel met them who had come, for the love of Sir Lancelot, to look for some noble knights of King Arthur's court to rescue Sir Lancelot. For it had been arranged, through the treachery of Queen Morgan le Fay, that Sir Lancelot should be killed, and for that purpose she had set thirty knights to lie in wait for Sir Lancelot, and this damsel knew of this treachery. And for this reason the damsel had come to look for noble knights to help Sir Lancelot. For that night, or the day after, Sir Lancelot was to come to where these thirty knights were. And so this damsel had met Sir Bors and Sir Ector and Sir Driant, and there she told all four of them of the treachery of Morgan le Fay; and then they promised her that they would be close by where Sir Lancelot was to meet the thirty knights: "And if it turns out they set upon him, we will come to his rescue as best we can."
So the damsel left, and by chance the damsel met Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan, and there the damsel told them all the treachery that had been planned against Sir Lancelot.
"Fair damsel," said Sir Tristram, "take me to the place where they are to meet Sir Lancelot."
Then Sir Dinadan said, "What are you going to do? It is not for us to fight thirty knights, and believe me, I will have none of it. To take on one knight, two or three of us is quite enough, if they are real men; but to take on fifteen knights apiece, that I will never undertake."
"For shame," said Sir Tristram, "just do your part."
"No," said Sir Dinadan, "I will have none of it, unless you will lend me your shield, for you carry a shield of Cornwall; and the knights of Cornwall have such a name for cowardice that nobody ever bothers a man behind one of your shields."
"No," said Sir Tristram, "I will not part with my shield, for the sake of the lady who gave it to me. But one thing," said Sir Tristram, "I promise you, Sir Dinadan: unless you promise me to stand by me, I will kill you here and now. For I ask nothing more of you than to take on one knight. And if your heart fails you, stand by and watch me and them."
"Sir," said Sir Dinadan, "I promise you to watch, and to do what I can to save myself; but I wish I had never met you."
So then at once these thirty knights came close by the other four knights, and the four saw them, and each party saw the other. And so the thirty knights let them pass, for this reason: that they did not want to anger them, in case they had to fight Sir Lancelot; and the four knights let them pass with this intent, that they wanted to see and watch what they would do with Sir Lancelot. And so the thirty knights passed on and came by Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan, and then Sir Tristram shouted out, "Look, here is a knight against you, for the love of Sir Lancelot!"
And there he killed two with one spear and ten with his sword. And then Sir Dinadan came in, and he did exceedingly well, and so of the thirty knights only ten got away, and they fled. Sir Bors de Ganis and his three companions saw this whole battle, and then they saw plainly that it was the same knight who had jousted with them at the bridge. Then they took their horses and rode up to Sir Tristram, and praised him and thanked him for his good deeds, and they all asked Sir Tristram to go with them to their lodging; and he said no, he would not go to any lodging. Then all four knights begged him to tell them his name.
"Fair lords," said Sir Tristram, "for the present I will not tell you my name."
Then Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode on their way until they came to the shepherds and the herdsmen, and there they asked them if they knew of any lodging or shelter near at hand.
"Truly, sirs," said the herdsmen, "there is good lodging close by in a castle; but there is a custom there that no knight shall be lodged unless he jousts with two knights, and if he is only one knight he must joust with two. And as soon as you are inside you will be matched."
"That's a nasty sort of lodging," said Sir Dinadan. "Lodge where you like, for I will not lodge there."
"For shame," said Sir Tristram, "are you not a knight of the Round Table? So you cannot refuse your lodging and keep your honour."
"Not so," said the herdsmen, "for if you are beaten and get the worst of it you will not be lodged there, and if you beat them you will be well lodged."
"Ah," said Sir Dinadan, "they are two solid knights."
Then Sir Dinadan would not lodge there on any account, except that Sir Tristram charged him by his knighthood; and so they rode there. And to cut a long story short, Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan struck them both down, and so they went into the castle and had as good a welcome as they could think of or wish for.
And when they had taken off their armour, and meant to be merry and well rested, there came in at the gates Sir Palomides and Sir Gaheris, demanding the custom of the castle.
"What's all this?" said Sir Dinadan. "I want my rest."
"That cannot be," said Sir Tristram. "Now we must defend the custom of this castle, since we have got the better of the lords of this castle; and so," said Sir Tristram, "you must make yourself ready."
"It was in the devil's name," said Sir Dinadan, "that I ever came into your company."
And so they made themselves ready; and Sir Gaheris met Sir Tristram, and Sir Gaheris had a fall; and Sir Palomides met Sir Dinadan, and Sir Dinadan had a fall: so it was fall for fall. So then they had to fight on foot. Sir Dinadan would not do that, for he was so badly bruised from the fall that Sir Palomides had given him. Then Sir Tristram unlaced Sir Dinadan's helmet, and begged him to help him.
"I will not," said Sir Dinadan, "for I am badly wounded from the thirty knights we had to deal with only a little while ago. But you behave," said Sir Dinadan to Sir Tristram, "like a madman, like a man out of his mind who wants to throw his life away, and I may curse the hour I ever set eyes on you. For in all the world there are no two knights so mad as Sir Lancelot and you, Sir Tristram. Once I fell into Sir Lancelot's company, as I have now with you, and he set me such a job of work that I kept to my bed for a quarter of a year. Jesus defend me," said Sir Dinadan, "from two such knights, and especially from your company!"
"Then," said Sir Tristram, "I will fight them both." Then Sir Tristram told them both to come on: "For I will fight with you."
Then Sir Palomides and Sir Gaheris made ready, and struck at them both. Then Dinadan struck at Sir Gaheris a stroke or two, and turned away from him.
"No," said Sir Palomides, "it is too great a shame for two of us knights to fight one."
And then he told Sir Gaheris to stand aside with that knight who had no appetite for fighting. Then they rushed together and fought a long time, and at last Sir Tristram doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Palomides back more than three strides. And then by common consent Sir Gaheris and Sir Dinadan went between them, and parted them. And then, with Sir Tristram's agreement, they would have lodged together. But Sir Dinadan would not lodge in that castle. And then he cursed the hour he ever came into their company, and so he took his horse and his armour and left.
Then Sir Tristram asked the lords of that castle to lend him a man to bring him to a lodging, and so they did, and they overtook Sir Dinadan, and rode to their lodging two miles from there with a good man in a priory, and there they were very comfortable. And that same night Sir Bors and Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Ector and Sir Driant, stayed on in the same place where Sir Tristram had fought with the thirty knights; and there they met Sir Lancelot that same night, and they had promised to lodge with Sir Colgrevance that same night.
But as soon as the noble knight Sir Lancelot heard of the shield of Cornwall, he knew well that it was Sir Tristram who had fought with his enemies. And then Sir Lancelot praised Sir Tristram, and called him the man of most honour in the world.
Now there was a knight in that priory called Pellinore, and he wanted to know Sir Tristram's name, but he could not get it by any means; and so Sir Tristram left, and left Sir Dinadan in the priory, for he was so weary and so badly bruised that he could not ride.
Then this knight, Sir Pellinore, said to Sir Dinadan, "Since you will not tell me that knight's name, I will ride after him and make him tell me his name, or he shall die for it."
"Beware, sir knight," said Sir Dinadan, "for if you follow him you will regret it."
So that knight, Sir Pellinore, rode after Sir Tristram and challenged him to joust. Then Sir Tristram struck him down and wounded him through the shoulder, and so he went on his way.
And on the next day Sir Tristram met some pursuivants, the heralds' messengers, and they told him that a great tournament had been proclaimed between King Carados of Scotland and the King of North Wales, and that each side was to joust against the other at the Castle of Maidens. And these pursuivants were searching all the country for the good knights, and in particular King Carados had a search made for Sir Lancelot du Lake, and the King of North Wales had a search made for Sir Tristram de Liones. And at that time Sir Tristram meant to be at those jousts.
And so by chance they met Sir Kay the Seneschal and Sir Sagramore le Desirous; and Sir Kay asked Sir Tristram to joust, and Sir Tristram more or less refused him, because he did not want to be hurt or bruised before the great jousts that were to be held at the Castle of Maidens, and so he meant to take his ease and rest. And all the while Sir Kay kept shouting, "Sir knight of Cornwall, joust with me, or else yield to me as a recreant!"
When Sir Tristram heard him say so he turned towards him, and then Sir Kay refused him and turned his back.
Then Sir Tristram said, "As I find you, so I'll take you."
Then Sir Kay turned, against his will, and Sir Tristram struck Sir Kay down, and so he rode on.
Then Sir Sagramore le Desirous rode after Sir Tristram, and made him joust with him, and there Sir Tristram struck Sir Sagramore le Desirous down from his horse, and rode on his way. And the same day he met a damsel who told him that he could win great honour from a knight-errant who was doing much harm all over that country. When Sir Tristram heard her say so, he was glad to go with her to win honour. So Sir Tristram rode with that damsel about six miles, and then Sir Gawain met him, and at once Sir Gawain recognised the damsel, that she was a damsel of Queen Morgan le Fay's. Then Sir Gawain understood that she was leading that knight into some harm.
"Fair knight," said Sir Gawain, "where are you riding now with that damsel?"
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I do not know where I am riding, except as the damsel leads me."
"Sir," said Sir Gawain, "you shall not ride with her, for she and her lady never did good, but only ill."
And then Sir Gawain drew his sword and said, "Damsel, unless you tell me this minute why you are leading this knight with you, you will die for it on the spot. I know all your lady's treachery, and yours."
"Mercy, Sir Gawain," she said, "and if you will spare my life I will tell you."
"Speak," said Sir Gawain, "and you shall have your life."
"Sir," she said, "Queen Morgan le Fay, my lady, has set some thirty ladies to search and watch for Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram. And by the wiles of these ladies, whichever of them first met either of these two knights was to lead him to Morgan le Fay's castle, saying that he would do deeds of honour there; and if either of the two knights came there, there are thirty knights lying in wait in a tower, watching for Sir Lancelot or for Sir Tristram."
"Shame on it," said Sir Gawain, "that such false treachery should ever be worked or used by a queen, and a king's sister, and the daughter of a king and queen!"
"Sir," said Sir Gawain, "will you stand with me, and we will see what the malice of these thirty knights amounts to?"
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "go to them, if you please, and you will see that I will not fail you. For it is not long since I and a companion met with thirty knights of that queen's company; and God speed us, so that we may win honour."
So then Sir Gawain and Sir Tristram rode towards the castle where Morgan le Fay was, and all the while Sir Gawain judged that he must be Sir Tristram de Liones, because he had heard that two knights had killed and beaten thirty knights. And when they came before the castle Sir Gawain spoke out loud and said, "Queen Morgan le Fay, send out your knights that you have set lying in wait for Sir Lancelot and for Sir Tristram. Now," said Sir Gawain, "I know your false treachery, and everywhere I ride men shall know of your false treachery. And now let us see," said Sir Gawain, "whether you dare come out of your castle, you thirty knights."
Then the queen spoke, and all the thirty knights together, and said, "Sir Gawain, you know very well what you are doing and saying; for by God we know you exceedingly well, but all that you say and do, you say it trusting in the pride of that good knight who is there with you. For there are some of us who know the hands of that knight very well indeed. And believe this, Sir Gawain: it is more for his sake than for yours that we will not come out of this castle. For you may be sure, Sir Gawain, that we know the knight who carries the arms of Cornwall, and who he is."
Then Sir Gawain and Sir Tristram left and rode on their way together for a day or two; and there by chance they met Sir Kay and Sir Sagramore le Desirous. And they were glad of Sir Gawain, and he of them, but they did not know who the knight with the shield of Cornwall was, except by guessing. And so they rode together for a day or two. And then they caught sight of Sir Breuse Saunce Pité chasing a lady to kill her, for he had already killed her lover.
"Keep still, all of you," said Sir Gawain, "and none of you show yourselves, and you will see me pay back that false knight over there; for if he spots you he is so well horsed that he will get away."
And then Sir Gawain rode between Sir Breuse and the lady, and said, "False knight, leave her, and fight with me."
When Sir Breuse saw no one but Sir Gawain he set his spear in rest, and Sir Gawain did the same against him; and there Sir Breuse overthrew Sir Gawain, and then he rode over him, and across him twenty times, to destroy him. And when Sir Tristram saw him do so base a deed, he charged out against him. And when Sir Breuse saw him with the shield of Cornwall he knew well that it was Sir Tristram, and then he fled, and Sir Tristram went after him; and Sir Breuse Saunce Pité was so well horsed that he got clean away, and Sir Tristram followed him a long way, for he would gladly have been avenged on him. And so when he had chased him a long time, he saw a fair well, and he rode over to it to rest, and tied his horse to a tree.
And then he pulled off his helmet and washed his face and his hands, and so he fell asleep. Meanwhile there came a damsel who had looked for Sir Tristram by many ways and on many days within this land. And when she came to the spring she looked at him, and had forgotten what Sir Tristram looked like, but she knew him by his horse, called Passe-Brewel, which had been Sir Tristram's horse for many years. For when he was mad in the forest Sir Fergus had kept the horse. So this lady, Dame Bragwaine, waited there until he was awake. So when she saw him wake she greeted him, and he her in return, for each knew the other from long acquaintance. Then she told him how she had looked for him far and wide, and there she told him that she had letters from Queen Isolde the Fair. Then at once Sir Tristram read them, and you may be sure he was glad, for there were many piteous laments in them.
Then Sir Tristram said, "Lady Bragwaine, you shall ride with me until that tournament at the Castle of Maidens is over, and then you shall carry letters and news back with you."
And then Sir Tristram took his horse and looked for lodging, and there he met a good old knight and asked him to lodge him. Just then Gouvernail came to Sir Tristram, and he was glad of that lady. Now this old knight's name was Sir Pellounes, and he told of the great tournament that was to be at the Castle of Maidens. And there Sir Lancelot and thirty-two knights of his blood had had shields of Cornwall made. And just then someone came to Sir Pellounes and told him that Sir Persides de Bloise had come home; then that knight held up his hands and thanked God for his homecoming. And there Sir Pellounes told Sir Tristram that he had not seen his son, Sir Persides, in two years.
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I know your son well enough for a good knight."
So once Sir Tristram and Sir Persides came to their lodging both at the same time, and so they took off their armour and put on their clothes. And then these two knights welcomed each other. And when Sir Persides understood that Sir Tristram was from Cornwall, he said he had once been in Cornwall: "And there I jousted before King Mark; and it so happened that at that time I overthrew ten knights, and then Sir Tristram de Liones came at me and overthrew me, and took my lady away from me, and that I shall never forget, but I shall remember it if ever I see my chance."
"Ah," said Sir Tristram, "now I understand that you hate Sir Tristram. What do you think, do you suppose that Sir Tristram is not able to withstand your malice?"
"Yes," said Sir Persides, "I know well that Sir Tristram is a noble knight and a much better knight than I am; yet I shall not owe him my good will."
Just as they stood talking like this at a bay window of that castle, they saw many knights riding to and fro towards the tournament. And then Sir Tristram noticed a fine-looking knight riding on a great black horse, with a black-covered shield.
"What knight is that," said Sir Tristram, "with the black horse and the black shield? He looks a good knight."
"I know him well," said Sir Persides. "He is one of the best knights in the world."
"Then it is Sir Lancelot," said Tristram.
"No," said Sir Persides, "it is Sir Palomides, who is still unchristened."
Then they saw many people of the country greet Sir Palomides. And a little while after there came a squire of the castle, who told Sir Pellounes, the lord of that castle, that a knight with a black shield had struck down thirteen knights.
"Fair brother," said Sir Tristram to Sir Persides, "let us throw cloaks over ourselves and go and watch the sport."
"Not so," said Sir Persides. "We will not go there like servants. We will ride like men and good knights, ready to stand up to our enemies."
So they armed themselves, and took their horses and great spears, and went to where many knights were trying themselves out before the tournament. And at once Sir Palomides saw Sir Persides, and then he sent a squire to him, and said, "Go to that knight over there with the green shield with a gold lion on it, and tell him I request him to joust with me, and tell him that my name is Sir Palomides."
When Sir Persides understood Sir Palomides' request, he made himself ready, and at once they met together, but Sir Persides took a fall. Then Sir Tristram squared up to be revenged on Sir Palomides, and Sir Palomides saw it, and he was ready and Sir Tristram was not, and so he took him at a disadvantage and struck him over his horse's tail when he had no spear in his rest. Then Sir Tristram leapt up and quickly took his horse, and he was angry beyond measure and badly ashamed of that fall. Then Sir Tristram sent Gouvernail to Sir Palomides, and asked him to joust with him at his request.
"No," said Sir Palomides, "I will not joust with that knight at this time, for I know him better than he thinks. And if he is angry he may put it right tomorrow at the Castle of Maidens, where he can see me and many other knights."
With that came Sir Dinadan, and when he saw Sir Tristram angry he did not care to joke.
"Look," said Sir Dinadan, "here's the proof of it: however good a man is, he can still take a fall; and no man was ever so wise that he couldn't be caught out; and the only man who rides well is the one who never fell."
So Sir Tristram was exceedingly angry, and said to Sir Persides and to Sir Dinadan, "I will have my revenge."
Just as they stood there talking, there came past Sir Tristram a fine-looking knight with a black shield, riding very soberly and heavily.
"What knight is that?" said Sir Tristram to Sir Persides.
"I know him well," said Sir Persides, "for his name is Sir Briant of North Wales."
So he passed on among the other knights of North Wales. And then Sir Lancelot du Lake came in with a shield bearing the arms of Cornwall, and he sent a squire to Sir Briant, and requested him to joust with him.
"Well," said Sir Briant, "since I am asked to joust, I will do what I can."
And there Sir Lancelot struck Sir Briant down from his horse with a great fall. And then Sir Tristram wondered what knight he was who bore the shield of Cornwall.
"Whoever he is," said Sir Dinadan, "I promise you he is of King Ban's blood, and they are the knights of the most noble prowess in the world, if you count them man for man."
Then there came two knights of North Wales, one called Hew de la Montaine and the other Sir Madok de la Montaine, and they challenged Sir Lancelot on the spot. Sir Lancelot did not refuse them but made himself ready, and with one spear he struck them both down over their horses' rumps. And so Sir Lancelot rode his way.
"By the good Lord," said Sir Tristram, "he is a good knight who bears the shield of Cornwall, and it seems to me he rides in the best manner that I ever saw a knight ride."
Then the King of North Wales rode to Sir Palomides and begged him earnestly, for his sake, to joust with that knight "who has done us of North Wales this insult."
"Sir," said Sir Palomides, "I am very unwilling to fight that knight, and the reason is that the great tournament is tomorrow, and so, by my own choice, I will keep myself fresh."
"No," said the King of North Wales, "I beg you, ask him to joust."
"Sir," said Sir Palomides, "I will joust at your request, and ask that knight to joust with me; and I have often seen a man take a fall that he asked for himself."
Then Sir Palomides sent a squire to Sir Lancelot, and requested him to joust.
"Good fellow," said Sir Lancelot, "tell me your lord's name."
"Sir," said the squire, "my lord's name is Sir Palomides, the good knight."
"Well and good," said Sir Lancelot, "for there is no knight I have seen these seven years whom I would rather fight than him."
And so each knight made himself ready with two great spears.
"Now," said Sir Dinadan, "you'll see that Sir Palomides will acquit himself very well."
"That may be so," said Sir Tristram, "but I promise you that knight with the shield of Cornwall will give him a fall."
"I don't believe it," said Sir Dinadan.
Just then they spurred their horses and set their spears in rest, and each hit the other. And Sir Palomides broke a spear on Sir Lancelot, and he sat firm and did not move; but Sir Lancelot struck him so swiftly that he made him leave his horse's saddle, and the stroke broke his shield and his hauberk, and if he had not fallen he would have been killed.
"How about that?" said Sir Tristram. "I knew well, by the way they both rode, that Sir Palomides would have a fall."
Then Sir Lancelot rode his way, and rode to a spring to drink and to rest himself, and the men of North Wales watched where he rode. And then twelve knights followed him to do him harm, for this reason: so that he should not win the victory the next day at the tournament of the Castle of Maidens. So they came upon Sir Lancelot suddenly, and he scarcely had time to put on his helmet and take his horse before they were at him. And then Sir Lancelot got his spear, and rode through them, and there he killed a knight and broke a spear in his body. Then he drew his sword and struck to the right and to the left, so that within a few strokes he had killed three more knights, and the rest who stayed, he wounded them badly, every one who stayed. So Sir Lancelot escaped from his enemies of North Wales, and then Sir Lancelot rode his way to a friend's, and lodged there until the next morning; for he would not fight in the tournament on the first day, because of his great exertion. And on the first day he was with King Arthur, where he was set up high on a stand to judge who was most worthy for his deeds. So Sir Lancelot was with King Arthur, and did not joust on the first day.
Now we turn to Sir Tristram de Liones, who commanded Gouvernail, his servant, to get him a black shield with no other device on it. And so Sir Persides and Sir Tristram left their host Sir Pellounes, and rode early towards the tournament, and then they joined King Carados' side, the King of Scotland's. And at once knights opened the field, some of the King of North Wales' side and some of King Carados' side, and there the fighting began in earnest. Then there was crashing and rushing. Just then Sir Persides and Sir Tristram came in, and they fared so well that they drove the King of North Wales back. Then Sir Bleoberis de Ganis and Sir Gaheris came in with the men of North Wales, and then Sir Persides was struck down and nearly killed, for more than forty horsemen rode over him. For Sir Bleoberis did great deeds of arms, and Sir Gaheris did not fail him. When Sir Tristram saw them, and saw them do such deeds of arms, he wondered who they were. Sir Tristram also thought it a shame that Sir Persides was so treated; and then he took a great spear in his hand, and rode at Sir Gaheris and struck him down from his horse. And then Sir Bleoberis was angry, and took a spear and rode against Sir Tristram in great fury; and there Sir Tristram met him, and struck Sir Bleoberis from his horse. So then the King with the Hundred Knights was angry, and he put Sir Bleoberis and Sir Gaheris back on their horses, and there a great fight began. And all the while Sir Tristram held them very hard, and all the while Sir Bleoberis was exceedingly busy against Sir Tristram. And there Sir Dinadan came against Sir Tristram, and Sir Tristram gave him such a blow that he swooned in his saddle. Then Sir Dinadan came straight to Sir Tristram and said, "Sir, I know you better than you think. But here I give you my solemn word: I will never come against you again, because I promise you that sword of yours is never landing on my helmet again."
With that Sir Bleoberis came, and Sir Tristram gave him such a blow that down went his head; and then he caught him so hard by the helmet that he pulled him under his horse's feet. And then King Arthur had the horn blown to end the day. Then Sir Tristram went off to his tent, and Sir Dinadan rode with him; and Sir Persides and King Arthur, and the kings on both sides, wondered what knight that was with the black shield. Many gave their opinion, and some recognised him as Sir Tristram, and held their peace and would say nothing. So on that first day King Arthur, and all the kings and lords who were judges, gave Sir Tristram the prize; and yet they did not know him, but named him the Knight with the Black Shield.
Then the next morning Sir Palomides left the King of North Wales and rode over to King Arthur's side, where King Carados was, and the King of Ireland, and Sir Lancelot's kin, and Sir Gawain's kin. So Sir Palomides sent the damsel to Sir Tristram, the same damsel he had sent to look for him when he was out of his mind in the forest, and this damsel asked Sir Tristram who he was and what his name was.
"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "tell Sir Palomides that he shall not know at this time, not until I have broken two spears on him. But let him know this much," said Sir Tristram, "that I am the same knight he struck down the evening before the tournament; and tell him plainly that whichever side Sir Palomides is on, I will be on the opposite side."
"Sir," said the damsel, "you must understand that Sir Palomides will be on King Arthur's side, where the noblest knights in the world are."
"In the name of God," said Sir Tristram, "then I will be with the King of North Wales, because Sir Palomides will be on King Arthur's side; and I would not do it otherwise, except for his sake."
So when King Arthur had come they sounded for the field; and then the fighting began in earnest, and King Carados jousted with the King of the Hundred Knights, and there King Carados had a fall. Then there was crashing and rushing, and just then knights of King Arthur's came in, and they drove back the King of North Wales' knights.
Then Sir Tristram came in, and began so roughly and so mightily that no one could stand against him, and so Sir Tristram kept it up a long time. And at last Sir Tristram fell in among the company of King Ban's kin, and there Sir Bors de Ganis fell on him, and Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Blamore de Ganis, and many other knights. And then Sir Tristram struck to the right and to the left, so that all the lords and ladies spoke of his noble deeds. But at last Sir Tristram would have had the worst of it, had it not been for the King with the Hundred Knights. And then he came with his company and rescued Sir Tristram, and brought him away from those knights who bore the shields of Cornwall. And then Sir Tristram saw another company keeping to themselves, some forty knights together, and Sir Kay the Seneschal was their commander. Then Sir Tristram rode in among them, and there he struck Sir Kay down from his horse; and there he went through those knights like a greyhound among rabbits.
Then Sir Lancelot found a knight who was badly wounded in the head.
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "who wounded you so badly?"
"Sir," he said, "a knight who bears a black shield, and I may curse the hour I ever met him, for he is a devil and no man."
So Sir Lancelot left him and meant to meet Sir Tristram, and so he rode with his sword drawn in his hand to look for Sir Tristram; and then he saw him, how he charged here and there, and at every stroke Sir Tristram all but struck down a knight.
"Jesus have mercy!" said the king. "Since the time I first bore arms I never saw any knight do such marvellous deeds of arms."
"And if I were to attack this knight," said Sir Lancelot to himself, "I would shame myself."
And with that Sir Lancelot put up his sword. And then the King with the Hundred Knights, and a hundred more of North Wales, attacked the twenty of Sir Lancelot's kin; and those twenty knights held together all the time like wild boars, and none would fail another. And so when Sir Tristram saw the nobility of these twenty knights he marvelled at their good deeds, for he saw by their bearing and by their discipline that they would rather die than leave the field.
"Now, Jesus," said Sir Tristram, "well may he be valiant and full of prowess who has such a company of noble knights among his kin, and very likely he is a noble man who is their leader and commander."
He meant Sir Lancelot du Lake. So when Sir Tristram had watched them a long time, he thought it a shame to see two hundred knights battering at twenty knights. Then Sir Tristram rode to the King with the Hundred Knights and said, "Sir, leave off your fighting with those twenty knights, for you win no honour from them, you being so many and they so few; and believe me, they will not leave the field, I can see it by their faces and their bearing; and you will get no honour if you kill them. So leave off fighting them, for, to increase my own honour, I will ride to the twenty knights and help them with all my might and power."
"No," said the King with the Hundred Knights, "you shall not do so. Now that I see your spirit and courtesy, I will withdraw my knights for your pleasure; for a good knight will always favour another, and like will draw to like."
Then the King with the Hundred Knights withdrew his knights. And all this while, and long before, Sir Lancelot had been watching Sir Tristram, fully intending to join company with him. And then suddenly Sir Tristram, Sir Dinadan, and Gouvernail, his man, rode their way into the forest, so that no one noticed where they went. So then King Arthur sounded the end of the day, and gave the King of North Wales the prize, because Sir Tristram had been on his side. Then Sir Lancelot rode here and there, as mad as a lion that has missed its kill, because he had lost Sir Tristram, and so he went back to King Arthur. And then over the whole field there was such a noise that it could be heard on the wind two miles away, as the lords and ladies cried, "The Knight with the Black Shield has won the field!"
"Alas," said King Arthur, "what has become of that knight? It is a shame to all of you in the field to let him get away from you like that; with gentleness and courtesy you might have brought him to me at the Castle of Maidens."
Then the noble King Arthur went to his knights and comforted them as best he could, and said, "My good companions, don't be dismayed, even though you have lost the field today."
And many were hurt and badly wounded, and many were unharmed.
"My companions," said King Arthur, "see that you keep your spirits up, for tomorrow I will be in the field with you and avenge you on your enemies."
So that night King Arthur and his knights rested.
The damsel who came from Isolde the Fair to Sir Tristram had been with Queen Guinevere all the while the tournament was going on, and the queen kept asking her for what reason she had come into that country.
"Madam," she answered, "I have come for no other reason than from my lady Isolde the Fair, to learn how you are."
For on no account would she tell the queen that she came for Sir Tristram's sake. So this lady, Dame Bragwaine, took her leave of Queen Guinevere, and she rode after Sir Tristram. And as she rode through the forest she heard a great cry; then she commanded her squire to go into the forest to find out what that noise was. And so he came to a spring, and there he found a knight tied to a tree, crying out as if he were mad, with his horse and his armour standing by him. And when he saw the squire, he started up and broke himself loose, and took his sword in his hand, and ran to kill the squire. Then the squire took his horse and fled as fast as ever he could to Dame Bragwaine, and told her what had happened to him. Then she rode to Sir Tristram's tent, and told Sir Tristram what she had come upon in the forest.
"Alas," said Sir Tristram, "on my life, there is some good knight in trouble."
Then Sir Tristram took his horse and his sword and rode there, and there he heard how the knight lamented to himself and said, "I, woeful knight, Sir Palomides, what misfortune has fallen on me, that I am trampled down like this by falsehood and treason, through Sir Bors and Sir Ector! Alas," he said, "why do I live so long!"
And then he took his sword in his hands, and made many strange signs and gestures; and so in his raging he threw his sword into that spring. Then Sir Palomides wailed and wrung his hands. And at last, out of pure sorrow, he ran into that spring, up to his belly, and searched for his sword. Then Sir Tristram saw that, and ran at Sir Palomides, and held him fast in his arms.
"Who are you," said Palomides, "holding me like this?"
"I am a man of this forest, who means you no harm."
"Alas," said Sir Palomides, "I can never win honour where Sir Tristram is; for wherever he is, if I am there too, then I get no honour; and if he is away, then for the most part I win the prize, unless Sir Lancelot is there, or Sir Lamorak."
Then Sir Palomides said, "Once in Ireland Sir Tristram got the better of me, and another time in Cornwall, and in other places in this land."
"What would you do," said Sir Tristram, "if you had Sir Tristram?"
"I would fight with him," said Sir Palomides, "and ease my heart on him. And yet, to tell you the truth, Sir Tristram is the noblest knight living in this world."
"What will you do?" said Sir Tristram. "Will you come with me to your lodging?"
"No," he said, "I will go to the King with the Hundred Knights, for he rescued me from Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Ector, or else I would have been treacherously killed."
Sir Tristram spoke such kind words to him that Sir Palomides went with him to his lodging. Then Gouvernail went on ahead, and told Dame Bragwaine to go out of the way to her own lodging, "and tell Sir Persides not to pick any quarrel with him." And so they rode together until they came to Sir Tristram's tent, and there Sir Palomides had all the welcome that could be had, all that night. But on no account could Sir Palomides find out who Sir Tristram was; and so after supper they went to rest, and Sir Tristram, from his great exertion, slept until it was day. And Sir Palomides could not sleep for anguish; and at dawn he took his horse secretly, and rode his way to Sir Gaheris and to Sir Sagramore le Desirous, where they were in their tents; for the three of them had been companions at the beginning of the tournament. And then in the morning the king sounded for the tournament on the third day.
So the King of North Wales and the King with the Hundred Knights, the two of them, met King Carados and the King of Ireland; and there the King with the Hundred Knights struck down King Carados, and the King of North Wales struck down the King of Ireland. With that Sir Palomides came in, and when he came he did great work, for he was well known by his indented shield, its colours cut in a zigzag. Then King Arthur came in, and they did great deeds of arms together, and put the King of North Wales and the King with the Hundred Knights to the worse. Then Sir Tristram came in with his black shield, and at once he jousted with Sir Palomides, and there by sheer force Sir Tristram struck Sir Palomides over his horse's rump.
Then King Arthur cried, "Knight with the Black Shield, get ready for me!"
And in the same way Sir Tristram struck King Arthur down. And then, by the strength of King Arthur's knights, the king and Sir Palomides were put back on their horses. Then King Arthur, with a great eager heart, took a spear in his hand, and there from the one side he struck Sir Tristram over his horse. Then at once Sir Palomides came at Sir Tristram, while he was on foot, to ride him down. Then Sir Tristram saw him coming, and there he stepped aside, and in great fury he caught him by the arm and pulled him down from his horse. Then Sir Palomides quickly got up, and then they laid into each other mightily with their swords; and many kings, queens, and lords stood and watched them. And at last Sir Tristram struck Sir Palomides on the helmet three mighty strokes, and at every stroke he gave him he said, "This one is for Sir Tristram's sake!"
With that Sir Palomides fell face down on the ground.
Then the King with the Hundred Knights came, and brought Sir Tristram a horse, and so he was mounted again. By then Sir Palomides was mounted, and in great fury he rode at Sir Tristram with his spear in the rest, and gave him a great blow with his sword. Then Sir Tristram dodged his spear, and caught him by the neck with both his hands, and pulled him clean out of his saddle, and so he carried him in front of him the length of ten spears, and then in front of them all he let him fall wherever he might. Then Sir Tristram saw King Arthur with a naked sword in his hand, and Sir Tristram rode at King Arthur with his spear; and King Arthur boldly stood his ground and with his sword he cut his spear in two, and with that Sir Tristram was stunned; and so King Arthur gave him three or four strokes before he could get out his sword. And at last Sir Tristram drew his sword, and each attacked the other very hard. With that the great crush of the fighting parted them. Then Sir Tristram rode here and there and did his utmost, so that that day Sir Tristram struck down eleven of the good knights of King Ban's blood, who were of Sir Lancelot's kin; so that all the great lords marvelled at his great deeds, and all cried out for the Knight with the Black Shield.
Then this cry was so loud that Sir Lancelot heard it. And then he took a great spear in his hand and came towards the cry.
Then Sir Lancelot cried, "Knight with the Black Shield, get ready to joust with me!"
When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he took his spear in his hand, and both of them lowered their heads, and they came together like thunder. And Sir Tristram's spear broke in pieces, and Sir Lancelot, by ill luck, struck Sir Tristram in the side, a deep wound, near to death; but still Sir Tristram did not leave his saddle, and so the spear broke. With that Sir Tristram, wounded as he was, got out his sword, and he rushed at Sir Lancelot, and gave him three great strokes on the helmet so that the fire sprang out of it, and Sir Lancelot bowed his head low toward his saddlebow. And with that Sir Tristram left the field, for he felt himself so wounded that he thought he would die; and Sir Dinadan saw him and followed him into the forest. Then Sir Lancelot stayed and did many marvellous deeds.
So when Sir Tristram had got away to the edge of the forest he dismounted, and unlaced his armour and bathed his wound. Then Sir Dinadan thought he was going to die.
"No, no," said Sir Tristram, "Dinadan, never fear, for my heart is whole, and I shall soon be whole of this wound, by the mercy of God."
By then Sir Dinadan noticed Palomides coming, riding straight at them. And then Sir Tristram saw that Sir Palomides was coming to destroy him.
And so Sir Dinadan gave him warning, and said, "Sir Tristram, my lord, you are so badly wounded that you can't fight him, so I will ride against him and do to him what I can; and if I am killed, you can pray for my soul. And meanwhile you can slip away and go into the castle, or into the forest, so that he won't meet you."
Sir Tristram smiled and said, "I thank you, Sir Dinadan, for your good will, but you shall know that I am able to handle him."
And then he quickly armed himself, and took his horse, and a great spear in his hand, and said to Sir Dinadan, "Goodbye."
And he rode toward Sir Palomides at a gentle pace. Then when Sir Palomides saw that, he made as if to see to his horse, but he did it for this reason: he was waiting for Sir Gaheris, who was coming after him. And when he had come, he rode toward Sir Tristram. Then Sir Tristram sent to Sir Palomides and asked him to joust with him; and if he struck down Sir Palomides, he would do nothing more to him; and if it so happened that Sir Palomides struck down Sir Tristram, he told him to do his worst. So they were agreed. Then they met together, and Sir Tristram struck down Sir Palomides so that he had a grievous fall, and lay as still as if he were dead. And then Sir Tristram rode at Sir Gaheris, and he did not want to joust; but whether he wanted to or not, Sir Tristram struck him over his horse's rump, so that he lay as still as if he were dead. And then Sir Tristram rode his way and left Sir Persides' squire in the tents, and Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode to an old knight's house to lodge. And that old knight had five sons at the tournament, and he prayed God earnestly for their coming home. And so, as the French book says, they came home, all five of them, well beaten.
And when Sir Tristram had gone off into the forest, Sir Lancelot kept up the fight just as hard, like a man in a frenzy who took no care for himself, and you may be sure there were many noble knights against him. And when King Arthur saw Sir Lancelot do such marvellous deeds of arms, he armed himself, and took his horse and his armour, and rode into the field to help Sir Lancelot; and many knights came in with King Arthur. And to cut a long story short, in the end the King of North Wales and the King of the Hundred Knights were put to the worse; and because Sir Lancelot stayed and was the last in the field, the prize was given to him. But Sir Lancelot would not have the prize, not for king, queen, or knight; and where the cry was cried through the field, "Sir Lancelot, Sir Lancelot has won the field today!", Sir Lancelot had another cry made against it: "Sir Tristram has won the field, for he began first, and he has held out to the last, and so he has done on the first day, the second, and the third!"
Then all ranks and degrees, high and low, spoke of Sir Lancelot with great honour, for the honour he had done to Sir Tristram; and for doing that honour to Sir Tristram he was more praised and renowned at that time than if he had overthrown five hundred knights. And all the people, every one, for this nobility, first the great lords both high and low, and after them the common people, cried out at once, "Sir Lancelot has won the field, whoever says no!"
Then Sir Lancelot was angry and ashamed, and so with that he rode to King Arthur.
"Alas," said the king, "we are all dismayed that Sir Tristram has left us like this. By God," said King Arthur, "he is one of the noblest knights I ever saw hold spear or sword in hand, and the most courteous knight in his fighting; for I saw him hard at it," said King Arthur, "when he struck Sir Palomides on the helmet three times, so that he battered his helmet down with his strokes, and he also said, 'Here is a stroke for Sir Tristram,' and he said it three times."
Then King Arthur, Sir Lancelot, and Sir Dodinas le Savage took their horses to look for Sir Tristram, for through Sir Persides the king had been told where Sir Tristram was in his tent. But when they came there, Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan were gone.
Then King Arthur and Sir Lancelot were downcast, and went back again to the Castle of Maidens, grieving greatly for Sir Tristram's wound and his sudden departure.
"So help me God," said King Arthur, "I am sadder that I cannot meet him than for all the hurts all my knights have had at the tournament."
Just then Sir Gaheris came and told King Arthur how Sir Tristram had struck down Sir Palomides, and that it was at Sir Palomides' own request.
"Alas," said King Arthur, "that was a great dishonour to Sir Palomides, seeing that Sir Tristram was badly wounded. And now all of us, kings and knights and men of honour, may say that Sir Tristram may be called a noble knight, and one of the best knights I ever saw in all the days of my life. For I want you all to know, kings and knights," said King Arthur, "that I never saw a knight do so marvellously as he has done these three days; for he was the first to begin and the one who held out longest, except for this last day. And though he was hurt, it was a manly chance between two noble knights; and when two noble men meet, one of them must needs have the worse, as God allows at the time."
"As for me," said Sir Lancelot, "I would not have hurt Sir Tristram, not for all the lands my father ever left me, if I had known him at the time. I hurt him because I did not see his shield. For if I had seen his black shield, I would not have meddled with him, for many reasons; for not long ago he did as much for me as any knight ever did, and it is well known that he fought thirty knights, with no help except Sir Dinadan. And I promise you one thing," said Sir Lancelot, "Sir Palomides shall regret his ungracious dealing in going after that noble knight whom I hurt like that by mischance."
Sir Lancelot said all the honour of Sir Tristram that could be said. Then King Arthur held a great feast for all who would come. And so we let King Arthur pass, and turn a little to Sir Palomides, who, after his fall from Sir Tristram, was nearly driven out of his wits for spite against Sir Tristram. And so he followed him, trusting to chance. And as he came by a river, in his frenzy he would have made his horse leap over it; and the horse lost its footing and fell into the river, so that Sir Palomides was afraid he would be drowned. And then he got clear of his horse, and swam to the land, and let his horse go down the river wherever it might.
And when he came to the land he took off his armour, and sat roaring and crying like a man out of his mind. Just then a damsel came right past Sir Palomides, who had been sent from Sir Gawain and his brother to Sir Mordred, who lay sick in the same place, with that old knight where Sir Tristram was. For, as the French book says, Sir Persides had wounded Sir Mordred badly some ten days before; and if it had not been for love of Sir Gawain and his brother, Sir Persides would have killed Sir Mordred. And so this damsel came past Sir Palomides, and she and he had words together, which pleased neither of them. And so the damsel rode on her way until she came to the old knight's place, and there she told that old knight how she had met by chance the maddest knight she had ever met.
"What did he bear on his shield?" said Sir Tristram.
"It was indented with white and black," said the damsel.
"Ah," said Sir Tristram, "that was Sir Palomides, the good knight. For I know him well," said Sir Tristram, "as one of the best knights living in this realm."
Then that old knight took a little riding horse, and rode for Sir Palomides, and brought him to his own manor. And Sir Tristram knew Sir Palomides very well, but he said very little, for at that time Sir Tristram was up and walking on his feet, and well recovered from his wounds. And always when Sir Palomides saw Sir Tristram he would stare at him in great wonder, and it always seemed to him that he had seen him before.
Then he would say to Sir Dinadan, "If I ever meet Sir Tristram, he won't escape my hands."
"I'm amazed," said Sir Dinadan, "that you boast like this behind Sir Tristram's back, when it is not long since he was in your hands, and you in his. Why didn't you hold on to him when you had him? For I saw myself, two or three times, that you got precious little honour out of Sir Tristram."
Then Sir Palomides was ashamed. So we leave them for a little while in the old castle with the old knight, Sir Darras.
Now we shall speak of King Arthur, who said to Sir Lancelot, "If it had not been for you, we would not have lost Sir Tristram, for he was here every day until the time you met him; and it was in an evil hour," said Arthur, "that you fought him."
"My lord Arthur," said Lancelot, "you lay it on me that I was the cause of his going; God knows it was against my will. But when men are hot in deeds of arms they often hurt their friends as well as their foes. And my lord," said Sir Lancelot, "you must understand that Sir Tristram is a man I am loath to offend, for he has done more for me than I have ever yet done for him."
But then Sir Lancelot had a book brought out, and then Sir Lancelot said, "Here we are, ten knights who will swear on a book never to rest one night where we rested the night before, for this twelvemonth, until we find Sir Tristram. And as for me," said Sir Lancelot, "I promise you on this book that if I can meet him, by fair means or foul I shall bring him to this court, or else I shall die for it."
And the names of these ten knights who undertook this quest were these: first was Sir Lancelot, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, and Bleoberis, and Sir Blamore de Ganis, and Lucan the butler, Sir Uwain, Sir Galihud, Lionel, and Galihodin. So these ten noble knights left the court of King Arthur, and so they rode on their quest together until they came to a cross where four ways parted, and there the company split four ways to look for Sir Tristram.
And as Sir Lancelot rode on by chance, he met Dame Bragwaine, who had been sent into that country to look for Sir Tristram, and she was fleeing as fast as her palfrey could go. So Sir Lancelot met her and asked her why she was fleeing.
"Ah, fair knight," said Dame Bragwaine, "I am fleeing in fear of my life, for Sir Breuse Saunce Pité is following me to kill me."
"Keep close to me," said Sir Lancelot.
Then when Sir Lancelot saw Sir Breuse Saunce Pité, Sir Lancelot shouted at him, and said, "False knight, destroyer of ladies and damsels, your last day has come!"
When Sir Breuse Saunce Pité saw Sir Lancelot's shield he knew it well, for at that time he was not bearing the arms of Cornwall, but his own shield. And then Sir Breuse fled, and Sir Lancelot followed after him. But Sir Breuse was so well mounted that when he wanted to flee he could flee easily, and stand his ground too when he wanted to. And then Sir Lancelot went back to Dame Bragwaine, and she thanked him for his great trouble.
Now we will speak of Sir Lucan the butler, who by chance came riding to the same place where Sir Tristram was, and he came in with no other purpose than to ask for lodging. Then the porter asked what his name was.
"Tell your lord that my name is Sir Lucan, the butler, a knight of the Round Table."
So the porter went to Sir Darras, the lord of the place, and told him who was there asking for lodging.
"No, no," said Sir Daname, who was nephew to Sir Darras. "Tell him that he shall not be lodged here. But let him know that I, Sir Daname, will meet him at once, and tell him to make himself ready."
So Sir Daname came out on horseback, and there they met with spears, and Sir Lucan struck Sir Daname down over his horse's crupper, and then he fled into the house, and Sir Lucan rode after him, and asked for him many times.
Then Sir Dinadan said to Sir Tristram, "It is a shame to see the cousin of the lord of this place trampled like that."
"Wait," said Sir Tristram, "and I will put it right."
And meanwhile Sir Dinadan got on horseback, and he jousted with Lucan the butler, and there Sir Lucan ran Dinadan through the thick of the thigh, and so he rode on his way. And Sir Tristram was angry that Sir Dinadan was hurt, and followed after him, meaning to avenge him; and within a while he overtook Sir Lucan, and told him to turn. And so they met, so that Sir Tristram wounded Sir Lucan exceedingly badly and gave him a fall. With that came Sir Uwain, a well-born knight, and when he saw Sir Lucan so hurt he called on Sir Tristram to joust with him.
"Fair knight," said Sir Tristram, "tell me your name, I beg you."
"Sir knight, you may be sure my name is Sir Uwain le Fise de Roy Ureine, that is, the son of King Uriens."
"Ah," said Sir Tristram, "if I had my way I would never fight you, at any time."
"You shall not have your way," said Sir Uwain, "for you shall fight me."
And then Sir Tristram saw no other remedy, but rode against him, and overthrew Sir Uwain and wounded him in the side, and so he went back to his lodging again. And when Sir Dinadan understood that Sir Tristram had wounded Sir Lucan, he would have ridden after Sir Lucan to kill him, but Sir Tristram would not allow it. Then Sir Uwain had a horse-litter made ready, and brought Sir Lucan to the abbey of Ganis; and the castle beside it was called the Castle of Ganis, and Sir Bleoberis was its lord. And at that castle Sir Lancelot had promised all his companions to meet him in the quest for Sir Tristram.
So when Sir Tristram had come to his lodging, a damsel came who told Sir Darras that three of his sons had been killed at that tournament, and two so grievously wounded that they were never likely to help themselves again. And all this was done by a noble knight who carried the black shield, and he was the one who won the prize. Then someone came and told Sir Darras that the same knight, the one who carried the black shield, was in the house. Then Sir Darras went to Sir Tristram's room, and there he found his shield and showed it to the damsel.
"Ah, sir," said the damsel, "that is the very man who killed your three sons."
Then without any delay Sir Darras put Sir Tristram, and Sir Palomides, and Sir Dinadan into a strong prison, and there Sir Tristram came near to dying of a great sickness. And every day Sir Palomides would reproach Sir Tristram over the old hatred between them. And Sir Tristram always spoke courteously and said little. But when Sir Palomides saw Sir Tristram falling sick, then he was downcast for him, and comforted him in the best way he could. And as the French book says, forty knights of Sir Darras's own kin came to him, and they would have killed Sir Tristram and his two companions, but Sir Darras would not allow that, but kept them in prison, and they had food and drink. So Sir Tristram endured great pain there, for sickness had taken hold of him, and that is the greatest pain a prisoner can have. For as long as a prisoner has his bodily health, he can endure, under the mercy of God and in hope of a good release; but when sickness touches a prisoner's body, then a prisoner may say that all his well-being is taken from him, and then he has cause to wail and to weep. And that is just what Sir Tristram did when sickness had taken hold of him, for then he fell into such sorrow that he almost killed himself.
Now we will leave Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides and Sir Dinadan in prison, and speak of other knights who searched for Sir Tristram in many different parts of this land. And some went into Cornwall; and by chance Sir Gaheris, King Arthur's nephew, came to King Mark, and there he was well received, and sat at King Mark's own table and ate from his own dish. Then King Mark asked Sir Gaheris what news there was in the realm of Logres.
"Sir," said Sir Gaheris, "the king reigns like a noble knight. And just lately there was as great a jousting and tournament as I ever saw in the realm of Logres, and the noblest knights were at that jousting. But there was one knight who did marvellously for three days, and he carried a black shield, and of all the knights I ever saw, he proved the best."
"Then," said King Mark, "that was Sir Lancelot, or Sir Palomides the pagan."
"Not so," said Sir Gaheris, "for both Sir Lancelot and Sir Palomides were on the opposite side, against the Knight with the Black Shield."
"Then it was Sir Tristram," said the king.
"Yes," said Sir Gaheris.
And with that the king hung his head, and in his heart he was badly afraid that Sir Tristram would win himself such honour in the realm of Logres that he himself would not be able to stand against him. So Sir Gaheris had a fine welcome from King Mark, and from Queen Isolde the Fair, who was glad of Sir Gaheris's words; for she knew well by the deeds and the manner of it that it was Sir Tristram. And then the king held a royal feast, and to that feast came Sir Uwain le Fise de Roy Ureine, whom some called Uwain le Blanchemains. And this Sir Uwain challenged all the knights of Cornwall. Then the king was mad with rage that he had no knights to answer him. Then Sir Andred, King Mark's nephew, leapt up and said, "I will take on Sir Uwain."
Then he went and armed himself and mounted in the best way he could. And there Sir Uwain met Sir Andred, and struck him down so that he lay fainting on the ground. Then King Mark was sorry and angry beyond measure that he had no knight to avenge his nephew Sir Andred.
So the king called Sir Dinas the Seneschal to him, and begged him for his sake to take it on himself to joust with Sir Uwain.
"Sir," said Sir Dinas, "I am very unwilling to fight any knight of the Round Table."
"Even so," said the king, "for my love take on this joust."
So Sir Dinas made himself ready, and at once they met together with great spears, but Sir Dinas was overthrown, horse and man, a great fall. And who was angry but King Mark!
"Alas," he said, "have I no knight who will take on that knight there?"
"Sir," said Sir Gaheris, "for your sake I will joust."
So Sir Gaheris made himself ready, and when he was armed he rode into the field. And when Sir Uwain saw Sir Gaheris's shield he rode up to him and said, "Sir, you are not doing your duty. For, sir, when you were first made a knight of the Round Table you swore that you would never knowingly fight against your own fellowship. And by God, Sir Gaheris, you knew me well enough by my shield, and I know you just as well by yours. And though you would break your oath, I will not break mine. For there is no one here, not even you, who shall think I am afraid of you; I would dare well enough to fight you, and yet we are the sons of two sisters."
Then Sir Gaheris was ashamed, and so with that every knight went his way, and Sir Uwain rode off into the country.
Then King Mark armed himself, and took his horse and his spear, with a squire along with him. And then he rode on ahead of Sir Uwain, and suddenly, at a gap, he ran at him while he was off his guard, and there he struck him almost through the body, and left him there. So within a while Sir Kay came by and found Sir Uwain, and asked him how he had been hurt.
"I don't know why or how," said Sir Uwain, "but I am sure I got this wound by treachery. For a knight came suddenly at me here before I was aware of him, and wounded me without warning."
Then Sir Andred arrived there, looking for King Mark.
"You traitor knight," said Sir Kay, "if I knew it was you who had wounded this noble knight so treacherously, you would never get out of my hands."
"Sir," said Sir Andred, "I never wounded him, and I am willing to let him say so himself."
"Shame on you, false knight," said Sir Kay, "for you men of Cornwall are worth nothing."
So Sir Kay had Sir Uwain carried to the Abbey of the Black Cross, and there he was healed. And then Sir Gaheris took his leave of King Mark, but before he left he said, "Sir king, you brought a foul shame on yourself and your court when you banished Sir Tristram out of this country. For you would have had no need to fear any knight if he had been here."
And so he left.
Then Sir Kay the Seneschal came to King Mark, and there he was given a good welcome, on the outside.
"Now, fair lords," said King Mark, "will you try an adventure in the forest of Morris? I know well it holds as hard an adventure as any I know."
"Sir," said Sir Kay, "I will try it."
And Sir Gaheris said he would think it over, for King Mark was always full of treachery. And with that Sir Gaheris left and rode on his way. And on the same road that Sir Kay was to ride he lay down to rest, ordering his squire to watch for Sir Kay: "And warn me when he comes."
So within a while Sir Kay came riding that way, and then Sir Gaheris took his horse and met him, and said, "Sir Kay, you are not wise to ride at King Mark's request, for everything he does is treachery."
Then Sir Kay said, "I beg you, let us try this adventure."
"I will not fail you," said Sir Gaheris.
And so they rode on until they came to a lake that was called at that time the Perilous Lake, and there they waited in the thicket at the edge of the wood.
Meanwhile King Mark, in the castle of Tintagil, sent away all his barons, and everyone else except those who were in his secrets was sent out of his chamber. And then he had his nephew Sir Andred called, and told him to arm himself and mount quickly; and by that time it was midnight. And so King Mark was armed in black, horse and all; and so they two sallied out at a secret back gate, with their servants with them, and rode until they came to that lake. Then Sir Kay saw them first, and took his spear, and offered to joust. And King Mark rode against him, and they struck each other very hard, for the moon shone as bright as day. And there at that joust Sir Kay's horse fell down, for his horse was not as big as the king's horse, and Sir Kay's horse bruised him very badly. Then Sir Gaheris was angry that Sir Kay had a fall. Then he cried, "Knight, sit fast in your saddle, for I will avenge my companion!"
Then King Mark was afraid of Sir Gaheris, and so, against his will, King Mark rode against him, and Sir Gaheris gave him such a blow that he fell down. So then at once Sir Gaheris ran at Sir Andred and struck him clean off his horse, so that his helmet drove into the earth, and he nearly broke his neck. And with that Sir Gaheris dismounted, and got Sir Kay up. And then they both went on foot to the two of them, and told them to yield and tell their names, or else they would die. Then with great pain Sir Andred spoke first, and said, "It is King Mark of Cornwall, so be careful what you do; and I am Sir Andred, his cousin."
"Shame on you both," said Sir Gaheris, "for a false traitor! You have done false treachery, and he too, under the false welcome you gave us! It would be a pity," said Sir Gaheris, "for you to live any longer."
"Save my life," said King Mark, "and I will make amends; and remember that I am an anointed king."
"It would be all the more shame," said Sir Gaheris, "to save your life. You are a king anointed with the holy oil, and so you ought to stand by all men of honour; and so you deserve to die."
With that he laid into King Mark without saying any more, and King Mark covered himself with his shield and defended himself as well as he could. And then Sir Kay laid into Sir Andred, and with that King Mark yielded to Sir Gaheris. And then he knelt down, and swore his oath on the crossguard of the sword that never while he lived would he be against knights-errant. And he also swore to be a good friend to Sir Tristram, if ever he came into Cornwall.
By then Sir Andred was on the ground, and Sir Kay would have killed him.
"Let him be," said Sir Gaheris. "Don't kill him, I beg you."
"It would be a pity," said Sir Kay, "for him to live any longer. For this man is a close cousin to Sir Tristram, and he has always been a traitor to him, and it was through him that he was exiled out of Cornwall; and so I will kill him," said Sir Kay.
"You shall not," said Sir Gaheris. "Since I have given the king his life, I beg you, give this man his life."
And with that Sir Kay let him go. And so Sir Kay and Sir Gaheris rode on their way to Dinas the Seneschal, because they had heard it said that he loved Sir Tristram well. So they rested there, and soon afterwards they rode to the realm of Logres. And so within a little while they met Sir Lancelot, who always kept Dame Bragwaine with him, thinking that this way he would sooner meet Sir Tristram. And Sir Lancelot asked what news there was in Cornwall, and whether they had heard of Sir Tristram or not. Sir Kay and Sir Gaheris answered that they had heard nothing of him. Then they told Sir Lancelot their adventure, word for word. Then Sir Lancelot smiled and said, "What is bred in the bone is hard to get out of the flesh."
And so they made merry together.
Now we leave this tale, and speak of Sir Dinas, who had a lady-love in the castle, and she loved another knight better than him. And so when Sir Dinas went out hunting she let herself down from the wall by a towel, and took two of his little hounds with her, and so she went to the knight she loved, and he loved her in return. And when Sir Dinas came home and missed his lady-love and his hounds, he was angrier about his hounds than about the lady. So then he rode after the knight who had his lady-love, and told him to turn and joust. So Sir Dinas struck him down, so that with the fall he broke his leg and his arm. And then his lady and lover begged Sir Dinas's pardon, and said she would love him better than she ever had.
"No," said Sir Dinas, "I will never trust those who have once betrayed me. And so, as you have begun, so end, for I will never have anything to do with you again."
And so Sir Dinas left, and took his hounds with him, and so rode to his castle.
Now we will turn to Sir Lancelot, who was very downcast that he could never hear any news of Sir Tristram, for all this while he was in prison with Sir Darras, with Palomides and Dinadan. Then Dame Bragwaine took her leave to go into Cornwall, and Sir Lancelot, Sir Kay and Sir Gaheris rode to look for Sir Tristram in the country of Surluse.
Now this tale speaks of Sir Tristram and his two companions. For every day Sir Palomides wrangled and spoke out against Sir Tristram.
"I'm amazed at you, Sir Palomides," said Sir Dinadan. "If you had Sir Tristram here, I'm sure you would do him no harm; for if a wolf and a sheep were shut in a prison together, the wolf would leave the sheep in peace. And you may be sure," said Sir Dinadan, "this man here is Sir Tristram, in a word. So now you must do your best with him, and let's see if you can settle it with your hands."
Then Sir Palomides was abashed and said little.
"Sir Palomides," said Sir Tristram then, "I have heard plenty of your ill will against me, but I will not fight you at this time if I can help it, because I fear the lord of this place who has us in his keeping. For if I did not fear him more than I fear you, it would soon be settled."
So they made peace between them. Just then a damsel came in and said, "Knights, take heart, for your lives are safe; I heard my lord Sir Darras say so."
Then all three were glad, for every day they had expected to die.
Then soon after this Sir Tristram fell so sick that he thought he would die. Then Sir Dinadan wept, and so did Sir Palomides, and the two of them grieved greatly. So a damsel came in to them and found them mourning. Then she went to Sir Darras, and told him that the mighty knight who carried the black shield was likely to die.
"That shall not be," said Sir Darras, "for God forbid that, when knights come to me for help, I should let them die in my prison. So," said Sir Darras to the damsel, "fetch that knight and his companions before me."
And then at once Sir Darras saw Sir Tristram brought before him. He said, "Sir knight, I am sorry for your sickness, for you are called a very noble knight, and so you seem to be. And you may be sure it shall never be said that Sir Darras destroyed such a noble knight as you in prison, even though you have killed three of my sons, which grieved me greatly. But now you shall go, and your companions, and your armour and horses have been kept fair and clean, and you shall go wherever you please, on this condition: that you, knight, will promise me to be a good friend to my two sons who are still alive, and also that you tell me your name."
"Sir," he said, "as for me, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and I was born in Cornwall, and I am King Mark's nephew. And as for the death of your sons, I could not help it; for if they had been my own nearest kin I could have done no differently. And if I had killed them by treason or treachery, I would have deserved to die."
"I take all this into account," said Sir Darras, "that everything you did was done by the force of knighthood, and that was why I would not put you to death. But since you are Sir Tristram, the good knight, I beg you with all my heart to be a good friend to me and to my sons."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I promise you, on my life, that as long as I live I will do you service, for you have done no more to us than a true-hearted knight ought to do."
Then Sir Tristram rested there until he had recovered from his sickness; and when he was big and strong they took their leave, and every knight took his horse, and so they left and rode together until they came to a crossroads.
"Now, companions," said Sir Tristram, "here we will part, each his own way."
And because Sir Dinadan had the first adventure of them, I will begin with him.
So as Sir Dinadan rode by a spring he found a lady grieving greatly.
"What is wrong with you?" said Sir Dinadan.
"Sir knight," said the lady, "I am the most wretched lady in the world. For within these five days a knight called Sir Breuse Saunce Pité came here, and he killed my own brother, and ever since he has kept me at his own will, and of all men in the world I hate him most. And so I beg you, by your knighthood, to avenge me, for he will not be long, but will be here at once."
"Let him come," said Sir Dinadan, "and for the honour of all women I will do my part."
With this Sir Breuse came, and when he saw a knight with his lady he was mad with rage. And then he said, "Sir knight, defend yourself against me!"
So they crashed together like thunder, and each struck the other exceedingly hard, but Sir Dinadan put a grievous wound through his shoulder, and before Sir Dinadan could even turn, Sir Breuse was gone and fled. Then the lady begged him to bring her to a castle nearby, only four miles from there; and so Sir Dinadan brought her there, and she was made welcome, for the lord of that castle was her uncle. And so Sir Dinadan rode on his way upon his adventure.
Now we turn this tale to Sir Tristram, who by chance came to a castle to ask for lodging, and Queen Morgan le Fay was in it. And so when Sir Tristram was let into that castle he had a good welcome all that night. And in the morning, when he wanted to leave, the queen said, "You may be sure you shall not leave so easily, for you are here as a prisoner."
"Jesus forbid!" said Sir Tristram. "For I was a prisoner only lately."
"Fair knight," said the queen, "you shall stay with me until I know who you are and where you come from."
And always the queen would seat Sir Tristram on one side of her, and her lover on the other side. And Queen Morgan kept gazing at Sir Tristram, and at that the knight grew jealous, and had a mind to run at Sir Tristram suddenly with a sword, but he held back for shame. Then the queen said to Sir Tristram, "Tell me your name, and I will let you leave when you wish."
"On that condition I will tell you: my name is Sir Tristram de Liones."
"Ah," said Morgan le Fay, "if I had known that, you would not have left as soon as you shall. But since I have made a promise I will keep it, provided that you will promise me to carry a shield that I shall give you to the castle of the Hard Rock, where King Arthur has had a great tournament proclaimed. And I beg you that you will be there, and do as many deeds of arms for me as you can. For at the Castle of Maidens, Sir Tristram, you did deeds of arms as marvellous as any I ever heard of a knight doing."
"Madam," said Sir Tristram, "let me see the shield that I am to carry."
Then the shield was brought out, and its field was gold, with a king and a queen painted on it, and a knight standing above them, one foot on the king's head and the other on the queen's.
"Madam," said Sir Tristram, "this is a fine shield and a mighty one; but what does it mean, this king and this queen, and the knight standing on both their heads?"
"I will tell you," said Morgan le Fay. "It means King Arthur and Queen Guinevere, and a knight who holds them both in bondage and in servitude."
"Who is that knight?" said Sir Tristram.
"That you shall not know at this time," said the queen.
But as the French book says, Queen Morgan loved Sir Lancelot best, and always desired him, and he would never love her nor do anything at her request; and so she kept many knights about her to take him by force. And because she believed that Sir Lancelot loved Queen Guinevere as his lady, and she him in return, Queen Morgan le Fay had that shield made to put Sir Lancelot to shame, so that King Arthur might come to understand the love between them. Then Sir Tristram took that shield and promised her to carry it at the tournament at the Castle of the Hard Rock. But Sir Tristram did not know that the shield was made against Sir Lancelot; but afterwards he knew it.
So then Sir Tristram took his leave of the queen, and took the shield with him. Then came the knight who kept Queen Morgan le Fay as his lover (his name was Sir Hemison), and he made himself ready to follow Sir Tristram.
"Fair friend," said Morgan, "don't ride after that knight, for you will win no honour from him."
"Shame on him, the coward," said Sir Hemison, "for I never knew a good knight to come out of Cornwall, except Sir Tristram de Liones."
"And what if this is he?" she said.
"No, no," he said, "he is with Isolde the Fair, and this is only some foolish knight."
"Alas, my fair friend, you will find him the best knight you ever met, for I know him better than you do."
"For your sake," said Sir Hemison, "I will kill him."
"Ah, fair friend," said the queen, "I am sorry that you will follow that knight, for I am badly afraid for your coming back."
With this the knight rode on his way mad with rage, and he rode after Sir Tristram as fast as if he were being chased by knights. When Sir Tristram heard a knight coming after him so fast, he turned about, and saw a knight coming at him. And when he came near Sir Tristram he cried aloud, "Sir knight, defend yourself against me!"
Then they rushed together as if it were thunder, and Sir Hemison broke his spear on Sir Tristram, but his armour was so good that he could not hurt him. And Sir Tristram struck him harder, and ran him through the body, and he fell over his horse's crupper. Then Sir Tristram turned to do more with his sword, but he saw so much blood running from him that it seemed to him he was likely to die. And so he left him, and came to a fine manor belonging to an old knight, and there Sir Tristram lodged.
Now we stop speaking of Sir Tristram, and speak of the knight who was wounded to the death. Then his servant dismounted, and took off his helmet, and then he asked his lord whether there was any life left in him.
"There is life in me," said the knight, "but it is very little. And so, when you have helped me up, jump up behind me, and hold me tight so that I don't fall, and bring me to Queen Morgan le Fay. For the deep draughts of death are drawing to my heart, so that I cannot live, and I would gladly speak with her before I die; for otherwise my soul will be in great peril if I die."
So at once, with great pain, his servant brought him to the castle, and there Sir Hemison fell down dead. When Morgan le Fay saw him dead she grieved beyond all reason; and then she had him stripped to his shirt, and so she had him put into a tomb. And around the tomb she had these words written: "Here lies Sir Hemison, slain by the hands of Sir Tristram de Liones."
Now we turn to Sir Tristram, who asked the knight his host whether he had seen any knights-errant lately.
"Sir," he said, "last night Ector de Maris lodged here with me, and a damsel with him, and that damsel told me that he was one of the best knights in the world."
"That is not so," said Sir Tristram, "for I know four better knights of his own blood. And the first is Sir Lancelot du Lake, call him the best knight; and Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Blamore de Ganis, and Sir Gaheris."
"No," said his host, "Sir Gawain is a better knight than he."
"That is not so," said Sir Tristram, "for I have met them both, and I found Sir Gaheris the better knight. And Sir Lamorak I call as good as any of them, except Sir Lancelot."
"Why don't you name Sir Tristram?" said his host. "For I count him as good as any of them."
"I don't know Sir Tristram," said Tristram.
So they talked and joked as long as they cared to, and then went to bed. And in the morning Sir Tristram took his leave of his host and left, and rode toward the Roche Dure, the Hard Rock, and Sir Tristram had no adventure but that one. And so he did not rest until he came to the castle, where he saw five hundred tents.
Then the King of Scots and the King of Ireland held the field against King Arthur's knights, and a great fight began there. Then Sir Tristram came in and did marvellous deeds of arms, for there he struck down many knights. And all the while he was in front of King Arthur with that shield. And when King Arthur saw that shield he wondered greatly for what purpose it had been made; but Queen Guinevere guessed it for what it was, and so she was downcast. Now there was a damsel of Queen Morgan's in a chamber near King Arthur, and when she heard King Arthur speak of that shield, she spoke out openly to King Arthur.
"Sir king, you may be sure this shield was made for you, to warn you of your shame and dishonour, and of what concerns you and your queen."
And then at once that damsel stole away secretly, so that no one knew what had become of her. Then King Arthur was grave and angry, and asked where that damsel had come from. There was not one who knew her, or knew what had become of her. Then Queen Guinevere called Sir Ector de Maris to her, and there she made her complaint to him, and said, "I know well this shield was made by Morgan le Fay to insult me and Sir Lancelot, and so I am badly afraid that I may be destroyed."
And all the while the king watched Sir Tristram, who did such marvellous deeds of arms that he wondered hard what knight he could be, and he knew well it was not Sir Lancelot. And he had been told that Sir Tristram was in Brittany with Isolde of the White Hands; for he judged that if he had been in the realm of Logres, Sir Lancelot or some of his companions who were on the quest for Sir Tristram would have found him before that time. So King Arthur wondered what knight he could be. And all the while Sir Arthur's eye was on that shield. The queen saw all that, and it made her badly afraid.
Then all the while Sir Tristram struck down knights, a wonder to see, on the right hand and on the left, so that scarcely any knight could stand against him. And the King of Scots and the King of Ireland began to withdraw. When Arthur saw that, he thought that the knight with the strange shield should not escape him. Then he called Sir Uwain le Blanchemains to him, and told him to arm himself and make ready. So at once King Arthur and Sir Uwain squared up to Sir Tristram, and demanded that he tell them where he had got that shield.
"Sir," he said, "I had it from Queen Morgan le Fay, King Arthur's sister."
So here ends the story of this book, for it is the first book of Sir Tristram de Liones.
Here follows the second book of Sir Tristram.
"And if it turns out that you can describe what you carry," said King Arthur, "then you are worthy to carry the arms."
"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "I will answer you. This shield was given to me, not asked for, by Queen Morgan le Fay. And as for me, I cannot describe these arms, for that is no part of my charge, and yet I trust in God to carry them with honour."
"Truly," said King Arthur, "you ought not to carry any arms unless you knew what you carry. But I beg you, tell me your name."
"To what end?" said Sir Tristram.
"Because I want to know," said Arthur.
"Sir, you shall not know at this time."
"Then you and I shall fight together," said King Arthur.
"Why," said Sir Tristram, "will you fight with me unless I tell you my name? And that is little needed of you, if you were a man of honour, for you have seen me this day at great labour, and so you are an ill-bred knight to ask for a fight with me, considering how hard I have laboured. All the same I will not fail you, and have no doubt that I am not afraid of you. Though you think you have me at a great advantage, yet I shall hold out against you well enough."
And with that King Arthur set his shield and lowered his spear, and Sir Tristram did the same against him, and they came together so eagerly. And there King Arthur broke his spear all to pieces on Sir Tristram's shield. But Sir Tristram hit Arthur in return, so that horse and man fell to the earth. And there King Arthur was wounded in the left side, a great wound and a dangerous one.
Then when Sir Uwain saw his lord Arthur lying on the ground badly wounded, he was exceedingly downcast. And then he set his shield and lowered his spear, and called out loud to Sir Tristram, and said, "Knight, defend yourself."
So they came together like thunder, and Sir Uwain shattered his spear all to pieces on Sir Tristram's shield, and Sir Tristram struck him harder and more heavily, with such force that he carried him clean out of his saddle to the earth. With that Sir Tristram turned about and said, "Fair knights, I had no need to joust with you, for I have had enough to do this day."
Then Arthur got up and went to Sir Uwain, and said to Sir Tristram, "We have got what we deserved, for out of our arrogance we demanded a fight with you, and yet we did not know your name."
"Nevertheless, by the Holy Cross," said Sir Uwain, "in my judgement he is as strong a knight as any now living."
Then Sir Tristram left, and in every place he asked and enquired after Sir Lancelot, but nowhere could he hear of him, whether he was dead or alive; and so Sir Tristram grieved greatly and sorrowed. So Sir Tristram rode by a forest, and then he noticed a fair tower beside a marsh on the one side, and on the other side a fair meadow. And there he saw ten knights fighting together. And the nearer he came, the more he saw that there was only one knight fighting against nine knights, and that one did so marvellously that Sir Tristram wondered greatly that one knight could ever do such great deeds of arms. And then within a little while he had killed half their horses and unhorsed them, and their horses ran loose in the fields and the forest. Then Sir Tristram had such great pity for that one knight who endured so much pain, and all the while he thought, by his shield, that it must be Sir Palomides. And so he rode up to the knights and called out to them, and told them to stop their fighting, for they did themselves great shame, so many knights fighting with one.
Then the master of those knights answered (his name was Breuse Saunce Pité, who was at that time the most dangerous knight living), and said this: "Sir knight, what business do you have meddling with us? And so, if you are wise, go on your way as you came, for this knight shall not escape us."
"That would be a pity," said Sir Tristram, "that so good a knight as he is should be killed so cowardly. And so I warn you, I will help him with all my might."
So Sir Tristram got down off his horse, because they were on foot, so that they should not kill his horse, and then set his shield, with his sword in his hand, and he struck out on the right hand and on the left exceedingly hard, so that at nearly every stroke he struck down a knight. And when they saw his strokes they all fled with Breuse Saunce Pité to the tower, and Sir Tristram followed hard after them with his sword in his hand, but they escaped into the tower, and shut Sir Tristram outside the gate. And when Sir Tristram saw this he went back to Sir Palomides, and found him sitting under a tree, badly wounded.
"Ah, fair knight," said Sir Tristram, "well met."
"Many thanks," said Sir Palomides, "for your great goodness, for you have rescued my life and saved me from my death."
"What is your name?" said Sir Tristram.
He said, "My name is Sir Palomides."
"O Jesus," said Sir Tristram, "you've had a fine piece of luck from me today, that I should rescue you, and you're the man in the world I hate most. But now get ready, for I will fight you."
"What is your name?" said Sir Palomides.
"My name is Sir Tristram, your mortal enemy."
"That may be so," said Sir Palomides, "but you have done too much for me this day for me to fight with you. For since you have saved my life, it will be no honour to you to fight me, for you are fresh and I am badly wounded. And so, if you must fight me, name me a day, and then I shall meet you without fail."
"You speak well," said Sir Tristram. "Now I name the place: meet me in the meadow by the river of Camelot, where Merlin set up the stone monument."
So they were agreed.
Then Sir Tristram asked Sir Palomides why the ten knights were fighting him.
"For this reason," said Sir Palomides. "As I rode on my adventures in a forest near here, I saw a dead knight lying there, and a lady weeping beside him. And when I saw her grieving so, I asked her who had killed her lord. 'Sir,' she said, 'the falsest knight in the world now living, and he is the vilest wretch that anyone ever heard tell of, and his name is Sir Breuse Saunce Pité.' Then out of pity I had the damsel mount her palfrey, and I promised to be her protection, and to help her bury her lord. And so, suddenly, as I came riding by this tower, out came Sir Breuse Saunce Pité, and suddenly he struck me from my horse. And then, before I could get back to my horse, this Sir Breuse killed the damsel. And so I took my horse again, and I was badly ashamed, and so the fight between us began. And this is the reason why we were fighting."
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "now I understand how your fight came about. But in any case remember the promise you have made me, to fight me two weeks from today."
"I shall not fail you," said Sir Palomides.
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "for now I will not leave you until you are out of danger from your enemies."
So they mounted their horses and rode together into that forest, and there they found a fair spring, with clear water bubbling up.
"Fair sir," said Sir Tristram, "I have a mind to drink of that water."
And then they got down off their horses. And then they noticed, close by them, a great horse tied to a tree, and it kept neighing. And then they noticed a fair knight in armour under a tree, lacking no piece of his armour, except that his helmet lay under his head.
"By the good Lord," said Sir Tristram, "there lies a fine-looking knight. What is best to do?"
"Wake him," said Sir Palomides.
So Sir Tristram woke him with the butt of his spear. And the knight got up in haste and put his helmet on his head, and took a great spear in his hand; and without any more words he charged at Sir Tristram, and struck him clean out of his saddle to the earth, and hurt him in the left side, so that Sir Tristram lay in great danger. Then he galloped on further, and took his distance for the charge, and came crashing down on Sir Palomides, and there he struck him partly through the body, so that he fell from his horse to the earth. And then this strange knight left them there, and went his way through the forest. With this Sir Palomides and Sir Tristram, who were on foot, got their horses back, and each asked the other's advice about what was best to do.
"By my head," said Sir Tristram, "I will follow this strong knight who has shamed us like this."
"Well," said Sir Palomides, "and I will rest near here with a friend of mine."
"Take care," said Sir Tristram to Palomides, "that you don't fail on the day you have set to fight me. For, as I judge it, you will not keep your day, for I am much stronger than you."
"As for that," said Sir Palomides, "let it be as it may, for I am not afraid of you. If I am not sick or a prisoner, I will not fail you. But I have more reason to fear that you will not meet me, for you are riding after that strong knight there. And if you meet him, it will be a hard chance if you ever escape his hands."
Right then Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides parted, and each went his separate way.
And so Sir Tristram rode a long way after this strong knight. And at last he saw a lady lying across a dead knight.
"Fair lady," said Sir Tristram, "who has killed your lord?"
"Sir," she said, "a knight came riding here, as my lord and I were resting, and asked him where he was from, and my lord said from Arthur's court. 'Then,' said the strong knight, 'I will joust with you, for I hate all those who are of Arthur's court.' And my lord who lies here dead mounted his horse, and the strong knight and my lord met together, and there he ran my lord clean through with his spear. And so he has brought me into great woe and loss."
"I am sorry for your great grief," said Sir Tristram. "If it please you, tell me your husband's name."
"Sir," she said, "his name was Galardoun, and he would have proved a good knight."
So Sir Tristram left that sorrowful lady, and had very poor lodging. Then on the third day Sir Tristram met Sir Gawain and Sir Bleoberis in a forest, at a lodge, and both of them were badly wounded. Then Sir Tristram asked Sir Gawain and Sir Bleoberis whether they had met such a knight, with such a device, with a covered shield.
"Fair sir," said these knights, "such a knight met us, to our great harm. And first he struck down my companion, Sir Bleoberis, and badly wounded him, because he told me I should not fight with him, since he was too strong for me. That strong knight took his words with scorn, and said he said it in mockery. And then they rode at each other, and so he hurt my companion. And when he had done that, I could not for shame do anything but joust with him. And at the first course he struck me down, and my horse, to the earth. And there he nearly killed me, and he took his horse away from us and left. And it was an evil hour when we met him."
"Fair knights," said Sir Tristram, "he met me the same way, and another knight called Palomides, and he struck us both down with one spear, and hurt us very badly."
"On my faith," said Sir Gawain, "if you take my advice you will let him pass and look for him no further; for at the next feast of the Round Table, on pain of my head, you shall find him there."
"On my faith," said Sir Tristram, "I shall never rest until I find him."
And then Sir Gawain asked him his name. Then he said, "My name is Sir Tristram."
And so each told the other their names, and then Sir Tristram left and rode on his way.
And by chance, in a meadow, Sir Tristram met Sir Kay the Seneschal and Sir Dinadan.
"What news with you," said Sir Tristram, "with you knights?"
"Not good," said these knights.
"Why so?" said Sir Tristram. "Please tell me, for I am riding in search of a knight."
"What device does he carry?" said Sir Kay.
"He carries," said Sir Tristram, "a covered shield, wrapped close in cloth."
"By my head," said Sir Kay, "that is the same knight who met us. For last night we were lodged in a widow's house, and that knight was lodged there too; and when he learned that we were of Arthur's court, he spoke great insults against the king, and especially against Queen Guinevere, and so in the morning a fight was pledged with him for that reason. And at the first encounter," said Sir Kay, "he struck me down from my horse and hurt me exceedingly badly. And when my companion, Sir Dinadan, saw me struck down and hurt, he would not avenge me, but ran away from me. And so he left."
And then Sir Tristram asked them their names, and so each told the other their names. And so Sir Tristram left Sir Kay and Sir Dinadan, and so he passed through a great forest into a plain, until he came upon a priory, and there he rested with a good man six days.
And then he sent his man, who was called Gouvernail, and ordered him to go to a city nearby to fetch him new armour; for it had been a long time since Sir Tristram had been re-equipped, and his armour was battered and broken. And when Gouvernail, his servant, had come back with his gear, he took his leave of the widow, and mounted his horse, and rode on his way early in the morning. And by sudden chance Sir Tristram met Sir Sagramore le Desirous and Sir Dodinas le Savage. And these two knights met Sir Tristram and questioned him, and asked him if he would joust with them.
"Fair knights," said Sir Tristram, "I would joust with you with a good will, but I have promised, on a day set close at hand, to fight a strong knight. And so I am unwilling to fight with you, for if it were my misfortune to be hurt here, I should not be able to fight the fight I promised."
"As for that," said Sagramore, "whether you like it or not, you shall joust with us before you get past us."
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "if you force me to it, I must do what I can."
And then they set their shields, and came running together with great anger. But through Sir Tristram's great strength he struck Sir Sagramore from his horse. Then he spurred his horse on further, and said to Sir Dodinas, "Knight, get ready."
And so by sheer strength Sir Tristram struck Dodinas from his horse. And when he saw them lying on the earth, he took up his bridle and rode on his way, and his man Gouvernail with him.
As soon as Sir Tristram had gone by, Sir Sagramore and Sir Dodinas got their horses back, and mounted nimbly and followed after Sir Tristram. And when Sir Tristram saw them coming so fast after him, he turned his horse back to them, and asked them what they wanted.
"It is not long since I struck you to the earth at your own request and desire. I would have ridden past you, but you would not allow me, and now it seems to me you want to fight me some more."
"That is the truth," said Sir Sagramore and Sir Dodinas, "for we mean to be avenged for the insult you have done us."
"Fair knights," said Sir Tristram, "you have little need of that, for you brought on yourselves all that I did to you. And so I ask you, by your knighthood, to leave me alone for now. For I am sure that if I fight with you I shall not escape without great wounds, and as I suppose, you will not come away without your share either. And this is the reason why I am so unwilling to fight with you: for I must fight within these three days with a good knight, as valiant as any now living, and if I am hurt I shall not be able to fight him."
"What knight is that," said Sir Sagramore, "that you are to fight with?"
"Sirs," he said, "it is a good knight called Sir Palomides."
"By my head," said Sir Sagramore and Sir Dodinas, "you have reason to fear him, for you will find him an exceedingly good knight, and a valiant one. And because you are to fight him, we will spare you for now; otherwise you would not get away from us easily. But, fair knight," said Sir Sagramore, "tell us your name."
"Sir," he said, "my name is Sir Tristram de Liones."
"Ah," said Sagramore and Sir Dodinas, "well met, for we have heard of your great renown."
And then each took leave of the other, and they went on their way.
Then Sir Tristram left and rode straight to Camelot, to the stone monument that Merlin had made before, where Sir Lanceor, the king's son of Ireland, was killed by the hands of Balin. And in that same place the fair lady Colombe was killed, who was Sir Lanceor's love; for after he was dead she took his sword and thrust it through her body. And by Merlin's craft this knight Lanceor and his lady Colombe were buried under one stone. And at that time Merlin prophesied that in that same place two of the best knights that ever were in Arthur's days, and the best lovers, would fight. So when Sir Tristram came to the tomb where Lanceor and his lady were buried, he looked about him for Sir Palomides. Then he noticed a handsome knight coming riding towards him, all in white, with a covered shield. When he came near Sir Tristram he called out loud, "You are welcome, sir knight, and well and truly have you kept your promise."
And then they set their shields and lowered their spears, and came together with all the strength of their horses; and they met so fiercely that both horses and knights fell to the earth, and as fast as they could they got clear of their horses, and put their shields before them; and they struck at each other with bright swords, like men of great strength, and each wounded the other wonderfully badly, so that the blood ran out on the grass. And so they fought for the space of four hours, and neither would speak one word to the other, and they had hewn many pieces off each other's armour.
"O Lord Jesus," said Gouvernail, "I marvel greatly at the strokes my master has given your master."
"By my head," said Sir Lancelot's servant, "your master has not given so many but that he has taken as many or more."
"O Jesus," said Gouvernail, "it is too much for Sir Palomides or Sir Lancelot to endure, and yet it would be a pity if either of these good knights should spill the other's blood."
So they both stood and wept, and grieved greatly when they saw the bright swords covered over with the blood of their bodies.
Then at last Sir Lancelot spoke and said, "Knight, you fight wonderfully well, as well as I ever saw a knight fight. So, if it please you, tell me your name."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I am unwilling to tell any man my name."
"Truly," said Sir Lancelot, "if I were asked, I was never unwilling to tell my name."
"That is well said," said Sir Tristram. "Then I ask you to tell me your name."
"Fair knight," he said, "my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"Alas," said Sir Tristram, "what have I done! For you are the man in the world that I love best."
"Fair knight," said Sir Lancelot, "tell me your name."
"Truly," he said, "my name is Sir Tristram de Liones."
"O Jesus," said Sir Lancelot, "what a chance has come to me!"
And with that Sir Lancelot knelt down and surrendered his sword to him. And with that Sir Tristram knelt down and surrendered his sword to him. And so each gave the other the prize. And then they both went straight to the stone, and sat down on it, and took off their helmets to cool themselves, and each kissed the other a hundred times. And then soon after they took off their helmets and rode to Camelot. And there they met Sir Gawain and Sir Gaheris, who had promised Arthur never to come back to the court until they had brought Sir Tristram with them.
"Turn back," said Sir Lancelot, "for your quest is done, for I have met Sir Tristram. Look, here he is in person!"
Then Sir Gawain was glad, and said to Sir Tristram, "You are welcome, for now you have greatly eased me of my labour. For what reason," said Sir Gawain, "did you come to this court?"
"Fair sir," said Sir Tristram, "I came into this country because of Sir Palomides. For he and I had set this day to fight together at the stone monument, and I wonder that I hear nothing of him. And so by chance my lord Sir Lancelot and I met."
With this King Arthur came, and when he learned that Sir Tristram was there, he ran to him and took him by the hand and said, "Sir Tristram, you are as welcome as any knight who ever came to this court."
And when the king had heard how Sir Lancelot and he had fought, and how each had wounded the other wonderfully badly, the king grieved greatly. Then Sir Tristram told the king how he had come there to fight with Sir Palomides. And then he told the king how he had rescued him from the nine knights and Breuse Saunce Pité, "and how I found a knight lying by a spring, and that knight struck down Sir Palomides and me, but his shield was covered with a cloth. So Sir Palomides left me, and I followed after that knight; and in many places I found where he had killed knights, and outjousted many."
"By my head," said Sir Gawain, "that same knight struck me down, and Sir Bleoberis, and hurt us both badly, the one with the covered shield."
"Ah," said Sir Kay, "that knight struck me down and hurt me exceedingly badly, and I would gladly have known who he was, but I could not."
"Jesus have mercy," said Arthur, "what knight was that with the covered shield?"
"I don't know," said Sir Tristram; and so they all said.
"Now," said King Arthur, "then I know, for it is Sir Lancelot."
Then they all looked at Sir Lancelot and said, "You have tricked us with your covered shield."
"It is not the first time," said Arthur, "that he has done so."
"My lord," said Sir Lancelot, "truly, believe me, I was the same knight who carried the covered shield; and because I did not want it known that I was of your court, I spoke no good of your house."
"That is the truth," said Sir Gawain, Sir Kay and Sir Bleoberis.
Then King Arthur took Sir Tristram by the hand and went to the Round Table. Then Queen Guinevere came, and many ladies with her, and all the ladies said with one voice, "Welcome, Sir Tristram!"
"Welcome," said the damsels.
"Welcome," said the knights.
"Welcome," said Arthur, "as one of the best knights, and the noblest in the world, and the man of most honour. For in every kind of hunting you carry off the prize, and of all the measures of the hunting horn you are the first maker, and of all the terms of hunting and hawking you are the founder, and of all instruments of music you are the best. And so, noble knight," said Arthur, "you are welcome to this court. And also, I ask you," said Arthur, "grant me a favour."
"It shall be at your command," said Tristram.
"Well," said Arthur, "what I want of you is that you stay in my court."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I am unwilling to do that, for I have business in many countries."
"Not so," said Arthur. "You have promised it to me; you cannot say no."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I will do as you wish."
Then Arthur went round the seats of the Round Table, and looked at every seat that stood empty for lack of a knight. And then the king saw letters in the seat of Marhaus that said, "This is the seat of the noble knight Sir Tristram." And then Arthur made Sir Tristram a knight of the Round Table, with as much splendour and as great a feast as could be imagined. For Sir Marhaus had been killed earlier by the hands of Sir Tristram on an island; and that was well known at that time in Arthur's court, for this Marhaus was a worthy knight. And Sir Tristram and he fought because of the evil deeds that Marhaus did to the country of Cornwall. And they fought so long, circling and sidestepping, until they fell bleeding to the earth; for they were so badly wounded that they could not stand for bleeding. And Sir Tristram by good fortune recovered, and Sir Marhaus died from the stroke on the head.
So now we leave Sir Tristram and speak of King Mark.
Then King Mark was bitterly resentful of Sir Tristram's renown, and so he drove him out of Cornwall. Yet he was King Mark's nephew; but Mark had great suspicion of Sir Tristram because of his queen, Isolde the Fair, for it seemed to him that there was too much love between the two of them. So when Sir Tristram had left Cornwall for England, King Mark heard of the great feats of prowess that Sir Tristram did there, and it grieved him badly. So he sent men of his own to spy out what deeds he did. And the queen secretly sent spies of her own to learn what deeds he had done, for there was great love between the two of them. So when the messengers had come home, they told the truth as they had heard it, that he surpassed all other knights, unless it was Sir Lancelot. Then King Mark was very downcast at this news, and Isolde the Fair was just as glad. Then, in great spite, he took with him two good knights and two squires, and disguised himself, and set off into England with the intention of killing Sir Tristram. And one of these two knights was called Bersules, and the other knight was called Amant. So as they rode, King Mark asked a knight he met where he would find King Arthur.
He said, "At Camelot."
He also asked that knight about Sir Tristram, whether he had heard of him at King Arthur's court.
"Believe me," said that knight, "you will find Sir Tristram there, a man of as great honour as any now living. For by his prowess he won the tournament of the Castle of Maidens, which stands by the Hard Rock. And since then he has beaten thirty knights with his own hands, men of great honour. And the last fight he ever fought, he fought with Sir Lancelot, and that was a marvellous fight. And it was not by force that Sir Lancelot brought Sir Tristram to the court, and King Arthur rejoiced over him exceedingly, and so made him a knight of the Round Table; and his seat was the one that had been the good knight Sir Marhaus's."
Then King Mark was exceedingly sorry when he heard of the honour done to Sir Tristram; and so they parted.
Then King Mark said to his two knights, "Now I will tell you my plan. You are the men I trust most of anyone alive, and I want you to know that my coming here is for this purpose: to destroy Sir Tristram by trickery or by treason. And it will be hard if he ever escapes our hands."
"Alas," said Sir Bersules, "what do you mean? For you are set on such a course that you are shamefully minded. For Sir Tristram is the most honourable knight we know living, and so I warn you plainly, I will never agree to put him to death. And so I give up my service, and leave you."
When King Mark heard him say so, he suddenly drew his sword and said, "Ah, traitor!" and struck Sir Bersules on the head, so that the sword went down to his teeth.
When Amant the knight saw him do that base deed, he and the squires said it was foully done, and wickedly. "And so we'll serve you no longer. And believe me, we will accuse you of treason before Arthur."
Then King Mark was furiously angry and would have killed Amant; but he and the two squires held together, and cared nothing for his malice. When King Mark saw he could not be avenged on them, he said this to the knight Amant: "Understand this: if you accuse me of treason, I shall defend myself against it before King Arthur. But I demand of you that you do not tell my name, that I am King Mark, whatever becomes of me."
"As for that," said Sir Amant, "I will not give away your name."
And so they parted, and Amant and his companions took the body of Bersules and buried it.
Then King Mark rode until he came to a spring, and there he rested, and was in doubt whether he would ride to Arthur's court or not, or go back again to his own country. And as he was resting like this by that spring, a well-armed knight on horseback came by him; and he got down, and tied his horse to a tree, and sat down at the edge of the spring; and there he languished and grieved greatly, and made the most sorrowful lament of love that anyone ever heard; and all this while he did not notice King Mark. And this was a great part of his lament. He cried and wept, saying, "O fair Queen of Orkney, King Lot's wife, and mother of Sir Gawain and of Sir Gaheris, and mother of many others, for love of you I am in great pain."
Then King Mark got up and went near him and said, "Fair knight, you have made a pitiful lament."
"Truly," said the knight, "it is a hundred times more pitiful than my heart can put into words."
"I ask you," said King Mark, "tell me your name."
"Sir," he said, "as for my name, I will not hide it from any knight who carries a shield, and my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis."
But when Sir Lamorak heard King Mark speak, he knew well by his speech that he was a Cornish knight.
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak, "I can tell by your tongue that you are from Cornwall, where there lives the most shameful king now living, for he is a great enemy to all good knights. And that is well proved, for he has driven out of that country Sir Tristram, who is the most honourable knight now living, and all knights speak of his honour; and out of jealousy over his queen he has driven him out of his country. It is a pity," said Sir Lamorak, "that any such false coward of a knight as King Mark should ever be matched with so fair and good a lady as Isolde the Fair, for all the world speaks shame of him, and of her all the honour that any queen may have."
"I have no part in this matter," said King Mark, "and I will not speak of it."
"Well said," said Sir Lamorak.
"Sir," said King Mark, "can you tell me any news?"
"I can tell you," said Sir Lamorak, "that there is to be a great tournament soon beside Camelot, at the Castle of Jagent; and the King with the Hundred Knights and the King of Ireland, as I believe, are holding that tournament."
Then a knight came by who was called Sir Dinadan, and greeted them both. And when he learned that King Mark was a knight of Cornwall, he abused him on King Mark's account a thousand times worse than Sir Lamorak had. Then he offered to joust with King Mark. And Mark was very unwilling to do it, but Sir Dinadan egged him on so that he jousted with Sir Lamorak. And Sir Lamorak struck King Mark so hard that he carried him on the end of his spear over his horse's tail. And then King Mark got up again, and followed after Sir Lamorak. But Sir Dinadan would not joust with Sir Lamorak, but he told King Mark that Sir Lamorak was Sir Kay the Seneschal.
"That is not so," said King Mark, "for he is much bigger than Sir Kay."
And so he followed and overtook him, and told him to wait.
"What do you want?" said Sir Lamorak.
"Sir," he said, "I will fight with a sword, for you have shamed me with a spear."
And with that they rushed together with swords, and Sir Lamorak bore with him and held back from him. And King Mark was exceedingly hasty, and struck thick and fast. Sir Lamorak saw he would not stop, and grew somewhat angry, and doubled his strokes, for he was one of the noblest knights in the world; and he beat him so on the helmet that his head hung nearly down on the saddlebow. When Sir Lamorak saw him in such a state, he said, "Sir knight, how are you? It seems to me you have nearly had your fill of fighting. It would be a pity to do you any more harm, for you are only an ordinary knight. And so I give you leave to go where you like."
"Many thanks," said King Mark, "for you and I are no match."
Then Sir Dinadan mocked King Mark and said, "You're not able to match a good knight."
"As for that," said King Mark, "the first time I jousted with this knight, you refused him."
"Do you think that's a shame to me?" said Sir Dinadan. "No, sir. There is always honour for a knight in refusing what he cannot win, and so you would have won much more honour by refusing him as I did. For I warn you plainly, he could beat five like you and me. For you knights of Cornwall are no men of honour, as other knights are. And because you are no men of honour, you hate all men of honour; for there was never bred in your country such a knight as Sir Tristram."
Then they all rode on together, King Mark, Sir Lamorak and Sir Dinadan, until they came to a bridge, and at the end of it stood a fair tower. Then they saw a well-armed knight on horseback, brandishing a spear, calling out and offering himself to joust.
"Now," said Sir Dinadan to King Mark, "there are two brothers here, one called Alein and the other called Trian, who will joust with anyone who comes through this pass. Now go and offer yourself," said Dinadan to King Mark, "for you're always being laid flat on the ground anyway."
Then King Mark was ashamed, and with that he set his spear in rest and crashed into Sir Trian, and both broke their spears all to pieces, and rode straight past each other. Then Sir Trian sent King Mark another spear to joust again; but on no account would he joust any more. Then all three knights came to the castle, and asked the lord of the castle for lodging.
"You are very welcome," said the knights of the castle, "for the love of the lord of this castle, who is called Sir Tor le Fise Aries."
And then they came into a fair court, well kept, and they had an exceedingly good welcome, until the lieutenant of this castle, who was called Berluse, recognised King Mark of Cornwall.
Then Berluse said, "Sir knight, I know you better than you think, for you are King Mark, who killed my father before my own eyes; and you would have killed me if I had not escaped into a wood. But believe me, for the love of my lord of this castle I will neither hurt you nor harm you, nor anyone of your company. But believe me, when you have left this lodging I shall hurt you if I can, for you killed my father treacherously. But first, for the love of my lord Sir Tor, and for the love of Sir Lamorak, the honourable knight who is lodged here, you shall have no bad lodging; for it is a pity that you should ever be in the company of good knights. For you are the basest knight or king now known alive, for you are a destroyer of good knights, and all that you do is nothing but treason."
Then King Mark was badly ashamed, and said little in reply. But when Sir Lamorak and Sir Dinadan knew that he was King Mark, they were sorry to be in his company. So after supper they went to their lodging. So in the morning they rose early, and King Mark and Sir Dinadan rode together; and three miles from their lodging three knights met them, and Sir Berluse was one, and the other two were his cousins. Sir Berluse saw King Mark, and then he shouted aloud, "Traitor, defend yourself, for know this: I am Berluse!"
"Sir knight," said Sir Dinadan, "I advise you to leave off for now, for he is riding to King Arthur; and because I have promised to escort him to my lord King Arthur, I have no choice but to take his side. All the same, I do not love his character, and I would gladly be rid of him."
"Well, Dinadan," said Sir Berluse, "I am sorry that you will take his side, but now do your best."
And then he crashed into King Mark, and struck him so hard on the shield that he carried him clean out of his saddle to the ground. Sir Dinadan saw that, and he set his spear in rest, and ran at one of Berluse's companions, and struck him down out of his saddle. Then Dinadan turned his horse, and struck the third knight to the ground in the same way, for Sir Dinadan was a good knight on horseback; and there a great battle began, for Berluse and his companions held together strongly on foot. And so, through the great strength of Sir Dinadan, King Mark got Berluse to the ground, and his two companions fled; and if it had not been for Sir Dinadan, King Mark would have killed him. And so Sir Dinadan saved his life, for King Mark was nothing but a murderer. And then they took their horses and left, and left Sir Berluse there badly wounded.
Then King Mark and Sir Dinadan rode on some four English leagues, until they came to a bridge where a knight on horseback waited, armed and ready to joust.
"Look," said Sir Dinadan to King Mark, "there waits a knight who will joust, for no one shall pass this bridge without jousting with that knight."
"Good," said King Mark, "for this joust falls to you."
Sir Dinadan knew the knight well, that he was a noble knight, and he would gladly have jousted; but he would rather King Mark had jousted with him. But King Mark would not joust by any means. Then Sir Dinadan could not refuse him in any way. And then each of them made ready his spear and his shield, and they struck together, so that by sheer force Sir Dinadan was struck to the ground; and he rose up swiftly and got his horse, and called on that knight to do battle with swords.
And he answered, "Fair knight, I may not fight with you any more at this time, for such is the custom of this crossing."
Then Sir Dinadan was exceedingly angry that he could not be revenged on that knight; and so he left, and that knight would not tell his name for anything. But all along Sir Dinadan thought he would know him by his shield, that it must be Sir Tor.
So as they rode along the way, King Mark began to mock Sir Dinadan, and said, "I thought you knights of the Round Table could never in any way find your match."
"You're right," said Sir Dinadan. "As for you, on my life, I count you none of the best knights. But since you hold me in such scorn, I call on you to joust with me, to test my strength."
"Not so," said King Mark, "for I will not fight with you in any way. But I ask one thing of you: that when you come to Arthur's court, you do not give away my name, for I am so hated there."
"It is a shame to you," said Sir Dinadan, "that you conduct yourself so shamefully. For I can see by you that you are full of cowardice, and you are a murderer, and that is the greatest shame a knight can have. For no knight who is a murderer ever has honour, nor ever shall. For I saw only just now that, through my strength, you would have killed Sir Berluse, a better knight than you are, or ever will be, and of more prowess."
So they rode on, talking, until they came to a fine house, where a knight stood who begged them to take their lodging with him. So at that knight's request they rested there, and made themselves comfortable, and had a warm welcome. For all knights-errant were welcome to him, and especially all those of Arthur's court. Then Sir Dinadan asked his host the name of the knight who kept the bridge.
"Why do you ask?" said the host.
"Because it is not long since he gave me a fall," said Sir Dinadan.
"Ah, fair knight," said his host, "you need not wonder at that, for he is an exceedingly good knight, and his name is Sir Tor, the son of Aries the cowherd."
"Ah," said Sir Dinadan, "was that Sir Tor? Truly, I thought so all along."
Just as they stood talking together like this, they saw six knights of King Arthur's court come riding towards them over a plain, well armed at all points. And Sir Dinadan knew them well there by their shields. The first was the good knight Sir Uwain, the son of King Uriens; the second was the noble knight Sir Brandiles; the third was Ozanna le Cure Hardy; the fourth was Uwain les Avoutres; the fifth was Sir Agravain; the sixth was Sir Mordred, brother to Sir Gawain. When Sir Dinadan had seen these six knights, he thought to himself that he would bring King Mark by some trick to joust with one of them. And at once they took their horses and rode after these knights a good three English miles. Then King Mark saw where all six of them sat around a spring, eating and drinking such food as they had, with their horses walking about and some tied up, and their shields hung in various places around them.
"Look," said Sir Dinadan, "there are knights-errant who will joust with us."
"God forbid," said King Mark, "for they are six and we are only two."
"As for that," said Sir Dinadan, "let's not hold back, for I will take on the foremost." And with that he made himself ready.
When King Mark saw him do so, as fast as Sir Dinadan rode towards them, King Mark rode away from them with all his household servants. So when Sir Dinadan saw that King Mark was gone, he took his spear out of the rest, and threw his shield onto his back, and came riding to the fellowship of the Round Table. And at once Sir Uwain knew Sir Dinadan, and welcomed him, and so did all his fellowship.
And then they asked him about his adventures, and whether he had seen Sir Tristram or Sir Lancelot.
"So help me God," said Sir Dinadan, "I have seen neither of them since I left Camelot."
"What knight is that," said Sir Brandiles, "who left you so suddenly and rode over that field?"
"Sir," he said, "it was a knight of Cornwall, and the most horrible coward that ever sat on a horse."
"What is his name?" said all these knights.
"I don't know," said Sir Dinadan.
So when they had rested, and talked together, they took their horses and rode to a castle where an old knight lived who gave all knights-errant a warm welcome. Then, while they were talking, Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu came into the castle, and he was made welcome there; and they all asked him whether he had seen Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram.
"Sirs," he answered, "I have not seen him since he left Camelot."
So as Sir Dinadan walked about and looked at the castle, he spotted King Mark in a room nearby, and then he rebuked him, and asked him why he had left like that.
"Sir," he said, "because I did not dare stay, since there were so many of them. But how did you escape?" said King Mark.
"Sir," said Sir Dinadan, "they turned out to be better friends than I had expected."
"Who is captain of that company?" said the king.
Then, to frighten him, Sir Dinadan said that it was Sir Lancelot.
"Oh Jesus," said the king, "could I know Sir Lancelot by his shield?"
"Yes," said Dinadan, "for he carries a silver shield with black bands across it."
He said all this to frighten the king, for Sir Lancelot was not in his company.
"Now I beg you," said King Mark, "to ride in my company."
"I am unwilling to do that," said Sir Dinadan, "because you abandoned my company."
Then Sir Dinadan left King Mark at once, and went to his own fellowship; and so they mounted their horses, and rode on their way, and talked of the Cornish knight, for Dinadan told them that he was in the castle where they had lodged.
"Well said," said Sir Griflet, "for I have brought Sir Dagonet here, King Arthur's fool, who is the best fellow and the merriest in the world."
"Do you want a good plan?" said Sir Dinadan. "I have told the Cornish knight that Sir Lancelot is here, and the Cornish knight asked me what shield he carried. Truly, I told him he carried the same shield that Sir Mordred carries."
"Do you want a good plan?" said Sir Mordred. "I am hurt and cannot well bear my shield or my armour, and so put my shield and my armour on Sir Dagonet, and let him set on the Cornish knight."
"That shall be done," said Sir Dagonet, "by my faith."
Then at once Dagonet was armed in Mordred's armour and his shield, and he was set on a great horse, with a spear in his hand.
"Now," said Dagonet, "show me the knight, and I believe I shall bear him down."
So all these knights rode to the edge of a wood, and waited until King Mark came along the road. Then they sent Sir Dagonet out, and he came on as fast as his horse could run, straight at King Mark. And when he came near King Mark, he shouted as if he were mad, and said, "Defend yourself, knight of Cornwall, for I will kill you!"
As soon as King Mark saw his shield, he said to himself, "That is Sir Lancelot. Alas, now I am done for." And with that he made his horse run as fast as it could, through thick and thin. And all the while Sir Dagonet followed after King Mark, shouting and berating him like a madman, through a great forest. When Sir Uwain and Sir Brandiles saw Dagonet chase King Mark like that, they all laughed as if they were mad. And then they took their horses and rode after them, to see how Sir Dagonet got on; for they would not for anything have had Sir Dagonet come to harm, because King Arthur loved him exceedingly, and had made him a knight with his own hands. And at every tournament he started up something to make King Arthur laugh. Then the knights rode here and there, shouting and chasing after King Mark, so that the whole forest rang with the noise.
So by chance King Mark rode past a spring, on the road where a knight-errant stood on horseback, armed at all points, with a great spear in his hand. And when he saw King Mark coming in flight, he said, "Knight, turn back, for shame, and stand with me, and I will be your protection."
"Ah, fair knight," said King Mark, "let me pass, for behind me comes the best knight in the world, with the shield banded in black."
"Shame on you," said the knight. "He is none of the great knights. And if he were Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram, I would not be afraid to meet the better of the two."
When King Mark heard him say that, he turned his horse and stayed by him. And then that strong knight levelled a spear at Dagonet, and struck him so hard that he carried him over his horse's tail, and nearly broke his neck. And right after him came Sir Brandiles, and when he saw Dagonet take that fall he was exceedingly angry, and shouted, "Defend yourself, knight!" And so they crashed together wondrously hard. But the knight struck Sir Brandiles so hard that he went to the ground, horse and man. Sir Uwain came after and saw all this.
"Jesus," he said, "that is a strong knight."
And then they set their spears in rest, and this knight came on so fiercely that he struck down Sir Uwain. Then came Ozanna with the hardy heart, and he was struck down.
"Now," said Sir Griflet, "if you take my advice, let us send to that knight-errant and find out whether he is of Arthur's court, for I believe it is Sir Lamorak de Galis."
So they sent to him, and begged the strange knight to tell his name, and whether he was of Arthur's court or not.
"As for my name, they shall not know it. But tell them I am a knight-errant as they are, and let them know that I am no knight of King Arthur's court."
And so the squire rode back to them and told them his answer.
"By my head," said Sir Agravain, "he is one of the strongest knights I ever saw, for he has overthrown three noble knights, and we must take him on, for shame."
So Sir Agravain set his spear in rest, and the other was ready, and struck him down over his horse to the ground. And in the same way he struck down Sir Uwain les Avoutres, and Sir Griflet too. Then he had served them all except Sir Dinadan, for he was behind, and Sir Mordred was unarmed, and Dagonet had his armour.
So when this was done, this strong knight rode on his way at a gentle pace, and King Mark rode after him, praising him greatly; but he would answer not a word, but sighed wondrously deeply, hanging his head, and paying no attention to what he said. So they rode a good three English miles, and then this knight called a servant to him, and told him to ride to the fine manor over there: "and commend me to the lady of that castle and place, and ask her to send me refreshment of good food and drink. And if she asks you who I am, tell her that I am the knight who follows the Glatisant Beast," that is to say, in English, the Questing Beast; for wherever that beast went, it gave tongue in its belly with a noise as if it were thirty couple of hounds.
Then the servant went his way and came to the manor, and greeted the lady, and told her where he came from. And when she understood that he came from the knight who followed the Questing Beast, "O sweet Lord Jesus," she said, "when shall I see that noble knight, my dear son Palomides? Alas, will he not stay with me?" And with that she fainted and wept, and grieved exceedingly. And then, as soon as she could, she gave the servant all that he asked. And the servant returned to Sir Palomides, for he was a servant of King Mark's. And as soon as he came, he told them the knight's name was Sir Palomides.
"I am well pleased," said King Mark, "but keep quiet and say nothing."
Then they dismounted and sat down and rested for a while. And with that King Mark at once fell asleep. When Sir Palomides saw him sound asleep, he took his horse and rode his way, and said to them, "I will not be in the company of a sleeping knight." And so he rode off at a great pace.
Now we turn to Sir Dinadan, who found these seven knights exceedingly downcast. And when he knew how they had fared, he was just as downcast.
"My lord Uwain," said Dinadan, "I dare bet my head it is Sir Lamorak de Galis. I promise you all I shall find him, if he can be found in this country."
And so Sir Dinadan rode after this knight; and so did King Mark, who looked for him through the forest. So as King Mark rode after Sir Palomides, he heard the sound of a man grieving greatly. Then King Mark rode as near that sound as he could and as he dared. Then he saw a knight who had got down off his horse and had taken off his helmet, and there he was making a pitiful and sorrowful lament, of love.
Now we leave that, and speak of Sir Dinadan, who rode to look for Sir Palomides. And as he came into a forest he met a knight who was hunting a deer.
"Sir," said Sir Dinadan, "have you met a knight with a silver shield with lions' heads on it?"
"Yes, fair knight," said the other, "I met such a knight only a little while ago, and he went straight off that way."
"Many thanks," said Sir Dinadan, "for if I could find the track of his horse, I would not fail to find that knight."
Just then, as Sir Dinadan rode late in the evening, he heard a doleful sound, as if of a man. Then Sir Dinadan rode towards that sound; and when he came near it he got down off his horse and went up close on foot. Then he saw a knight standing under a tree, with his horse tied beside him and the helmet off his head; and all the while that knight made as doleful a lament as ever a knight made. And all the time he lamented for Isolde the Fair, the Queen of Cornwall, and said, "Ah, fair lady, why do I love you? For you are the fairest of all, and yet you never show me love, nor kindness. Alas, and yet I must love you. And I cannot blame you, fair lady, for my own eyes are the cause of this sorrow. And yet I am nothing but a fool to love you, for the best knight in the world loves you, and you love him in return, and that is Sir Tristram de Liones. And the falsest king and knight is your husband, and the greatest coward and the most full of treason is your lord, King Mark. Alas, that ever so fair a lady, peerless above all others, should be matched with the most villainous knight in the world."
King Mark heard all these words, all that Sir Palomides said of him; and so he was afraid, when he saw Sir Dinadan, that if he spotted him he would tell Sir Palomides that he was King Mark. And therefore he drew away, and took his horse and rode to his men, where he had ordered them to wait. And so he rode as fast as he could to Camelot; and that same day he found Amant there, the knight who had earlier accused him of treason before Arthur, ready for him; and so the king at once commanded them to do battle. And by ill luck King Mark struck Amant through the body. And yet Amant had the right on his side. And immediately King Mark took his horse and left the court, for fear of Sir Dinadan, that he would tell Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides who he was. Then there were maidens there, whom Isolde the Fair had sent to Sir Tristram, who knew Sir Amant well.
Then, with King Arthur's leave, they went to him and spoke with him; for while the broken shaft of the spear was still stuck in his body, he spoke.
"Ah, fair damsels," said Amant, "commend me to Isolde the Fair, and tell her that I am killed for love of her and of Sir Tristram."
And there he told the damsels how cowardly King Mark had killed him, and Sir Bersules his companion: "And for that deed I accused him of treason, and here I am killed in a rightful quarrel; and it was all because Sir Bersules and I would not agree, by treason, to kill the noble knight Sir Tristram."
Then the two maidens cried aloud, so that all the court could hear it, and said, "O sweet Lord Jesus, who knows all hidden things, why do You allow so false a traitor to defeat and kill a true knight who fought in a rightful quarrel?"
Then at once word spread to the king and the queen and to all the lords that it was King Mark who had killed Sir Amant, and Sir Bersules before him; and that was why they had fought their battle. Then King Arthur was angry beyond measure, and so were all the other knights. But when Sir Tristram knew the whole matter he grieved greatly and sorrowed beyond measure, and wept for sorrow at the loss of the noble knights, Sir Bersules and Sir Amant.
When Sir Lancelot saw Sir Tristram weep, he went quickly to King Arthur and said, "Sir, I beg you, give me leave to go back after that false king and knight."
"I beg you," said King Arthur, "fetch him back; but I would not have you kill him, for my honour's sake."
Then Sir Lancelot armed himself in all haste, and mounted a great horse, and took a spear in his hand and rode after King Mark. And three English miles from there Sir Lancelot overtook him, and called out to him, "Turn round, you recreant king and knight! For whether you like it or not, you shall come with me to King Arthur's court."
King Mark turned and looked at Sir Lancelot, and said, "Fair sir, what is your name?"
"Know this," he said, "my name is Sir Lancelot. So defend yourself."
And when King Mark knew that it was Sir Lancelot, coming so fast at him with a spear, he cried out aloud, "I yield to you, Sir Lancelot, honourable knight!"
But Sir Lancelot would not hear him, and came on fast at him. King Mark saw that, and made no defence, but tumbled down out of his saddle to the ground like a sack, and there he lay still, and begged Sir Lancelot for mercy.
"Get up, recreant knight and king!"
"I will not fight," said King Mark, "but wherever you wish, I will go with you."
"Alas, alas," said Sir Lancelot, "that I may not give you one blow, for the love of Sir Tristram and of Isolde the Fair, and for the two knights you have treacherously killed!"
And so he mounted his horse and brought him to King Arthur; and there King Mark dismounted in that same place, and threw his helmet down on the ground away from him, and his sword, and fell flat on the ground at King Arthur's feet, and put himself in his grace and mercy.
"So help me God," said Arthur, "you are welcome in one way, and in another way you are not welcome. In this way you are welcome: that you have come here against your will, as I suppose."
"That is the truth," said King Mark, "or else I would not have been here; for my lord Sir Lancelot brought me here by sheer force, and I have yielded to him as a recreant."
"Well," said Arthur, "you understand that you owe me service, homage and fealty. And you never would do me any, but you have always been against me, and a destroyer of my knights. Now, how will you clear yourself?"
"Sir," said King Mark, "just as your lordship requires of me, to the limit of my power, I will make generous amends." For he was a fair speaker, and false underneath.
Then, to give great pleasure to Sir Tristram, and to make the two of them friends, the king kept King Mark with him for that time, and made a day of reconciliation between them, a broken one.
Now we turn back to Sir Palomides, and how Sir Dinadan comforted him in his great sorrow as best he could.
"What knight are you?" said Sir Palomides.
"Sir, I am a knight-errant as you are, and I have been looking for you a long time by your shield."
"Here is my shield," said Sir Palomides. "Believe me, if you want anything of it, I will defend it."
"No," said Sir Dinadan, "I will not fight with you except in friendship."
"And if you wish otherwise, you will find me ready soon enough," said Palomides.
"Sir," said Sir Dinadan, "which way are you riding?"
"By my head," said Sir Palomides, "I don't know, except as fortune leads me."
"Have you heard or seen anything of Sir Tristram?" said Dinadan.
"So help me God, of Sir Tristram I have both heard and seen. And even though we did not love each other at heart, yet when I was in trouble Sir Tristram saved me from my death. And yet, before he and I parted, by agreement between us both we set a day when we were to meet at the stone grave that Merlin set beside Camelot, and fight a battle there together. But I was hindered," said Sir Palomides, "so that I could not keep my day, and that grieves me badly; but I have a full excuse. For I was a prisoner with a lord, and many others too, and Sir Tristram shall understand perfectly well that I did not break it out of fear or cowardice."
And then Sir Palomides told Sir Dinadan the day on which they were to have met.
"So help me God," said Sir Dinadan, "on that same day Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram met at that same stone grave. And there was the mightiest battle ever seen in this land between two knights, for they fought for more than two hours. And they both bled so much blood there that everyone marvelled that they could ever endure it. And so at last, by agreement between them both, they were made friends and sworn brothers for ever, and no one can judge which is the better knight. And now Sir Tristram has been made a knight of the Round Table, and he sits in the seat of the noble knight Sir Marhaus."
"By my head," said Sir Palomides, "Sir Tristram is far stronger than Sir Lancelot, and the bolder knight."
"Have you tried them both?" said Sir Dinadan.
"I have seen Sir Tristram fight," said Sir Palomides, "but never Sir Lancelot, to my knowledge. But at the spring where Sir Lancelot lay asleep, there with one spear he struck down Sir Tristram and me," said Palomides, "but at that time neither knew the other."
"Fair knight," said Sir Dinadan, "as for Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram, let them be; for the worse of the two will not easily be matched by any knight I know alive."
"No," said Sir Palomides, "God forbid. But if I had a quarrel with the better of the two, I would fight him as willingly as I would you."
"Sir, I beg you, tell me your name, and in good faith I will keep you company until we come to Camelot; and there you shall win great honour now at this great tournament, for Queen Guinevere will be there, and Isolde the Fair of Cornwall."
"Believe me, sir knight, for the love of Isolde the Fair I will be there, and for nothing else; but I will not fight in King Arthur's court."
"Sir," said Dinadan, "I will ride with you and do you service, if you will tell me your name."
"Sir, you shall understand that my name is Sir Palomides, brother to Safere, the good and noble knight. And Sir Segwarides and I are Saracens born, of father and mother."
"Sir," said Sir Dinadan, "I thank you very much for telling me your name. For I am glad that I know your name, and I promise you, on my life, you shall not be harmed by me if I can help it, but rather advanced. And I will help you in that with all my power, I promise you, have no doubt of it. And certainly, on my life, you shall win great honour in King Arthur's court, and be most welcome."
So then they put on their helmets and took up their shields, and mounted their horses, and took the broad road towards Camelot. And then they saw a castle that was fine and rich, and as strong besides as any in this realm.
"Sir Palomides," said Dinadan, "here is a castle I know well, and Queen Morgan le Fay, King Arthur's sister, lives in it. And King Arthur gave her this castle, which he has regretted a thousand times since; for ever since then King Arthur and she have been at strife and quarrelling. But he could never get this castle or win it from her by any kind of trickery; and whenever she could, she made war on King Arthur. And she keeps with her all the dangerous knights, to destroy all the knights King Arthur loves. And no knight shall pass this way without jousting with one knight, or with two, or with three. And if it happens that King Arthur's knight is beaten, he shall lose his horse and his armour and everything he has, and if he gets away without being made a prisoner, he will be hard put to it."
"So help me God," said Palomides, "this is a shameful custom, and a villainous practice for a queen to keep, and above all to make such war on her own lord, who is called the Flower of Chivalry, Christian or heathen. And with all my heart I would destroy that shameful custom. And I want all the world to know that she shall have no service from me. And if she sends out any knights to joust, as I suppose she will, they shall have both their hands full."
"And I will not fail you," said Sir Dinadan, "to the limit of my strength, upon my life."
So as they sat on horseback in front of the castle, a knight with a red shield came up, and two squires after him; and he came straight up to Sir Palomides, the good knight, and said to him, "Fair and noble knight-errant, I ask you, for the love you owe to knighthood, not to fight here with these men of this castle." (It was Sir Lamorak who said this.) "For I came here to seek out this deed, and it is my request; and therefore I beg you, knight, leave it to me, and if I am beaten, avenge me."
"In the name of God," said Palomides, "let us see how you get on, and we will watch you."
Then at once a knight of the castle came out and offered to joust with the Knight with the Red Shield. At once they met together, and the one with the red shield struck him so hard that he carried him over to the ground. With that, another knight of the castle came at once, and he was struck so hard that he was thrown from his saddle. And straight after came the third knight, and the Knight with the Red Shield struck him to the ground. Then Sir Palomides came and begged him to let him help in the jousting.
"Fair knight," he said to him, "allow me to have my way this time; for if there were twenty knights, I would not fear them."
And all the while there were many lords and ladies on the walls of the castle, who cried out and said, "Well jousted, Knight with the Red Shield!"
But as soon as the knight had struck them down, his squire took their horses, and took the saddles and bridles off the horses, and turned them loose into the forest, and had the knights held until the jousting was over. Just then the fourth knight came out of the castle, and briskly offered to joust with the Knight with the Red Shield; and he was ready, and he struck him so hard that horse and man fell to the ground, and the knight's back broke with the fall, and his neck too.
"O Jesus," said Sir Palomides, "that is an exceedingly good knight, and the best jouster I ever saw."
"By my head," said Sir Dinadan, "he is as good as Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram ever were, whatever knight he may be."
Then straight away a knight came out of the castle with a shield striped diagonally in black and white. And at once the Knight with the Red Shield and he met so hard that he struck the knight of the castle through the striped shield and through the body, and broke the horse's back.
"Fair knight," said Sir Palomides, "you have too much on your hands, so I beg you, let me joust, for you need a rest."
"Why, sir," said the knight, "do you think I am weak and feeble? Sir, it seems to me you do me wrong, and shame me, when I am doing well enough. I tell you now what I told you before: if there were twenty knights, I would beat them; and if I am beaten or killed, then you may avenge me. And if you think I am weary, and you have an appetite to joust with me, I will find you jousting enough."
"Sir," said Palomides, "I did not say it because I wanted to joust with you, but it seems to me that you have too much on your hands."
"And therefore, if you were well-bred," said the Knight with the Red Shield, "you would not offer me shame. So I call on you to joust with me, and you shall find that I am not weary."
"Since you call on me," said Sir Palomides, "look to yourself."
Then the two knights came together as fast as their horses could run, and the knight struck Sir Palomides so hard on the shield that the spear went into his side, a great wound and a dangerous one. And with that Sir Palomides was thrown from his saddle. And that knight turned to Sir Dinadan; and when Dinadan saw him coming he cried out aloud and said, "Sir, I will not fight with you!" But he did not hold back for that, and came straight at him. So Sir Dinadan, for shame, put out his spear and shattered it all to pieces on the knight. But he struck Sir Dinadan back so hard that he struck him clean out of his saddle; but he would not allow his squires to meddle with their horses, because they were knights-errant.
Then he turned back to the castle, and jousted with seven more knights, and there was not one of them who could withstand him, but he carried each of them to the ground. And of these twelve knights he killed four in fair jousting. And the eight knights he made swear on the crossguard of a sword that they would never keep the evil customs of the castle. And when he had made them swear that oath, he let them go. And all the while the lords and the ladies stood on the castle walls, crying and saying, "Knight with the Red Shield, you have done as marvellously well as any knight we ever saw!"
And with that a knight came out of the castle unarmed, and said, "Knight with the Red Shield, you have done us too much damage today. So go back wherever you like, for there are no more here who will fight with you. We are bitterly sorry that you ever came here, for by you the old custom of this castle is undone."
And with that word he turned back into the castle and shut the gates. Then the Knight with the Red Shield turned and called his squires, and so went on his way, and rode at a great pace.
And when he was gone, Sir Palomides went to Sir Dinadan and said, "I never had such shame from any knight I ever met. And therefore I mean to ride after him and be revenged with my sword, for on horseback I believe I shall win no honour from him."
"Sir Palomides," said Dinadan, "if you take my advice, you will not meddle with him, for you will win no honour from him; and for this reason: you have seen him today with too much to do, and much too worn out."
"By almighty Jesus," said Palomides, "I shall never be at ease until I have fought him."
"Sir," said Dinadan, "then I'll give you my company, as a spectator."
"Well," said Palomides, "then you shall see how we measure our strength."
So they took their horses from their servants, and rode after the Knight with the Red Shield; and down in a valley beside a spring they saw where he had dismounted to rest, and had taken off his helmet to drink at the spring.
Then Palomides rode fast until he came near him. And then he said, "Knight, remember the shame you did me just now at the castle. So get ready, for I will fight you."
"Fair knight," he said to Palomides, "you will win no honour from me, for you have seen today that I have been badly worn out."
"As for that," said Palomides, "I will not hold back for it, for believe me, I will be revenged."
"Well," said the knight, "I may manage to hold out against you."
And with that he mounted his horse, and took a great spear in his hand, ready to joust.
"No," said Palomides, "I will not joust, for I am sure I shall win no prize at jousting."
"Fair knight," said that knight, "it would befit a knight to joust and to fight on horseback."
"You shall see what I will do," said Palomides.
And with that he got down on foot, and set his shield in front of him and drew his sword. Then the Knight with the Red Shield got down from his horse, and set his shield in front of him, and so he drew his sword. And then they came together at a gentle pace, and wondrously hard and thick they laid into each other for the space of an hour before they stopped for breath. Then they circled and sidestepped, and grew wondrously angry, and each promised the other death. They hacked so fast with their swords that they cut away half their shields and mail, so that the bare flesh stood out in places beyond their armour. And when Sir Palomides saw his opponent's sword covered with his blood, it grieved him badly. Sometimes they thrust, sometimes they struck like wild men. But at last Sir Palomides grew faint, because of the first wound he had had at the castle with a spear, for that wound grieved him wondrously badly.
"Fair knight," said Palomides, "it seems to me we have tested each other exceedingly hard; and if it may please you, I ask you, by your knighthood, tell me your name."
"Sir," said the knight to Palomides, "I am unwilling to do that, for you have done me wrong, and no knightly deed, to offer me battle, considering how worn out I was. But if you will tell me your name, I will tell you mine."
"Sir," he said, "know this: my name is Palomides."
"Ah, sir, you shall understand that my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis, son and heir of the good knight and king, King Pellinore, and Sir Tor, the good knight, is my half-brother."
When Sir Palomides heard him say so, he knelt down and asked for mercy: "For I have done you an outrage this day; considering the great deeds of arms I have seen you do, I have shamefully and unknightly called on you to do battle."
"Ah, Sir Palomides," said Sir Lamorak, "you have done and said too much to me."
And with that he embraced him with both his arms, and said, "Palomides, worthy knight, in all this land there is none better than you, nor of more prowess, and I am deeply sorry that we fought together."
"I am not," said Sir Palomides, "and yet I am worse wounded than you are; but as for that, I shall soon be healed of it. But truly, I would not have missed our meeting for the fairest castle in this land; for I shall love you all the days of my life above all other knights, except my brother, Sir Safere."
"I say the same," said Sir Lamorak, "except my brother, Sir Tor."
Then Sir Dinadan came up, and he greeted Sir Lamorak with great joy. Then their squires saw to both their shields and their armour, and stopped their wounds. And they rested there for the night at a priory nearby.
Now we turn back again. When Sir Ganis and Sir Brandiles and their companions came to King Arthur's court, they told the king, Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram how Sir Dagonet, the fool, had chased King Mark through the forest, and how the strong knight had struck them down, all seven, with one spear. There was great laughing and joking at King Mark and at Sir Dagonet. But none of these knights could tell what knight it was who had rescued King Mark. Then they asked King Mark if he knew him, and he answered and said, "He called himself the Knight that Follows the Questing Beast, and by that name he sent one of my servants to a place where his mother was. And when she heard where he came from, she grieved exceedingly, and told my servant his name, and said, 'Oh, my dear son, Sir Palomides, why will you not come to see me?' And therefore, sir," said King Mark, "it is to be understood that his name is Sir Palomides, a noble knight." Then all these seven knights were glad that they knew his name.
Now we turn back again, for in the morning they took their horses, Sir Lamorak, Palomides and Dinadan together, with their squires and servants, and rode until they saw a fair castle that stood on a mountain, well walled in. And they rode there, and there they found a knight called Galahalt, who was lord of that castle, and there they had a warm welcome and were made very comfortable.
"Sir Dinadan," said Sir Lamorak, "what will you do?"
"Oh, sir," said Dinadan, "tomorrow I will go to King Arthur's court."
"By my head," said Sir Palomides, "I will not ride for these three days, for I am badly hurt, and I have bled a great deal, and so I will rest here."
"Truly," said Sir Lamorak, "and I will stay here with you; and when you ride, then I will ride, unless you linger too long, and then I will take my horse. So I beg you, Sir Dinadan, stay and ride with us."
"Upon my faith," said Dinadan, "I will not stay, for I have such a longing to see Sir Tristram that I cannot stay away from him long."
"Ah, Dinadan," said Sir Palomides, "now I understand that you love my mortal enemy, and so how could I trust you?"
"Well," said Dinadan, "I love my lord Sir Tristram above all others, and I will serve him and do him honour."
"So shall I," said Sir Lamorak, "in everything that lies in my power."
So in the morning Sir Dinadan rode to King Arthur's court. And on the way, as he rode, he saw a knight-errant standing there, who made himself ready to joust.
"Not so," said Dinadan, "for I have no wish to joust."
"You shall joust with me," said the knight, "before you pass this way."
"Are you asking for a joust out of love or out of hate?"
The knight answered, "You may be sure I ask it out of love, and not out of hate."
"That may well be so," said Sir Dinadan, "but it's a hard sort of love you offer me, when you want to joust with me with a sharp spear. But, fair knight," said Sir Dinadan, "since you want to joust with me, meet me at King Arthur's court, and there I will joust with you."
"Well," said the knight, "since you will not joust with me, I beg you, tell me your name."
"Sir knight," he said, "my name is Sir Dinadan."
"Ah," said the knight, "I know you very well for a good knight and a noble one, and believe me, I love you with all my heart."
"Then there shall be no jousting between us," said Dinadan.
So they parted. And the same day he came to Camelot, where King Arthur was staying. And there he greeted the king and the queen, Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram; and the whole court was glad of Sir Dinadan, for he was well-bred, wise and courteous, and a good knight. And above all, the valiant knight Sir Tristram loved Sir Dinadan exceedingly, above all other knights except Sir Lancelot.
Then the king asked Sir Dinadan what adventures he had seen.
"Sir," said Dinadan, "I have seen many adventures, and King Mark knows of some of them, but not all."
Then the king listened to Sir Dinadan as he told how Sir Palomides and he had been in front of Morgan le Fay's castle, and how Sir Lamorak had taken the jousts there ahead of them, and how he outjousted twelve knights, and killed four of them, "and how after that he struck down Sir Palomides and me both."
"I cannot believe that," said the king, "for Sir Palomides is an exceedingly good knight."
"That is the very truth," said Sir Dinadan, "but still I saw Sir Lamorak prove the better, hand to hand."
And then he told the king all about that fight, and how Sir Palomides was the weaker, and the more hurt, and had lost more of his blood. "And without a doubt," said Sir Dinadan, "if the fight had lasted longer, Palomides would have been killed."
"O Jesus," said King Arthur, "this is a great marvel to me."
"Sir," said Tristram, "do not marvel at it at all, for in my judgement there is not a more valiant knight living in the world, for I know his strength. And now I will tell you, I was never so worn out by any knight unless it was Sir Lancelot. And there is no knight in the world except Sir Lancelot who did as well as Sir Lamorak."
"So help me God," said the king, "I wish that knight, Sir Lamorak, would come to this court."
"Sir," said Dinadan, "he will be here shortly, and Sir Palomides too, but I am afraid that Palomides cannot travel yet."
Then three days later the king had a joust held at a priory. And many knights of the Round Table made themselves ready there, for Sir Gawain and his brothers made ready to joust; but Tristram, Lancelot and Dinadan would not joust, but let Sir Gawain and his brothers win the prize if they could, for the love of King Arthur. Then in the morning they armed themselves to joust, Sir Gawain and his four brothers, and did great deeds of arms there. And Sir Ector de Maris did marvellously well, but Sir Gawain surpassed all that company; and so King Arthur and all the knights gave Sir Gawain the honour at the beginning.
Just then King Arthur noticed a knight and two squires who came out from the edge of a forest, with a shield covered in leather, and then he came in stealthily and crashed about here and there, and at once with one spear he had struck down two knights of the Round Table. Then with his crashing about he lost the covering of his shield, and then the king and everyone else saw that he carried a red shield.
"O Jesus," said King Arthur, "look, there rides a bold knight, the one with the red shield."
And there was shouting and crying: "Beware the Knight with the Red Shield!"
So within a short while he had overthrown three of Sir Gawain's brothers.
"So help me God," said King Arthur, "it seems to me that is the best jouster I ever saw."
With that he saw him meet Sir Gawain, and he struck him down with such great force that he made him leave his saddle.
"How now," said the king, "Sir Gawain has had a fall. I would be well pleased if I knew what knight he is, the one with the red shield."
"I know him well," said Dinadan, "but you shall not know his name at this time."
"By my head," said Sir Tristram, "he jousted better than Sir Palomides; and if you wish to know his name, believe me, his name is Sir Lamorak de Galis."
As they stood talking like this, Sir Gawain and he met again, and there he struck Sir Gawain from his horse and bruised him badly. And in the sight of King Arthur he struck down twenty knights, besides Sir Gawain and his brothers. And so the prize was given to him outright, as a knight without equal. Then quietly and marvellously Sir Lamorak slipped away from all the company to the edge of the forest. King Arthur saw all this, for his eye never left him. Then the king, Sir Lancelot, Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan took their small riding horses and rode straight after the good knight, Sir Lamorak de Galis, and found him there.
And the king said this: "Ah, fair knight, well met."
When he saw the king he took off his helm and greeted him, and when he saw Sir Tristram he got down off his horse and ran to him to clasp him by the thighs; but Sir Tristram would not allow it, but got down before he reached him, and each took the other in his arms, and they rejoiced greatly over each other. The king was glad, and so was all the fellowship of the Round Table, except Sir Gawain and his brothers. And when they knew that he was Sir Lamorak, they bore him great malice, and were furiously angry with him for having put Sir Gawain to dishonour that day.
Then Gawain called all his brothers together in private council, and said this to them: "Fair brothers, here you can see that the man we hate, King Arthur loves, and the man we love, he hates. And believe me, my fair brothers, this Sir Lamorak will never love us, because we killed his father, King Pellinore, for we believed that he killed our father, the King of Orkney. And to spite us for Pellinore, Sir Lamorak did us a shame with our mother. Therefore I will be revenged."
"Sir," said Sir Gawain's brothers, "let us see how you will or can be revenged, and you will find us ready."
"Well," said Gawain, "keep quiet, and we will watch for our time."
Now we pass over our matter, and leave Sir Gawain, and speak of King Arthur, who one day said to King Mark, "Sir, I beg you, grant me a gift that I will ask of you."
"Sir," said King Mark, "I will give you whatever you desire, if it is in my power."
"Sir, many thanks," said Arthur. "This is what I will ask of you: that you will be a good lord to Sir Tristram, for he is a man of great honour; and that you will take him with you into Cornwall, and let him see his friends, and treat him kindly there for my sake."
"Sir," said King Mark, "I promise you on my life, and by the faith that I owe to God and to you, I will honour him for your sake in everything I can or may."
"Sir," said Arthur, "and I will forgive you all the ill will I ever bore you, provided that you swear that on a book before me."
"With a good will," said King Mark.
And so he swore there on a book before him and all his knights, and with that King Mark and Sir Tristram took each other by the hands, clasped hard together. But for all this King Mark's thoughts were false, as it proved afterwards, for he put Sir Tristram in prison, and like a coward would have killed him.
Then soon afterwards King Mark took his leave to ride into Cornwall, and Sir Tristram made himself ready to ride with him. At this most of the Round Table were angry and downcast, and above all Sir Lancelot, Sir Lamorak and Sir Dinadan were angry beyond measure. For they knew well that King Mark would kill or ruin Sir Tristram.
"Alas," said Dinadan, "that my lord Sir Tristram is going away."
And Sir Tristram felt such sorrow that he was dazed like a fool.
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot to King Arthur, "what have you done? For you will lose the man of greatest honour who ever came into your court."
"It was his own wish," said Arthur, "and so I could do nothing about it, for I have done all that I can and made peace between them."
"Peace!" said Sir Lancelot. "Shame on that peace! For you will hear that he will kill Sir Tristram, or put him in a prison, for he is the most cowardly and the basest king and knight now living."
And with that Sir Lancelot left, and came to King Mark, and spoke to him like this: "Sir king, believe me, the good knight Sir Tristram is going with you. Beware of treason, I warn you. For if you do that knight any harm by any kind of falsehood or treason, by the faith I owe to God and to the order of knighthood, I will kill you with my own hands."
"Sir Lancelot," said the king, "you have said too much to me. I have sworn and spoken at large before King Arthur, in the hearing of all his knights, that I will not kill him or betray him. It would be too great a shame for me to break my promise."
"You speak well," said Sir Lancelot, "but you have such a name for falseness and treason that no one can believe you. Truly, it is well known why you came into this country, and for no other reason than to kill Sir Tristram."
So with great sorrow King Mark and Sir Tristram rode off together, for it was by Sir Tristram's own will and his own doing that he went with King Mark, and it was all so that he could see Isolde the Fair, for without the sight of her Sir Tristram could not live.
Now we turn back to Sir Lamorak, and speak of his brothers: Sir Tor, who was King Pellinore's first son, fathered on the wife of Aries the cowherd, for he was born out of wedlock; and Sir Aglovale, who was his first son born in wedlock; and Sir Lamorak, Durnore and Percival, who were his sons in wedlock too. So when King Mark and Sir Tristram had left the court, there was great grief and sorrow over Sir Tristram's leaving. Then the king and his knights held no festivities of any kind for eight days afterwards. And at the end of the eight days there came to the court a knight with a young squire. And when this knight had taken off his armour, he went to the king and asked him to make the young squire a knight.
"What lineage does he come of?" said King Arthur.
"Sir," said the knight, "he is the son of King Pellinore, who once did you good service, and he is a brother of Sir Lamorak de Galis, the good knight."
"Well," said the king, "for what reason do you ask me to make him a knight?"
"You may be sure, my lord the king, that this young squire is my brother as well as Sir Lamorak's, and my name is Aglovale."
"Sir Aglovale," said Arthur, "for the love of Sir Lamorak, and for his father's sake, he shall be made a knight tomorrow. Now tell me," said Arthur, "what is his name?"
"Sir," said the knight, "his name is Percival de Galis."
So in the morning the king made him a knight in Camelot. But the king and all the knights thought it would be a long time before he proved a good knight.
Then at dinner, when the king was seated at the table, and every knight according to his prowess, the king commanded that he be seated among the ordinary knights; and so Sir Percival was seated as the king commanded. Now there was a maiden in the queen's court who came of high blood, and she was mute and had never spoken a word. Just then she came straight into the hall, and went to Sir Percival, and took him by the hand, and said aloud, so that the king and all the knights could hear it, "Arise, Sir Percival, the noble knight and God's knight, and come with me."
And so he did. And there she brought him to the right side of the Siege Perilous, and said, "Fair knight, take your seat here, for that seat belongs to you and to no one else."
Then she left at once and asked for a priest. And when she had made her confession and been given communion, she died. Then the king and all the court rejoiced greatly over Sir Percival.
Now we turn to Sir Lamorak, who was greatly praised there. Then, through the doing of Sir Gawain and his brothers, they sent for their mother to come near by, close to a castle beside Camelot; and it was all with the intention of killing Sir Lamorak. The Queen of Orkney was there only a short while, but Sir Lamorak knew she was there, and was very glad; and to bring this matter to its end, he sent word to her, and a night was arranged between them when Sir Lamorak should come to her. Sir Gaheris got wind of this, and he rode there ahead of him that same night, and lay in wait for Sir Lamorak, and then he saw him coming, fully armed. And where Sir Lamorak got down, he tied his horse to a secret back gate, and so he went into a parlour and took off his armour; and then he went to the queen's bed, and she welcomed him with exceedingly great joy, and he her in return, for each loved the other exceedingly. So when the knight, Sir Gaheris, saw his moment, he came to their bedside fully armed, with his sword drawn, and suddenly seized his mother by the hair and struck off her head.
When Sir Lamorak felt the blood dash over him, all hot, the blood of her whom he loved exceedingly, believe me, he was badly shaken and dismayed by that grim knight. And with that Sir Lamorak leapt out of the bed in his shirt, like a knight dismayed, saying this: "Ah, Sir Gaheris, knight of the Round Table, you have done a foul and evil thing, and to your great shame. Alas, why have you killed your mother who bore you? It would have been more right for you to kill me."
"The offence is yours," said Gaheris. "A man is born to offer his service, granted; but still you should beware whom you meddle with, for you have shamed me and my brothers. Your father killed our father; and for you to lie with our mother is more shame than we can stand. And as for your father, King Pellinore, my brother Sir Gawain and I killed him."
"Then you did him the greater wrong," said Sir Lamorak, "for my father did not kill your father; it was Balin le Savage. And my father's death is not avenged yet."
"Drop that talk," said Sir Gaheris, "for if you speak like a traitor I will kill you. But because you are naked I am ashamed to kill you. But believe me, wherever I can catch you, I will kill you. And now my mother is rid of you. Get out, take your armour, and be gone."
Sir Lamorak saw there was no help for it, but armed himself quickly, and took his horse and rode away in great sorrow. But for the shame and grief of it he would not ride to King Arthur's court, but rode another way.
But when it was known that Gaheris had killed his mother, the king was exceedingly angry, and ordered him out of his court. And believe me, Sir Gawain was angry that Gaheris had killed his mother and let Sir Lamorak escape. And the king was exceedingly angry over this matter, and so was Sir Lancelot, and many other knights.
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "here a great wrong has come about through villainy, and through treason plotted beforehand, that your sister has been killed so shamefully. And I dare say that it was done by treason, and I dare say you will lose that good knight Sir Lamorak, which is a great pity. I know well and am sure that if Sir Tristram knew of it, he would never come within your court again, and that would grieve you and all your knights much more."
"God forbid," said the noble King Arthur, "that I should lose Sir Lamorak or Sir Tristram, for then two of my chief knights of the Round Table would be gone."
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "I am sure you will lose Sir Lamorak, for Sir Gawain and his brothers will kill him by one means or another; for they have agreed and sworn among themselves to kill him if ever they see their time."
"That I will prevent," said Arthur.
Now we leave Sir Lamorak, and speak of Sir Gawain's brothers, and especially of Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred. As they rode on their adventures they met a knight fleeing, badly wounded, and they asked him what news.
"Fair knights," he said, "there is a knight coming after me who will kill me."
With that Sir Dinadan came riding up to them by chance, but he would promise them no help. But Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred promised to rescue him. With that the knight came straight up to them, and at once offered to joust. Sir Mordred saw that and rode at him, but he knocked Mordred over his horse's tail. Sir Agravain saw that, and he rode straight at that knight, and just as he had served Mordred, so he served Agravain, and said to them, "Sirs, you may both be sure that I am Breuse Saunce Pité who has done this to you." And even then he rode over Agravain five or six times.
When Dinadan saw this, he had to joust with him, for shame. And so Dinadan and he met, and by sheer strength Sir Dinadan knocked him over his horse's tail. Then he took his horse and fled, for on foot he was one of the most valiant knights of Arthur's days, and a great destroyer of all good knights.
Then Sir Dinadan rode up to Sir Mordred and Sir Agravain.
"Sir knight," they all said, "you have done well, and you have avenged us well, so we beg you, tell us your name."
"Fair sirs, you ought to know my name: I am called Sir Dinadan."
When they understood that it was Dinadan, they were angrier than they had been before, for they hated him beyond measure because of Sir Lamorak. For Dinadan had this habit: he loved all good knights who were valiant, and he hated all those who were destroyers of good knights. And none hated Dinadan except those who were always called murderers.
Then the hurt knight whom Breuse Saunce Pité had chased spoke up (his name was Dalan), and said, "If you're Dinadan, you killed my father."
"It may well be so," said Dinadan, "but if so, it was in my own defence and at his request."
"By my head," said Dalan, "you'll die for it."
And with that he lowered his spear and set his shield. And to cut a long story short, Sir Dinadan struck him down off his horse, so that his neck was nearly broken. And in the same way he struck down Sir Mordred and Sir Agravain. And later, in the quest of the Holy Grail, they killed Dinadan, like cowards and traitors, which was a great loss, for he was a great jester and an exceedingly good knight.
And so Sir Dinadan rode to a castle called Beale-Valet. And there he found Sir Palomides, who was not yet healed of the wound that Sir Lamorak gave him. And there Dinadan told Palomides all the news he had heard and seen of Sir Tristram, and how he had gone with King Mark, and how with him he has all his will and desire. At that Sir Palomides grew angry, for he loved Isolde the Fair. And then he knew well that Sir Tristram had her for his own.
Now we leave Sir Palomides and Sir Dinadan in the Castle of Beale-Valet, and turn back to King Arthur. A knight came out of Cornwall, whose name was Fergus, a companion of the Round Table. And there he told the king and Sir Lancelot good news of Sir Tristram, and fine letters were brought, and he told how he had left him in the castle of Tintagil. Then the damsel came who brought fine letters to King Arthur and to Sir Lancelot, and there she was given an exceedingly warm welcome by the king, and by Queen Guinevere, and by Sir Lancelot. Then they wrote fine letters in return. But Sir Lancelot kept warning Sir Tristram to beware of King Mark, for in his letters he always called him King Fox, as much as to say that he goes about everything with tricks and treason. And Sir Tristram thanked Sir Lancelot in his heart for that. Then the damsel went to Isolde the Fair, and brought her letters from the king and from Sir Lancelot, and she was exceedingly glad of them.
"Fair damsel," said Isolde the Fair, "how is my lord Arthur, and Queen Guinevere, and the noble knight Sir Lancelot?"
She answered, to cut a long story short, "All the better that you and Sir Tristram are happy."
"God reward them," said Isolde the Fair, "for Sir Tristram suffers great pain for me, and I for him."
So the damsel left, and brought letters to King Mark. And when he had read them and understood them, he was angry with Sir Tristram, for he believed that Tristram had sent the damsel to King Arthur. For Arthur and Lancelot in a way threatened King Mark. And as King Mark read these letters, he suspected treason from Sir Tristram.
"Damsel," said King Mark, "will you ride back and carry letters from me to King Arthur?"
"Sir," she said, "I am at your command, to ride whenever you wish."
"You speak well," said the king. "Come back tomorrow morning," said the king, "and fetch your letters."
Then she left, and told them how she was to ride back with letters to Arthur.
"Then we beg you," said Isolde the Fair and Sir Tristram, "when you have received your letters, come by us, so that we may see the secrets of your letters."
"Whatever I can do, madam, you know well I must do for Sir Tristram, for I have long been his own maiden."
So in the morning the damsel went to King Mark to collect his letters and leave.
"I am not minded to send my letters at this time," said King Mark.
Then privately and secretly he sent letters to King Arthur, and to Queen Guinevere, and to Sir Lancelot. So the servant set off, and found the king and the queen in Wales, at Caerleon. And as the king and the queen were at Mass, the servant came with the letters. And when Mass was over, the king and the queen opened the letters privately by themselves. And the king's letter began by speaking exceedingly curtly to King Arthur, and told him to look to himself and his own wife and his own knights; for he, Mark, was well able to rule and keep his wife.
When King Arthur understood the letter, he pondered many things, and thought of what his sister, Queen Morgan le Fay, had said about Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot. And he brooded on this thought a long while. Then he reminded himself again that his sister was his own enemy, and that she hated the queen and Sir Lancelot, and so he put all that out of his mind. Then King Arthur read the letter again, and the last clause said that King Mark took Sir Tristram for his mortal enemy; and so he assured Arthur, beyond any doubt, that he would be revenged on Sir Tristram. Then King Arthur was angry with King Mark. And when Queen Guinevere read her letter and understood it, she was angry beyond measure, for the letter spoke shamefully of her and of Sir Lancelot. And so she sent the letter privately to Sir Lancelot. And when he knew what the letter meant, he was so angry that he lay down on his bed to sleep. Sir Dinadan noticed this, for it was his way to be in the confidence of all good knights. And as Sir Lancelot slept, he stole the letter out of his hand and read it word for word. And then he grieved greatly for anger. And then Sir Lancelot woke, and went to a window, and read the letter again, and it made him angry.
"Sir," said Dinadan, "why are you angry? Open your heart to me. Truly, you know well that I wish you well, although I am a poor knight and a servant to you and to all good knights. For though I am not a man of honour myself, I love all those who are men of honour."
"That is true," said Sir Lancelot. "You are a trusty knight, and because I trust you greatly I will tell you my secret."
And when Dinadan understood it all, he said, "This is my advice: think nothing at all of these threats, for King Mark is so base that no man will ever get anything out of him by fair words. But you shall see what I will do. I will make a song about him, and when it is made I will have a harper sing it in front of him."
So at once he went and made it, and taught it to a harper called Eliot. And when he knew it, he taught it to many harpers. And so by the will of Sir Lancelot and of Arthur, the harpers went straight into Wales and into Cornwall, to sing the song that Sir Dinadan had made about King Mark, which was the foulest song that ever a harper sang, with harp or with any other instrument.
Now we turn back to Sir Tristram and to King Mark. As Sir Tristram was at jousts and tournaments, it happened that he was badly hurt, both by a spear and by a sword, but still he always won the prize. And to rest himself he went to a good knight who lived in Cornwall, in a castle, whose name was Sir Dinas the Seneschal. Then by ill fortune a great number of men-at-arms came out of Sessoin, a hideous army, and they came in near the Castle of Tintagil; and their captain's name was Elias, a good fighting man. When King Mark understood that his enemies had come into his land, he grieved and sorrowed greatly, for by his own will King Mark would in no way send for Sir Tristram, for he hated him mortally.
So when his council had gathered, they discussed and weighed many dangers from the strength of their enemies. And then they all agreed at once, and said this to King Mark: "Sir, you may be sure you must send for Sir Tristram, the good knight, or else they will never be overcome. For they must be fought by Sir Tristram, or else we are rowing against the stream."
"Well," said King Mark, "I will do as you advise."
But still he was very unwilling, but need forced him to send for him. Then he was sent for with all the haste that could be, to come to King Mark. And when he understood that King Mark had sent for him, he mounted an easy-paced horse and rode to King Mark.
And when he had come, the king said this: "Fair nephew, Sir Tristram, this is the whole of it. Our enemies from Sessoin have come here, close at hand, and they must be met very soon and without delay, or else they will destroy this country."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "you may be sure that all my strength is at your command. And you may be sure, sir, that for these eight days I can bear no arms, for my wounds are not yet healed. And by that day I will do what I can."
"You speak well," said King Mark. "Then go back and rest and refresh yourself, and I will go and meet the Sessoins with all my strength."
So the king went off to Tintagil, and Sir Tristram went to rest. And the king raised a great army and divided it in three: Sir Dinas the Seneschal led the first part, and Sir Andred led the second part, and Sir Argius led the third part, and he was of King Mark's blood. And the Sessoins had three great divisions, and many good fighting men. And so King Mark, on the advice of his knights, sallied out of the Castle of Tintagil against his enemies. And Dinas, the good knight, rode out in front, and killed two knights with his own hands, and then the battle began. And there was marvellous breaking of spears and striking of swords, and many good knights were cut down. And Sir Dinas the Seneschal was always the best of King Mark's side. And so the battle lasted a long time, with great loss of life. But at last King Mark and Sir Dinas, however unwilling they were, withdrew to the Castle of Tintagil with great slaughter of their people; and the Sessoins followed hard on their heels, so that ten of them got inside the gates and four were killed by the portcullis.
Then King Mark sent for Sir Tristram by a servant, who told him of all the loss of life. Then he sent the servant back, and told him, "Tell King Mark that I will come as soon as I am healed, for before that I can do him no good."
Then King Mark had his answer. With that Elias came and ordered the king to yield up the castle: "For you cannot hold it for any time at all."
"Sir Elias," said the king, "I will yield up the castle if I am not rescued soon."
At once King Mark sent to Sir Tristram again for rescue. By then Sir Tristram was healed, and he had found himself ten good knights of Arthur's; and with them he rode to Tintagil. And when he saw the great army of Sessoins he marvelled very greatly. And then Sir Tristram rode by the woods and by the ditches as secretly as he could, until he came near the gates. And there a knight squared up to him when he saw that Sir Tristram meant to go in; and Sir Tristram struck him down dead, and he served three more the same way. And each of these ten knights killed a man-at-arms. So Sir Tristram went into the Castle of Tintagil. And when King Mark knew that Sir Tristram had come, he was glad of his coming, and so was all the company, and they rejoiced greatly over him.
So in the morning Elias the captain came, and told King Mark, "Come out and do battle. Now that the good knight Sir Tristram has come in, it will be a shame to you," said Elias, "to hide behind your walls."
When King Mark understood this he was angry and said not a word, but went to Sir Tristram and asked him his advice.
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "do you want me to give him his answer?"
"Gladly," said King Mark.
Then Sir Tristram said this to the messenger: "Take your lord word from the king and from me that we will do battle with him tomorrow in the open field."
"What is your name?" said the messenger.
"You may be sure my name is Sir Tristram de Liones."
With that the messenger left and told his lord Elias all that he had heard.
"Sir," said Sir Tristram to King Mark, "I beg you, give me leave to have command of the battle."
"I beg you, take command," said King Mark.
Then Sir Tristram had the battle planned, how it should be fought. He had his army divided into six parts, and appointed Sir Dinas the Seneschal to have the vanguard, and other knights to command the rest. And that same night Sir Tristram burned all the Sessoins' ships down to the cold water. As soon as Elias knew of that, he said it was Sir Tristram's doing: "For he means that not one mother's son of us shall ever escape. So, fair companions, fight boldly tomorrow, and don't lose heart at all; for any one knight, though he were the best knight in the world, cannot fight us all."
Then they drew up their army in four parts, wonderfully well fitted out and equipped with men-at-arms. So those inside sallied out, and those outside fell boldly upon them; and there Sir Dinas did great deeds of arms. Nevertheless, Sir Dinas and his company got the worst of it. With that Sir Tristram came and killed two knights with one spear; then he killed on the right hand and on the left, so that men marvelled that he could ever do such deeds of arms. And then one could see the battle sometimes driven a bowshot from the castle, and sometimes it was at the castle gates. Then Elias the captain came rushing here and there, and hit King Mark so hard on the helm that he made him leave the saddle. And then Sir Dinas got King Mark back on horseback. With that Sir Tristram came in like a lion, and there he met Elias, and he struck him so hard on the helm that he left his saddle. And so they fought until it was night, and because of the great slaughter and the wounded, each side withdrew to rest.
And when King Mark had come inside the Castle of Tintagil, he was a hundred of his knights short, and those outside were two hundred short; and they saw to the wounded men on both sides. And then they went to council; and believe me, each side was unwilling to fight any more, provided that each could come away with its honour. When Elias the captain understood how many of his men were dead, he grieved greatly; and when he knew that they were unwilling to go into battle again, he was angry beyond measure. Then Elias sent word to King Mark, in great scorn, asking whether he could find a knight who would fight for him man to man. And if he could kill King Mark's knight, he was to have the tribute of Cornwall every year. "And if his knight kills mine, I give up my claim entirely, for ever."
Then the messenger went off to King Mark, and told him how his lord Elias had sent him word to find a knight to do battle with him man to man. When King Mark understood the messenger, he told him to wait and he would have his answer. Then he called all his barons together to learn what the best advice was.
They all said at once, "We have no desire to fight in the field, for if it had not been for Sir Tristram's prowess, it is likely that we would never have escaped. And so, sir, as we judge it, it would be well done to find a knight who will do battle with him, since he makes a knightly offer."
Nevertheless, when all this was said, they could find no knight who would do battle with him.
"Sir king," they all said, "there is no knight here who dares fight with Elias."
"Alas," said King Mark, "then I am utterly shamed and utterly destroyed, unless my nephew Sir Tristram will take the battle on himself."
"You may be sure," they all said, "he had more than enough on his hands yesterday, and he is weary from his labour, and badly wounded."
"Where is he?" said King Mark.
"Sir," they said, "he is in his bed, resting."
"Alas," said King Mark, "unless I have the help of my nephew Sir Tristram, I am utterly destroyed for ever."
With that someone went to Sir Tristram where he lay, and told him what King Mark had said. And with that Sir Tristram got up quickly, and put on a long gown, and came before the king and all the lords. And when he saw them all so dismayed, he asked the king and the lords what news they had.
"Never worse," said the king. And with that he told him everything, how he had had word from Elias to find a knight to fight for the tribute of Cornwall, "and I can find none."
"And as for you," said the king and all the lords, "we cannot for shame ask any more of you, for through your boldness yesterday you saved all our lives."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "now that I understand you would have my help, it is only right that I should do everything in my power, saving my honour and my life, even though I am badly bruised and hurt. And since Sir Elias offers so generously, I will fight with him, and either I will be killed on the field, or else I will free Cornwall from the old tribute. And so call his messenger quickly, and he shall be answered, for my wounds are still fresh, and they will be sorer a week from now than they are now; and so he shall have his answer, that I will do battle with him tomorrow."
Then the messenger, who had gone, was brought back before King Mark.
"Listen, fellow," said Sir Tristram. "Go quickly to your lord, and tell him to give true guarantees on his side for the tribute, as the king here shall give on his; and then tell your lord, Sir Elias, that I, Sir Tristram, King Arthur's knight and knight of the Round Table, will meet your lord on horseback tomorrow, to do battle as long as my horse can last, and after that to do battle with him on foot to the uttermost."
The messenger looked Sir Tristram over from top to toe, and with that he left and came to his lord, and told him what answer Sir Tristram had given. And with that hostages were given on both sides, and it was made as sure as it could be that whichever side had the victory, the matter would end there. And then both armies were drawn up on both sides of the field, outside the castle of Tintagil, and no one was armed but Sir Tristram and Sir Elias.
So when the terms were settled, they rode apart, and they came together as fast as their horses could run. And each knight struck the other so hard that both horses and knights went to the ground. Nevertheless they both got up quickly and set their shields on their shoulders, with naked swords in their hands, and they dashed together so that it seemed there was a flaming fire about them. So they circled and sidestepped, and hewed at helms and hauberks, and cut many pieces away from their shields, and each wounded the other exceedingly badly, so that the hot blood fell fresh upon the earth. And by the time they had fought for the space of an hour, Sir Tristram grew faint and weak from loss of blood, and gave ground badly. Sir Elias saw that, and pressed fiercely after him, and wounded him in many places. And all the while Sir Tristram circled and sidestepped, and moved away from him here and there, and covered himself with his shield as well as he could, all weakly, so that everyone said he was beaten; for Sir Elias had given him twenty strokes for one.
Then there was laughing on the Sessoins' side, and great grief on King Mark's side.
"Alas," said the king, "we are shamed and destroyed for ever!" For, as the book says, Sir Tristram was never so matched, unless it was by Sir Lancelot.
So as they stood and watched, both sides, the one side laughing and the other side weeping, Sir Tristram remembered his lady, Isolde the Fair, who was watching him, and how he was likely never to come into her presence again. Then he pulled up his shield, which before had hung very low. And then he set his shield against Elias, and gave him many heavy blows, twenty for one, and broke his shield and his hauberk all to pieces, so that the hot blood ran down to the earth. Then King Mark began to laugh, and all the men of Cornwall, and the other side to weep. And all the while Sir Tristram said to Sir Elias, "Yield!"
Then, when Sir Tristram saw him staggering so on the ground, he said, "Sir Elias, I am truly sorry for you, for you are as exceedingly good a knight as I ever met, except Sir Lancelot."
With that Sir Elias fell to the earth, and there he died.
"What shall I do," said Sir Tristram to King Mark, "now that this battle is at an end?"
Then those of Elias' side left, and King Mark took many prisoners from them, to make good the harm and the damage he had suffered from them; and the rest he sent back into their own country to ransom their companions. Then Sir Tristram's wounds were examined, and he was well healed. Yet for all this King Mark would gladly have killed Sir Tristram. But for all that Sir Tristram ever saw or heard of King Mark, he would never be on his guard against his treachery, but he would always be wherever Isolde the Fair was.
Now we will pass over this matter, and speak of the harpers that Sir Lancelot and Sir Dinadan had sent into Cornwall. And at the great feast that King Mark held for joy that the Sessoins had been driven out of his country, Eliot the harper came with the song that Dinadan had made, and secretly brought it to Sir Tristram, and told him the song that Dinadan had made about King Mark. And when Sir Tristram heard it, he said, "O Lord Jesus, how wonderfully well Dinadan can make a song, and how wonderfully wicked, when the occasion calls for it!"
"Sir," said Eliot, "dare I sing this song before King Mark?"
"Yes, at my own risk," said Sir Tristram, "for I will be your protection."
Then at dinner Eliot the harper came in, and because he was a skilled harper, people listened to him sing that same song that Dinadan had made, which said the vilest things about King Mark and his treason that anyone ever heard.
When the harper had sung his song to the end, King Mark was furiously angry, and said, "You, harper, how dare you be so bold, at the risk of your head, as to sing this song before me?"
"Sir," said Eliot, "you may be sure I am a minstrel, and I must do as I am commanded by these lords whose arms I wear. And sir, believe me, Sir Dinadan, a knight of the Round Table, made this song, and made me sing it before you."
"You speak well," said King Mark, "and because you are a minstrel you shall go free, but I order you to get yourself out of my sight, and fast."
So the harper left and went to Sir Tristram, and told him how he had fared. Then Sir Tristram had letters written, as fine as he could make them, to Lancelot and to Sir Dinadan. And so he had the harper escorted out of the country. But as for King Mark being furiously angry, he certainly was, for he judged that the song that was sung before him had been made on Sir Tristram's advice, and so he thought to kill him and all his well-wishers in that country.
Now we turn to another matter that happened between King Mark and his brother, who was called the good Prince Boudwin, whom all the people of the country loved exceedingly well. So it happened one time that the unbelieving Saracens landed in the country of Cornwall, soon after these Sessoins were gone. And then the good Prince Boudwin, at their landing, raised the country secretly and in haste. And before it was day he had wildfire put in three of his own ships, and suddenly he hoisted the sails, and with the wind he made those ships drive among the fleet of the Saracens. And to cut a long story short, those three ships set fire to all the ships, so that none were saved. And at daybreak the good Prince Boudwin with all his company fell on the unbelievers with shouts and cries, and killed some forty thousand, and left none alive.
When King Mark knew this, he was furiously angry that his brother should win such honour. And because this prince was better loved than he was in all that country, and also because Boudwin loved Sir Tristram well, he therefore thought to kill him. And so, hastily, like a man out of his mind, he sent for Prince Boudwin and Anglides his wife, and told them to bring their young son with them, so that he might see him. All this he did meaning to kill the child as well as his father, for he was the falsest traitor that was ever born. Alas, for his goodness and for his good deeds this noble Prince Boudwin was killed. So when he came with his wife Anglides, the king put on a friendly face to them until they had dined. And when they had dined, King Mark sent for his brother and said this: "Brother, how did you fare when the unbelievers landed near you? It seems to me it was your duty to send me word, so that I could have been at that engagement, for it would have been right that I had the honour and not you."
"Sir," said Prince Boudwin, "it was like this: if I had waited until I had sent for you, those unbelievers would have destroyed my country."
"You lie, you false traitor," said King Mark, "for you are always out to win honour away from me, and to put me to dishonour, and you cherish what I hate."
And with that he stabbed him to the heart with a dagger, so that he never spoke a word after. Then the Lady Anglides grieved greatly, and fainted, for she saw her lord killed before her face. Then there was nothing more to be done, but Prince Boudwin was stripped and brought to burial. But Anglides secretly got hold of her husband's doublet and his shirt, and she kept them hidden.
Then there was much sorrow and weeping, and Sir Tristram, Sir Dinas and Sir Fergus grieved greatly, and so did all the knights who were there; for that prince was exceedingly well loved. So Isolde the Fair sent word to Anglides, Prince Boudwin's wife, and told her to leave quickly, or else her young son, Alisander le Orphelin, would be killed. When she heard this, she took her horse and her child, and rode away with such poor men as dared ride with her.
Even so, when King Mark had done this deed, he still meant to take more vengeance; and with his sword in his hand he went searching from room to room, looking for Anglides and her young son. And when she was found to be missing, he called a good knight who was called Sadok, and ordered him on pain of death to bring Anglides back, and her young son. So Sir Sadok set off and rode after Anglides. And within ten miles he overtook her, and told her to turn back and ride with him to King Mark.
"Alas, fair knight," she said, "what will you gain by my son's death, or by mine? I have had more than enough harm, and too great a loss."
"Madam," said Sadok, "your loss is a grief and a pity. But madam," said Sadok, "if you would leave this country with your son, and keep him until he comes of age, so that he may avenge his father's death, then I would let you go from me, provided you promise me to avenge the death of Prince Boudwin."
"Ah, noble knight, Jesus thank you! And if ever my son, Alisander le Orphelin, lives to be a knight, he shall have his father's doublet and his shirt with the bloody marks, and I will give him such a charge that he will remember it as long as he lives."
And with that Sadok parted from her, and each commended the other to God. And when Sadok came to King Mark, he told him on his faith that he had drowned young Alisander, her son; and King Mark was very glad of it.
Now we turn to Anglides, who rode both night and day wherever chance took her, out of Cornwall, and rested little and in few places; but all the while she made her way south towards the coast, until by fortune she came to a castle that was called Magouns, and is now called Arundel, in Sussex. And the Constable of the castle welcomed her, and said she was welcome to her own castle; and there Anglides was honourably received, for the Constable's wife was her close cousin, and the Constable's name was Bellangere; and that same Constable told Anglides that the castle was hers by right of inheritance. So Anglides lived there through years and winters, until Alisander was big and strong; there was no one so strong in all that country, and there was no one who could match him in any contest of strength.
Then one day Bellangere the Constable came to Anglides and said, "Madam, it is time my lord Alisander was made a knight, for he is an exceedingly strong young man."
"Sir," she said, "I wish he were made a knight; but then I must give him the heaviest charge that ever a sinful mother gave to her child."
"Do as you please," said Bellangere, "and I will give him notice that he is to be made a knight. Now it would be well done for him to be made a knight on Our Lady's Day in Lent."
"So be it," said Anglides, "and I beg you to make ready for it."
So the Constable came to Alisander, and told him that he was to be made a knight on Our Lady's Day in Lent.
"I thank God," said Alisander. "This is the best news that ever came to me."
Then the Constable chose twenty of the sons of the greatest gentlemen, and the best-born men of the country, who were to be made knights on the same day that Alisander was made a knight. So on that same day, when Alisander and his twenty companions were made knights, at the offering of the mass Anglides came to her son and said this: "O fair sweet son, I charge you on my blessing, and by the high order of chivalry that you take on yourself here this day, that you understand what I am going to say, and the charge I am going to lay on you."
With that she pulled out a bloody doublet and a bloody shirt, all stained with old blood. When Alisander saw this he started back and turned pale, and said, "Fair mother, what can this mean?"
"I will tell you, fair son. This was your own father's doublet and shirt, which he wore on the very day that he was killed."
And there she told him why and for what reason, and how for his goodness King Mark killed him with his dagger before her own eyes. "And so this shall be the charge that I give you."
"Now I require you," his mother went on, "and I charge you on my blessing, and by the high order of knighthood, that you take revenge on King Mark for the death of your father."
And with that she fainted. Then Alisander leapt to his mother, and took her up in his arms, and said, "Fair mother, you have given me a great charge, and here I promise you I will be avenged on King Mark when I can; and that I promise to God and to you."
So this feast came to an end, and the Constable, on Anglides' advice, saw to it that Alisander was well horsed and armoured. Then he jousted with his twenty companions who had been made knights with him, and, to cut a long story short, he overthrew all twenty of them, so that not one could stand up to a single blow from him.
Then one of those knights went off to King Mark, and told him everything: how Alisander had been made a knight, and all the charge that his mother gave him, as you have heard before.
"Alas, false treason!" said King Mark. "I thought that young traitor was dead. Alas, whom can I trust?"
And with that King Mark took a sword in his hand, and went looking for Sir Sadok from room to room to kill him. When Sir Sadok saw King Mark coming with his sword in his hand, he said this: "Watch yourself, King Mark, and don't come near me; for know this, I saved Alisander's life, and I have never regretted it, for you falsely and cowardly killed his father Boudwin, like a traitor, for his good deeds; and so I pray Almighty Jesus to send Alisander the might and strength to be revenged on you. And now beware, King Mark, of young Alisander, for he has been made a knight."
"Alas," said King Mark, "that I should ever hear a traitor say such things to my face!"
And with that four of King Mark's knights drew their swords to kill Sir Sadok, but Sir Sadok at once killed them all in King Mark's presence. And then Sir Sadok went on into his room, and took his horse and his armour, and rode on his way at a good pace. For there was neither Sir Tristram, nor Sir Dinas, nor Sir Fergus who bore Sir Sadok any ill will. Then King Mark was angry, and thought to destroy Sir Alisander and Sir Sadok, who had saved him; for King Mark feared and hated Alisander more than any man alive.
When Sir Tristram understood that Alisander had been made a knight, he at once sent him a letter, begging him and charging him to make his way to King Arthur's court, and to put himself under the rule and into the hands of Sir Lancelot. So this letter was sent to Alisander from his cousin, Sir Tristram. And at that time he meant to do as he was told. Then King Mark called the knight who had brought him the news of Alisander, and told him to stay on in that country.
"Sir," said that knight, "so I must, for I dare not go back to my own country."
"No matter," said King Mark. "I will give you twice as much land here as you ever had of your own."
But within a short time Sir Sadok met that false knight, and killed him. Then King Mark was mad with rage beyond measure. Then he sent to Queen Morgan le Fay, and to the Queen of North Wales, begging them in his letters that the two of them, being sorceresses, would set the whole country alight with ladies who were enchantresses, and with such knights as were dangerous, like Malgrin and Breuse Saunce Pité, so that by no means should Alisander le Orphelin escape, but he should be either taken or killed. King Mark made this arrangement in order to destroy Alisander.
Now we turn again to Sir Alisander, who at his departure took his father's bloody shirt with him from his mother. And he carried it with him always, until the day of his death, as a token to make him remember his father's death. So Alisander meant to ride to London, on Sir Tristram's advice, to Sir Lancelot. And by chance he went along the coast, and took the wrong road. And there he won the prize at a tournament that King Carados held. And there he struck down King Carados and twenty of his knights, and also Sir Safere, a good knight, who was the brother of Sir Palomides, the good knight. A damsel saw all this, and saw the best knight joust that she had ever seen. And each time he struck down a knight, he made him swear to wear no armour for a twelvemonth and a day.
"This is good news," said Morgan le Fay. "This is the knight I would very much like to see."
And so she took her palfrey, and rode a long while, and then she rested in her tent. Then four knights came there, two armed and two unarmed, and they told Morgan le Fay their names: the first was Elias de Gomeret, the second was Cari de Gomeret, and those were armed; the other two were from Cameliard, cousins of Queen Guinevere, and one was called Guy, and the other was called Garaunt, and those were unarmed. There these four knights told Morgan le Fay how a young knight had struck them down before a castle. "For the maiden of that castle said that he had only lately been made a knight, and was young. But as we see it, unless it were Sir Tristram, or Sir Lancelot, or Sir Lamorak, the good knight, there is no one who could stay in the saddle against a single blow of his spear."
"Well," said Morgan le Fay, "I shall meet that knight before long, if he stays in that country."
So we turn to the damsel of the castle, who, when Alisander le Orphelin had outjousted the four knights, called him to her, and said this: "Sir knight, will you, for my sake, joust and fight with a knight of this country who is, and has long been, a bad neighbour to me? His name is Malgrin, and he will not let me be married in any way, for all that I can do, nor will he let any knight have me."
"Damsel," said Alisander, "if he comes while I am here, I will fight with him, and for your sake I will risk my poor body."
And with that she sent for him, for he would come at her command. And when each caught sight of the other, they made ready to joust, and they came together eagerly, and Malgrin broke his spear on Alisander, and Alisander struck him back so hard that he carried him clean out of his saddle to the ground. But this Malgrin got up quickly, and set his shield and drew his sword, and told him to dismount, saying, "Though you have the better of me on horseback, you'll find that I will hold out like a knight on foot."
"Well said," said Alisander; and so he quickly got clear of his horse and handed it to his servant. And then they rushed together like two boars, and laid into each other's helms and shields for a long time, for the space of three hours, so that no one could ever say which was the better knight.
And in the meantime Morgan le Fay came to the damsel of the castle, and they watched the battle. But this Malgrin was a practised old knight, and he was counted one of the most dangerous knights in the world to fight on foot, though on horseback there were many better. And all the while this Malgrin watched for his chance to kill Alisander, and so he wounded him so terribly that it was a marvel he could stand at all, he had bled so much blood; for Alisander fought wildly, and not wisely. And the other was a savage knight, and watched his chance, and struck him hard. And sometimes they rushed together with their shields, like two boars or rams, and both fell flat on their faces on the ground.
"Now, knight," said Malgrin, "hold your hand a while, and tell me who you are."
"I will not," said Alisander, "unless I choose to. But tell me your name, and why you hold this country, or else you shall die at my hands."
"Know this," said Malgrin, "that for the love of this maiden of this castle I have killed ten good knights by mischance; and through my own violence and arrogance I have killed ten other knights."
"So help me God," said Alisander, "this is the foulest confession I ever heard a knight make, nor did I ever hear tell of other men making such a shameful confession; and so it would be a great pity and a great shame to me to let you live any longer. So guard yourself as well as you can, for as I am a true knight, either you shall kill me or else I shall kill you, I promise you faithfully."
Then they laid into each other fiercely, and at last Alisander struck Malgrin to the ground. And then he tore off his helm, and swiftly struck off his head. And when he had done and finished this battle, he at once called his servant to him, who brought him his horse. And then, thinking he was strong enough, he would have mounted. And so she laid Sir Alisander in a horse-litter, and took him into the castle, for he had neither foot nor strength to stand on the ground; for he had sixteen great wounds, and one of them in particular was likely to be his death.
Then Queen Morgan le Fay examined his wounds, and gave him such an ointment that he was likely to have died of it. And in the morning, when she came to him, he complained bitterly of the pain; and then she put other ointments on him, and then he was out of his pain. Then the damsel of the castle came, and said to Morgan le Fay, "I beg you, help me so that this knight will marry me, for he has won me with his own hands."
"You shall see," said Morgan le Fay, "what I will say."
Then Morgan le Fay went to Alisander, and told him that whatever happened he should refuse this lady "if she asks to marry you, for she is not for you."
So the damsel came and asked him to marry her.
"Damsel," said Orphelin, "I thank you, but as yet I have no mind to marry in this country."
"Sir," she said, "since you will not marry me, I beg you, seeing that you have won me, to give me to a knight of this country who has been my friend, and has loved me for many years."
"With all my heart," said Alisander. "I will agree to that."
Then the knight was sent for; his name was Gerine le Grose. And at once he betrothed them, and married them.
Then Queen Morgan le Fay came to Alisander, and told him to get up, and put him in a horse-litter, and gave him such a drink that for three days and three nights he never woke, but slept; and so she brought him to her own castle, which at that time was called La Beale Regard. Then Morgan le Fay came to Alisander, and asked him if he would like to be well.
"Who would be sick," said Alisander, "if he could be well?"
"Well," said Morgan le Fay, "then you shall promise me by your knighthood that for a twelvemonth and a day from today you will not go beyond the bounds of this castle, and without doubt you shall soon be well."
"I agree," said Sir Alisander.
And there he made her a promise, and then he was soon well. And when Alisander was well, then he regretted his oath, for he could not be revenged on King Mark. Just then there came a damsel who was a cousin of the Earl of Pase, and she was also a cousin of Morgan le Fay. And by right that castle of La Beale Regard should have been hers by true inheritance. So this damsel came into the castle where Alisander lay, and there she found him on his bed, exceedingly downcast and all gloomy.
"Sir knight," said the damsel, "if you would cheer up, I could tell you good news."
"It would be well with me," said Alisander, "if I could hear some good news, for now I stand here a prisoner by my own promise."
"Sir," she said, "you may be sure that you are a prisoner, and worse off than you think; for my lady, my cousin Queen Morgan le Fay, keeps you here for no other purpose than to have her pleasure of you when she feels like it."
"O Jesus defend me," said Alisander, "from such pleasure! For I would rather cut off my own privates than give her pleasure of that kind."
"As Jesus help me," said the damsel, "if you would love me and be guided by me, I will get you free with your honour intact."
"Tell me how," said Alisander, "and you shall have my love."
"Fair knight," she said, "this castle ought by right to be mine, and I have an uncle who is a mighty earl, the Earl of Pase, and of all people he hates Morgan le Fay most; and I will send to him and beg him for my sake to destroy this castle for the evil customs that are kept in it; and then he will come and set wildfire in every part of the castle, and I will get you out by a secret back gate, and there you shall have your horse and your armour."
"Well said, damsel," said Alisander.
And then she said, "You can keep to the ground of this castle for this twelvemonth and a day, and then you will not break your oath."
"Truly, fair damsel," said Alisander, "what you say is true."
And then he kissed her, and gave her pleasure, as it pleased them both, at times and at their leisure.
So at once she sent to her uncle and asked him to come and destroy that castle, for, as the book says, he would have destroyed that castle before, if it had not been for that damsel. When the earl understood her letters, he sent her word back that on such and such a day he would come and destroy that castle. So when that day came, she showed Alisander a back gate through which he was to escape into a garden, and there he would find his armour and his horse. When the appointed day came, the Earl of Pase came there with four hundred knights, and set fire to every part of the castle, so that before they stopped they had not left one stone standing. And all the while the fire was in the castle, he waited in the garden. And when the fire was over, he had it proclaimed that he would hold that piece of ground where the castle of La Beale Regard had stood for a twelvemonth and a day, against all knights who might come.
So it happened that there was a duke called Ansirus, and he was of Sir Lancelot's kin. And this knight was a great pilgrim, for every third year he would be at Jerusalem. And because all his life he made a habit of going on pilgrimage, people called him Duke Ansirus the Pilgrim. And this duke had a daughter called Alice, who was an exceedingly beautiful woman, and because of her father she was called Alice la Beale Pilgrim, the Fair Pilgrim. And as soon as she heard of this proclamation she went to Arthur's court, and said openly, in the hearing of many knights, that whatever knight could overcome the knight who held that piece of ground should have her and all her lands.
When the knights of the Round Table heard her say this, many of them were glad, for she was exceedingly beautiful and had great rents. Then she had it proclaimed in castles and towns on her side, just as fast as Alisander did on his side. Then she pitched her tent right beside the piece of ground that Alisander held. And she was no sooner there than a knight of Arthur's court came, who was called Sagramore le Desirous, and he offered to joust with Alisander; and they met, and Sagramore le Desirous broke his spear on Sir Alisander, but Sir Alisander struck him so hard that he was put out of his saddle. And when the fair Alice saw him joust so well, she thought him an exceedingly handsome knight on horseback. And then she leapt out of her tent, and took Sir Alisander by the bridle, and this is what she said: "Fair knight, I ask you by your knighthood, show me your face."
"I am not afraid," said Alisander, "to show my face."
And then he took off his helm; and when she saw his face, she said, "O sweet Jesus, you I must love, and never any other!"
"Then show me your face," he said.
Then she took the veil from her face. And when he saw her, he said, "Here I have found my love and my lady! Truly, fair lady," he said, "I promise you to be your knight, and no one else's who draws breath."
"Now, noble knight," she said, "tell me your name."
"My name," he said, "is Alisander le Orphelin. Now, damsel, tell me your name," he said.
"My name," she said, "is Alice la Beale Pilgrim. And when we are more at our hearts' ease, both you and I shall tell each other what blood we come from."
So there was great love between them. And as they were talking, there came a knight called Harsouse le Berbuse, and asked to break some of Sir Alisander's spears. Then Sir Alisander met him, and at the first encounter Sir Alisander struck him over his horse's rump. And then there came another knight called Sir Hewgon, and Sir Alisander struck him down as he had the other. Then Sir Hewgon offered to do battle on foot. Sir Alisander overcame him with three strokes, and would have killed him there if he had not yielded. So then Alisander made both those knights swear to wear no armour for a twelvemonth and a day.
Then Sir Alisander dismounted, and went to rest and refresh himself. Then the damsel who had helped Sir Alisander out of the castle, in her merriment, told Alice the whole story, how he had been a prisoner in the castle of La Beale Regard, and there she told her how she got him out of prison.
"Sir," said Alice la Beale Pilgrim, "it seems to me you are much indebted to this maiden."
"That is true," said Sir Alisander.
And there Alice told him what blood she came from. "Sir, you may be sure," she said, "that I am of the blood of King Ban, who was the father of Sir Lancelot."
"Truly, fair lady," said Alisander, "my mother told me that my father was a king's brother, and that I am a close cousin of Sir Tristram."
Then at this point there came three knights, one called Vains, and the second called Harvis de les Marches, and the third called Perin de la Montaine. And with one spear Sir Alisander struck all three of them down, and gave them such falls that they had no wish to fight on foot. So he made them swear to wear no arms for a twelvemonth. So when they had gone, Sir Alisander gazed at his lady Alice on horseback as he stood in her tent. And then he was so enamoured of her that he did not know whether he was on horseback or on foot.
Just then the false knight Sir Mordred came, and saw that Sir Alisander was besotted with his lady; and with that he took his horse by the bridle, and led him here and there, and had planned to lead him out of that place to shame him. When the damsel who had helped him out of that castle saw how shamefully he was being led, she at once had herself armed, and put a shield on her shoulder; and with that she mounted his horse, and took a naked sword in her hand, and she drove at Alisander with all her might, and she gave him such a blow that he thought the fire flew out of his eyes. And when Alisander felt that stroke, he looked around him, and drew his sword. And when she saw that, she fled, and so did Mordred, into the forest, and the damsel fled into the tent. So when Alisander understood for himself how the false knight would have shamed him, if it had not been for the damsel, then he was angry with himself that Sir Mordred had escaped his hands like that. But then Sir Alisander and Alice had a good laugh over the damsel, and how hard she had hit him on the helm.
Then Sir Alisander jousted like this day after day, and on foot he fought many battles with many knights of King Arthur's court, and with many strange knights. So to tell all the battles he fought would be too much to recount, for every day within that twelvemonth he fought with one knight or another, and some days he fought with three or four; and there was never a knight who got the better of him. And at the twelvemonth's end he left with his lady, Alice la Beale Pilgrim. And the damsel would never leave him, and so they went into their own country of Benwick, and lived there in great joy.
But as the book says, King Mark would never stop until he had killed him by treason. And by Alice he had a son who was called Bellangere le Beuse. And by good fortune he came to the court of King Arthur, and proved an exceedingly good knight; and he avenged his father's death, for the false King Mark killed both Sir Tristram and Alisander, falsely and treacherously. And it so happened that Alisander never had the grace or the fortune to come to King Arthur's court. For if he had come to Sir Lancelot, so all the knights who knew him said, he was one of the strongest knights there were in Arthur's days; and great grief was made for him. So we will let him pass, and turn to another tale.
So it happened that Sir Galahalt, the high prince, was lord of the country of Surluse, from which came many good knights. And this noble prince was an exceedingly good man of arms, and he always kept a noble company of knights together. And then he came to Arthur's court and told him his purpose: that it was his wish to have a joust proclaimed in the country of Surluse, which country lay within the lands of King Arthur, and there he asked leave to have the joust proclaimed.
"I give you leave," said King Arthur, "but you may be sure," said King Arthur, "that I cannot be there."
"Sir," said Queen Guinevere, "if it please you, give me leave to be at that joust."
"With right good will," said Arthur, "for Sir Galahalt, the high prince, shall have you in his keeping."
"Sir," said Galahalt, "I will do as you wish."
"Sir," then said the queen, "I will take with me Sir Lancelot, and whatever knights please me best."
"Do as you like," said King Arthur.
So at once she commanded Sir Lancelot to make himself ready, with such knights as he thought best.
So in every good town and castle of this land a proclamation was made, that in the country of Surluse Sir Galahalt would hold a joust that would last eight days, and that the high prince, with the help of Queen Guinevere's knights, would joust against all kinds of men who cared to come. When this proclamation was known, kings and princes, dukes and earls, barons and noble knights made themselves ready to be at that joust. And on the day of the jousting Sir Dinadan came in disguised, and did many great deeds of arms.
Then, at the request of Queen Guinevere and of King Bagdemagus, Sir Lancelot came into the lists; but he was disguised, and that was why few people knew him. And there Sir Ector de Maris, his own brother, met him, and each broke his spear on the other right down to the hand. And then each of them got another spear. And then Sir Lancelot struck down Sir Ector de Maris, his own brother. Sir Bleoberis saw that, and he gave Sir Lancelot such a blow on the helm that he hardly knew where he was. Then Sir Lancelot was angry, and struck Sir Bleoberis so hard on the helm that his head bowed down backwards. And he struck him another blow, so that he was knocked clean out of his saddle; and so he rode by, and pushed on into the thickest of the fight. When the King of North Wales saw Sir Ector and Bleoberis lying on the ground, he was angry, for they had come in on his side against the men of Surluse. So the King of North Wales charged at Sir Lancelot and broke a spear on him all to pieces. With that Sir Lancelot caught up with the King of North Wales and gave him such a blow on the helm with his sword that he made him get clear of his horse; and at once the king was horsed again. So the party of King Bagdemagus and the party of the King of North Wales crashed into each other, and then a hard fight began; but the men of North Wales were far stronger.
When Sir Lancelot saw his side getting the worst of it, he pushed his way into the thick of the fighting with a sword in his hand; and there he struck down knights on the right hand and on the left, and pulled down knights and tore off their helms, so that everyone wondered that one knight could ever do such deeds of arms. When Sir Meliagaunce, who was the son of King Bagdemagus, saw how Sir Lancelot was faring, he marvelled greatly. And when he understood that it was he, he knew well that he was disguised on his account. Then Sir Meliagaunce asked a knight to kill Sir Lancelot's horse, either with a sword or with a spear. At that time King Bagdemagus met a knight called Sauseise, a good knight, to whom he said, "Now, fair Sauseise, meet my son Meliagaunce and give him a generous payment, for I wish he were well beaten by your hands, so that he might leave this field."
And then Sir Sauseise met Sir Meliagaunce, and each struck the other down. And then they fought on foot, and there Sauseise would have beaten Sir Meliagaunce, if a rescue had not come. So then the high prince sounded the end of the day, and every knight took off his armour and went to the great feast.
Meanwhile a damsel came to the high prince and complained that there was a knight called Goneries who kept all her lands from her. The knight was there present, and he threw down his glove to her, or to anyone who would fight in her name. So the damsel took up the glove very sorrowfully, for want of a champion. Then a young servant came to her and said, "Damsel, will you do as I tell you?"
"Very gladly," said the damsel.
"Then go to a certain knight who is lodging near here in a hermitage, and who follows the Questing Beast, and ask him to take the battle on himself; and I am sure he will grant it to you at once."
So at once she took her palfrey, and within a while she found that knight, and it was Sir Palomides. And when she asked him, he armed himself and rode with her, and made her go to the high prince and ask leave for her knight to do battle.
"Gladly," said the high prince.
Then the knights were ready in the field to joust on horseback; and each got a spear in his hand, and they met so fiercely that their spears shivered all to pieces. Then they snatched out their swords, and Sir Palomides struck Sir Goneries down to the earth. And then he tore off his helm and struck off his head. Then they went to supper, and the damsel loved Palomides as her lover, but the book says she was of his kin. So then Palomides disguised himself in this manner: on his shield he bore the Questing Beast, and on all his trappings too. And when he was ready in this way, he sent to the high prince to give him leave to joust with other knights; but he was afraid of Sir Lancelot. The high prince sent him word back that he would be welcome, and that Sir Lancelot would not joust with him. Then Sir Galahalt, the high prince, had it proclaimed that whatever knight struck down Sir Palomides should have his damsel for himself.
Here begins the second day. As soon as Sir Palomides came into the field, Sir Galahalt, the high prince, was at the end of the lists, and he met Sir Palomides, and Palomides him, with great spears. And they came together so hard that their spears shivered all to pieces; but Sir Galahalt struck him so hard that he bent him backwards over his horse, and yet he did not lose his stirrups. Then they drew their swords and laid into each other with many heavy blows, so that many honourable knights left what they were doing to watch them. But at last Sir Galahalt, the high prince, struck a mighty stroke at Palomides, hard upon the helm; but the helm was so hard that the sword could not bite, but slipped and struck off the head of Sir Palomides' horse. When the high prince knew and saw the good knight fall to the earth, he was ashamed of that stroke. And with that he got down off his own horse, and begged the good knight Palomides to take that horse as his gift, and to forgive him that deed.
"Sir," said Palomides, "I thank you for your great goodness, for from a man of honour a knight will never have dishonour."
And so he mounted that horse, and the high prince had another at once.
"Now," said the high prince, "I give up that maiden to you, for you have won her."
"Ah," said Palomides, "the damsel and I are both at your command."
So they parted, and Sir Galahalt did great deeds of arms. And just then Dinadan came and met Sir Galahalt, and they came at each other so hard with their spears that their spears broke right down to their hands. But Dinadan had expected the high prince to be more tired than he was. And then he struck many heavy blows at the high prince; but when Dinadan saw that he could not get him to the ground, he said, "My lord, please leave me alone, and take someone else."
The high prince did not know it was Dinadan, and let him go graciously because of his fair words. And so they parted; but soon someone came and told the high prince that it was Dinadan.
"Truly," said the prince, "I am sorry that he has got away from me like that, for now I shall never hear the end of his mocking and his jokes."
And then Galahalt rode fast after him, and called to him, "Stop, Dinadan, for King Arthur's sake!"
"No," said Dinadan, "so God help me, we are not meeting again today."
Then, in that anger, the high prince met Meliagaunce, and he struck him in the throat, so that if he had fallen his neck would have been broken; and with the same spear he struck down another knight. Then the men of North Wales and many strangers came in, and they were close to getting the better of the men of Surluse, for Sir Galahalt, the high prince, always had a great deal on his hands. So then the good knight Semound the Valiant came, with forty knights, and he drove them all back. Then Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot had the end of the day sounded, and every knight took off his armour and made ready for the feast.
When Palomides had taken off his armour, he asked for lodging for himself and the damsel. At once the high prince ordered them to be lodged. And he was hardly in his lodging when a knight came there called Archade, who was the brother of Goneries, whom Palomides had killed before in the damsel's quarrel. And this knight, Archade, called Sir Palomides a traitor, and accused him of his brother's death.
"With the high prince's leave," said Palomides, "I will answer you."
When Sir Galahalt understood their quarrel, he told them to go to dinner: "And as soon as you have dined, see that each knight is ready in the field."
So when they had dined they both armed themselves, and took their horses; and the queen, and the prince, and Sir Lancelot were seated to watch them. And so they let their horses run, and there Sir Palomides carried Archade on his spear over his horse's tail. And then Palomides got down and drew his sword, but Sir Archade could not get up; and there Sir Palomides tore off his helm and struck off his head. Then the high prince and Queen Guinevere went to supper. Then King Bagdemagus sent his son Meliagaunce away, so that Sir Lancelot would not meet him; for he hated Sir Lancelot, and Sir Lancelot did not know it.
Now begins the third day of the jousting; and on that day King Bagdemagus made himself ready; and against him came King Marsil, who held an island as a gift from Sir Galahalt the high prince; and this island was called Pomitain. Then it happened that King Bagdemagus and King Marsil of Pomitain met with spears, and King Marsil took such a blow that he fell over his horse's rump. Then a knight of King Marsil's came in to avenge his lord, and King Bagdemagus struck him down, horse and man, to the earth. So there came an earl who was called Arrouse, and Sir Breuse, and a hundred knights of Pomitain with them, and the King of North Wales was with them; and all these were against the men of Surluse. And then a great battle began, and many knights were thrown under the horses' feet. And King Bagdemagus always did best, for he began first, and he always kept on. Gaheris, Gawain's brother, kept striking at King Bagdemagus' face; and at last King Bagdemagus hurled Gaheris down, horse and man.
Then by chance Sir Palomides, the good knight, met Sir Blamore de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis' brother. And each struck the other with great spears, so that both horses and knights fell to the earth. But Sir Blamore had such a fall that he almost broke his neck, for the blood burst out at his nose, his mouth and his ears; but in the end he recovered well, thanks to good surgeons. Then Duke Chaleins of Clarance came in; and under his command came a knight called Elis la Noire; and King Bagdemagus met him and struck Elis so that he made him leave his saddle. So Duke Chaleins of Clarance did great deeds of arms there, and for all that he came in so late on the third day, no man did as well as he except King Bagdemagus and Sir Palomides; and the prize that day was given to King Bagdemagus. And then they sounded the end of the day, and took off their armour, and went to the feast. Just then Dinadan came, and mocked and joked with King Bagdemagus until all the knights laughed at him; for he was a fine joker, and dearly loved all good knights.
So as soon as they had dined, a young servant came carrying four spears on his back; and he came to Palomides and said this: "There is a knight nearby who has sent you the choice of four spears, and asks you, for your lady's sake, to take one half of these spears and joust with him in the field."
"Tell him," said Palomides, "that I will not fail him."
When Sir Galahalt knew of this, he told Palomides to make himself ready. So Queen Guinevere, the high prince and Sir Lancelot were seated on the stands to judge these two knights. Then Sir Palomides and the strange knight ran at each other so eagerly that their spears broke right down to their hands. At once each of them took a great spear in his hand, and they shivered them all to pieces. And then each took a greater spear, and then the knight struck Sir Palomides down, horse and man, to the earth. And as he was passing over him, the strange knight's horse stumbled and fell down on Palomides. Then they drew their swords and laid into each other wonderfully hard for a long while.
Then the high prince and Sir Lancelot said they had never seen two knights fight better than they did; but the strange knight kept doubling his strokes, and drove Palomides back. With that the high prince cried, "Ho!" and then they went to their lodging. And when they had taken off their armour, they knew it was the noble knight Sir Lamorak. When Sir Lancelot knew it was Sir Lamorak, he made much of him, for above all men on earth he loved him best, except Sir Tristram. Then Queen Guinevere praised him, and so all the other good knights made much of him, except Sir Gawain's brothers. Then Queen Guinevere said to Sir Lancelot, "Sir, I ask you, if you joust any more, that you joust with none of the blood of my lord Arthur."
So he promised he would not, at least for that time.
Here begins the fourth day. Then the King with the Hundred Knights came into the field, and all the men of North Wales, and Duke Chaleins of Clarance, and King Marsil of Pomitain; and there came Safere, Palomides' brother, and there he told him news of his mother. And his name was called the Earl, and so he accused him before King Arthur: "For he made war on our father and mother, and there I killed him in open battle."
So they went into the field, and the damsel with them; and against them came Sir Bleoberis de Ganis and Sir Ector de Maris. Sir Palomides met Sir Bleoberis, and each struck the other down. And in the same way did Sir Safere and Sir Ector, and the two pairs fought on foot. Then Sir Lamorak came in, and he met the King with the Hundred Knights and struck him clean over his horse's tail. And in the same way he served the King of North Wales, and he also struck down King Marsil. And so, before ever he stopped, he struck down thirty knights with his spear and his sword. When Duke Chaleins saw Lamorak do such great feats, he would not meddle with him, for shame; and then he charged all his knights on pain of death: "None of you touch him; for it would be a shame to all good knights if that knight were shamed."
Then the two kings gathered their men together, and they all set upon Sir Lamorak; and he did not fail them, but rushed here and there, striking on the right hand and on the left, and tore off many helms, so that the high prince and Queen Guinevere said they had never seen a knight do such deeds of arms on horseback.
"Alas," said Lancelot to King Bagdemagus, "I will arm myself and help Sir Lamorak."
"And I will ride with you," said King Bagdemagus.
And when the two of them were mounted they came to Sir Lamorak, who stood among thirty knights; and happy was the man who could reach him with a blow, and he always struck back mightily. Then Sir Lancelot came into the thick of the fighting, and he threw down Sir Mador de la Porte. And with the broken shaft of that spear he threw down many knights. And King Bagdemagus struck on the left hand and on the right marvellously well. And then the three kings fell back. With that Sir Galahalt had the end of the day sounded, and all the heralds gave Sir Lamorak the prize. And all this while Palomides, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Safere and Sir Ector fought on foot; there were never four knights more evenly matched. And then they were parted, and taken to their lodging, and took off their armour, and so they went to the great feast.
But when Sir Lamorak had come into the court, Queen Guinevere took him in her arms and said, "Sir, you have done well this day."
Then the high prince came, and he rejoiced greatly over him, and so did Dinadan, for he wept for joy; but the joy that Sir Lancelot made over Sir Lamorak there no man could tell. Then they went to rest, and in the morning the high prince had the trumpets sound for the field.
Here begins the fifth day. So it happened that Sir Palomides came out in the morning and offered to joust where King Arthur was, in a castle near Surluse; and there an honourable duke met him, and there Sir Palomides struck him over his horse's rump. And this duke was King Arthur's uncle. Then Sir Elise's son rode at Palomides, and Palomides served Elise the same way. When Sir Uwain saw this he was angry. Then he took his horse and met Sir Palomides, and Palomides struck him so hard that he went to the earth, horse and man. And to cut a long story short, he struck down three of Sir Gawain's brothers, that is to say Mordred, Gaheris and Agravain.
"O Jesus," said Arthur, "this is a great insult, that a Saracen should strike down my blood."
And with that King Arthur was mad with rage, and meant to make himself ready to joust. Sir Lamorak saw that, that Arthur and his blood were beaten; and at once he was ready, and asked Palomides if he would joust any more.
"Why shouldn't I?" said Palomides.
Then they crashed together, and broke their spears, and shivered them all to pieces, so that the whole castle rang with their blows. Then each got a greater spear in his hand, and they came together so fiercely; but Sir Palomides' spear burst all to pieces, and Sir Lamorak's held. With that Sir Palomides lost his stirrups and lay stretched out flat on his horse's back. And then Sir Palomides turned back and took his damsel, and Sir Safere went his way.
So, when he had gone, King Arthur came to Sir Lamorak and thanked him for his goodness, and begged him to tell him his name.
"Sir," said Lamorak, "you may be sure I owe you my service, but at this time I will not stay here, for I see many of my enemies about me."
"Alas," said Arthur, "now I know well that it is Sir Lamorak de Galis. O Lamorak, stay with me, and by my crown I shall never fail you; and let Gawain not dare, on his head, nor any of his brothers, to do you any wrong."
"Sir," said Sir Lamorak, "they have done me wrong, and you too."
"That is true," said the king, "for they killed their own mother, my sister, which grieves me sorely. It would have been much fairer and better if you had married her, for you are a king's son as well as they are."
"O Jesus," said the noble knight Sir Lamorak to Arthur, "I shall never forget her death. I promise you, and I swear it to God, I shall avenge her death as soon as I see a fitting time. And if it were not out of reverence for your highness, I would already have been avenged on Sir Gawain and his brothers."
"Truly," said Arthur, "I will make peace between you."
"Sir," said Lamorak, "at this time I cannot stay with you, for I must go to the jousts, where Sir Lancelot is, and the high prince Sir Galahalt."
Now there was a damsel who was the daughter of King Bandes. And there was a Saracen knight called Corsabrin, and he loved the damsel, and he would on no account allow her to be married; for this Corsabrin was always spreading rumours about her, and giving out that she was out of her mind; and in this way he kept her from being married.
So by chance this damsel heard tell that Palomides did much for damsels' sake; so she sent him a pennon, a small streamer for his spear, and begged him to fight Sir Corsabrin for her love, and he should have her, and the lands of her father's that would come to her. Then the damsel sent to Corsabrin and told him to go to Sir Palomides, who was a pagan as well as he; and she warned him that she had sent Palomides her pennon, and that if he could overcome Palomides she would marry him. When Corsabrin knew what she had done, he was mad with rage and anger, and rode to Surluse, where the high prince was, and there he found Sir Palomides ready, and he had the pennon. So there they pledged battle with each other before Galahalt.
"Well," said the high prince, "today noble knights must joust, and after dinner we shall see how you can fare."
Then they sounded for the jousts; and in came Dinadan, and met Sir Gerin, a good knight, and he threw him down over his horse's rump; and Sir Dinadan overthrew four more knights; and there he did great deeds of arms, for he was a good knight, but he was a scoffer and a joker, and the merriest knight in company who was living at that time. And he had this way about him, that he loved every good knight, and every good knight loved him back. So then, when the high prince saw Dinadan do so well, he sent to Sir Lancelot and told him to strike down Sir Dinadan: "And when you have done so, bring him before me and the noble Queen Guinevere."
Then Sir Lancelot did as he was asked. Then he and Sir Lamorak struck down many knights, and tore off helms, and drove all the knights before them. And so Sir Lancelot struck down Sir Dinadan, and had his men unarm him, and so brought him to the queen and the high prince, and they laughed at Dinadan so hard that they could not stand.
"Well," said Sir Dinadan, "I'm still not ashamed, for it was that old rascal Sir Lancelot who struck me down."
So they went to dinner, and the whole court had good sport with Dinadan.
Then, when dinner was done, they sounded for the field, to watch Sir Palomides and Corsabrin. Sir Palomides planted his pennon in the middle of the field; and then they crashed together with their spears like thunder, and each struck the other to the earth. And then they pulled out their swords, and set their shields, and laid into each other mightily, as mighty knights, so that there was hardly a piece of armour that would hold on them; for this Corsabrin was an exceedingly cruel knight.
"Corsabrin," said Palomides, "will you give up that damsel over there to me, and the pennon?"
Then Corsabrin was angry beyond measure, and gave Palomides such a blow that he went down on one knee. Then Palomides got up quickly, and struck him on the helm so that he fell flat to the earth. And with that he tore off his helm and said, "Corsabrin, yield, or you will die by my hands."
"Shame on you," said Corsabrin. "Do your worst."
Then he struck off his head. And with that there came such a stink from his body, when the soul left it, that nobody could stand the smell. So the corpse was taken away and buried in a wood, because he was a pagan. Then they sounded the end of the day, and Palomides took off his armour.
Then he went to Queen Guinevere, to the high prince and to Sir Lancelot.
"Sir," said the high prince, "today you have seen a great miracle in Corsabrin, what a smell there was when the soul left the body. So, sir, we would ask you to take baptism upon you, and I promise you all knights will think the more of you, and speak the more of your honour."
"Sir," said Palomides, "I want you all to know that I came into this land to be christened, and in my heart I am christened, and christened I will be. But I have made such a vow that I may not be christened until I have fought seven true battles for Jesus' sake, and then I will be christened; and I trust God will accept my intent, for I mean it truly."
Then Sir Palomides asked Queen Guinevere and the high prince to have supper with him. And so they did, and Sir Lancelot and Sir Lamorak too, and many other good knights. So in the morning they heard their mass, and the trumpets sounded for the field, and then the knights made themselves ready.
Here begins the sixth day. Then Sir Gaheris came in, and Sir Ossaise of Surluse met him there, and Sir Gaheris struck him over his horse's rump. And then each side charged the other, and many spears were broken there, and many knights thrown under the horses' feet. So then Sir Durnore and Sir Aglovale came in, who were brothers of Sir Lamorak, and they met two other knights, and each pair struck each other so hard that all four knights and their horses fell to the earth. When Sir Lamorak saw his two brothers down he was angry beyond measure; and then he got a great spear in his hand, and with it he struck down four good knights, and then his spear broke. Then he pulled out his sword, and struck about him on the right hand and on the left, and tore off helms and pulled down knights, so that everyone marvelled at such deeds of arms as he did; for he carried on so that many knights fled. Then he put his brothers back on their horses, and said, "Brothers, you ought to be ashamed to fall off your horses like that! What is a knight, except when he is on horseback? I think nothing of a knight when he is on foot, for all battles on foot are no better than plunderers' brawls. For no knight should fight on foot unless it is for treason, or else he is driven to it by force; so, brothers, sit tight on your horses, or else never fight again in front of me."
With that Duke Chaleins of Clarance came in, and the Earl Ulbawes of Surluse met him, and each of them struck the other down. Then the knights of both sides put their lords back on their horses; for Sir Ector and Bleoberis were on foot, attending on Duke Chaleins. And the King with the Hundred Knights was with the Earl Ulbawes. With that Gaheris came and laid into the King with the Hundred Knights, and he into him. Then Duke Chaleins came and parted them.
Then they sounded the end of the day, and the knights took off their armour and went to their dinner; and in the middle of their dinner in came Dinadan and began to make fun of everyone. Then he looked at the high prince, who seemed angry over some fault he had found; for it was his way that he loved no fish, and because he had been served fish, which he hated, he was not cheerful. When Sir Dinadan had noticed the high prince, he spotted a fish with a great head, and he got it between two dishes and served the high prince with that fish. And then he said this: "Sir Galahalt, I may well compare you to a wolf, for a wolf will never eat fish, only meat."
Then the high prince laughed at his words.
"Well, well," said Dinadan to Lancelot, "what the devil are you doing in this country? For no ordinary knight can win any honour here because of you."
"Sir Dinadan," said Lancelot, "I promise you I shall never meet you again, nor that great spear of yours, for I can't stay in my saddle when that spear hits me. And if I have any luck, I shall keep well clear of that big rough body you carry around."
"Well," said Dinadan, "keep a good lookout always. God forbid that we ever meet, unless it is over a dish of meat."
Then the queen and the high prince laughed so hard that they could not sit at their table; and so they made great merriment until the morning, and then they heard mass, and the trumpets sounded for the field. And Queen Guinevere and all the great lords were seated, and judges in full armour with their shields, to see fair play.
Now begins the seventh battle. Duke Cambines came in, and Sir Aristance, who was reckoned a good knight, met him there, and they met so hard that each bore the other down, horse and man. Then the Earl of Lambaile came and helped the duke back on his horse. Then Sir Ossaise of Surluse came, and he struck the Earl of Lambaile down from his horse. Then they began to do great deeds of arms, and many spears were broken, and many knights were thrown to the earth. Then the King of North Wales and the Earl Ulbawes struck each other so hard that all the judges thought it was like to be the death of them. Meanwhile Queen Guinevere, and the high prince, and Sir Lancelot made Sir Dinadan get ready to joust there.
"I would ride into the field," said Dinadan, "but then one of you two will meet me."
"By God," said the high prince, "you can see how we sit here as judges with our shields, and you can always look and see whether we are sitting here or not."
So Sir Dinadan left and took his horse, and met many knights, and did exceedingly well. And when he had gone, Sir Lancelot disguised himself, and put a maiden's gown over his armour, freshly dressed up. Then Sir Lancelot had Sir Galihodin lead him through the lists, and everyone wondered what damsel it was. And so, as Sir Dinadan came into the lists, Sir Lancelot, in the damsel's dress, got Galihodin's spear and charged at Sir Dinadan. And all the while Sir Dinadan kept looking up at the place where Sir Lancelot had been, and he saw someone sitting armed in Sir Lancelot's place. But when Dinadan saw a sort of damsel, he was afraid it might be Sir Lancelot in disguise; but Sir Lancelot came at him so fast that he struck him over his horse's rump. And then, with great mockery, they got Sir Dinadan into the forest nearby, and there they stripped him down to his shirt, and put a woman's gown on him, and so brought him into the field; and so they sounded the end of the day. And every knight went and took off his armour. Then Sir Dinadan was brought in among them all. And when Queen Guinevere saw Sir Dinadan brought in among them all like that, she laughed until she fell down, and so did everyone who was there.
"Well," said Dinadan to Lancelot, "you are such a cheat that I can never be on my guard against you."
Then by general agreement they gave Sir Lancelot the prize; the next was Sir Lamorak de Galis, the third was Sir Palomides, the fourth was King Bagdemagus. So these four knights had the prize, and there was great joy, and great splendour in all the court.
And in the morning Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot went back to King Arthur; but Sir Lamorak would on no account go with them.
"I will undertake," said Sir Lancelot, "that if you will come with us, King Arthur shall order Sir Gawain and his brothers never to do you harm."
"As for that," said Sir Lamorak, "I will not trust Sir Gawain nor any of his brothers. And you may be sure, Sir Lancelot, that if it were not for my lord King Arthur's sake, I would be a match for Sir Gawain and his brothers well enough. But as for saying that I should trust them, that I never shall; and so I ask you to commend me to my lord Arthur, and to all my lords of the Round Table. And wherever I may come, I shall do you service to the best of my power. And, sir, it was only lately that I avenged that, when my lord Arthur's kin were put to the worse by Sir Palomides."
Then Sir Lamorak parted from Sir Lancelot, and each of them wept at their parting.
Now we turn from this matter and speak of Sir Tristram, whom this book is chiefly about, and we leave the king and the queen, Sir Lancelot and Sir Lamorak. And here begins the treason of King Mark, which he plotted against Sir Tristram. A great tournament and jousts were proclaimed along the coasts of Cornwall, and it was all done by Sir Galahalt the high prince and King Bagdemagus, with the intent of killing Lancelot, or else utterly destroying and shaming him; because Sir Lancelot always won the higher prize, this prince and this king held this joust against Sir Lancelot. And so their plan was revealed to King Mark, at which he was very glad.
Then King Mark thought he would have Sir Tristram come to that tournament disguised, so that no man would know him, with the intent that the high prince would think Sir Tristram was Sir Lancelot. So Sir Tristram came in at these jousts. And at that time Sir Lancelot was not there; but when they saw a disguised knight do such deeds of arms, they thought it was Sir Lancelot. And King Mark in particular said plainly that it was Sir Lancelot. Then they set upon him, both King Bagdemagus and the high prince and their knights, so that it was a wonder that Sir Tristram could ever endure that pain. Nevertheless, for all the pain he had, Sir Tristram won the prize at that tournament; and there he hurt many knights and bruised them, and they hurt him and bruised him wonderfully badly. So when the jousts were all over, they knew well that it was Sir Tristram de Liones; and all who were on King Mark's side were glad that Sir Tristram was hurt, and the rest were sorry for his hurt; for Sir Tristram was not so hated within the realm of England as Sir Lancelot was.
Then King Mark came to Sir Tristram and said, "Fair nephew, I am sorry for your hurts."
"Many thanks, my lord," said Sir Tristram.
Then King Mark had Sir Tristram put in a horse-litter, as a great sign of love, and said, "Fair cousin, I will be your doctor myself."
And so he rode off with Sir Tristram, and brought him to a castle while it was still daylight. And then King Mark had Sir Tristram eat. And then afterwards he gave him a drink, and as soon as he had drunk it he fell asleep. And when it was night, he had him carried to another castle, and there he put him in a strong prison, and there he appointed a man and a woman to give him his food and drink. So there he stayed a long while.
Then Sir Tristram was missed, and no one knew what had become of him. When Isolde the Fair heard how he was missing, she went secretly to Sir Sadok and begged him to find out where Sir Tristram was. Then, when Sadok knew how Sir Tristram was missing, he soon found out that he had been put in prison by King Mark and the traitors of Magouns. Then Sadok and two of his cousins lay in ambush, in arms, close by the castle of Tintagil. And as fortune would have it, King Mark came riding by with four of his nephews, and some of the traitors of Magouns. When Sir Sadok saw them, he broke out of the ambush and set upon them there. And when King Mark saw Sir Sadok, he fled as fast as he could; and there Sir Sadok killed all four of King Mark's nephews. But these traitors of Magouns killed one of Sadok's cousins with a great wound in the neck; but Sadok struck the other dead. Then Sir Sadok rode on his way to a castle that was called Liones, and there he found out about the treason and villainy of King Mark. So the men of that castle rode with Sir Sadok until they came to a castle called Arbray; and there in the town they found Sir Dinas the Seneschal, who was a good knight. But when Sir Sadok had told Sir Dinas all about King Mark's treason, he renounced such a king, and said he would give up the lands he held from him. And when he said these words, all the knights there said as Sir Dinas said. Then, on his advice and on Sir Sadok's, he had all the towns and castles in the country of Liones stocked and armed, and gathered all the people they could muster.
Now we turn to King Mark. When he had escaped from Sir Sadok he rode to the Castle of Tintagil, and there he raised a great cry and clamour, and called to arms everyone who could bear them. Then they searched and found where four of King Mark's cousins lay dead, and the traitor of Magouns. Then the king had them buried in a chapel. Then the king had it proclaimed through all the country that held of him that they should take up arms, for he understood that he had no choice but to go to war. When King Mark heard and understood how Sir Sadok and Sir Dinas had risen in the country of Liones, he turned his mind to wiles and treason. And this is what he did: he had letters made and forged as if from the Pope, and had a clerk who was a stranger bring them to King Mark; and these letters said that King Mark must make himself ready, on pain of excommunication, to come to the Pope with his army, to help go to Jerusalem and make war on the Saracens.
When this clerk had come, as the king had arranged, King Mark at once sent these letters on to Sir Tristram, and told the clerk to say this: that if he would go to war against the unbelievers, he would be let out of prison and have all his power back. When Sir Tristram understood this letter, he said to the clerk, "Ah, King Mark, you have always been a traitor, and you always will be. But, Clerk," said Sir Tristram, "say this to King Mark: since the Apostolic Pope has sent for him, tell him to go there himself. For tell him, traitor king that he is, I will not go at his command, whether I get out of prison or not, for I can see I am well rewarded for my true service."
Then the clerk went back to King Mark, and told him Sir Tristram's answer.
"Well," said King Mark, "he shall be tricked yet."
So he went into his chamber and forged more letters; and these letters said that the Pope wanted Sir Tristram to come himself, to make war on the unbelievers. When the clerk had come back to Sir Tristram and given him these letters, Sir Tristram looked at them, and saw at once that they were King Mark's forgeries.
"Ah," said Sir Tristram, "you have always been false, King Mark, and false you will end."
Then the clerk left Sir Tristram and went back to King Mark.
By then four wounded knights had come into the Castle of Tintagil, and one of them had his neck nearly broken in two. Another had his arm cut off, the third had been run through with a spear, the fourth had his teeth knocked in two. And when they came before King Mark they cried out, "King, why don't you run? The whole country has risen against you!"
Then King Mark was angry beyond measure.
And in the meantime Sir Percival de Galis came into the country to look for Sir Tristram. And when he heard that Sir Tristram was in prison, Sir Percival freed him outright by his knightly skill. And when Sir Tristram was free he rejoiced greatly over Sir Percival, and so did each of them over the other.
Sir Tristram said to Sir Percival, "If you will stay in these borderlands I will ride with you."
"No," said Percival, "I cannot stay in this country, for I must go into Wales."
So Sir Percival left Sir Tristram, and rode straight to King Mark, and told him how he had freed Sir Tristram. And he also told the king that he had done himself great shame in putting Sir Tristram in prison, "for he is now the most renowned knight living in this world. And believe me, the noblest knights in the world love Sir Tristram, and if he makes war on you, you will not be able to hold out against it."
"That is true," said King Mark, "but I cannot love Sir Tristram, because he loves my queen and my wife, Isolde the Fair."
"Ah, shame on you," said Sir Percival, "never say such a thing again. Aren't you Sir Tristram's uncle, and he your nephew? You should never think that so noble a knight as Sir Tristram would do himself so great a dishonour as to take his uncle's wife. All the same," said Sir Percival, "he may love your queen without sin, because she is said to be one of the most beautiful ladies in the world."
Then Sir Percival left King Mark. And when he had gone, King Mark turned his mind to more treason, even though King Mark had promised Sir Percival never, by any means whatever, to harm Sir Tristram. So at once King Mark sent word to Sir Dinas the Seneschal that he should disband all the people he had raised, for he sent him an oath that he would go himself to the Pope of Rome to make war on the unbelievers, "and this is a fairer war than raising the people against your king like this." When Sir Dinas understood that King Mark would go against the unbelievers, Sir Dinas in all haste disbanded all the people. And when the people had gone off, every man to his home, King Mark found out where Sir Tristram was with Isolde the Fair; and there, by treason, King Mark had him seized and put in prison, against the promise he had made to Sir Percival.
When Queen Isolde understood that Sir Tristram was in prison she grieved as much as ever any lady or gentlewoman grieved. Then Sir Tristram sent a letter to Isolde the Fair, and begged her to be his good lady; and if it pleased her to have a ship made ready for her and for him, he would go with her to the realm of Logres, that is, this land. When Isolde the Fair understood Sir Tristram's letter and what he meant, she sent him another, and told him to take heart, for she would have the ship made ready, and everything that was needed.
Then Isolde the Fair sent to Sir Dinas, and to Sadok, and begged them by all means to seize King Mark and put him in prison until she and Sir Tristram had left for the realm of Logres. When Sir Dinas the Seneschal understood King Mark's treason he gave her his promise in return, and sent her word that King Mark would be put in prison. And as they planned it, so it was done. And then Sir Tristram was freed from prison; and at once, in all haste, Queen Isolde and Sir Tristram went and decided whom they would take with them when they left.
Then Isolde the Fair and Sir Tristram took their ship, and came by water into this land. And they had not been four days in this land before a jousting and tournament was proclaimed that King Arthur had ordered. When Sir Tristram heard of that tournament he disguised himself, and Isolde the Fair too, and rode to that tournament. And when he came there he saw many knights jousting and tourneying; and so Sir Tristram took his place on the field, and to cut a long story short, he overthrew fourteen knights of the Round Table. When Sir Lancelot saw these knights overthrown like this, Sir Lancelot squared up to Sir Tristram. Isolde the Fair saw that Sir Lancelot had come onto the field. Then Isolde the Fair sent Sir Lancelot a ring, and let him know that it was Sir Tristram de Liones. When Sir Lancelot understood that it was Sir Tristram he was very glad, and would not joust. Then Sir Lancelot watched where Sir Tristram went, and rode after him; and then each of them rejoiced greatly over the other. And so Sir Lancelot brought Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair to Joyous Gard, which was his own castle, that he had won with his own hands. And there Sir Lancelot gave it to them to hold as their own. And believe me, that castle was stocked and furnished for a king and a royal queen to stay in. And Sir Lancelot charged all his people to honour them and love them as they would himself.
So Sir Lancelot went off to King Arthur; and then he told Queen Guinevere that the man who had jousted so well at the last tournament was Sir Tristram. And there he told her how Sir Tristram had Isolde the Fair with him in spite of King Mark, and so Queen Guinevere told all this to King Arthur. When King Arthur knew that Sir Tristram had escaped and come away from King Mark, and had brought Isolde the Fair with him, he was exceedingly glad. So because of Sir Tristram King Arthur had it proclaimed that on May Day there would be a jousting before the castle of Lonazep; and that castle was close by Joyous Gard. And this is how Arthur arranged it: that all the knights of this land, and of Cornwall, and of North Wales, would joust against all these countries, Ireland, Scotland and the rest of Wales, and the country of Gore, and Surluse, and Listinoise, and the men of Northumberland, and all those who held lands of Arthur on this side of the sea. When this proclamation was made many knights were glad and many were not.
"Sir," said Lancelot to Arthur, "by this proclamation you have made, you will put us who are around you in great danger, for there are many knights who are bitterly jealous of us. So when we meet on the day of the jousting there will be hard going among us."
"As for that," said Arthur, "I don't care. There we shall prove who is best with his hands."
So when Sir Lancelot understood why King Arthur was holding this jousting, he made such provision that Isolde the Fair could watch the jousts from a private place that was fitting for her rank.
Now we turn to Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair, and how they took great joy together every day, with every kind of pleasure they could devise. And every day Sir Tristram would go riding out hunting, for at that time Sir Tristram was called the best huntsman in the world, and the finest blower of a horn in every kind of measure. For as the books report, from Sir Tristram came all the good terms of venery and hunting, and all the lengths and measures of blowing a horn; and from him we first had all the terms of hawking, and which were beasts of the chase and which were beasts of venery, and which were vermin, and all the horn calls that belong to every kind of game: first the call for the uncoupling of the hounds, then for the seeking, the rechate (the call that brings the hounds back), the call for the flight, for the death, and the strake, and many other calls and terms, so that every gentleman has reason, to the world's end, to praise Sir Tristram and to pray for his soul.
So one day Isolde the Fair said to Sir Tristram, "I am very surprised," she said, "that you don't keep in mind that you are here in a strange country, and there are many dangerous knights here; and you know well that King Mark is full of treason. If you go riding to chase and hunt unarmed like this, you could be killed."
"My fair lady and my love, I beg your pardon. I will not do it any more."
So from then on Sir Tristram rode hunting every day in armour, with his men carrying his shield and his spear. So one day, a little before the month of May, Sir Tristram was chasing a hart exceedingly eagerly, and the hart ran past a fair spring. And then Sir Tristram got down and took off his helmet to drink of that bubbling water. Just then he heard and saw the Questing Beast come to the spring. When Sir Tristram saw that beast he put on his helmet, for he thought he would hear of Sir Palomides, since that beast was his quest. Just then Sir Tristram saw a knight in armour coming, on a noble warhorse, and he greeted him, and they talked of many things; and this knight's name was Breuse Saunce Pité. And just then the noble knight Sir Palomides came up to them, and each greeted the other, and spoke courteously to the other.
"Fair knights," said Sir Palomides, "I can tell you some news."
"What is that?" said those knights.
"Sirs, believe me, King Mark has been put in prison by his own knights, and it was all for love of Sir Tristram. For King Mark had put Sir Tristram in prison twice, and once Sir Percival freed the noble knight Sir Tristram from prison. And the last time Queen Isolde the Fair freed him, and went clean away with him into this realm; and all this while King Mark, the false traitor, is in prison."
"Is this true?" said Palomides. "Then we shall soon hear of Sir Tristram. And as for saying that I love Isolde the Fair as my lady-love, I dare stand by it that I do, and that she has my service above all other ladies, and will have it for the rest of my life."
And just as they stood talking they saw a knight in full armour coming towards them on a great horse, and one of his men carried his shield, and the other his spear. And as soon as that knight saw them he took his shield and his spear and made ready to joust.
"Fair fellows," said Sir Tristram, "there is a knight over there who will joust with us. Let's see which of us shall meet him, for I can see well that he is of King Arthur's court."
"It won't be long before he is met," said Sir Palomides, "for in my quest of this barking beast I never found a knight who wanted to joust that I refused."
"I could follow that beast as well as you," said Breuse Saunce Pité.
"Then you will fight me," said Palomides.
So Sir Palomides squared up to that other knight, Sir Bleoberis, who was a very noble knight, close kin to Sir Lancelot. And they met so hard that Sir Palomides fell to the ground, horse and all.
Then Sir Bleoberis cried aloud, "Get ready, you false traitor knight, Breuse Saunce Pité! For you may be sure I will fight you to the uttermost, for the noble knights and ladies you have falsely betrayed."
When this false knight and traitor, Breuse Saunce Pité, heard him say so, he took his horse by the bridle and fled as fast as ever his horse could run, for he was badly afraid of him. When Sir Bleoberis saw him flee he followed hard after, through thick and through thin. And by chance, as Sir Breuse fled, he saw just ahead of him three knights of the Round Table, of whom the first was called Sir Ector de Maris, the second Sir Percival de Galis, the third Sir Harry le Fise Lake, a good knight and a bold one. And as for Sir Percival, he was called in his time one of the best knights in the world, and the steadiest. When Breuse saw these knights he rode straight up to them, and cried out to them and begged them to rescue him.
"What do you need?" said Sir Ector.
"Ah, fair knights," said Sir Breuse, "the most treacherous knight there is is following me, the most cowardly and the most villainous; his name is Breuse Saunce Pité, and if he can catch me he will kill me without mercy or pity."
"Stay with us," said Sir Percival, "and we will protect you."
Then they caught sight of Sir Bleoberis, who came riding as fast as he could. Then Sir Ector put himself forward to joust ahead of them all. When Sir Bleoberis saw that they were four knights and he only one, he was in doubt whether to turn back or hold his course.
Then he said to himself, "I am a knight of the Round Table, and rather than shame my oath and my blood I will hold my course, whatever comes of it."
And then Sir Ector lowered his spear, and they struck each other exceedingly hard, but Sir Ector fell to the ground. Sir Percival saw that, and he drove his horse at him as hard as it could go, but Sir Percival took such a stroke that horse and man fell to the ground.
When Sir Harry saw that they were both on the ground, he said to himself, "Breuse was never so strong as this."
So Sir Harry turned his horse, and they met together so strongly that both the horses and the knights fell to the ground, but Sir Bleoberis's horse began to get up again. Breuse saw that, and he came crashing in, and knocked him over and over, and would have killed him as he lay on the ground. Then Sir Harry le Fise Lake got up swiftly, and took the bridle of Sir Breuse's horse, and said, "Shame on you! Never strike a knight when he is on the ground. For this knight cannot be called a shameful knight for his deeds, since, as anyone can see, even lying there on the ground he has fought honourably and got the better of exceedingly good knights."
"I won't stop for that," said Sir Breuse.
"You have no choice," said Sir Harry, "for now."
Then, when Sir Breuse saw that he had no choice and could not have his way, he spoke politely. Then Sir Harry let him go. And then at once he rode his horse over Sir Bleoberis, and dashed him to the ground as if he meant to kill him.
When Sir Harry saw him act so basely he cried, "Traitor knight, stop, for shame!"
And as Sir Harry was getting onto his horse to fight Sir Breuse, Sir Breuse ran at him while he was halfway onto his horse, and struck him down, horse and man, to the ground, and nearly killed Sir Harry, the good knight.
Sir Percival saw that, and then he cried, "Traitor knight, what are you doing?"
And when Sir Percival was on his horse, Sir Breuse turned his horse and fled as fast as ever he could, and Sir Percival and Sir Harry followed hard after him, but the longer they chased the farther behind they were.
Then they turned back and came to Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Bleoberis.
"Ah, fair knights," said Bleoberis, "why have you helped that false knight and traitor?"
"Why," said Sir Harry, "what knight is he? For I know well he is a false knight," said Sir Harry, "and a coward and a wicked knight."
"Sir," said Bleoberis, "he is the most cowardly knight alive, and a devourer of ladies and a destroyer of good knights, and especially of Arthur's."
"What is your name?" said Sir Ector.
"My name is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis."
"Alas, fair cousin," said Ector, "forgive me, for I am Sir Ector de Maris."
Then Sir Percival and Sir Harry rejoiced greatly that they had met Bleoberis, but they were all downcast that Sir Breuse had escaped them, and they grieved greatly over it.
Just as they stood there like this, Sir Palomides came up, and when he saw Bleoberis's shield lying on the ground, Palomides said, "Let the man who owns that shield square up to me, for he struck me down near here, by a spring, and so I will fight him on foot."
"I am ready," said Bleoberis, "to answer you here. For you may be sure, sir knight, it was I, and my name is Bleoberis de Ganis."
"Well met," said Palomides, "and you may be sure my name is Palomides the Saracen."
And each of them hated the other to the death.
"Sir Palomides," said Ector, "you may be sure there is neither you nor any knight alive who kills any of our blood but he shall die for it. So if you want to fight, go and find Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram, and there you will find your match."
"I have met them," said Palomides, "but I never won any honour from them."
"Was there never any other knight," said Sir Ector, "except those two, who was a match for you?"
"Yes," said Palomides, "there was a third, as good a knight as either of them, and for his age he was the best I ever found. For if he had lived until he was a stronger man, there would be no knight alive now like him; and his name was Sir Lamorak de Galis. And when he had jousted at a tournament, he overthrew me there and thirty knights more, and won the prize. And as he was leaving, Sir Gawain and his brothers met him, and with great effort they killed him treacherously, to the great loss of all good knights."
As soon as Sir Percival heard that his brother Sir Lamorak was dead, he fell swooning over his horse's mane, and there he grieved more than any knight ever grieved.
And when Sir Percival got up he said, "Alas, my good and noble brother Sir Lamorak, now we shall never meet again! And I believe a man could not find in all the wide world such a knight as he was for his age. And it is too much to bear, the death of our father King Pellinore, and now the death of our good brother Sir Lamorak."
Then in the meantime a servant came from King Arthur's court, and told them of the great tournament that was to be held at Lonazep, and how these lands, Cornwall and North Wales, would be against all comers.
Now we turn to Sir Tristram. As he rode hunting he met Sir Dinadan, who had come into that country to look for Sir Tristram. Then Sir Dinadan told Sir Tristram his name, but Sir Tristram would not tell him his, and that made Sir Dinadan angry.
"I saw a foolish knight like you just today," said Sir Dinadan, "lying by a spring, and he looked as if he were asleep; and there he lay grinning like a fool, and would not speak, and his shield lay beside him, and his horse stood beside him. And I knew well he was a lover."
"Ah, fair sir," said Sir Tristram, "aren't you a lover?"
"Mary, a curse on that trade!" said Sir Dinadan.
"That is badly said," said Sir Tristram, "for a knight can never be a man of prowess unless he is a lover."
"Well said," said Sir Dinadan. "Now tell me your name, since you're a lover, or else I will fight you."
"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "it is no reason to fight me, that I won't tell you my name. And as for my name, you shall not know it this time."
"Shame on you," said Dinadan. "You call yourself a knight and you don't dare tell me your name? Then I'll fight you."
"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "I will think it over, for I will not fight unless I care to. And if I do fight," said Sir Tristram, "you will not be able to stand against me."
"Shame on you, coward," said Sir Dinadan.
And as they sat their horses there, they saw a knight come riding towards them.
"Look," said Sir Tristram, "here comes a knight riding who will joust with you."
As soon as Sir Dinadan looked at him he said, "That is the same moonstruck knight I saw lying by the spring, neither sleeping nor waking."
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "I know that knight well, with the covered shield of azure. He is the son of the King of Northumberland, his name is Epinogris, and he is as great a lover as any I know, and he loves the daughter of the King of Wales, a very beautiful lady. And now I suppose," said Sir Tristram, "if you ask him he will joust with you, and then you will find out whether a lover is the better knight, or you who will not love any lady."
"Well," said Dinadan, "now you'll see what I can do."
With that Sir Dinadan called out loud, "Sir knight, get ready to joust with me, for it is the custom of knights-errant for one to joust with another."
"Sir," said Epinogris, "is that the rule among you knights-errant, to make a knight joust whether he likes it or not?"
"As for that," said Dinadan, "get ready, for here I come."
And with that they spurred their horses and met together so hard that Epinogris struck Sir Dinadan down.
Then Sir Tristram rode up to Sir Dinadan and said, "Well now! It seems to me the lover has done rather well."
"Shame on you, coward," said Sir Dinadan, "and if you're any good as a knight, avenge me."
"No," said Sir Tristram, "I will not joust this time. But get your horse and let us go from here."
"God keep me from your company," said Sir Dinadan, "for I've never had a scrap of luck since I met you." And so they parted.
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "perhaps I could tell you news of Sir Tristram."
"God keep me from your company," said Dinadan, "for Sir Tristram would be a great deal the worse if he were in your company." And then they parted.
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "it may happen yet that I shall meet you in other places."
So Sir Tristram rode to Joyous Gard, and there he heard a great noise and outcry in that town.
"What is this noise?" said Sir Tristram.
"Sir," they said, "there is a knight of this castle who has been with us a long time, and just now he has been killed by two knights, for no other reason than that our knight said Sir Lancelot was a better knight than Sir Gawain."
"That was a poor reason," said Sir Tristram, "to kill a good knight, for speaking well of his master."
"That is little help to us," said the men of the town. "For if Sir Lancelot had been here, we would soon have been avenged on those false knights."
When Sir Tristram heard them say so he sent for his shield and his spear, and swiftly, within a little while, he had overtaken them, and told them to turn and make amends for the wrong they had done.
"What amends do you want?" said one of the knights.
And with that they took their run, and met each other so hard that Sir Tristram struck that knight down over his horse's tail. Then the other knight squared up to Sir Tristram, and he served that knight the same way. And then they got off their horses as best they could, and set their shields and their swords to fight to the uttermost.
"Knights," said Sir Tristram, "you will tell me where you come from, and what your names are. For you might be such men that you would hardly escape my hands; and you might be men of such a country that, for all your evil deeds, you would go free."
"Know this, sir knight," they said, "we are not afraid to tell you our names. For my name is Sir Agravain, and my name is Gaheris, brothers of the good knight Sir Gawain, and we are King Arthur's nephews."
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "for King Arthur's sake I will let you go this time. But it is a shame," said Sir Tristram, "that Sir Gawain and you, who come of such great blood, you four brothers, should have such a name as you have. For you are called the greatest destroyers and murderers of good knights there are now in this realm; for I have heard it said that Sir Gawain and you killed between you a better knight than any of you ever were, the noble knight Sir Lamorak de Galis. If it had pleased God," said Sir Tristram, "I wish I had been beside Sir Lamorak at his death."
"Then you would have gone the same way," said Sir Gaheris.
"Fair knight," said Sir Tristram, "there would have had to be many more knights than you are."
And with that Sir Tristram left them and rode towards Joyous Gard. And when he had gone they took their horses, and one said to the other, "We'll overtake him and take revenge on him, in spite of Sir Lamorak."
So when they had overtaken Sir Tristram, Sir Agravain called to him, "Turn, traitor knight!"
"That is badly said," said Sir Tristram. And with that he drew his sword, and struck Sir Agravain such a blow on the helmet that he tumbled off his horse in a swoon, and he had a grievous wound. And then he turned to Gaheris, and Sir Tristram struck his sword and his helmet together with such force that Gaheris fell out of his saddle. And so Sir Tristram rode to Joyous Gard, and there he got down and took off his armour.
So Sir Tristram told Isolde the Fair all about his adventure, as you have heard before. And when she heard him tell of Sir Dinadan, she said, "Sir, isn't that the man who made the song about King Mark?"
"He is the very man," said Sir Tristram, "for he is the best joker and jester there is, and a noble knight with his hands, and the best companion I know, and all good knights love his company."
"Alas, sir," she said, "why didn't you bring him with you?"
"Don't worry," said Sir Tristram, "for he is riding about this country looking for me, and so he will not leave until he has met me."
And there Sir Tristram told Isolde the Fair how Sir Dinadan held out against all lovers. Just then a servant came in and told Sir Tristram that a knight-errant had come into the town, with such and such colours on his shield.
"That is Sir Dinadan," said Sir Tristram. "Do you know what you should do?" said Sir Tristram. "Send for him, my Lady Isolde, and I will keep out of sight, and you will hear the merriest knight you ever spoke with, and the maddest talker. And I beg you with all my heart to give him a good welcome."
Then at once Isolde the Fair sent into the town, and asked Sir Dinadan to come into the castle and rest there with a lady.
"With all my heart," said Sir Dinadan. And so he mounted his horse and rode into the castle; and there he got down, and his armour was taken off, and he was brought into the castle. At once Isolde the Fair came to him, and each greeted the other; then she asked him where he came from.
"Madam," said Dinadan, "I am of King Arthur's court, and a knight of the Round Table, and my name is Sir Dinadan."
"What are you doing in this country?" said Isolde the Fair.
"Madam," he said, "I am looking for Sir Tristram, the good knight, for I was told that he was in this country."
"That may well be," said Isolde the Fair, "but I know nothing of him."
"Madam," said Dinadan, "I wonder at Sir Tristram and other lovers like him, what is wrong with them that they are so mad and so besotted over women."
"Why," said Isolde the Fair, "are you a knight and not a lover? That's a shame on you. For you cannot be called a good knight unless you take up a quarrel for a lady."
"God keep me from it," said Dinadan, "for the joy of love is too short, and the sorrow of it, and what comes of it, lasts far too long."
"Ah," said Isolde the Fair, "don't say so. For near here was the good knight Sir Bleoberis, who fought three knights at once for a damsel's sake, and won her before the King of Northumberland."
"That's so," said Sir Dinadan, "for I know him well for a good knight and a noble one, and come of noble blood; for they are all noble knights, the family he comes from, that is, Sir Lancelot du Lake's."
"Now tell me, please," said Isolde the Fair, "will you fight for my love against three knights who do me great wrong? And since you are one of King Arthur's knights, I call on you to fight for me."
Then Sir Dinadan said, "I will tell you this: you are as beautiful a lady as I ever saw, and much more beautiful than my lady Queen Guinevere. But believe me, in a word, I will not fight three knights for you, Jesus forbid!"
Then Isolde laughed, and had great fun at his expense. So he had all the welcome she could give him, and he stayed there all that night. And early in the morning Sir Tristram put on his armour, and Isolde the Fair gave him a good helmet; and then he promised her that he would meet Sir Dinadan, and the two of them would ride together to Lonazep, where the tournament was to be. "And there I will make a place ready for you, where you can watch the tournament."
Then Sir Tristram set off with two squires who carried his shield and his spears, which were great and long.
Then after that Sir Dinadan left, and rode on his way at a great pace until he had overtaken Sir Tristram. And when Sir Dinadan had overtaken him he recognised him at once, and he hated his company above all other knights'.
"Ah," said Sir Dinadan, "are you that coward knight I met yesterday? On guard, for you'll joust with me whether you like it or not."
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "I am unwilling to joust."
And so they let their horses run, and Sir Tristram missed him on purpose, and Sir Dinadan broke a spear on Sir Tristram, and with that Sir Dinadan made ready to draw his sword.
"Not so," said Sir Tristram. "Why are you so angry? I will not fight."
"Shame on you, coward," said Dinadan. "You disgrace all knights."
"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "I don't care, for I will ride in your train and be under your protection; for since you are such a good knight, you can keep me safe."
"The devil rid me of you," said Sir Dinadan, "for you are as fine a man of arms, and as fine in your person, as I ever saw, and the biggest coward I ever saw. What are you going to do with those great spears you carry about with you?"
"I will give them," said Sir Tristram, "to some good knight when I come to the tournament; and if I see you do best, I'll give them to you."
So as they rode along talking like this, they saw a knight-errant coming towards them, who made ready to joust.
"Look," said Sir Tristram, "there's one who wants to joust. Now get ready for him."
"Ah, shame on you," said Sir Dinadan.
"No, not so," said Tristram, "for that knight looks like a nasty piece of work."
"Then I'll do it," said Sir Dinadan.
And so they made ready their shields and their spears, and they met together so hard that the other knight struck Sir Dinadan down off his horse.
"There," said Sir Tristram, "it would have been better if you had left it alone."
"Shame on you, coward," said Sir Dinadan.
Then Sir Dinadan jumped up and took his sword in his hand, and offered to fight on foot.
"In friendship or in anger?" said the other knight.
"Let us fight in friendship," said Sir Dinadan.
"What is your name?" said that knight. "Please tell me."
"Know this, my name is Sir Dinadan."
"Ah, Dinadan," said that knight, "and my name is Gareth, the youngest brother of Sir Gawain."
Then each of them gave the other a warm welcome, for this Gareth was the best knight of all the brothers, and he proved a good knight. Then they took their horses, and there they talked about Sir Tristram, and what a coward he was; and Sir Tristram heard every word and laughed them to scorn.
Then they caught sight of a knight coming towards them, well horsed and well armed, and he made himself ready to joust.
"Fair knights," said Sir Tristram, "decide between you who will joust with that knight, for I warn you I will not fight him."
"Then I will," said Sir Gareth.
And so they met, and there that knight struck Sir Gareth down over his horse's rump.
"Well now," said Sir Tristram to Sir Dinadan, "get ready now and avenge the good knight Gareth."
"That I will not," said Sir Dinadan, "for he has struck down a much bigger knight than I am."
"Ah," said Sir Tristram, "now, Sir Dinadan, I can see and feel well that your heart is failing you. So now you'll see what I can do."
And then Sir Tristram crashed into that knight, and knocked him clean off his horse. And when Sir Dinadan saw that, he marvelled greatly; and then he guessed that it was Sir Tristram.
Then this knight who was on foot drew his sword to fight.
"What is your name?" said Sir Tristram.
"Believe me," said that knight, "my name is Sir Palomides."
"Which knight do you hate most?" said Sir Tristram.
"Sir knight," he said, "I hate Sir Tristram to the death, for if I can meet him, one of us will die."
"Well said," said Sir Tristram, "and believe me, I am Sir Tristram de Liones, and now do your worst."
When Sir Palomides heard him say so he was stunned. And then he said this: "I beg you, Sir Tristram, forgive me all my ill will, and if I live I will serve you above all other knights living. And I deeply regret the ill will I have borne you. I don't know what is wrong with me, for it seems to me that you are a good knight, and no other knight who called himself a good knight ought to hate you. So I beg you, Sir Tristram, take no offence at my unkind words."
"Sir Palomides," said Sir Tristram, "you speak well, and I know well that you are a good knight, for I have seen you proved; and you have taken on many great enterprises, and achieved them well. So," said Sir Tristram, "if you have any ill will towards me, now you can settle it, for I am ready for you."
"Not so, my lord Sir Tristram. I will do you knightly service in everything, as you command."
"And on those terms I will take you," said Sir Tristram.
And so they rode on their way talking of many things.
"O my lord Sir Tristram," said Dinadan, "you have made a fool of me, and badly, for God knows I came into this country for your sake, and on the advice of my lord Sir Lancelot; and yet Sir Lancelot would not tell me for certain where I could find you."
"Truly," said Sir Tristram, "Sir Lancelot knew well where I was, for I was staying in his own castle."
So they rode on until they came in sight of the Castle of Lonazep. And then they saw four hundred tents and pavilions, and marvellously great preparations.
"God help me," said Sir Tristram, "over there I see the greatest preparations that I ever saw."
"Sir," said Palomides, "it seems to me that there were preparations as great at the Castle of Maidens upon the rock, where you won the prize, for I saw with my own eyes where you outjousted thirty knights."
"Sir," said Dinadan, "and at Surluse, at the tournament that Galahalt of the Long Isles held, which lasted seven days, there was as great a gathering as there is here, for there were many nations."
"Who was the best?" said Sir Tristram.
"Sir, it was Sir Lancelot du Lake and the noble knight Sir Lamorak de Galis, and Sir Lancelot won the prize."
"I don't doubt," said Sir Tristram, "that he won the prize, provided he was not overmatched by many knights. And as for the death of Sir Lamorak," said Sir Tristram, "it was too great a pity, for I dare say he was the cleanest in his strength and the best winded man of his age that was alive. For I knew him to be the strongest knight that I ever met with, unless it was Sir Lancelot. Alas," said Sir Tristram, "I am full of grief for his death. And if they were not the cousins of my lord Arthur who killed him, they should die for it, and all those who consented to his death. And it is for such things," said Sir Tristram, "that I am afraid to go to the court of my lord Arthur. I want you to know that," said Sir Tristram to Gareth.
"Sir, I don't blame you," said Gareth, "for I understand very well the vengefulness of my brothers, Sir Gawain, Agravain, Gaheris and Mordred. But as for me," said Sir Gareth, "I don't meddle in their affairs, and that is why there is none of them who loves me. And because I understand that they are murderers of good knights, I left their company. And I wish to God," said Gareth, "that I had been there when the noble knight Sir Lamorak was killed."
"Now, as Jesus is my help," said Sir Tristram, "that is well said of you, for I would rather have been there than have all the gold between here and Rome."
"Indeed," said Palomides, "and so I wish I had been there. And yet I never won the prize at any jousts or tournament where he was, but he got the better of me, whether on foot or on horseback. And on the day that he was killed he did the greatest deeds of arms that I ever saw a knight do in all the days of my life. And when the prize was given to him by my lord Arthur, Sir Gawain and his three brothers, Agravain, Gaheris and Sir Mordred, set upon Sir Lamorak in a secret place, and there they killed his horse. And so they fought with him on foot for more than three hours, both in front of him and behind him; and Sir Mordred gave him his death wound from behind, in his back, and hacked him all to pieces. One of his squires who saw it told me so."
"Shame on treason!" said Sir Tristram. "For it breaks my heart to hear this tale."
"So it does mine," said Gareth. "Brothers of mine as they are, I shall never love them, nor keep company with them, for that deed."
"Now let us speak of other deeds," said Palomides, "and let him be, for you cannot get his life back."
"That is the greater pity," said Dinadan. "For Sir Gawain and his brothers, except you, Sir Gareth, hate most of the good knights of the Round Table. For I know very well that if they could do it secretly, they hate my lord Sir Lancelot and all his kin, and bear him a great secret spite. And my lord Sir Lancelot is well aware of that, and that is why he keeps the good knights of his kin about him."
"Sir," said Palomides, "let us leave this matter, and let us see how we shall do at this tournament. My advice," said Palomides, "is that we four hold together against all who come."
"Not on my advice," said Sir Tristram, "for I can see by their tents that there will be four hundred knights. And have no doubt," said Sir Tristram, "that there will be many good knights among them; and however valiant or strong a man may be, he can still be overmatched. And I have seen that happen to knights many times: when they expected most surely to win honour, they lost it. For valour is worth nothing unless it is mixed with wisdom. And as for me," said Sir Tristram, "it may be that I can keep my own head as well as the next man."
So they rode on until they came to the bank of the Humber, where they heard a cry and a sorrowful sound. Then they saw, coming down the wind, a rich vessel covered over with red silk, and the vessel landed close beside them. With that Sir Tristram dismounted, and his knights too. And so Sir Tristram went ahead and entered the vessel. And when he came inside he saw a fair bed richly covered, and on it lay a dead knight of fine bearing, all armed except for the head, and all bloodied with deadly wounds; and he seemed to have been an exceedingly good knight.
"How can this be," said Sir Tristram, "that this knight has been killed like this?"
Then Sir Tristram noticed a letter in the dead knight's hand.
"Master mariners," said Sir Tristram, "what does that letter mean?"
"Sir," they said, "in that letter you shall hear and learn how he was killed, and for what cause, and what his name was. But, sir," said the mariners, "you may be sure that no man shall take that letter and read it unless he is a good knight, and will faithfully promise to avenge his death. Otherwise no knight shall see that letter opened."
"Believe me," said Sir Tristram, "some of us may avenge his death as well as anyone else; and if it is as you mariners say, his death shall be avenged."
And with that Sir Tristram took the letter out of the knight's hand, and it said this: "I, Hermance, king and lord of the Red City, send my greeting to all knights-errant, commending myself to you noble knights of Arthur's court. I beg them all to find among themselves one knight who will fight for my sake with two brothers whom I raised up from nothing, and who have killed me wickedly and treacherously. And so I beg one good knight to avenge my death. And whoever avenges my death, I will that he shall have my Red City and all my castles."
"Sir," said the mariners, "you may be sure that this king and knight who lies here was a most honourable man and of very great prowess, and he dearly loved all kinds of knights-errant."
"God help me," said Sir Tristram, "this is a pitiful case, and I would very gladly take this enterprise upon myself. But I have made such a promise that I must be at this great tournament, or else I am shamed. For I know well that it was especially for my sake that my lord Arthur had these jousts and this tournament held in this country, and I know well that many honourable people will be at that tournament to see me. And so I am afraid that if I take this enterprise upon myself I shall not come back in time for these jousts."
"Sir," said Palomides, "I beg you, give this enterprise to me, and you shall see me achieve it honourably, or else I shall die in this quarrel."
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "I give you this enterprise, on condition that you are with me at this tournament, which shall be a week from today."
"Sir," said Palomides, "I promise you that I shall be with you by that day, if I am not killed or maimed."
Then Sir Tristram, Gareth and Sir Dinadan left, and left Sir Palomides in the vessel; and so Sir Tristram watched the mariners as they sailed away along the Humber. And when Sir Palomides was out of their sight they took their horses and looked about them. And then they saw a knight who came riding towards them unarmed, with nothing on him but a sword. And when this knight came near them he greeted them, and they greeted him in return.
"Fair knights," said that knight, "since you are knights-errant, I beg you to come and see my castle, and take such hospitality as you find there. I beg you with all my heart."
And so they rode with him to his castle, and there they were brought into the hall, which was finely furnished. And so they were unarmed there, and seated at a table. And when this knight saw Sir Tristram, he knew him at once. And then this knight grew pale, and angry with Sir Tristram. When Sir Tristram saw his host's face change like that, he marvelled, and said, "Sir, my host, what is the matter with you?"
"Know this," said he, "I am the worse for having you here. For I know you, Sir Tristram de Liones. You killed my brother. And so I give you fair warning: I will kill you if I can ever get you in the open."
"Sir knight," said Sir Tristram, "I have no memory of ever killing any brother of yours. And if you say that I did, I will make amends as far as I can."
"I want no amends," said the knight. "Just watch out for me."
So when he had dined Sir Tristram asked for his armour, and left. And so they rode on their way, and after a while Sir Dinadan saw a knight coming, well armed and well mounted, without a shield.
"Sir Tristram," said Sir Dinadan, "look to yourself, for I dare swear that is your host coming over there, who means to fight you."
"Let him come," said Sir Tristram. "I shall face him as well as I can."
At once the knight, when he came near Sir Tristram, shouted to him and told him to stand and defend himself. So they crashed together, but Sir Tristram struck the other knight so hard that he carried him over his horse's rump. That knight got up quickly and took his horse again, and so rode fiercely at Sir Tristram, and struck him twice, hard, on the helm.
"Sir knight," said Sir Tristram, "I beg you to stop and strike me no more, for I would be loath to fight you if I had the choice, for I have your food and your drink inside me."
For all that, he would not stop. And then Sir Tristram gave him such a blow on the helm that he fell headlong from his horse, so that the blood burst out at the breathing holes of his helm, and so he lay still, likely to be dead.
Then Sir Tristram said, "I regret that I struck that blow so hard, for I think he is dead."
And so they left him and rode on their way.
So they had ridden only a little while when they saw two very fine-looking knights riding towards them, well armed and well mounted, with good servants about them. The one was Berrant le Apres, and he was called the King with the Hundred Knights; and the other was Sir Segwarides; and they were two renowned and noble knights. So as they came alongside each other, the king looked at Sir Dinadan, who at that time had Sir Tristram's helm on his shoulder. The king had seen that helm before in the keeping of the Queen of North Wales, and that queen the king loved as his lady-love; and the Queen of North Wales had given that helm to Isolde the Fair, and Queen Isolde the Fair had given it to Sir Tristram.
"Sir knight," said Berrant, "where did you get that helm?"
"What do you want to know for?" said Sir Dinadan.
"Because I will fight you," said the king, "for the love of her who owned that helm. And so defend yourself."
So they parted and came together with all the might of their horses, and there the King with the Hundred Knights struck Sir Dinadan to the ground, horse and all. And then he commanded his servant, "Go and take his helm off, and keep it."
So the servant went to unbuckle his helm.
"What, the helm? What do you think you are doing?" said Sir Tristram. "Leave that helm alone."
"For what purpose, sir knight," said the king, "will you meddle with that helm?"
"Believe me," said Sir Tristram, "that helm shall not part from me until it has been more dearly paid for."
"Then make ready," said Sir Berrant to Sir Tristram.
So they crashed together, and there Sir Tristram struck him down over his horse's tail. And then the king got up quickly, and quickly got back on his horse. And then he struck fiercely at Sir Tristram with many great strokes. And then Sir Tristram gave Sir Berrant such a blow on the helm that he fell down from his horse, badly stunned.
"Look," said Dinadan, "that helm brings bad luck to the two of us. I took a fall for it, and now, sir king, you have taken another."
Then Segwarides asked, "Who will joust with me?"
"I beg you," said Sir Gareth to Dinadan, "let me have this joust."
"Sir," said Dinadan, "I beg you, take it, as far as I'm concerned."
"That isn't fair," said Tristram, "for this joust should be yours."
"In a word," said Dinadan, "I want no part of it."
Then Gareth squared up to Sir Segwarides, and there Sir Segwarides struck Gareth and his horse to the ground.
"Now," said Sir Tristram to Dinadan, "joust with that knight there."
"I want no part of it," said Dinadan.
"Then I will," said Sir Tristram.
And then Sir Tristram rode at him and gave him a fall. And so they left them on foot, and Sir Tristram rode to Joyous Gard. And there Sir Gareth, out of his courtesy, would not have gone into this castle, but Sir Tristram would not allow him to leave. And so they dismounted and unarmed, and were warmly entertained. But when Dinadan came before Isolde the Fair he cursed the time that he ever carried Sir Tristram's helm, and there he told her how Sir Tristram had made a fool of him. Then there was such laughing and joking at Sir Dinadan's expense that they did not know what to do with him.
Now we will leave them merry inside Joyous Gard, and speak of Sir Palomides. Sir Palomides sailed along the Humber to the coast of the sea, where there was a fair castle. And at that time it was early in the morning, before daybreak. Then the mariners went to Sir Palomides, who was fast asleep.
"Sir knight," said the mariners, "you must get up, for here is a castle that you must go into."
"I agree," said Sir Palomides; and with that he went ashore. And then he blew the horn that the mariners had given him. And when the people inside the castle heard that horn they sent out many knights; and there they stood on the walls, and said with one voice, "Welcome to this castle!"
And then it grew full daylight, and Sir Palomides entered the castle. And within a while he was served with many different dishes. Then Sir Palomides heard much weeping and great grief all about him.
"What can this mean?" said Sir Palomides. "I do not like to hear such sorrow, and I would gladly know what it means."
Then there came before him a man whose name was Sir Ebel, who said this: "Believe me, sir knight, this grief and sorrow is made here every day, and for this reason. We had a king who was called Hermance, and he was King of the Red City; and this king who was our lord was a noble knight, generous and free in his spending. And in all the world he loved nothing so much as the knights-errant of King Arthur's court, and all jousting, hunting and every kind of knightly sport. For so kind a king and knight never had the rule of poor people as he was; and because of his goodness and his nobility we mourn for him, and always shall. And all kings and great lords may take warning by our lord, for he was destroyed through his own fault. For if he had cherished those of his own blood he would still be alive, with great riches and in peace. But all great lords may take warning by our king. And alas," said Ebel, "that we must give warning to all others by his death!"
"Tell me," said Palomides, "in what way your lord was killed, and by whom."
"Sir," said Sir Ebel, "our king brought up two men from childhood who are now dangerous knights. And our king held these two knights so dear that he loved no man and trusted no man of his own blood, nor anyone else who was about him. And our king was governed by these two knights, and so they ruled him and his lands without challenge, and they would never allow any of his blood to have any say with our king. And besides, he was so generous and so noble, and they so false and deceitful, that they ruled him without challenge. And the lords of our king's blood saw that, and left him and went to their own estates. Then when these two traitors understood that they had driven all the lords of his blood away from him, they were not content with that rule, but then they meant to have more. For as the old saying has always gone: 'Give a peasant rule, and it will never be enough for him.' For whoever is ruled by a man born a peasant, though the lord of the land is born a gentleman, that same peasant will destroy all the gentlemen about him. And so, all great men and lords, beware whom you take about you. And if you are a knight of King Arthur's court, remember this tale, for this is the end and conclusion of it. My lord and king rode into the forest near here on the advice of these traitors, and there he hunted the red deer, armed at all points, just like a good knight. And so with the exertion he grew thirsty, and then he dismounted and drank at a spring. And when he had dismounted, by the agreement of these two traitors, the one who is called Helius suddenly struck our king through the body with a spear, and so they left him there. And when they had gone, then by chance I came to the spring, and found my lord and king wounded to the death. And when I heard his complaint, I had him brought to the waterside, and I put him in that same ship alive. And when my lord King Hermance was in that vessel, he required me, by the true faith I owed him, to write a letter in this form."
And the letter, Sir Ebel went on, said this: "Commending myself to King Arthur and to all his knights-errant, I beg them all, since I, King Hermance, King of the Red City, have been killed in this way by wickedness and treason, through two knights of my own, of my own bringing up and of my own making, that some honourable knight will avenge my death, since I have always been, as far as I could, well disposed towards Arthur's court. And whoever will risk his life against these two traitors for my sake in single battle, I, King Hermance, King of the Red City, freely give him all the lands and rents that I ever held in my life."
"This letter," said Ebel, "I wrote at my lord's command, and then he received his Creator in the sacrament. And when he was dead, he had commanded me, before he was cold, to put that letter firmly in his hand. And then he commanded me to send that same vessel off down the Humber, and to give these mariners orders never to stop until they came to Logres, where all the noble knights will gather at this time. 'And there some good knight will have pity on me and avenge my death, for there was never king or lord more falsely or more treacherously killed than I am here, to my death.' That was the complaint of our King Hermance. Now," said Sir Ebel, "you know everything, how our lord was betrayed. We ask you, for God's sake, have pity on his death, and avenge it honourably, and then you may hold all these lands. For we all know well that if you can kill these two traitors, the Red City and all who are in it will take you for their lord."
"Truly," said Sir Palomides, "it grieves my heart to hear you tell this sorrowful tale. And to tell the truth, I saw the very letter that you speak of, and one of the best knights on earth read that letter to me, and at his command I came here to avenge your king's death. And so be done, and let me know where I shall find those traitors, for I shall never be at ease in my heart until I am at grips with them."
"Sir," said Sir Ebel, "then take your ship again, and that ship must bring you to the Delectable Isle, close by the Red City, and we in this castle shall pray for you and wait for your return. For this same castle, if you succeed, must be yours, for our King Hermance had this castle built for love of the two traitors; and so we have held it by strong hand, and so we are hard threatened."
"Do you know what you shall do?" said Sir Palomides. "Whatever becomes of me, see that you keep this castle well. For if I have the misfortune to be killed in this quest, I am sure that one of the best knights in the world will come to avenge my death, and that is Sir Tristram de Liones, or else Sir Lancelot du Lake."
Then Sir Palomides left that castle. And as he came near the city, there came out of a ship a fine-looking knight, armed, to meet him, with his shield on his shoulder and his hand on his sword. And as soon as he came near Sir Palomides he said, "Sir knight, what are you looking for here? Give up this quest, for it is mine, and it was mine before ever it was yours, and so I will have it."
"Sir knight," said Palomides, "it may well be that this quest was yours before it was mine. But when the letter was taken out of the dead king's hand, at that time, by all likelihood, there was no knight who had undertaken to avenge the death of the king. And so at that time I promised to avenge his death, and so I shall, or else I am shamed."
"You speak well," said the knight, "but believe me, then I will fight you, and whichever of us two is the better knight, let him take the battle in hand."
"I agree," said Sir Palomides.
And then they set their shields and pulled out their swords, and laid into each other with many heavy blows, like men of might. And this fighting went on for more than an hour; but at last Sir Palomides grew stronger and had the better wind, so that he struck that knight such a blow that he made him go down on his knees. Then that knight spoke aloud and said, "Noble knight, hold your hand!"
Sir Palomides was courteous, and held back his hand. Then this knight said, "Believe me, knight, you are worthier to have this battle than I am. And I ask you, by your knighthood, tell me your name."
"Sir, my name is Palomides, a knight of King Arthur's and of the Round Table, and I came here to avenge the death of this dead king."
"Well met," said the knight to Palomides, "for of all the knights alive, except three, you are the one I would most gladly have. The first is Sir Lancelot du Lake, and Sir Tristram de Liones, and the third is my near cousin, Sir Lamorak de Galis. And I am the brother of King Hermance who is dead, and my name is Sir Herminde."
"You speak well," said Sir Palomides, "and you shall see how I fare. And if I am killed there, go to my lord Sir Lancelot, or else to my lord Sir Tristram, and beg them to avenge my death. For as for Sir Lamorak, you will never see him in this world."
"Alas," said Sir Herminde, "how can that be?"
"He has been killed," said Sir Palomides, "by Sir Gawain and his brothers."
"God help me," said Herminde, "it was not one against one that killed him."
"That is the truth," said Sir Palomides, "for it was four dangerous knights who killed him, that is, Sir Gawain, Sir Agravain, Sir Gaheris and Sir Mordred; but Sir Gareth, the fifth brother, was away, the best knight of them all."
And so Sir Palomides told Herminde the whole story, and how they had killed Sir Lamorak by nothing but treason.
So Sir Palomides took his ship, and landed at the Delectable Isle. And in the meantime Sir Herminde, who was the king's brother, landed at the Red City, and there he told them how a knight of King Arthur's had come to avenge King Hermance's death: "And his name is Sir Palomides, the good knight, who for the most part follows the beast Glatisant, the Questing Beast."
Then the whole city rejoiced greatly, for they had heard much of Sir Palomides and of his noble prowess. So they appointed a messenger, and sent him to the two brothers, and told them to make ready, for a knight had come who would fight them both. So the messenger went to them where they were, at a castle close by, and there he told them how a knight had come from King Arthur's court to fight them both at once.
"He is welcome," they said. "But tell us, we beg you, whether it is Sir Lancelot or any of his blood."
"He is none of that blood," said the messenger.
"Then we care the less," said the two brothers, "for we have no wish to fight with any of the blood of Sir Lancelot."
"Believe me," said the messenger, "his name is Sir Palomides, who is still unchristened, a noble knight."
"Well," they said, "if he is unchristened now, he will never be christened."
So they agreed to be at the city within two days.
And when Sir Palomides came to the city they rejoiced exceedingly over him, and then they looked him over, and saw that he was well made, clean-limbed and big, and sound in all his limbs, and neither too young nor too old. And so all the people praised him. And though he was not christened, yet he believed in the best manner, and was very faithful and true to his promise, and of good character. And he was unchristened because he had made his vow that he would never be christened until he had achieved the beast Glatisant, which was a very wonderful beast, and of great meaning, for Merlin prophesied much about that beast. And Sir Palomides had also vowed never to take full Christianity until he had fought seven battles within the lists.
So on the third day these two brothers came to the city, one called Helius and the other called Helake, who were men of great prowess. For all that they were false and full of treason, and only poor men by birth, yet they were noble knights with their hands. And they brought forty knights with them, so that they would be strong enough for the Red City. So the two brothers came with great boastfulness and pride, for they had put the Red City in fear and done it harm. Then they were brought to the lists, and Sir Palomides came into the place and said this: "Are you the two brothers, Helius and Helake, who killed your king and lord, Sir Hermance, by wickedness and treason, the king for whom I have come here to avenge his death?"
"Know this," said Sir Helius and Sir Helake, "we are the same knights who killed King Hermance. And know this too, Palomides the Saracen: we will handle you so before you leave that you'll wish you'd been christened."
"That may well be," said Sir Palomides, "for I would not wish to die before I was christened. And yet I am not afraid of the two of you, but I trust in God that I shall die a better Christian man than either of you. And have no doubt," said Sir Palomides, "either you or I shall be left dead in this place."
Then they drew apart, and the two brothers came against Sir Palomides, and he against them, as fast as their horses could run. And by chance Sir Palomides struck Helake through his shield and through the breast, more than a fathom deep. All this while Sir Helius held his spear upright, and out of pride and arrogance he would not strike Sir Palomides with his spear. But when he saw his brother lying on the ground, and saw that he could not help himself, then he said to Sir Palomides, "Defend yourself!"
And with that he came crashing at Sir Palomides with his spear, and struck him clean out of his saddle. Then Sir Helius rode over Sir Palomides two or three times. And at that Sir Palomides was ashamed, and caught Sir Helius's horse by the bridle; and with that the horse reared, and Sir Palomides heaved after it, and so they both fell to the ground. But Sir Helius leapt up quickly at once, and there he struck Sir Palomides a great blow on the helm, so that he went down on one knee. Then they laid into each other with many heavy blows, and circled and sidestepped, now backward, now sideways, crashing together like two boars, and at that same moment they both fell flat on the ground.
So they went on fighting for two hours without any rest, and never stopped for breath. And then Sir Palomides grew faint and weary, and Sir Helius grew exceedingly strong, and doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Palomides across and along the whole field, so that the people of the city, when they saw Sir Palomides in this state, wept and cried out, and grieved greatly, and the other side rejoiced just as much.
"Alas," said the men of the city, "that this noble knight should be killed like this for our king's sake!"
And as they were weeping and crying out like this, Sir Palomides, who had taken a hundred blows, so that it was a wonder he stood on his feet, at last looked as well as he could at the common people, and saw how they wept for him. And then he said to himself, "Ah, shame on you, Sir Palomides! Why do you hang your head so low?"
And with that he raised his shield, and looked Sir Helius in the face, and he struck him a great blow on the helm, and after that another, and another. And then he struck Sir Helius with such might that he fell flat on the ground. And then he tore his helm off his head, and there he struck him such a blow that he cut his head from his body. And then the people of the city were the most joyful people there could be. So they brought him to his lodging with great ceremony, and there all the people became his men. And then Sir Palomides begged them all to take care of all the lordship of King Hermance: "For, fair sirs, believe me, I cannot stay with you at this time, for I must be with my lord King Arthur in all haste at the Castle of Lonazep, as I have promised."
Then the people were very downcast at his leaving, for the whole city offered Sir Palomides a third part of their goods if he would stay with them; but at that time he would not stay on any account.
And so Sir Palomides left, and so he came to the castle where Sir Ebel was lieutenant. And when the people in the castle knew how Sir Palomides had fared, there was a joyful household. And so Sir Palomides left, and came to the castle of Lonazep. And when he learned that Sir Tristram was not there, he took his way over the Humber, and came to Joyous Gard, where Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair were. Sir Tristram had commanded that whatever knight-errant came within Joyous Gard, that is, into the town, they should warn Sir Tristram. So a man of the town came and told Sir Tristram how there was a knight in the town, an exceedingly fine-looking man.
"What kind of man is he," said Sir Tristram, "and what device does he bear?"
So the man told Sir Tristram all the signs of him.
"That is Palomides," said Dinadan.
"It may well be," said Sir Tristram. "Go to him," said Sir Tristram to Dinadan.
So Dinadan went to Sir Palomides, and there each greeted the other with great joy, and so they lodged together that night. And early in the morning Sir Tristram and Sir Gareth came and caught them in their beds, and so they got up and had breakfast.
And then Sir Tristram asked Sir Palomides to ride out into the fields and woods. So they agreed to take their ease in the forest. And when they had amused themselves a long while they rode to a fair spring; and at once they saw an armed knight who came riding towards them, and they greeted each other. Then this armed knight spoke to Sir Tristram, and asked who these knights were who were lodged in Joyous Gard.
"I don't know who they are," said Sir Tristram.
"What knights are you?" said that knight. "For it seems to me you are no knights-errant, since you ride unarmed."
"Whether we are knights or not, we don't care to tell you our names."
"You won't tell me your name?" said that knight. "Then defend yourself, for you'll die by my hands."
And with that he took his spear in his hands, and would have run Sir Tristram through. Sir Palomides saw that, and struck his horse slantwise in the middle of the side, so that man and horse fell to the ground. And with that Sir Palomides dismounted and pulled out his sword to kill him.
"Let him be," said Sir Tristram. "Don't kill him. The knight is only a fool, and it would be a shame to kill him. But take away his spear," said Sir Tristram, "and let him take his horse and go where he likes."
So when this knight got up he groaned badly from the fall, and so he took his horse, and when he was mounted he turned his horse, and asked Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides to tell him who they were.
"Now believe me," said Sir Tristram, "my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and this knight's name is Sir Palomides."
When he knew who they were he put the spurs to his horse, so that they should not ask him his name, and so rode fast away through thick and thin. Then a knight came by them with a shield crossed by a blue band, whose name was Epinogris, and he came towards them at a great gallop.
"Where are you riding?" said Sir Tristram.
"My fair lords," said Epinogris, "I am following the falsest knight alive. And so I beg you to tell me whether you have seen him, for he bears a shield with a red cover over it."
"God help me," said Tristram, "such a knight left us not a quarter of an hour ago. We beg you, tell us his name."
"Alas," said Epinogris, "why did you let him escape from you? He is such a great enemy to all knights-errant. His name is Breuse Saunce Pité."
"Ah, shame on it!" said Sir Palomides. "Alas that he ever escaped my hands, for he is the man in the world I hate most."
Then each knight lamented greatly to the other; and so Epinogris left and followed the chase after him.
Then Sir Tristram and his three companions rode to Joyous Gard; and there Sir Tristram talked with Sir Palomides about his battle, how he had fared at the Red City, and it had ended just as you have heard before.
"Truly," said Sir Tristram, "I am glad you have fared well, for you have done honourably. Well," said Sir Tristram, "we must set out tomorrow."
And then he planned how it should be done; and Sir Tristram arranged to send his two tents to be pitched close by the spring of Lonazep, and in them the queen, Isolde the Fair, would stay.
"That is well said," said Sir Dinadan.
But when Sir Palomides heard of that, his heart was carried away beyond measure; even so he said very little. So when they came to Joyous Gard Sir Palomides would not have gone into the castle, but Sir Tristram took him by the finger and led him into the castle. And when Sir Palomides saw Isolde the Fair he was so carried away that he could scarcely speak. So they went to supper, but Palomides could not eat, and there was all the welcome that could be had. And in the morning they were made ready to ride towards Lonazep.
So Sir Tristram had three squires, and Isolde the Fair had three gentlewomen, and both the queen and they were richly dressed; and they had no other people with them but servants to carry their shields and their spears. And so they rode on. So as they rode they saw a band of knights ahead of them; it was the knight Galihodin, with twenty knights with him.
"Fair companions," said Galihodin, "four knights are coming over there, and a rich and very fair lady. I have a mind to take that lady from them."
"That is not the best advice," said one of Galihodin's men. "But send to them, and find out what they will say."
And so it was done. A squire came to Sir Tristram, and asked them whether they would joust or else lose their lady.
"Not so," said Sir Tristram. "Tell your lord I bid him come, as many of you as there are of us, and win her and take her."
"Sir," said Palomides, "if it please you, let me have this deed, and I will take on all four of them."
"I am willing that you have it," said Sir Tristram, "as you please. Now go and tell your lord Galihodin that this same knight will meet him and his companions."
Then this squire left and told Galihodin; and then Galihodin set his shield and took up a spear, and Sir Palomides another; and there Sir Palomides struck Galihodin so hard that he struck both horse and man to the ground. And he had a terrible fall there. And then another knight came, and he served him the same way; and so he served the third and the fourth, knocking them over their horses' rumps, and all the while Sir Palomides' spear stayed whole. Then six more of Galihodin's knights came, and wanted to be avenged on Sir Palomides.
"Leave it," said Sir Galihodin. "Don't you dare. Not one of you is to meddle with this knight, for he is a man of great goodness and honour, and if he wished it, you would none of you be able to stand against him."
And at that they held still. And Sir Palomides was ready to joust all the while; and when he saw they would joust no more, he rode back to Sir Tristram.
"You have done very well," said Sir Tristram, "and honourably you have done, as a good knight should."
This Galihodin was a near cousin of Galahalt, the high prince; and this Galihodin was a king in the country of Surluse.
So as Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides and Isolde the Fair rode together, they saw four knights ahead of them, and every man had his spear in his hand: the first was Sir Gawain, the second Sir Uwain, the third Sir Sagramore le Desirous, and the fourth was Dodinas le Savage. When Sir Palomides saw that the four knights were ready to joust, he begged Sir Tristram to give him leave to fight them all, for as long as he could keep himself on horseback. "And if I am struck down, I beg you, avenge me."
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "I will do as you wish; and you are not so eager to win honour but that I am just as eager to increase your honour."
And with that Sir Gawain put out his spear, and Sir Palomides another; and they came together so fiercely that Sir Palomides struck Sir Gawain to the ground, horse and all; and in the same way he served Uwain, Sir Dodinas and Sagramore. All four of these knights Sir Palomides struck down, with several spears. And then Sir Tristram went on toward Lonazep.
And when they had gone, Galihodin came up with his ten knights to Sir Gawain, and there he told him all about how he had fared.
"I wonder," said Sir Gawain, "what knights they are, who are dressed like that in green."
"And that knight on the white horse struck me down," said Galihodin, "and my three companions."
"And he did the same to me," said Gawain. "And I know very well," said Sir Gawain, "that the man on the white horse is either Sir Tristram or else Sir Palomides, and that finely dressed lady is Queen Isolde."
So they talked of one thing and another.
And meanwhile Sir Tristram rode on until he came to the spring where his two tents were pitched; and there they dismounted, and there they saw many tents and great splendour. Then Sir Tristram left Sir Palomides and Sir Gareth there with Isolde the Fair, and Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode to Lonazep to listen for news; and Sir Tristram rode on Sir Palomides' white horse. And when he came into the castle, Sir Dinadan heard a great horn blow, and many knights gathered to the horn.
Then Sir Tristram asked a knight, "What does the blast of that horn mean?"
"Sir," said that knight, "it is for all those who will hold against King Arthur at this tournament. The first is the King of Ireland, and then the King of Surluse, the King of Listinoise, the King of Northumberland, and the King of the best part of Wales, with many other countries. And they are gathering in council, to decide what order they will keep."
But the King of Ireland, whose name was Marhalt, and who was father to the good knight Sir Marhaus whom Sir Tristram killed, did all the speaking, so that Sir Tristram could hear it. He said, "Lords and companions, let us look to ourselves, for you may be sure King Arthur is certain of many good knights, or else he would not fight us with so few knights. So my advice is this: let every king have a standard and a badge of his own, so that every knight rallies to his own rightful lord, and then every king and captain can help his knights if they have need."
When Sir Tristram had heard all their counsel, he rode to King Arthur to hear his counsel.
But Sir Tristram had no sooner come into the place than Sir Gawain and Sir Galihodin went to King Arthur and told him, "That same green knight in the green armour, with the white horse, struck the two of us down, and six of our companions, this very day."
"Well," said Arthur.
And then he called Sir Tristram and asked him what his name was.
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "you must hold me excused for the present, for you shall not know my name."
And with that Sir Tristram turned back and rode away.
"I am amazed," said Arthur, "that that knight will not tell me his name. But go, Griflet le Fise de Dieu, and ask him to speak with me privately, between the two of us."
Then Sir Griflet rode after him and overtook him, and told him that King Arthur asked him to speak with him secretly, apart.
"On this condition," said Sir Tristram, "I will speak with him: I will turn back if you will guarantee me that he will not ask to hear my name."
"I will undertake," said Sir Griflet, "that he will not press you hard for it."
So they rode together until they came to King Arthur.
"Fair sir," said King Arthur, "why is it you will not tell me your name?"
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I do not hide my name without a reason."
"Which side will you take?" said King Arthur.
"Truly, my lord," said Sir Tristram, "I do not know yet which side I will be on, until I come to the field; and wherever my heart leads me, there I will hold. But tomorrow you will see and find out which side I come in on."
And with that he turned back and went to his tents.
And in the morning they all armed themselves in green and came into the field; and there young knights began to joust, and did many honourable deeds. Then Gareth spoke to Sir Tristram, and begged him for leave to break his spear, for he thought it a shame to carry his spear back whole. When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he laughed and said, "Please, do your best."
Then Sir Gareth got a spear and offered to joust. A knight saw that who was nephew to the King with the Hundred Knights; his name was Selises, and he was a good man of arms. So this knight Selises squared up to Sir Gareth, and the two of them met so hard that each struck the other down to the ground, horse and all, so that they were both bruised and hurt; and there they lay until the King with the Hundred Knights helped Selises up, and Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides helped Gareth up again. And so they rode with Sir Gareth to their tents, and then they pulled off his helm.
And when Isolde the Fair saw Sir Gareth bruised in the face, she asked him what was wrong with him.
"Madam," said Sir Gareth, "I took a great blow, and I believe I gave one back; but none of my companions, God thank them, would come to my rescue."
"Truly," said Palomides, "it was not the place of any of us to joust today, for no proven knights have jousted today, and you would joust, of your own choosing. And when the other side saw you offer yourself to joust, they sent one against you who is an exceedingly good knight for his age, for I know him well; his name is Selises. And you met him honourably, and neither of you is dishonoured; and so rest yourself, so that you will be ready and sound to joust tomorrow."
"As for that," said Gareth, "I will not fail you, if I can sit astride my horse."
"Now which side," said Tristram, "is it best for us to be on tomorrow?"
"Sir," said Palomides, "my advice is that you be against King Arthur tomorrow, for on his side will be Sir Lancelot and many good knights of his blood with him. And the more men of honour there are, the more honour we shall win."
"That is very knightly spoken," said Sir Tristram, "and just as you advise me, so we will do."
"In the name of God," they all said.
So that night they were lodged with the best. And in the morning, when it was day, they were all arrayed in green trappings, shields and spears, and Isolde the Fair in the same colour, and her three damsels. And so these four knights came into the field, from one end to the other. And so they led Isolde the Fair to the place where she was to stand and watch all the jousts, in a bay window; but she was always veiled, so that no one could see her face. And then these three knights rode straight to the side of the King of Scots.
When King Arthur had seen them do all this, he asked Sir Lancelot who these knights and that queen were.
"Sir," said Lancelot, "I cannot tell you for certain; but if Sir Tristram is in this country, or Sir Palomides, you may be sure it is certainly they, and Isolde the Fair."
Then Arthur called Sir Kay to him and said, "Go quickly and find out how many knights of the Round Table are missing here, for you can tell by the seats."
So Sir Kay went, and saw by the names written on the seats that ten knights were missing. And these are the names of those who were not there: Sir Tristram, Sir Palomides, Sir Percival, Sir Gaheris, Sir Epinogris, Sir Mordred, Sir Dinadan, Sir La Cote Male Taile, and Sir Pelleas the noble knight.
"Well," said Arthur, "some of these, I dare say, are here today against us."
Then two brothers came in, cousins of Sir Gawain; the one was called Sir Edward, the other Sir Sadok, and they were two good knights. And they asked King Arthur that they might have the first jousts, because they were of Orkney.
"I am pleased," said King Arthur.
Then Sir Edward met the King of Scots, on whose side were Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides; and Sir Edward struck the King of Scots clean off his horse, and Sir Sadok struck down the King of North Wales and gave him a tremendous fall, so that there was a great cry on King Arthur's side, and that made Sir Palomides exceedingly angry. And so Sir Palomides set his shield and his spear, and with all his might he met Sir Edward of Orkney, and struck him so hard that his horse could not stay on its feet, and so they crashed to the ground; and then with the same spear Sir Palomides struck down Sir Sadok over his horse's rump.
"Oh, Jesus," said Arthur, "what knight is that, dressed all in green? He jousts mightily."
"Believe me," said Sir Gawain, "he is a good knight, and you will see him joust better yet before he goes. And you will see yet," said Sir Gawain, "another, bigger knight in the same colour than he is; for that same knight," said Sir Gawain, "who just now struck down my four cousins, struck me down within these two days, and seven companions besides."
Meanwhile, as they stood there talking, Sir Tristram came into the place on a black horse, and before he stopped he struck down with one spear four good knights of Orkney who were of Sir Gawain's kin; and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan each struck down a good knight.
"Jesus," said Arthur, "that knight on the black horse is doing mightily and marvellously well."
"Wait," said Sir Gawain. "That knight with the black horse hasn't even begun yet."
Then Sir Tristram put back on their horses the two kings whom Edward and Sadok had unhorsed at the beginning. And then Sir Tristram drew his sword and rode into the thickest of the fighting against the men of Orkney; and there he struck down knights, and tore off helms, and pulled away their shields, and knocked down many knights. He bore himself so that Sir Arthur and all the knights were amazed when they saw one knight do such great deeds of arms. And Sir Palomides did not fail on the other side, but did so marvellously well that everyone wondered at it. For there King Arthur likened Sir Tristram, who was on the black horse, to a mad lion, and likened Sir Palomides on the white horse to a mad leopard, and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan to eager wolves. But the custom among them was such that none of the kings would help another, but all the company of each standard helped one another as they could. But all the while Sir Tristram did so many deeds of arms that the men of Orkney grew weary of him, and so they withdrew to Lonazep.
Then came the cry of the heralds and of all the common people: "The Green Knight has done marvellously, and beaten all the men of Orkney!"
And there the heralds counted that Sir Tristram, who sat on the black horse, had struck down thirty knights with spear and sword, and Sir Palomides had struck down twenty knights; and most of these fifty knights were of King Arthur's household, and proven knights.
"So help me God," said Arthur to Sir Lancelot, "this is a great shame to us, to see four knights beat so many knights of mine. So make yourself ready, for we will fight them."
"Sir," said Lancelot, "believe me, there are two exceedingly good knights there, and it would be no great honour to us to fight them now, for they have laboured hard today."
"As for that," said Arthur, "I will be avenged. So take with you Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector, and I will be the fourth," said Arthur.
"Sir," said Lancelot, "you will find me ready, and my brother Sir Ector, and my cousin Sir Bleoberis."
And so when they were ready and on horseback, Sir Arthur said to Sir Lancelot, "Now choose which of them you will meet."
"Sir," said Lancelot, "I will meet the green knight on the black horse" (that was Sir Tristram), "and my cousin Sir Bleoberis shall match the green knight on the white horse" (that was Sir Palomides), "and my brother Sir Ector shall match the green knight on the white horse" (that was Sir Gareth).
"Then I must fight," said Sir Arthur, "the green knight on the grey horse," and that was Sir Dinadan.
"Now let every man take heed of his opponent," said Sir Lancelot.
And so they trotted on together, and there Sir Lancelot met Sir Tristram. So Sir Lancelot struck Sir Tristram so hard on the shield that he bore horse and man to the ground; but Sir Lancelot thought it had been Sir Palomides, and so he rode on. And then Sir Bleoberis met Sir Palomides, and struck him so hard on the shield that Sir Palomides and his white horse went crashing to the ground. Then Sir Ector de Maris struck Sir Gareth so hard that down he fell off his horse. And the noble King Arthur met Sir Dinadan, and struck him clean out of his saddle. And then for a while the talk went round that the green knights had been beaten down.
When the King of North Wales saw that Sir Tristram had had a fall, he remembered what great deeds of arms Sir Tristram had done. Then he made many knights ready, for the custom and the proclamation were such that any knight who was struck down and could not be horsed again by his companions, or by his own strength, should be prisoner for that day to the side that had struck him down. So the King of North Wales came in, and rode straight to Sir Tristram; and when he came near him he quickly dismounted and handed Sir Tristram his horse, and said this: "Noble knight, I do not know you, or what country you are from; but for the noble deeds you have done today, take my horse there, and let me do as well as I can; for, so help me Jesus, you are more worthy to have my horse than I am myself."
"Many thanks," said Sir Tristram, "and if I can, I will repay you. See that you do not go far from us, and I expect I will win you another horse."
And with that Sir Tristram mounted his horse, and there he met King Arthur, and gave him such a blow on the helm with his sword that King Arthur had no power to keep his saddle. And then Sir Tristram gave the King of North Wales King Arthur's horse. Then there was a great crush around King Arthur to horse him again; but Sir Palomides would not let King Arthur be horsed again, but all the while Sir Palomides struck out mightily on the right hand and on the left, like a noble knight. And meanwhile Sir Tristram rode through the thickest of the crowd, and struck down knights on the right hand and on the left, and tore off helms, and so went on out to his tents, and left Sir Palomides on foot; and Sir Tristram changed his horse and disguised himself all in red, horse and armour.
And when the queen, Isolde the Fair, saw that Sir Tristram was unhorsed, and did not know where he was, she wept bitterly. But Sir Tristram, when he was ready, came dashing swiftly into the field, and then Isolde the Fair spotted him. And so he did great deeds of arms; with one spear, and a great one, Sir Tristram struck down five knights before he stopped. Then Sir Lancelot quickly saw that it was Sir Tristram, and then he regretted that he had struck him down; and so Sir Lancelot went out of the thick of the fighting to rest, and soon he came back again. And now when Sir Tristram came into the crowd, by his great strength he put Sir Palomides back on his horse, and Sir Gareth, and Sir Dinadan, and then they began to do marvellously. But neither Sir Palomides nor either of his two companions knew who had helped them back on horseback. But all the while Sir Tristram was near them and came to their aid, and they did not know him, because he had changed into red armour; and all this while Sir Lancelot was away.
So when Isolde the Fair recognised Sir Tristram on horseback again, she was exceedingly glad, and then she laughed and looked happy. And as it happened, Sir Palomides looked up toward her where she was in the window, and saw how she laughed; and with that he took such joy in it that he struck down, with spear and with sword, every man he met. For through the sight of her he was so lost in love of her that it seemed to him at that time that if both Sir Tristram and Sir Lancelot had been against him, they would have won no honour from him. And in his heart, as the book says, Sir Palomides wished that he might fight Sir Tristram, with honour, in front of everyone, because of Isolde the Fair. Then Sir Palomides began to double his strength, and he did so marvellously that everyone wondered at him, and all the while he cast his eyes up to Isolde the Fair. And when he saw her look so happy, he bore himself like a lion, so that no man could stand against him.
And then Sir Tristram watched how Sir Palomides was laying about him, and he said to Sir Dinadan, "So help me God, Sir Palomides is an exceedingly good knight, and one who lasts well; but I never saw him do such deeds, nor ever heard tell that he did so much in one day."
"It is his day," said Dinadan; and he would say no more to Sir Tristram. But to himself he said, "If only you knew for whose love he is doing all these deeds of arms! Sir Tristram would soon cut his courage down to size."
"Alas," said Sir Tristram, "that Sir Palomides is not christened."
So said King Arthur, and so said all those who watched him. Then all the people gave him the prize, as the best knight that day, saying he outdid Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram.
"Well," said Dinadan to himself, "all this honour Sir Palomides has here today he can thank Queen Isolde for; for if she had been away today, Sir Palomides would not have won the prize today."
Just then Sir Lancelot du Lake came into the field, and saw and heard the shouting and the cry, and the great honour Sir Palomides had won. He squared up to Sir Palomides with a great, mighty, long spear, and meant to strike him down. And when Sir Palomides saw Sir Lancelot coming at him so fast, he rode at Sir Lancelot as fast as he could, with his sword; and as Sir Lancelot was about to strike him, he knocked his spear aside and cut it in two with his sword. And Sir Palomides rushed at Sir Lancelot, meaning to put him to shame; and with his sword he struck the neck of the horse Sir Lancelot was riding, and then Sir Lancelot fell to the ground.
Then the cry was huge and loud: "See how Sir Palomides the Saracen has struck down Sir Lancelot's horse!"
At once there were many knights angry with Sir Palomides because he had done that deed; and so many knights there held that it was an unknightly thing to do in a tournament, to kill a horse on purpose, unless it had been done in real battle, life for life.
When Sir Ector de Maris saw his brother Sir Lancelot suffer such an insult, and set on foot like that, he took a spear in a fury and rode against Sir Palomides, and struck him so hard that he bore him clean off his horse. Sir Tristram saw that, who was in red armour, and he struck Sir Ector de Maris clean off his horse.
Then Sir Lancelot set his shield on his shoulder, with his sword naked in his hand, and so came straight at Sir Palomides, fiercely, and said, "Know this: today you have done me the greatest insult that any honourable knight ever did me in tournament or in jousts, and I will be avenged on you for it. So look to yourself."
"Ah, mercy, noble knight," said Palomides, "and forgive me my unworthy deeds, for I have neither the power nor the strength to stand against you; and I have done so much today that I know very well I never did so much before, and never will again in all my days. And so, most noble knight, I beg you, spare me for today, and I promise you I will always be your knight while I live. If you rob me of my honour now, you rob me of the greatest honour I ever had, or ever will have, in all my days."
"Well," said Sir Lancelot, "I see, to tell you the truth, that you have done marvellously well today; and I partly understand for whose love you do it, and I know very well that love is a great mistress. And if my lady were here, as she is not, believe me," said Sir Lancelot, "you would not carry off the honour. But beware that your love is not found out, for if Sir Tristram comes to know it, you will regret it. And since my quarrel is not here, you shall have the honour today, as far as I am concerned; considering the great toil and pain you have had today, it would be no honour to me to take it from you."
And with that Sir Lancelot let Sir Palomides go.
Then Sir Lancelot, by great force and strength, got his own horse back in spite of twenty knights. So when Sir Lancelot was on horseback, he did many marvels, and so did Sir Tristram, and Sir Palomides likewise. Then Sir Lancelot struck down with a spear Sir Dinadan, and the King of Scotland, and the King of Wales, and the King of Northumberland, and the King of Listinoise. So then Sir Lancelot and his companions struck down a good forty knights. Then the King of Ireland and the King of the Straight Marches came to the rescue of Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides. A great fight began there, and many knights were struck down on both sides; and all the while Sir Lancelot spared Sir Tristram, and he spared him. And Sir Palomides would not meddle with Sir Lancelot, and so there was crashing here and there. And then King Arthur sent out many knights of the Round Table; and Sir Palomides was always in the very front, and Sir Tristram did so mightily well that the king and everyone else marvelled.
And then the king had the end of the day sounded; and because Sir Palomides began first, and never once walked or rode out of the field to rest, but was always doing marvellously well, either on foot or on horseback, and lasted longest, King Arthur and all the kings gave Sir Palomides the honour and the prize for that day.
Then Sir Tristram ordered Sir Dinadan to fetch the queen, Isolde the Fair, and bring her to his two tents that stood by the spring. And so Dinadan did as he was ordered. But when Sir Palomides understood and learned that Sir Tristram was the one in the red armour, on a red horse, you may be sure he was glad, and so were Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan, for they had all thought that Sir Tristram had been taken prisoner. And then every knight went off to his lodging.
And then King Arthur and every knight talked of those knights; but above all men they gave Sir Palomides the prize, and all the knights who knew Sir Palomides wondered at his deeds.
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot to Arthur, "as for Sir Palomides, if he is the green knight, I dare say he is the most worthy to have the prize for today, for he never rested, and never changed his gear, and he began first and held on longest. And yet I know very well," said Sir Lancelot, "that there was a better knight than he, and that will be proved before we leave, on my life."
So they talked on both sides; and so Sir Dinadan jeered at Sir Tristram and said, "What the devil has got into you today? For Sir Palomides' strength never flagged once today, but all the while he doubled it."
"And you, Sir Tristram," Dinadan went on, "have gone about all day as if you were asleep, and so I call you a coward."
"Well, Dinadan," said Sir Tristram, "I was never called a coward before by any knight on earth, in all my life. And know this, sir: I count myself not one bit more a coward because Sir Lancelot gave me a fall, for I except him from all other knights. And make no mistake, Sir Dinadan, if Sir Lancelot has a good quarrel, he is far too good for any knight now living; and still, for his patience, his generosity, his goodness and his courtesy, I call him the knight without a peer."
And so Sir Tristram was more or less angry with Sir Dinadan. But Sir Dinadan said all these words because he wanted to anger Sir Tristram, to make him rouse his spirits and get angry; for Sir Dinadan knew well that if Sir Tristram were thoroughly angry, Sir Palomides would not win the prize in the morning. And it was for this purpose that Sir Dinadan said all this jeering and all these words against Sir Tristram.
"Truly," said Sir Palomides, "as for Sir Lancelot, for noble knighthood, courtesy, prowess and gentleness, I know no one his equal; for today," said Sir Palomides, "I behaved most discourteously toward Sir Lancelot, and most unknightly, and he behaved most knightly and courteously to me in return; for if he had been as ill-bred toward me as I was toward him, I would have won no honour today. And so," said Palomides, "I will be Sir Lancelot's knight as long as my life lasts."
This talk went on in the lodgings of the kings. But all the kings, lords and knights said that for true knighthood, and for sheer strength, for goodness and for courtesy, Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram carried the prize above all the knights who ever were in Arthur's days. And there were never knights in Arthur's days who did half so many deeds as they did; as the book says, ten knights together did not do half the deeds that they did. And there was never a knight in their days who asked Sir Lancelot or Sir Tristram to undertake any quest, so long as it was not to their shame, but they did what he wished.
So in the morning Sir Lancelot left, and Sir Tristram was ready, and Isolde the Fair with Sir Palomides and Sir Gareth. And so they rode, all in green, very finely dressed, to the forest. And Sir Tristram left Sir Dinadan asleep in his bed. And as they rode, it happened that the king and Lancelot were standing in a window, and saw Sir Tristram and Isolde ride by.
"Sir," said Lancelot, "there rides the most beautiful lady in the world, except your queen, Dame Guinevere."
"Who is that?" said Sir Arthur.
"Sir," he said, "it is Queen Isolde, who, my lady your queen excepted, is without equal."
"Take your horse," said Arthur, "and arm yourself completely, as I will do; and I promise you," said the king, "I will see her."
Then at once they were armed and horsed, and each took a spear and rode to the forest.
"Sir," said Lancelot, "it is not good for you to go too near them, for believe me, there are two knights there as good as any now living; and so, sir, I beg you, do not be too hasty. For perhaps some knights will be displeased if we come upon them suddenly."
"As for that," said Arthur, "I will see her, for I care nothing for whom I offend."
"Sir," said Lancelot, "you are putting yourself in great danger."
"As for that," said the king, "we will take our chance."
So at once the king rode right up to her, and greeted her, and said, "God save you."
"Sir," she said, "you are welcome."
Then the king gazed at her, and liked her wonderfully well.
With that Sir Palomides came up to Arthur and said, "Discourteous knight, what are you looking for here? It is discourteous of you to come upon a lady like this, without warning. So take yourself off."
Sir Arthur paid no attention to Sir Palomides' words, but went on looking at Queen Isolde. Then Sir Palomides grew angry, and with that he took a spear and came crashing down on King Arthur, and struck him down with the spear.
When Sir Lancelot saw that insult from Sir Palomides, he said to himself, "I am loath to fight that knight, and not for his own sake but for Sir Tristram's. And one thing I am sure of: if I strike down Sir Palomides, I must fight Sir Tristram, and that would be too much for me, to match them both, for they are two noble knights. Nevertheless, whether I live or die, I must avenge my lord, and so I will, whatever becomes of me."
And with that Sir Lancelot cried to Sir Palomides, "Guard yourself against me!"
And then Sir Lancelot and Sir Palomides rushed together with two spears, mightily, but Sir Lancelot struck Sir Palomides so hard that he went clean out of his saddle and had a great fall.
When Sir Tristram saw Sir Palomides take that fall, he said to Sir Lancelot, "Sir knight, guard yourself, for I must joust with you."
"As for jousting with me," said Sir Lancelot, "I will not fail you, for I have no fear of you. But I would be loath to fight you if I had the choice, for I want you to know that I must avenge my particular lord, who was unhorsed without warning and in an unknightly way. And so, though I have avenged that fall, take no offence at it, for he is such a friend to me that I cannot see him shamed."
At once Sir Tristram understood, by his bearing and by his knightly words, that it was Sir Lancelot du Lake, and Sir Tristram truly judged that it was King Arthur whom Sir Palomides had struck down. And then Sir Tristram put his spear from him, and put Sir Palomides back on horseback, and Sir Lancelot put King Arthur on horseback, and so they departed.
"So help me God," said Sir Tristram to Palomides, "you did not act honourably when you struck down that knight so suddenly as you did. And believe me, you did yourself great shame, for the knights came here out of their good breeding to see a beautiful lady; and that is every good knight's part, to look upon a beautiful lady; and you had no business showing off such feats of strength in front of my lady. Mark my words, it will turn to anger, for the one you struck down was King Arthur, and the other was the good knight Sir Lancelot. But I will not forget the words of Sir Lancelot when he called him a man of great honour; by that I knew it was King Arthur. And as for Sir Lancelot, if there had been five hundred knights in the meadow, he would not have refused them, and yet he said he would refuse me. By that, again, I knew it was Sir Lancelot, for he always spares me wherever we meet, and shows me great kindness; and of all knights, I except none, let men say what they will, he bears the flower of all chivalry, let anyone tell him so who will. If he is truly angered, and chooses to do his utmost without any favour, I know of no man alive whom Sir Lancelot is not too hard for, be it on horseback or on foot."
"I can never believe," said Palomides, "that King Arthur would ride about so secretly, like a poor knight-errant."
"Ah," said Sir Tristram, "you do not know my lord Arthur, for all knights can learn how to be a knight from him. And so you may well be sorry," said Sir Tristram, "for your unworthy deeds to so noble a king."
"And a thing that is done cannot be undone," said Palomides.
Then Sir Tristram sent Queen Isolde to her lodging in the priory, to watch all the tournament from there.
Then a proclamation was made to all the knights that when they heard a horn blow, they should joust as they had done the first day. And just as the brothers Sir Edward and Sir Sadok began the jousts the first day, Sir Uwain, the son of King Uriens, and Sir Lucan the butler began the jousts the second day. And at the first encounter Sir Uwain struck down the King of Scots' son; and Sir Lucan rode against the King of Wales, and they broke their spears all to pieces; and they were both so fierce that they crashed together so that both fell to the ground. Then the men of Orkney horsed Sir Lucan again. And then Sir Tristram de Liones came in; and then Sir Tristram struck down Sir Uwain and Sir Lucan; and Sir Palomides struck down two other knights, and Sir Gareth struck down two other knights.
Then Sir Arthur said to Sir Lancelot, "See how well those three knights are doing, and especially the first who jousted."
"Sir," said Lancelot, "that knight has not even begun yet; but you will see him do marvellously today."
And then the duke's son of Orkney came into the place, and then they began to do many deeds of arms.
When Sir Tristram saw them begin like that, he said to Palomides, "How do you feel? Can you do today as you did yesterday?"
"No," said Palomides, "I feel so weary, and so badly bruised from the deeds of yesterday, that I cannot hold out as I did yesterday."
"I am sorry for that," said Sir Tristram, "for I shall miss you today."
Sir Palomides said, "Do not rely on me, for I cannot do as I did."
All these words Palomides said to deceive Sir Tristram.
"Sir," said Sir Tristram to Sir Gareth, "then I must rely on you; and so I beg you, do not be far from me, so that you can come to my rescue."
"If need be," said Sir Gareth, "I will not fail you in anything I can do."
Then Sir Palomides rode off by himself; and then, to spite Sir Tristram, he put himself in the thickest of the crowd among the men of Orkney, and there he did such marvellous deeds of arms that everyone wondered at him, for no one could stand a single stroke from him.
When Sir Tristram saw Sir Palomides do such deeds, he marvelled, and said to himself, "He is weary of my company."
So Sir Tristram watched him a long while and did little else, for the shouting and the cry were so huge and loud that Sir Tristram wondered where the strength came from that Sir Palomides had there in the field.
"Sir," said Sir Gareth to Sir Tristram, "do you not remember the words Sir Dinadan said to you yesterday, when he called you a coward? Truly, sir, he meant no harm by it, for you are the man he loves most in the world, and all that he said was for your honour. And so," said Sir Gareth to Sir Tristram, "let me see today what you are made of; and do not stand gaping at Sir Palomides like that, for he is straining to win all the glory and honour away from you."
"I can well believe it," said Sir Tristram. "And since I understand his ill will and his envy, you will see, if I exert myself, that the acclaim that is on him now will be gone."
Then Sir Tristram rode into the thickest of the crowd, and then he did so marvellously well, and did such great deeds of arms, that everyone said Sir Tristram did twice as many deeds of arms as Sir Palomides had done before. And then the acclaim passed clean away from Sir Palomides, and all the people cried out for Sir Tristram.
"Oh, Jesus," said the people, "see how Sir Tristram strikes down so many knights with his spear! And see," they all said, "how many knights he strikes down with his sword, and how many knights' helms and shields he has torn off!"
And so he drove all the men of Orkney before him.
"How now?" said Sir Lancelot to King Arthur. "I told you that today a knight would put on a fine show. There rides a knight, you can see, who does knightly, for he has strength and wind."
"So help me God," said Arthur to Lancelot, "you are right, for I never saw a better knight, for he far surpasses Sir Palomides."
"Sir, believe me," said Lancelot, "it must be so, by right, for it is the man himself, that noble knight Sir Tristram."
"I can well believe it," said Arthur.
But when Sir Palomides heard that the shouting and the cry had turned away from him, he rode out to one side and watched Sir Tristram. And when Sir Palomides saw Sir Tristram do so marvellously well, he wept exceedingly bitterly from sheer vexation, for he knew well he would win no honour that day; for Sir Palomides knew well that when Sir Tristram chose to put forth his strength and his manhood, he himself would get but little honour that day.
Then came King Arthur, and the King of North Wales, and Sir Lancelot du Lake; and Sir Bleoberis, Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Ector de Maris, these three knights came into the field with Sir Lancelot. And then Sir Lancelot with the three knights of his kin did such great deeds of arms that all the acclaim began to turn to Sir Lancelot. And so they beat the King of Wales and the King of Scots far back, and made them withdraw from the field; but Sir Tristram and Sir Gareth stayed on in the field and withstood everything that came at them, so that all men wondered that any knight could withstand so many blows. But all the while Sir Lancelot, and his three kinsmen at Sir Lancelot's command, held back from Sir Tristram.
Then said Sir Arthur, "Is that Sir Palomides who holds out so well?"
"No," said Sir Lancelot, "believe me, it is the good knight Sir Tristram, for you can see Sir Palomides over there, watching and waiting and doing little or nothing. And sir, you should understand that Sir Tristram expects this day to beat us all out of the field. And as for me," said Sir Lancelot, "I will not beat him, let whoever will beat him. Sir," said Lancelot to Arthur, "you can see how Sir Palomides waits over there as though he were in a dream; believe me, he is very downcast that Tristram does such deeds of arms."
"Then he is nothing but a fool," said Arthur, "for Sir Palomides never was, and never will be, of such prowess as Sir Tristram. And if he has any envy of Sir Tristram, and has come in with him on his side, he is a false knight."
As the king and Sir Lancelot were talking like this, Sir Tristram rode quietly out of the thick of the fighting, so that no one saw him but Isolde the Fair and Sir Palomides, for those two would not take their eyes off Sir Tristram. And when Sir Tristram came to his tents he found Sir Dinadan in his bed asleep.
"Wake up," said Tristram. "You ought to be ashamed to sleep like this when knights are fighting in the field."
Then Sir Dinadan got up quickly and said, "What do you want me to do?"
"Get yourself ready," said Sir Tristram, "to ride with me into the field."
So when Sir Dinadan was armed he looked at Sir Tristram's helmet and at his shield, and when he saw so many dents of blows on his helmet and on his shield he said, "It's a good thing I was asleep, then, for if I had been with you I would have had to follow you out of shame; more out of shame than out of any prowess there is in me. I can see well enough now from those dents that I would have been well and truly beaten, as I was yesterday."
"Stop your joking," said Sir Tristram, "and come on, so that we can get back into the field."
"What," said Sir Dinadan, "is your blood up? Yesterday you went about as though you were dreaming."
So then Sir Tristram was dressed in black armour.
"Oh, Jesus," said Dinadan, "what's got into you today? You seem to me wilder than you were yesterday."
Then Sir Tristram smiled and said to Dinadan, "Keep close to me; if you see me overmatched, make sure you are always behind me, and I will clear the way for you, by God's grace."
So Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan took their horses. Sir Palomides saw all this, both their going and their coming, and so did Isolde the Fair, for she knew Sir Tristram above all others.
Then when Sir Palomides saw that Sir Tristram was disguised, he thought he would do him a shameful turn. So Sir Palomides rode to a knight who was badly wounded, who sat by a fair spring away from the field.
"Sir knight," said Sir Palomides, "I beg you to lend me your armour and your shield, for mine is too well known in this field, and that has done me great harm; and you shall have my armour and my shield, which are as sound as yours."
"Gladly," said the knight, "you shall have my armour and my shield, if they can be of any use to you."
So Sir Palomides armed himself hastily in that knight's armour and with his shield, which shone like any crystal or silver, and so he came riding into the field. And then neither Sir Tristram nor anyone of King Arthur's party knew Sir Palomides. And just as Sir Palomides came into the field, Sir Tristram struck down three knights, right in front of Sir Palomides. And then Sir Palomides rode against Sir Tristram, and they met each other with great spears, so that the spears burst in their hands. And then they dashed together eagerly with swords. Then Sir Tristram wondered what knight this was who fought so knightly with him. Then Sir Tristram was angry, for he felt him to be exceedingly strong, so that he judged he would not be able to deal with the rest of the knights, because of the strength of Sir Palomides. So they laid into each other and gave each other many heavy blows, and many knights wondered what knight this could be who matched himself so against the black knight, Sir Tristram. Isolde the Fair knew very well that it was Sir Palomides fighting with Sir Tristram, for she had seen it all from her window where she stood, as Sir Palomides changed armour with the wounded knight. And then she began to weep so bitterly at the malice of Sir Palomides that she fainted where she stood.
Then Sir Lancelot came in with the knights of Orkney. And when the other party saw Sir Lancelot, they cried, "Turn back, turn back, here comes Sir Lancelot du Lake!"
So knights came and said, "Sir Lancelot, you must fight with that knight over there in the black armour" (that was Sir Tristram), "for he has almost overcome that good knight with the silver shield who is fighting with him" (that was Sir Palomides).
Then Sir Lancelot rode between Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides, and Sir Lancelot said to Palomides, "Sir knight, let me have the fight, for you are in need of rest."
Sir Palomides knew Sir Lancelot well, and so did Sir Tristram; but because Sir Lancelot was a far bolder knight than himself, Palomides was glad, and let Sir Lancelot fight with Sir Tristram. For he knew well that Sir Lancelot did not know Sir Tristram, and he hoped that Sir Lancelot would beat or shame Sir Tristram, which would have made Sir Palomides very glad. And so Sir Lancelot gave Sir Tristram many heavy blows, for Sir Lancelot did not know Sir Tristram, but Sir Tristram knew Sir Lancelot well. And so they fought together a long time, so that Isolde the Fair was nearly out of her mind with sorrow.
Then Sir Dinadan told Sir Gareth that the knight in the black armour was Sir Tristram: "And that is Lancelot fighting with him, who is bound to get the better of him, for Sir Tristram has had too much hard work today."
"Then let us strike him down," said Sir Gareth.
"It is better that we do," said Sir Dinadan, "than that Sir Tristram should be shamed, for the strong knight with the silver shield is waiting over there to fall on Sir Tristram if he gets the chance."
Then at once Gareth rushed at Sir Lancelot, and gave him such a great blow on his helmet that he was stunned. And then Sir Dinadan came with a spear, and he struck Sir Lancelot such a blow that horse and all fell to the ground.
"Oh, Jesus," said Sir Tristram to Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan, "shame on you, why did you strike down so good a knight as he is, and above all when I was fighting with him? Now you have done yourselves great shame, and him no dishonour; for I was keeping him reasonably busy, even without your help."
Then Sir Palomides, who was disguised, came and struck Sir Dinadan down from his horse. Then Sir Lancelot, because Sir Dinadan had struck him down before, attacked Sir Dinadan exceedingly hard, and Sir Dinadan defended himself mightily. But Sir Tristram understood well that Sir Dinadan could not hold out against Sir Lancelot, and he was sorry for it. Then Sir Palomides came fresh at Sir Tristram. And when Sir Tristram saw him coming, he thought to be rid of him at once, because he wanted to help Sir Dinadan, who stood in great danger from Sir Lancelot. Then Sir Tristram crashed into Sir Palomides and gave him a great blow, and then Sir Tristram got hold of Sir Palomides and pulled him down underneath him. And so Sir Tristram fell with him; and Sir Tristram leapt up quickly and left Sir Palomides, and went between Sir Lancelot and Dinadan, and then those two began to fight together.
Just then Sir Dinadan got hold of Sir Tristram's horse, and called out loudly so that Sir Lancelot could hear it, "My lord Sir Tristram, take your horse."
And when Sir Lancelot heard him name Sir Tristram, "Oh, Jesus," said Lancelot, "what have I done? I am dishonoured. Ah, my lord Sir Tristram," said Lancelot, "why were you disguised? You have put yourself in great danger today; but I beg you, noble knight, to pardon me, for if I had known you we would never have fought this fight."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "this is not the first kindness you have shown me."
So they were both on horseback again.
Then all the people on the one side gave Sir Lancelot the honour and the prize, and on the other side all the people gave the honour and the prize to the noble knight Sir Tristram. But Lancelot refused it: "For I am not worthy to have this honour, for I appeal to every knight here that Sir Tristram has been longer in the field than I have, and he has struck down many more knights today than I have. And therefore I will give Sir Tristram my voice and my name, and I beg all my lords and companions to do the same."
Then there was the whole voice of dukes and earls, barons and knights, that Sir Tristram had this day proved himself the best knight.
Then they sounded the end of the day, and Queen Isolde was led to her tents. But you may be sure she was angry beyond measure with Sir Palomides, for she had seen all his treachery from beginning to end. And all this while neither Sir Tristram, nor Sir Gareth, nor Dinadan knew anything of the treachery of Sir Palomides; but afterwards you will hear how there arose the greatest quarrel between Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides that could be.
So when the tournament was over, Sir Tristram, Gareth and Dinadan rode with Isolde the Fair to those tents. And all the while Sir Palomides rode with them in their company, disguised as he was. But when Sir Tristram had made him out to be the same knight with the silver shield who had pressed him so hard that day, "Sir knight," said Sir Tristram, "believe me, there is no one here who has any need of your company, and therefore I ask you to leave us."
Sir Palomides answered as though he had not known Sir Tristram: "Believe me, sir knight, I will never leave this company, for one of the best knights in the world commanded me to be in this company, and until he releases me from my service I will not be released."
By that Sir Tristram knew that it was Sir Palomides.
"Ah, Sir Palomides," said the noble knight Sir Tristram, "is that the kind of knight you are? You have been wrongly named, for you have long been called a courteous knight, and this day you have shown me great discourtesy, for you nearly brought me to my death. But as for you, I think I would have done well enough; it was Sir Lancelot together with you that was too much for me. For I know no knight living for whom Sir Lancelot is not too good, if he does his utmost."
"Alas," said Sir Palomides, "are you my lord Sir Tristram?"
"Yes, sir, and you know that well enough."
"On my knighthood," said Palomides, "until now I did not know you; I thought you were the King of Ireland, for I know very well you bore his arms."
"His arms I bore," said Sir Tristram, "and I will stand by that, for I won them once in the field from a most noble knight; his name was Sir Marhaus. And with great pain I won against that knight, for there was no other way out; but Sir Marhaus died through bad doctoring, and he never yielded to me."
"Sir," said Palomides, "I thought you had gone over to Sir Lancelot's party, and that is what made me turn."
"Well said," said Sir Tristram, "and I take it so, and I forgive you."
So then they rode to their tents; and when they had dismounted they unarmed, and washed their faces and hands, and so went in to eat, and sat down at their table. But when Isolde saw Sir Palomides her colour changed, and for anger she could not speak. At once Sir Tristram noticed her face and said, "Madam, why do you look at us like that? We have worked hard today."
"My own lord," said Isolde the Fair, "for God's sake do not be displeased with me, for I can do no other; for I saw this day how you were betrayed and nearly brought to your death. Truly, sir, I saw every bit of it, how and in what way, and so, sir, how could I bear such a wicked traitor as Sir Palomides in your presence? For I saw him with my own eyes, how he watched you when you went out of the field. For all the time he waited there on his horse until he saw you coming back in. And then at once I saw him ride to the wounded knight and change armour with him, and then straight away I saw how he rode into the field. And as soon as he had found you he came at you, and so Sir Palomides fought with you on purpose. And as for him, sir, I was not greatly afraid, but I was badly afraid of Lancelot, who did not know you."
"Madam," said Palomides, "you may say whatever you like, I cannot contradict you, but on my knighthood I did not know Sir Tristram."
"Sir Palomides," said Sir Tristram, "I will accept your excuse, but I know well that you spared me very little; but all is pardoned on my side."
Then Isolde the Fair hung her head and said no more at that time.
And with that two armed knights came to the tent, and there they both dismounted, and came in armed from head to foot.
"Fair knights," said Sir Tristram, "you are to blame to come in on me armed from head to foot like this while we are at our meal; if you wanted anything of us, you could have eased your hearts when we were in the field."
"Not so," said one of those knights. "We have not come with that intent, but believe me, Sir Tristram, we have come here as your friends. And I have come here," said the one, "to see you, and this knight has come to see Isolde the Fair."
Then said Sir Tristram, "I ask you to take off your helmets, so that I can see you."
"We will do that, as you wish," said the knights.
And when their helmets were off, Sir Tristram thought he ought to know them.
Then Sir Dinadan said quietly to Sir Tristram, "Sir, the one who spoke to you first is Sir Lancelot du Lake, and the other is my lord King Arthur."
Then Sir Tristram said to Isolde the Fair, "Madam, get up, for here is my lord, King Arthur."
Then the king and the queen kissed, and Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram embraced each other, and then there was joy beyond measure; and at the request of Isolde the Fair, King Arthur and Lancelot were unarmed, and then there was merry talk.
"Madam," said Sir Arthur, "it is many a day since I first wanted to see you, for you have been praised so far and wide; and now I dare say you are the most beautiful lady I ever saw, and Sir Tristram is as handsome and as good a knight as any I know; so it seems to me you are well matched."
"Sir, God thank you," said the noble knight Sir Tristram, and Isolde with him. "In your great goodness and generosity you have no equal."
So they talked of many things, and of the whole of the jousts.
"But why," said King Arthur, "were you against us, Sir Tristram? You are a knight of the Round Table; by right you should have been with us."
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "Dinadan here, and Sir Gareth your own nephew, made me be against you."
"My lord Arthur," said Gareth, "I can well bear the blame, but it was Sir Tristram's own doing."
"I may well regret it," said Dinadan, "for this ill-starred Sir Tristram brought us to this tournament, and got us a great many hard knocks."
Then the king and Lancelot laughed so hard they could not keep their seats.
"Who was that knight," said Arthur, "who pressed you so hard, the one with the silver shield?"
"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "he is sitting here at this table."
"What," said Arthur, "was it Sir Palomides?"
"Believe me, it was he," said Isolde the Fair.
"God help me," said Arthur, "that was an unknightly thing to do, for so good a knight as you, for I have heard many people call you a courteous knight."
"Sir," said Palomides, "I did not know Sir Tristram, for he was so disguised."
"God help me," said Lancelot, "that may well be, for I did not know Sir Tristram either; but I wonder why you turned to our party."
"That was done for the same reason," said Palomides.
"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "I have pardoned him, and I would be very unwilling to lose his company, for I love his company very well."
So they left that and talked of other things.
And in the evening King Arthur and Sir Lancelot went off to their lodging; but you may be sure Sir Palomides was eaten up with envy, for all that night he never had any rest in his bed, but wailed and wept beyond measure. So in the morning Sir Tristram, Gareth and Dinadan got up early, and then they went to Sir Palomides' room, and there they found him fast asleep, for he had lain awake all night, and it could be seen on his cheeks that he had wept very hard.
"Say nothing," said Sir Tristram, "for I am sure he has taken anger and sorrow from the rebuke that I gave him, and Isolde the Fair with me."
Then Sir Tristram had Sir Palomides called, and told him to make ready, for it was time to go to the field. When they were ready they were armed, and dressed all in red, both Isolde and all of them; and so they led her very briskly through the field to the priory where she was lodged. And then they heard three trumpet blasts, and every king and knight made his way to the field. And the first who were ready to joust were Sir Palomides and Sir Kainus le Strange, a knight of the Round Table. And so the two of them met, but Sir Palomides struck Sir Kainus so hard that he knocked him clean over his horse's rump. And at once Sir Palomides struck down another knight, and then broke his spear, and pulled out his sword and did wonderfully well. And then the acclaim began loudly for Sir Palomides.
"Look," said King Arthur, "Palomides over there is starting to put on his show. God help me," said Arthur, "he is an exceedingly good knight."
And just as they stood talking like this, in came Sir Tristram like thunder, and he met Sir Kay the Seneschal, and there he struck him clean down from his horse; and with that same spear Sir Tristram struck down three more knights, and then he pulled out his sword and did marvellously. Then the acclaim and the cry changed from Sir Palomides and turned to Sir Tristram, and all the people cried, "Oh, Tristram! Oh, Tristram!" And then Sir Palomides was clean forgotten.
"How about that?" said Lancelot to Arthur. "There rides a knight who puts on a show."
"God help me," said Arthur to Lancelot, "you will see today that those two knights will do wonders here today."
"Sir," said Lancelot, "the one knight keeps watching the other, and strives out of envy to outdo the noble knight Sir Tristram, and Tristram knows nothing of the secret envy that Sir Palomides has for him; for all that the noble Sir Tristram does is done out of pure knighthood."
And then Sir Gareth and Dinadan did wonderfully great deeds of arms, as two noble knights, so that King Arthur spoke of them with great honour and praise; and the kings and knights on Sir Tristram's side did exceedingly well, and held together staunchly. Then Sir Arthur and Sir Lancelot took their horses and made ready, and got into the thickest of the crowd. And there Sir Tristram, not knowing him, struck down King Arthur, and then Sir Lancelot would have rescued him, but there were so many on Sir Lancelot that they pulled him down from his horse. And then the King of Ireland and the King of Scots with their knights did their utmost to take King Arthur and Sir Lancelot prisoner. When Sir Lancelot heard them say so, he went at them like a hungry lion, for he fought so that no knight dared come near him.
Then Sir Ector de Maris came, and he rode with a spear against Sir Palomides, and burst it on him all to splinters. And then Sir Ector came back and gave Sir Palomides such a stroke with a sword that he bent down over his saddlebow. And at once Sir Ector pulled Sir Palomides down under his feet; and then Sir Ector de Maris got a horse for Sir Lancelot du Lake, and brought it to him, and told him to mount it; but Sir Palomides leapt in ahead, and got the horse by the bridle, and leapt into the saddle.
"God help me," said Lancelot, "you are more worthy to have that horse than I am."
Then Sir Ector brought Sir Lancelot another horse.
"Many thanks," said Lancelot to his brother.
And so when he was on horseback again, with one spear he struck down four knights. And then Sir Lancelot brought King Arthur one of the best of the four horses. Then Sir Lancelot, with King Arthur and a few knights of Sir Lancelot's kin, did marvellous deeds; for at that time, as the book records, Sir Lancelot struck down and pulled down thirty knights. Even so, the other party held together so firmly that King Arthur and his knights were overmatched. And when Sir Tristram saw that, how hard King Arthur and his knights laboured, and above all the noble deeds that Sir Lancelot did with his own hands, he marvelled greatly.
Then Sir Tristram called Sir Palomides, Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan to him, and spoke to them like this: "My good companions, you may be sure that I will go over to King Arthur's party, for I never saw so few men do so well, and it will be a shame to us knights of the Round Table to see our lord King Arthur, and that noble knight Sir Lancelot, dishonoured."
"It will be well done," said Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan.
"Do your best," said Palomides, "for I will not change from the party I came in with."
"That is because of me," said Sir Tristram. "God speed you on your way."
And so Sir Palomides left them. Then Sir Tristram, Gareth and Dinadan turned to join Sir Lancelot. And then Sir Lancelot struck the King of Ireland clean off his horse; and so Sir Lancelot struck down the King of Scots, and the King of Wales; and then Sir Arthur rode at Sir Palomides and struck him clean off his horse; and then Sir Tristram bore down everyone he met. Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan did there as noble knights; then all the other parties began to flee.
"Alas," said Palomides, "that I should ever see this day, for now I have lost all the honour I won."
And then Sir Palomides went his way wailing, and so he took himself off until he came to a spring, and there he turned his horse loose, and took off his armour, and wailed and wept like a madman. Then many knights gave the prize to Sir Tristram, and there were many who gave the prize to Sir Lancelot.
"Fair lords," said Sir Tristram, "I thank you for the honour you would give me, but I beg you with all my heart to give your voice to Sir Lancelot, for by my faith," said Sir Tristram, "I will give Sir Lancelot my voice."
But Sir Lancelot would not have it, and so the prize was divided between the two of them.
Then every man rode to his lodging, and Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector rode with Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair to their tents. Then, as Sir Palomides was at the spring wailing and weeping, the Kings of Wales and of Scotland came by him in flight, and they saw Sir Palomides in that frenzy.
"Alas," they said, "that so noble a man as you should be in such a state."
And then those kings got Sir Palomides' horse back for him, and made him arm himself and mount his horse, and so he rode with them, grieving greatly. So when Sir Palomides came near the tents where Sir Tristram and Isolde the Fair were, Sir Palomides asked the two kings to wait for him there while he spoke with Sir Tristram. And when he came to the entrance of the tents, Sir Palomides called out loudly, "Where are you, Sir Tristram de Liones?"
"Sir," said Dinadan, "that is Palomides."
"What, Sir Palomides," said Sir Tristram, "won't you come in here among us?"
"Shame on you, traitor," said Palomides, "for believe me, if it were daylight, as it is night, I would kill you with my own hands. And if I can ever get at you," said Palomides, "you'll die for this day's work."
"Sir Palomides," said Sir Tristram, "you blame me wrongly, for if you had done as I did, you would have won honour. But since you give me such fair warning, I will be well on my guard against you."
"Shame on you, traitor," said Palomides, and with that he left.
Then in the morning Sir Tristram, Bleoberis and Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan, partly by water and partly by land, brought Isolde the Fair to Joyous Gard, and there they rested for a week, and made all the merriment and entertainment they could devise. And King Arthur and his knights went back to Camelot, and Sir Palomides rode with the two kings; and all the while he grieved more than any man could imagine, for he was not only grieved to be parted from Isolde the Fair, but he was in part just as sorrowful to be parted from the fellowship of Sir Tristram; for Sir Tristram was so kind and so courteous that whenever Sir Palomides remembered it he could never be merry.
So at the end of the week Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector took their leave of Sir Tristram and of the queen; and these two good knights were given great gifts; and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan stayed with Sir Tristram. And when Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector came to where Queen Guinevere was lodged, in a castle by the seaside (and by the grace of God the queen had recovered from her illness), she asked the two knights where they had come from. They said that they came from Sir Tristram and from Isolde the Fair.
"How is Sir Tristram," said the queen, "and Isolde the Fair?"
"Truly," said those two knights, "he does as a noble knight should do; and as for Queen Isolde, she has no equal among all ladies; for, to speak of her beauty, her goodness of heart, and her gaiety, and of her virtue, we never saw her match, as far as we have ridden and walked."
"Oh, Jesus have mercy," said Queen Guinevere, "so say all the people who have seen her and spoken with her. I wish to God I had a share of her qualities. And it was my misfortune to be ill while that tournament lasted. And I suppose I shall never see in all my life such a gathering of knights and ladies as you have seen."
Then the knights told her how Palomides won the prize on the first day with great nobility; and on the second day Sir Tristram won the prize; and on the third day Sir Lancelot won the prize.
"Well," said Queen Guinevere, "who did best over all three days?"
"God help us," said these knights, "Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram had the least dishonour. And believe me, Sir Palomides did exceedingly well and mightily; but he turned against the party he came in with, and that made him lose a great part of his honour, for it seemed that Sir Palomides is exceedingly envious."
"Then he will never win honour," said Queen Guinevere, "for if it happens that an envious man once wins honour, he will be dishonoured twice over for it; and for this reason all men of honour hate an envious man, and will show him no favour; and he who is courteous, and kind, and gracious, finds favour everywhere."
Now we leave this matter and turn to Sir Palomides, who rode off and lodged with the two kings, which made the kings downcast. Then the King of Ireland sent a man of his to Sir Palomides, and gave him a great warhorse, and the King of Scotland gave him great gifts; and they would gladly have had Sir Palomides stay with them, but he would not stay on any account; and so he left, and rode wherever chance led him, until it was near noon. And then, in a forest, by a spring, Sir Palomides saw a fine knight lying wounded, with his horse tied up beside him; and that knight was grieving more than he had ever heard any man grieve, for he wept without stopping, and sighed as though he would die.
Then Sir Palomides rode up to him and greeted him gently and said, "Fair knight, why are you lamenting like this? Let me lie down and lament with you, for you can be sure I am much more heavy-hearted than you are; for I dare say," said Palomides, "that my sorrow is a hundred times greater than yours, and so let us each pour out our grief to the other."
"First," said the wounded knight, "I ask you to tell me your name, for if you are not one of the noble knights of the Round Table, you will never know my name, whatever becomes of me."
"Fair knight," said Palomides, "such as I am, for better or for worse, you may know that my name is Sir Palomides, son and heir of King Astlabor, and Sir Safere and Sir Segwarides are my two brothers; and know, too, that as for myself I was never christened, but my two brothers are truly christened."
"Oh, noble knight," said that knight, "how glad I am that I have met you; and you may know that my name is Epinogris, son of the King of Northumberland. Now sit down," said Epinogris, "and let us each pour out our grief to the other."
Then Sir Palomides began his lament.
"Now I will tell you," said Palomides, "what pain I suffer. I love the most beautiful queen and lady who was ever alive, and you should know her name is Isolde the Fair, the wife of King Mark of Cornwall."
"It is great folly," said Epinogris, "to love Queen Isolde, for one of the best knights in the world loves her, and that is Sir Tristram de Liones."
"That is true," said Palomides, "for no man knows that better than I do, for I have been in Sir Tristram's company this past month, and with Isolde the Fair as well. And alas," said Palomides, "unlucky man that I am, now I have lost the fellowship of Sir Tristram for ever, and the love of Isolde the Fair for ever, and I am never likely to see her again, and Sir Tristram and I are mortal enemies to each other."
"Well," said Epinogris, "since you loved Isolde the Fair, did she ever love you back, by any sign you could think of or know of? Or did you ever have any pleasure of her?"
"No, on my knighthood," said Palomides, "I never saw any sign that she loved me any more than the rest of the world, and I never had any pleasure of her; but the other day she gave me the worst rebuke I ever had, which will never leave my heart. And yet I fully deserved that rebuke, for I did not act like a knight, and so I have lost her love and Sir Tristram's for ever; and many times I have pushed myself to do many deeds for the sake of Isolde the Fair, and she was the reason I won my honour. Alas," said Sir Palomides, "now I have lost all the honour I ever won, for I will never again have such prowess as I had in the fellowship of Sir Tristram."
"No, no," said Epinogris, "your sorrow is a trifle beside my sorrow; for I had my joy of my lady and won her with my own hands, and lost her again: alas that day! This is how I first won her," said Epinogris. "My lady was an earl's daughter, and as the earl and two knights were coming from the tournament of Lonazep, for her sake I set upon this earl and his two knights, with my lady there present; and so by fortune I killed the earl there, and one of the knights, and the other knight fled, and so that night I had my lady. And in the morning, as she and I were resting here beside this well, there came to me a knight-errant, Sir Helior le Preuse by name, a bold knight, and this Sir Helior challenged me to fight for my lady. And then we fought, first on horseback and then on foot, but in the end Sir Helior wounded me so that he left me for dead, and so he took my lady with him. And so my sorrow is greater than yours, for I have had my joy, and you never had yours."
"That is true," said Palomides, "but since I can never recover from mine, I promise you that if I can meet with Sir Helior I will get your lady back for you, or else he will beat me."
Then Sir Palomides made Sir Epinogris take his horse, and so they rode to a hermitage, and there Sir Epinogris rested. And in the meantime Sir Palomides walked quietly out to rest under the trees, and nearby he saw a knight come riding with a shield that he had seen Sir Ector de Maris carry before; and about ten knights came after him, and these ten knights waited under the trees because of the heat. And soon after there came a knight with a green shield bearing a white lion, leading a lady on a palfrey. Then the knight with Sir Ector's shield, who seemed to be the master of the ten knights, rode fiercely after this knight, Sir Helior, for it was he who had wounded Sir Epinogris. And when he came near Sir Helior he told him to defend his lady.
"I will defend her," said Helior, "as well as I can."
And so they charged together so mightily that each of these knights struck the other to the ground, horse and all; and then they got up quickly and drew their swords and took their shields, and laid into each other mightily for more than an hour. Sir Palomides saw and watched all this, but in the end the knight with Sir Ector's shield was the stronger, and at last this knight struck Sir Helior down, and then that knight unlaced his helmet to strike off his head. And then Helior begged for mercy, and begged him to spare his life, and told him to take his lady. Then Sir Palomides got to his feet, because he knew well that this same lady was Epinogris' lady, and he had promised to help him.
Then Sir Palomides went straight to that lady, and took her by the hand, and asked her whether she knew a knight called Epinogris.
"Alas," she said, "that he ever knew me or I him, for for his sake I have lost my honour, and the loss of his life grieves me most of all."
"Not so, lady," said Palomides. "Come with me, for Epinogris is here in this hermitage."
"Ah, how glad I am," said the lady, "if he is alive!"
"Where are you going with that lady?" said the knight with Sir Ector's shield.
"I will do with her whatever I please," said Palomides.
"Believe me," said that knight, "you talk too big, though you think you have the advantage of me, because you have just seen me fight. Do you expect, sir knight, to take that lady away from me so easily? No, never think it; even if you were as good a knight as Sir Lancelot, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Palomides, you'll pay dearer for her than I ever did."
And so they went to battle on foot, and there they gave many heavy blows, and each wounded the other exceedingly badly, and so they fought on for more than an hour. Then Sir Palomides wondered what knight this could be who was so strong and had such good wind to keep it up, and so Palomides said, "Knight, I ask you to tell me your name."
"Believe me," said that knight, "I dare tell you my name, provided you will tell me yours."
"I will," said Palomides.
"Truly," said that knight, "my name is Safere, son of King Astlabor, and Sir Palomides and Sir Segwarides are my brothers."
"Now, believe me, my name is Sir Palomides."
Then Sir Safere knelt down on his knees, and begged his forgiveness; and then they unlaced their helmets and kissed each other, weeping. And in the meantime Sir Epinogris got up out of his bed, and heard them by the sound of the blows, and so he armed himself to help Sir Palomides if there was need.
Then Sir Palomides took the lady by the hand and brought her to Sir Epinogris, and there was great joy between them, for each of them fainted for joy. When they had come together again, "Fair knight and lady," said Sir Safere, "it would be a pity to part you. Jesus send you joy of each other."
"Many thanks, noble knight," said Epinogris, "and many more thanks to my lord Sir Palomides, who has won me back my lady like this by his prowess."
Then Sir Epinogris asked Sir Palomides and Sir Safere, his brother, to ride with them to his castle, for the safety of his person.
"Sir," said Palomides, "we will be ready to escort you, because you are badly wounded."
And so Epinogris and his lady were mounted, and his lady behind him on a soft-paced ambling horse. And then they rode to his castle, where they had a welcome and as great joy as Sir Palomides and Sir Safere had ever had in all the days of their lives.
So in the morning Sir Safere and Sir Palomides left, and rode on all day until after noon. And at last they heard a great weeping and a great noise down in a manor house.
"Sir," said Sir Safere then, "let us find out what this noise is."
"Gladly," said Sir Palomides.
And so they rode on until they came to a fair gate of a manor, and there sat an old man saying his prayers and telling his beads. Then Sir Palomides and Sir Safere dismounted and left their horses, and went in through the gates, and there they saw a great many fine men weeping.
"Fair sirs," said Palomides, "why are you weeping and making this sorrow?"
At once one of the knights of the castle looked at Sir Palomides and knew him, and then he went to his companions and said, "Fair companions, believe me, all of you, we have in this castle the very knight who killed our lord at Lonazep, for I know him well: it is Sir Palomides."
Then they went to arm themselves, all who could bear armour, some on horseback and some on foot, to the number of sixty. And when they were ready they came briskly at Sir Palomides and at Sir Safere with a great noise, and said this: "Defend yourself, Sir Palomides, for you are known, and by right you must die, for you killed our lord. And so, believe us, we will kill you. So defend yourself!"
Then Sir Palomides and Sir Safere set their backs to each other, and gave many great strokes, and took many great strokes; and so they fought against some twenty knights and forty gentlemen and yeomen for nearly two hours. But at last, much against their will, Sir Palomides and Sir Safere were taken and made to yield, and were put in a strong prison. And within three days twelve knights sat in judgement on them, and they found Sir Palomides guilty, and Sir Safere not guilty, of their lord's death. And when Sir Safere was to be set free there was great grief between Sir Palomides and him, and Sir Safere made so many pitiful laments at his parting that no poet could tell the tenth part of them.
"Fair brother," said Palomides, "leave off your grief and your sorrow. And if I am fated to die a shameful death, let it be welcome. But if I had known of this death that I am sentenced to, I would never have yielded."
So Sir Safere parted from his brother with the greatest grief and sorrow that ever a knight showed.
And in the morning the people of the castle appointed twelve knights to ride with Sir Palomides to the father of the same knight that Sir Palomides had killed; and so they bound his legs under an old horse's belly. And then they rode with Sir Palomides towards a castle by the seaside, which was called Pellounes, and there Sir Palomides was to have justice. That was what they had ordained; and so they rode with Sir Palomides close by the castle of Joyous Gard. And as they passed by that castle there came riding out of it past them a knight who knew Sir Palomides. And when that knight saw Sir Palomides bound on a broken-down old warhorse, the knight asked Sir Palomides why he was being led like that.
"Ah, my fair companion and knight," said Palomides, "I am riding towards my death for the killing of a knight at a tournament at Lonazep. And if I had not left my lord Sir Tristram, as I ought not to have done, I might now have been sure of having my life saved. But I beg you, sir knight, commend me to my lord Sir Tristram, and to my lady, Queen Isolde, and tell them that if I ever wronged them, I ask their forgiveness. And I also beg you to commend me to my lord King Arthur, and to all the fellowship of the Round Table, as best I may."
Then that knight wept for pity of Sir Palomides; and with that he rode to Joyous Gard as fast as his horse could run, and the knight quickly got down off his horse and went to Sir Tristram, and there he told him everything, just as you have heard, and all the while the knight wept as if he had gone mad.
When Sir Tristram heard how Sir Palomides was going to his death, he was grieved to hear it, and said, "Although I am angry with Sir Palomides, all the same I will not allow him to die so shameful a death, for he is a very noble knight."
And then at once Sir Tristram was armed, and took his horse and two squires with him, and rode at a great pace towards the castle of Pellounes, where Sir Palomides was condemned to death. And these twelve knights who were leading Sir Palomides passed by a spring where Sir Lancelot was. He had dismounted there, and had tied his horse to a tree, and taken off his helmet to drink from that spring; and when he saw these knights, Sir Lancelot put on his helmet and let them pass by him. And then he became aware of Sir Palomides, bound, and led shamefully to his death.
"O Jesus," said Lancelot, "what misfortune has befallen him, that he is being led to his death like this? Truly," said Lancelot, "it would be a shame to me to let this noble knight die like this if I could help him. So I will help him, whatever comes of it, or else I shall die for Sir Palomides' sake."
And then Sir Lancelot mounted his horse, and took his spear in his hand, and rode after the twelve knights who were leading Sir Palomides.
"Fair knights," said Sir Lancelot, "where are you taking that knight? It ill becomes him to ride bound."
Then these twelve knights suddenly turned their horses and said to Sir Lancelot, "Sir knight, we advise you not to meddle with this knight, for he has deserved death, and to death he is condemned."
"I am sorry," said Lancelot, "that I cannot have him released by fair means, for he is too good a knight to die such a shameful death. And so, fair knights," said Sir Lancelot, "defend yourselves as well as you can, for I will rescue that knight or die for it."
Then they began to lower their spears, and Sir Lancelot struck the foremost down, horse and man, and he served three more the same way with one spear. And then that spear broke, and with that Sir Lancelot drew his sword, and then he struck out on the right hand and on the left hand. Then within a while he had left none of those twelve knights standing, but he had laid them all on the ground, and most of them were badly wounded. And then Sir Lancelot took the best horse that he found, and untied Sir Palomides and set him on that horse; and so they turned back towards Joyous Gard. And then Sir Palomides saw Sir Tristram, how he came riding. And when Sir Lancelot saw him he knew him well, but Sir Tristram did not know him, because Sir Lancelot had a golden shield on his shoulder. So Sir Lancelot made ready to joust with Sir Tristram, so that Sir Tristram would not guess that he was Sir Lancelot.
Then Sir Palomides cried aloud to Sir Tristram, "O my lord, I beg you, do not joust with this knight, for this good knight has saved me from my death."
When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he came towards them at a gentle trot.
And then Sir Palomides said, "My lord Sir Tristram, I am much beholden to you for your great goodness, that you would offer your noble body to rescue me when I did not deserve it, for I have greatly offended you. Nevertheless," said Sir Palomides, "here we met with this noble knight, who rescued me honourably and like a man from twelve knights, and struck them all down and wounded them badly."
"Fair knight," said Sir Tristram to Sir Lancelot, "where are you from?"
"I am a knight-errant," said Sir Lancelot, "who rides out to seek many adventures."
"What is your name?" said Sir Tristram.
"Sir, at this time I will not tell you."
Then Sir Lancelot said to Sir Tristram and to Palomides, "Now that you two have met, I will leave you."
"Not so," said Sir Tristram. "I beg you, by your knighthood, to ride with me to my castle."
"Believe me," said Sir Lancelot, "I cannot ride with you, for I have many deeds to do in other places, so that at this time I cannot stay with you."
"Ah, Jesus have mercy," said Sir Tristram, "I beg you, as you are a knight true to the order of knighthood, stay and take your ease with me tonight."
Then Sir Tristram had his request granted by Sir Lancelot. And yet even if he had not asked him, Lancelot would have ridden with them, or else have come after them soon; for Sir Lancelot had come into that country for no other reason than to see Sir Tristram. And when they had come into Joyous Gard they dismounted, and their horses were led into a stable; and then they took off their armour. And when Sir Lancelot's helmet was off, Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides knew him. Then Sir Tristram took Sir Lancelot in his arms, and so did Isolde the Fair; and Palomides knelt down on his knees and thanked Sir Lancelot. When Sir Lancelot saw Sir Palomides kneel, he quickly raised him up and said this: "Believe me, Sir Palomides, I, and any knight of honour in this land, ought by every right to help and rescue so noble a knight as you are, proven and renowned throughout all this realm, from end to end and from side to side."
And then there was joy among them; but the more often Sir Palomides saw Isolde the Fair, the more downcast he grew, day by day.
Then within three or four days Sir Lancelot left, and Sir Ector de Maris rode with him; and Dinadan and Sir Palomides were left there with Sir Tristram for two months and more. But all the while Sir Palomides wasted and grieved, so that everyone wondered why he was wasting away like that. So one day, at dawn, Sir Palomides went into the forest by himself alone; and there he found a spring, and then he looked into the spring, and in the water he saw his own face, how it was troubled and faded, nothing like what it used to be.
"What can this mean?" said Sir Palomides, and this is what he said to himself: "Ah, Palomides, Palomides, why are you so faded, you who used to be called one of the handsomest knights in the world? I will lead this life no longer, for I love what I can never get or win."
And with that he lay down by the spring. And then he began to make a song in rhyme about Isolde the Fair and himself.
And meanwhile Sir Tristram had ridden into the forest that same day to hunt the hart in its fat season; but Sir Tristram would never again go hunting unarmed, because of Sir Breuse Saunce Pité. And so as Sir Tristram rode up and down in that forest, he heard someone singing wonderfully loud, and that was Sir Palomides, who lay by the spring. And then Sir Tristram rode quietly towards it, for he thought there was some knight-errant at the spring. And when Sir Tristram came near him he got down from his horse and tied his horse fast to a tree, and then he came near him on foot. And soon he saw where Sir Palomides lay by the spring and sang loudly and merrily; and all the laments were about that noble queen, Isolde the Fair, and they were wonderfully and marvellously well put, and very sorrowfully and pitifully made. And the noble knight Sir Tristram heard the whole song from the beginning to the end, and it grieved and troubled him badly.
But then at last, when Sir Tristram had heard all Sir Palomides' laments, he was angry beyond measure, and thought to kill him where he lay. Then Sir Tristram reminded himself that Sir Palomides was unarmed, and of the noble name that Sir Palomides had, and the noble name that he had himself, and so he held back his anger. And so he went up to Sir Palomides at a slow pace and said, "Sir Palomides, I have heard your lament, and of the treason you have been hiding from me for so long; and know this: for it you shall die. And if it were not for the shame to knighthood, you would not escape my hands, for now I know well that you have been lying in wait for me with treason. Tell me," said Sir Tristram, "how will you clear yourself?"
"Sir," said Palomides, "this is how I will clear myself. As for Queen Isolde the Fair, you may know well that I love her above all other ladies in this world; and I know well it will happen to me, for her love, as it happened to the noble knight Sir Kehydius, who died for the love of Isolde the Fair. And now, Sir Tristram, I want you to know that I have loved Isolde the Fair for many a day, and she has been the cause of my honour, and otherwise I would have been the most worthless knight in the world. For by her, and because of her, I have won the honour that I have; for when I remembered Isolde the Fair I won honour wherever I came, for the most part. And yet I never had reward or kindness from her in all the days of my life, and yet I have been her knight without reward. And so, Sir Tristram, as for death, I do not fear it, for I would as soon die as live. And if I were armed as you are, I would gladly do battle with you."
"You have spoken your treason well enough," said Tristram.
"I have done you no treason," said Palomides, "for love is free for all men; and though I have loved your lady, she is my lady as well as yours. Even so, the wrong is mine, if there is any wrong, for you make her glad, and have your desire of her, and that I never had, and never am likely to have; and yet I shall love her to the last days of my life, as well as you."
Then Sir Tristram said, "I will fight with you to the uttermost."
"I agree," said Palomides, "for I could never hope to fight in a better quarrel. For if I die at your hands, I could not be killed at the hands of a better knight. And since I understand that I shall never have the joy of Isolde the Fair, I am as willing to die as to live."
"Then set a day," said Sir Tristram, "when we shall do battle."
"A fortnight from today," said Palomides, "I will meet you near here, in the meadow below Joyous Gard."
"Shame on you," said Sir Tristram, "will you set so long a day? Let us fight tomorrow."
"Not so," said Palomides, "for I am thin, and have been long sick for the love of Isolde the Fair, and so I will rest until I have my strength again."
So then Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides promised faithfully to meet at the spring a fortnight from that day.
"I remember," said Sir Tristram to Palomides, "that you broke a promise to me once, when I rescued you from Breuse Saunce Pité and nine knights; and then you promised to meet me at the stone monument by the tomb beside Camelot, and at that time you failed to keep your promise."
"Believe me," said Palomides to Sir Tristram, "I was in prison on that day, so that I could not keep my promise."
"So help me God," said Sir Tristram, "if you had kept your promise, this business would not be here now at this time."
At that Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides parted. And so Sir Palomides took his horse and his armour, and he rode to King Arthur's court; and there Sir Palomides got himself four knights and four sergeants-at-arms, and so he went back again towards Joyous Gard. And meanwhile Sir Tristram chased and hunted at every kind of game; and about three days before the battle was to be, as Sir Tristram chased a hart, an archer shot at the hart, and by mischance he struck Sir Tristram in the thick of the thigh, and the arrow killed Sir Tristram's horse and wounded him. When Sir Tristram was hurt like this he was exceedingly downcast, and you may be sure he bled badly. And then he took another horse, and rode to Joyous Gard with great heaviness of heart, more for the promise he had made to Sir Palomides, to do battle with him within three days after, than for any hurt to his thigh. And so there was neither man nor woman who could cheer him with anything they could do for him, not even Queen Isolde the Fair; for all the while he thought that Sir Palomides had caused him to be struck, so that he would not be able to do battle with him on the day set.
But there was no knight at all around Sir Tristram who would believe that Sir Palomides would ever hurt Sir Tristram, either by his own hands or by anyone else's with his consent. Then, when the fifteenth day had come, Sir Palomides came to the spring with four knights of Arthur's court with him, and three sergeants-at-arms. And Sir Palomides brought the knights and the sergeants-at-arms with him for this purpose, that they should bear witness to the battle between Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides. And one sergeant carried in his helmet, the second his spear, the third his sword. So in this way Palomides came into the field, and there he waited nearly two hours; and then he sent a squire to Sir Tristram, and asked him to come into the field to keep his promise.
When the squire had come to Joyous Gard, as soon as Sir Tristram heard of his coming he gave orders that the squire should be brought before him where he lay in his bed.
"My lord Sir Tristram," said Palomides' squire, "believe me, my lord Palomides is waiting for you in the field, and he would like to know whether you will do battle or not."
"Ah, my fair brother," said Sir Tristram, "believe me, I am very sorry for this news. So tell Sir Palomides that if I were well I would not lie here, and he would have no need to send for me if I could either ride or walk. And so that you can say I am no liar..." And Sir Tristram showed him his thigh, and the wound was six inches deep. "And now that you have seen my hurt, tell your lord that this is no pretence, and tell him that I would rather be whole than have all the gold of King Arthur. And tell Palomides that as soon as I am whole I shall seek him the length and breadth of the land, and that I promise you as I am a true knight; and if ever I can meet with him, he shall have his fill of battle from me."
And with this the squire left; and when Palomides knew that Tristram was hurt, he was glad and said, "Now I am sure I shall come to no shame, for I know well I would have had hard handling from him, and in all likelihood I must have had the worse of it, for he is the hardest knight in battle now living, except Sir Lancelot."
And then Sir Palomides went off wherever fortune led him, and within a month Sir Tristram was healed of his hurt. And then he took his horse, and rode from country to country, and he achieved every strange adventure wherever he rode; and he always asked after Sir Palomides, but in all that season of summer Sir Tristram could never meet with Sir Palomides. But as Sir Tristram sought and asked after Sir Palomides in this way, Sir Tristram won many great battles, through which all the fame fell to Sir Tristram, and it faded from Sir Lancelot. And so Sir Lancelot's brothers and his kinsmen would have killed Sir Tristram because of his fame. But when Sir Lancelot knew how his kinsmen were set, he said to them openly, "Believe me, if the envy of any of you is so bold as to lie in wait for my lord Sir Tristram to do him any hurt, shame or wrong, as I am a true knight I shall kill the best of you with my own hands. Alas, shame on you! Would you lie in wait to kill him for his noble deeds? Jesus forbid," said Lancelot, "that any noble knight such as Sir Tristram should ever be destroyed by treason."
The news and fame of this spread into Cornwall, and among the people of Liones, and they were exceedingly glad of it, and rejoiced greatly. And then the people of Liones sent letters of greeting to Sir Tristram, and many great gifts to maintain Sir Tristram's estate; and every so often, in between, Sir Tristram went back to Joyous Gard, where Isolde the Fair was, who loved him as her life.
Here ends the tenth book, which is of Sir Tristram. And here follows the eleventh book, which is of Sir Lancelot.
Now we leave Sir Tristram de Liones, and speak of Sir Lancelot du Lake, and of Sir Galahad, Sir Lancelot's son, how he was fathered, and in what manner, as the French book tells it. Before the time that Sir Galahad was fathered or born, a hermit came in to King Arthur on Whitsunday, as the knights sat at the Round Table. And when the hermit saw the Siege Perilous, he asked the king and all the knights why that seat was empty.
Sir Arthur and all the knights answered, "No one shall ever sit in that seat but one, unless he is destroyed."
Then the hermit said, "Do you know who he is?"
"No," said Arthur and all the knights, "we do not know who it is that shall sit in it."
"Then I know," said the hermit, "for the man who shall sit there is unborn and not yet fathered, and this same year he shall be fathered who shall sit there in that Siege Perilous, and he shall win the Holy Grail."
When this hermit had said this, he left the court of King Arthur.
And then after this feast Sir Lancelot rode out on his adventure, until one day by chance he crossed over the bridge of Corbin; and there he saw the fairest tower that he had ever seen, and below it was a fair town full of people. And all the people, men and women, cried out at once, "Welcome, Sir Lancelot du Lake, the flower of all knighthood, for by you we shall all be helped out of danger!"
"What do you mean," said Sir Lancelot, "crying out to me like this?"
"Ah, fair knight," they all said, "here in this tower there is a sorrowful lady who has been in pain there for many winters and days, for she is forever boiling in scalding water. And only lately," said all the people, "Sir Gawain was here, and he could not help her, and so he left her in pain."
"Then I may," said Sir Lancelot, "leave her in pain as well as Sir Gawain did."
"No," said the people, "we know well that it is Sir Lancelot who shall free her."
"Well," said Lancelot, "then show me what I must do."
Then they brought Sir Lancelot into the tower; and when he came to the room where this lady was, the iron doors unlocked and unbolted themselves. And so Sir Lancelot went into the room, which was as hot as any steam bath. And there Sir Lancelot took by the hand the fairest lady that he had ever seen, and she was as naked as a needle. By enchantment Queen Morgan le Fay and the Queen of North Wales had put her there in that pain, because she was called the fairest lady of that country; and there she had been five years, and she could never be freed from her great pain until the best knight in the world had taken her by the hand. Then the people brought her clothes. And when she was dressed, Sir Lancelot thought she was the fairest lady in the world, unless it were Queen Guinevere.
Then this lady said to Sir Lancelot, "Sir, if you please, will you go with me to a chapel near here, so that we may give praise and thanks to God?"
"Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "come with me; I will go with you."
So when they came there and gave thanks to God, all the people, both learned and ignorant, gave thanks to God and to him, and said, "Sir knight, since you have freed this lady, you shall free us from a serpent that is here in a tomb."
Then Sir Lancelot took his shield and said, "Take me there, and whatever I can do to please God and you, I will do."
So when Sir Lancelot came there he saw written on the tomb, in letters of gold, these words: "Here shall come a leopard of king's blood, and he shall kill this serpent, and this leopard shall father a lion in this foreign country, and that lion shall surpass all other knights." So then Sir Lancelot lifted up the tomb, and out came a horrible and fiendish dragon, spitting fire from its mouth. Then Sir Lancelot drew his sword and fought with the dragon for a long time, and at last, with great effort, Sir Lancelot killed that dragon. With that King Pelles came, the good and noble knight, and greeted Sir Lancelot, and Lancelot greeted him in return.
"Fair knight," said the king, "what is your name? I ask you, by your knighthood, tell me!"
"Sir," said Lancelot, "you may be sure my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"And my name," said the king, "is Pelles, king of the foreign country, and a close kinsman of Joseph of Arimathea."
And then each of them made much of the other, and so they went into the castle to take their meal. And at once a dove came in at a window, and in her mouth there seemed to be a little censer of gold. And with that there was such a fragrance as if all the spices of the world had been there. And immediately there was on the table every kind of food and drink that they could think of. Then in came a damsel, exceedingly fair and young, and she carried a vessel of gold between her hands; and the king knelt to it devoutly, and said his prayers, and so did all who were there.
"O Jesus," said Sir Lancelot, "what can this mean?"
"This is," said the king, "the richest thing that any man living has. And when this thing goes about, the Round Table shall be broken. And believe me," said the king, "this is the Holy Grail that you have seen here."
So the king and Sir Lancelot spent most of that day together. And King Pelles would gladly have found the means to have Sir Lancelot lie with his daughter, the fair Elaine. And this was his purpose: the king knew well that Sir Lancelot would father a child on his daughter, who would be named Sir Galahad the good knight, by whom all the foreign country would be brought out of danger, and by him the Holy Grail would be achieved.
Then a lady called Dame Brisen came forward, and she said to the king, "Sir, believe me, Sir Lancelot loves no lady in the world but Queen Guinevere alone. And so work by my advice, and I shall make him lie with your daughter, and he shall not know but that he is lying with Queen Guinevere."
"O fair lady, Dame Brisen," said the king, "do you hope to bring this about?"
"Sir," she said, "on pain of my life, leave it to me." For this Brisen was one of the greatest enchantresses then living in the world.
Then at once, by Dame Brisen's cunning, she had someone whom Lancelot knew well come to him. And this man brought him a ring from Queen Guinevere, as if it had come from her, and just like the one she usually wore. And when Sir Lancelot saw that token, believe me, he was never so glad.
"Where is my lady?" said Sir Lancelot.
"In the Castle of Case," said the messenger, "only five miles from here."
Then Sir Lancelot meant to be there that same night. And then this Brisen, at the command of King Pelles, had Elaine sent to this castle, with twenty-five knights, to the Castle of Case. Then towards night Sir Lancelot rode to that castle, and there he was at once received honourably by people who seemed to him to be Queen Guinevere's own close household.
So when Sir Lancelot had dismounted, he asked where the queen was. And Dame Brisen said she was in her bed; and then the people were sent away, and Sir Lancelot was led to his room. And then Dame Brisen brought Sir Lancelot a cup full of wine; and as soon as he had drunk that wine he was so besotted and mad that he could make no delay, but without any hindrance he went to bed; and he believed that the maiden Elaine was Queen Guinevere. You may be sure that Sir Lancelot was glad, and so was that lady Elaine, that she had Sir Lancelot in her arms. For she knew well that on that same night Galahad would be fathered on her, who would prove the best knight in the world. And so they lay together until mid-morning; and all the windows and openings of that room were stopped up so that no daylight at all could be seen. And then Sir Lancelot came to himself, and he got up and went to the window.
And as soon as he had opened the window the enchantment was gone; then he knew for himself that he had done wrong.
"Alas," he said, "that I have lived so long! Now I am shamed."
So then he took his sword in his hand and said, "You traitress, who are you that I have lain with all this night? You'll die right here at my hands!"
Then this fair lady Elaine leapt out of her bed, quite naked, and knelt down before Sir Lancelot, and said, "Fair courteous knight, born of king's blood, I beg you to have mercy on me. And as you are renowned as the noblest knight in the world, do not kill me, for I have in my womb a child by you who shall be the noblest knight in the world."
"Ah, false traitress," said Sir Lancelot, "why have you betrayed me? Tell me at once who you are."
"Sir," she said, "I am Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles."
"Well," said Sir Lancelot, "I will forgive you this deed." And with that he took her up in his arms and kissed her, for she was as fair a lady, and as lively and young, and as wise, as any then living. "So help me God," said Sir Lancelot, "I cannot blame you for this. But the woman who worked this enchantment on me, as between you and me, if I can find her, that same Lady Brisen, she shall lose her head for witchcraft, for there was never a knight deceived as I have been this night."
And so Sir Lancelot dressed, and armed himself, and took his leave gently of the young lady Elaine, and so he left.
Then she said, "My lord Sir Lancelot, I beg you, see me as soon as you can, for I have submitted myself to the prophecy that my father told me. And at his command, to fulfil this prophecy, I have given the greatest riches and the fairest flower that I ever had, and that is my maidenhood, which I shall never have again. And so, noble knight, you owe me your good will."
And so Sir Lancelot dressed and was armed, and took his leave gently of the young lady Elaine; and so he left, and rode until he came to the Castle of Corbin, where her father was. And as soon as her time came she gave birth to a fair child, and they christened him Galahad. And you may be sure that child was well cared for and well brought up. And he was named Galahad because Sir Lancelot had been given that name at the font when he was christened; and afterwards the Lady of the Lake confirmed him as Sir Lancelot du Lake.
Then, after this lady had given birth and been churched, as new mothers were, a knight came to her whose name was Sir Bromel la Pleche, who was a great lord. And he had loved that lady for a long time, and he was always wanting to marry her; and she could find no way to put him off, until one day she said to Sir Bromel, "Believe me, sir knight, I will not love you, for my love is set on the best knight in the world."
"Who is he?" said Sir Bromel.
"Sir," she said, "it is Sir Lancelot du Lake that I love and no other, and so woo me no longer."
"Very well," said Sir Bromel, "and since you have told me so much, you shall have little joy of Sir Lancelot, for I shall kill him wherever I meet him."
"Sir," said the Lady Elaine, "do him no treacherous harm."
"You may be sure, my lady," said Bromel, "and I promise you this: for a twelvemonth I shall hold the bridge of Corbin for Sir Lancelot's sake, so that he shall neither come to you nor go from you, but I shall meet with him."
Then, as it happened by fortune and chance, Sir Bors de Ganis, who was Sir Lancelot's nephew, came over that bridge; and there Sir Bromel and Sir Bors jousted, and Sir Bors struck Sir Bromel such a blow that he carried him over his horse's rump. And then Sir Bromel, as a bold knight, pulled out his sword and set his shield to do battle with Sir Bors. And then Sir Bors dismounted and got clear of his horse, and there they dealt each other many heavy strokes; and they fought like this a long time, until at last Sir Bromel was laid on the ground, and there Sir Bors began to unlace his helmet to kill him. Then Sir Bromel begged Sir Bors for mercy, and yielded to him.
"On this condition you shall have your life," said Sir Bors, "that you go to Sir Lancelot on the next Whitsunday, and yield yourself to him as a recreant knight."
"I will do it," said Sir Bromel, and he swore it on the crossguard of the sword. And so Sir Bors let him go, and rode to King Pelles, who was in Corbin.
And when the king and Elaine his daughter knew that Sir Bors was Sir Lancelot's nephew, they gave him a warm welcome.
Then Dame Elaine said, "We wonder where Sir Lancelot is, for he never came here but once."
"Don't wonder at it," said Sir Bors, "for this half year he has been in prison with Queen Morgan le Fay, King Arthur's sister."
"Alas," said Dame Elaine, "I am sorry for that."
And all the while Sir Bors looked at the child in her arms, and all the while it seemed to him that it was exceedingly like Sir Lancelot.
"Truly," said Elaine, "you may be sure he fathered this child on me."
Then Sir Bors wept for joy, and he prayed to God that it might prove as good a knight as its father was. And then a white dove came in, and she carried a little censer of gold in her mouth, and there was every kind of food and drink; and a maiden carried the Holy Grail, and she said openly, "Believe me, Sir Bors, this child is Galahad, who shall sit in the Siege Perilous and achieve the Holy Grail, and he shall be much better than Sir Lancelot du Lake ever was, who is his own father."
And then they knelt down and made their devotions, and there was such a fragrance as if all the spices in the world had been there. And when the dove took flight, the maiden vanished with the Holy Grail as she had come.
"Sir," said Sir Bors to King Pelles, "this castle may be named the Castle Adventurous, for there are many strange adventures here."
"That is true," said the king, "for this place may well be called the place of adventures, since few knights come here who go away with any honour. However strong he may be, here he may be tested; and only lately Sir Gawain, the good knight, won little honour here. For I tell you," said King Pelles, "no knight shall win any honour here unless he is a man of honour himself and of good living, one who loves God and fears God; otherwise he wins no honour here, however bold he may be."
"That is a marvellous thing," said Sir Bors. "What you mean in this country I don't know, for you have many strange adventures, and so I will lie in this castle tonight."
"You shall not do so," said King Pelles, "if you take my advice, for you will hardly escape without shame."
"I shall take whatever adventure befalls me," said Sir Bors.
"Then I advise you," said the king, "to make a clean confession."
"As for that," said Sir Bors, "I will make my confession gladly."
So Sir Bors was confessed. And as for all women, Sir Bors was a virgin, except for one, who was the daughter of King Brangoris, and on her he fathered a child called Elaine; and except for her Sir Bors was entirely chaste.
And so Sir Bors was led to bed in a fine large room, and many doors were shut around the room. When Sir Bors saw all those doors, he sent all the people away, for he would have nobody with him; but on no account would Sir Bors take off his armour, and so he lay down on the bed just as he was. And just then he saw a light come in, by which he could clearly see a spear, great and long, that came straight at him, aimed at him, and it seemed to Sir Bors that the head of the spear burned like a candle. And at once, before Sir Bors knew it, the spearhead struck him in the shoulder a hand's breadth deep, and that wound pained Sir Bors exceedingly. And then he lay down again for the pain; and immediately after that a knight came in, armed, with his shield on his shoulder and his sword in his hand, and he said to Sir Bors, "Get up, sir knight, and fight with me."
"I am badly hurt," he said, "but all the same I shall not fail you."
And then Sir Bors leapt up and set his shield; and then they laid into each other mightily for a long while. And at last Sir Bors drove him backward until he came to a chamber door, and there that knight went into that chamber and rested a long while. And when he had rested he came out again fresh, and began the fight with Sir Bors anew, mightily and strongly.
Then Sir Bors thought that the knight should not go into that chamber to rest again, and so Sir Bors placed himself between the knight and that chamber door, and there Sir Bors struck him down, and then that knight yielded to him.
"What is your name?" said Sir Bors.
"Sir," he said, "my name is Pedivere of the Straight Marches."
So Sir Bors made him swear to be at the court of King Arthur at the next Whitsunday, and to yield himself there as a prisoner, as a knight overcome by the hands of Sir Bors. So Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches left. And then Sir Bors lay down to rest, and then he heard and felt a great noise in that room. And then Sir Bors saw, coming in (he did not know whether by the doors or the windows), a shower of arrows and crossbow bolts so thick that he marvelled, and many fell on him and wounded him in the places where he was not covered.
And then Sir Bors became aware of a hideous lion coming in; so Sir Bors squared up to the lion, and at once the lion tore his shield from him, and with his sword Sir Bors struck off the lion's head. Just then Sir Bors saw a dragon in the courtyard, exceedingly horrible, and there seemed to be letters of gold written on its forehead; and Sir Bors thought that the letters signified King Arthur. Just then there came a horrible leopard, an old one, and there they fought for a long time, and did great battle together. And at last the dragon spat out of its mouth what seemed to be a hundred dragons; and swiftly all the small dragons killed the old dragon and tore him all to pieces.
Immediately after that an old man came into the hall, and he sat down in a fine chair, and there seemed to be two adders around his neck. And then the old man had a harp, and there he sang an old song of how Joseph of Arimathea came into this land. Then, when he had sung, the old man told Sir Bors to go away from there. "For here you shall have no more adventures; and you have done most honourably, and you shall do better hereafter." And then it seemed to Sir Bors that the whitest dove came in, with a little golden censer in her mouth. And at once the storm, which before had been marvellous to hear, ceased and passed. Then all that court was full of sweet fragrances. Then Sir Bors saw four children carrying four fair candles, and an old man in the middle of the children with a censer in one hand and a spear in his other hand, and that spear was called the Spear of Vengeance.
"Now," said that old man to Sir Bors, "go to your cousin, Sir Lancelot, and tell him of this adventure, which would have been the most fitting for him of all earthly knights. But sin is so foul in him that he cannot achieve such holy deeds; for had it not been for his sin, he would have surpassed all the knights that ever were in his days. And tell Sir Lancelot that in all worldly adventures he surpasses all others in manhood and prowess, but in these spiritual matters he shall have many his betters."
And then Sir Bors saw four gentlewomen come past him, finely dressed; and he saw them go into a room where there was a great light, like a summer's light. And the women knelt down before an altar of silver with four pillars, and something like a bishop knelt down before that table of silver. And as Sir Bors looked above his head he saw a sword like silver, naked, hovering over his head, and the brightness of it struck his eyes so that for that time Sir Bors was blind. And there he heard a voice that said, "Go away from here, Sir Bors, for you are not yet worthy to be in this place."
And then he went back to his bed until the morning. And in the morning King Pelles rejoiced greatly over Sir Bors; and then he left and rode to Camelot, and there he found Sir Lancelot du Lake, and told him of the adventures that he had seen with King Pelles at Corbin.
So the rumour spread through Arthur's court that Lancelot had fathered a child on Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles. At this Queen Guinevere was angry, and gave Sir Lancelot many rebukes, and called him a false knight. And then Sir Lancelot told the queen everything, and how he had been made to lie with Elaine by enchantment, in the likeness of the queen. So the queen held Sir Lancelot excused. And as the book says, King Arthur had been in France, and had made war on the mighty King Claudas, and had won much of his lands. And when the king had come home again, he had a great feast proclaimed, so that all the lords and ladies of all England should be there, except those who were in rebellion against him.
And when Dame Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles, heard of this feast, she went to her father and asked him to give her leave to ride to that feast.
The king answered, "I am well content that you go there. But whatever you do, as you love me and want my blessing, see that you are dressed and equipped in the richest way; and see that you spare no cost. Ask and you shall have everything you need."
Then, on the advice of Dame Brisen, her maid, everything was made ready for the purpose, so that there was never a lady more richly equipped. So she rode with twenty knights, and ten ladies, and gentlewomen, to the number of a hundred horses. And when she came to Camelot, King Arthur and Queen Guinevere said, and all the knights too, that Dame Elaine was the fairest and the best-arrayed lady that had ever been seen in that court. And as soon as King Arthur knew that she had come, he met her and greeted her, and so did most of the knights of the Round Table, Sir Tristram, Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Gawain, and many more that I will not list. But when Sir Lancelot saw her he was so ashamed, because he had drawn his sword on her the morning after he had lain with her, that he would not greet her or speak to her; and yet Sir Lancelot thought she was the fairest woman he had ever seen in all the days of his life.
But when Dame Elaine saw that Sir Lancelot would not speak to her, she was so downcast that she thought her heart would burst; for you may be sure she loved him beyond measure.
And then Elaine said to her woman, Dame Brisen, "Sir Lancelot's unkindness is all but killing me."
"Ah, hush, madam," said Dame Brisen. "I will undertake that this night he shall lie with you, if you will keep quiet."
"I would rather have that," said Dame Elaine, "than all the gold there is above the earth."
"Leave it to me," said Dame Brisen.
So when Elaine was brought to Queen Guinevere, each gave the other a friendly face, but nothing from the heart. But all the men and women spoke of the beauty of Dame Elaine, and of her great riches.
Then, at night, the queen commanded that Dame Elaine should sleep in a room near her own room, and all under one roof; and so it was done as the queen commanded. Then the queen sent for Sir Lancelot and told him to come to her room that night. "Or else I am sure," said the queen, "that you will go to your lady's bed, Dame Elaine, by whom you fathered Galahad."
"Ah, madam," said Sir Lancelot, "never say so, for what I did was against my will."
"Then," said the queen, "see that you come to me when I send for you."
"Madam," said Lancelot, "I shall not fail you, but I shall be ready at your command."
This bargain was soon struck and made between them, but Dame Brisen knew of it by her arts, and told it to her lady, Dame Elaine.
"Alas," she said, "what shall I do?"
"Leave it to me," said Dame Brisen, "for I shall bring him by the hand right to your bed, and he shall think that I am Queen Guinevere's messenger."
"Now I am happy," said Dame Elaine, "for in all the world I love nothing so much as I do Sir Lancelot."
So when the time came that everyone was in bed, Dame Brisen came to Sir Lancelot's bedside and said, "Sir Lancelot du Lake, are you asleep? My lady, Queen Guinevere, is lying waiting for you."
"O my fair lady," said Sir Lancelot, "I am ready to go with you wherever you want me."
So Sir Lancelot threw a long gown over himself, with his sword in his hand; and then Dame Brisen took him by the finger and led him to her lady's bed, Dame Elaine's; and then she went away and left them in bed together. You may be sure the lady was glad, and so was Sir Lancelot, for he thought that he had another woman in his arms.
Now we leave them kissing and embracing, as was a natural thing; and now we speak of Queen Guinevere, who sent one of her women to Sir Lancelot's bed; and when she came there she found the bed cold, and he was gone; so she came back to the queen and told her everything.
"Alas," said the queen, "where has that false knight gone?"
Then the queen was nearly out of her wits, and she writhed and tossed like a madwoman, and could not sleep for four or five hours. Now Sir Lancelot had a habit that he had always had: he would chatter in his sleep, and speak often of his lady, Queen Guinevere. So when Sir Lancelot had stayed awake as long as it pleased him, then in the course of nature he slept, and Dame Elaine too. And in his sleep he talked and chattered like a jay, about the love that had been between Queen Guinevere and him. And because he talked so loud, the queen heard him where she lay in her room; and when she heard him chatter like that she was nearly mad and out of her mind, and for anger and pain she did not know what to do. And then she coughed so loud that Sir Lancelot woke, and he knew her way of clearing her throat. And then he knew well that he was not lying beside the queen; and with that he leapt out of his bed like a madman, in his shirt, and the queen met him on the floor, and this is what she said:
"False traitor knight that you are, see that you never stay in my court! Get out of my room, and don't you dare, you false traitor knight that you are, ever come into my sight again!"
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot; and with that he took such a heartfelt sorrow at her words that he fell down on the floor in a faint. And with that Queen Guinevere went away. And when Sir Lancelot came out of his faint, he leapt out of a bay window into a garden, and there the thorns scratched him all over his face and his body; and so he ran off he did not know where, and was as wildly mad as any man ever was; and so he ran for two years, and no man ever had the good fortune to recognise him.
Now we turn to Queen Guinevere and to the fair Lady Elaine. When Dame Elaine heard the queen rebuke Sir Lancelot like that, and saw too how he fainted, and how he leapt out of the bay window, then she said to Queen Guinevere, "Madam, you are greatly to blame for Sir Lancelot, for now you have lost him; for I saw and heard by his face that he is mad for ever. Alas, madam, you commit a great sin, and do yourself great dishonour, for you have a lord of your own, and so it is your part to love him; for there is no queen in this world who has another king such as you have. And if it were not for you, I might have the love of my lord Sir Lancelot; and I have cause to love him, for he took my virginity, and by him I have borne a fair son, and his name is Galahad, and in his time he shall be the best knight in the world."
"Dame Elaine," said the queen, "when it is daylight I charge you and command you to leave my court; and for the love you owe to Sir Lancelot, do not give away his secrets, for if you do, it will be his death."
"As for that," said Dame Elaine, "I dare say he is ruined for ever, and you have done that; for neither you nor I are likely ever to bring him joy again. For he made the most pitiful groans when he leapt out of that bay window that I ever heard a man make."
"Alas," said fair Elaine; and "Alas," said Queen Guinevere, "for now I know well that we have lost him for ever."
So in the morning Dame Elaine took her leave to go, and would stay no longer. Then King Arthur escorted her on her way through a forest with more than a hundred knights. And on the way she told Sir Bors de Ganis everything that had happened that same night, and how Sir Lancelot had leapt out of a window, raging out of his wits.
"Alas," said Sir Bors, "where has my lord, Sir Lancelot, gone?"
"Sir," said Elaine, "I have no idea."
"Alas," said Sir Bors, "between the two of you, you have destroyed that good knight."
"As for me," said Dame Elaine, "I never said or did anything that could displease him in any way. But at the rebuke that Queen Guinevere gave him I saw him faint to the ground; and when he came to, he took his sword in his hand, naked except for his shirt, and leapt out of a window with the most terrible groan that I ever heard a man make."
"Now farewell, Dame Elaine," said Sir Bors, "and keep my lord Arthur talking as long as you can, for I will turn back to Queen Guinevere and give her a piece of my mind. And I beg you, as you ever hope to have my service, keep a good watch and look out in case you ever see my lord Sir Lancelot."
"Truly," said fair Elaine, "I shall do all that I can, for I would be as glad to know where he has gone as you would, or any of his kin, or Queen Guinevere; and I have cause enough for it, as much as anyone else. And believe me," said fair Elaine to Sir Bors, "I would rather lose my life than have him hurt; but alas, I expect never to see him again, and the chief cause of this is Dame Guinevere."
"Madam," said Dame Brisen, who had worked the enchantment between Sir Lancelot and her earlier, "I beg you with all my heart, let Sir Bors go, and let him hurry with all his might as fast as he can to look for Sir Lancelot. For I warn you, he is clean out of his mind; and yet he will be well cured, though only by a miracle."
Then Dame Elaine wept, and so did Sir Bors de Ganis; and so they parted, and Sir Bors rode straight to Queen Guinevere. And when she saw Sir Bors she wept as if she were mad.
"Shame on your weeping," said Sir Bors de Ganis, "for you never weep except when it is too late to help. Alas," said Sir Bors, "that Sir Lancelot's kin ever set eyes on you! For now you have lost the best knight of our blood, the one who was our leader and our support; and I dare say, and will prove it, that no king, Christian or heathen, can find such a knight, for his nobility and courtesy, with his good looks and his gentleness. Alas," said Sir Bors, "what shall we do, we who are of his blood?"
"Alas," said Sir Ector de Maris.
"Alas," said Lionel.
And when the queen heard them say this she fell to the ground in a dead faint. And then Sir Bors lifted her up and revived her; and when she had come to, she knelt before the three knights, and held up both her hands, and begged them to look for him: "And spare no expense until he is found, for I know he is out of his mind."
And Sir Bors, Sir Ector and Sir Lionel left the queen, for they could not stay any longer for sorrow. And then the queen sent them money enough for their expenses, and so they took their horses and their armour, and set off. And then they rode from country to country, in forests, and in wilderness, and in wastelands; and all the time, as they rode, they kept watch in the forests and among all kinds of people, to listen and ask after him, as a man who was naked, in his shirt, with a sword in his hand. And so they rode for nearly a quarter of a year, up and down and across, in many places, forests and wilderness, and often had poor lodging for his sake; and yet for all their labour and searching they could never hear word of him. And you may be sure these three knights were exceedingly sorry.
Then at last Sir Bors and his companions met a knight called Sir Melion de Tartare.
"Now, fair knight," said Sir Bors, "where are you going?" For they knew each other from before.
"Sir," said Melion, "I am on my way to the court of King Arthur."
"Then we beg you," said Sir Bors, "to tell my lord Arthur, and my lady, Queen Guinevere, and all the fellowship of the Round Table, that we cannot in any way hear tell where Sir Lancelot has gone."
Then Sir Melion left them, and said that he would tell the king, and the queen, and all the fellowship of the Round Table, as they had asked him. So when Sir Melion came to the court of King Arthur he told the king, and the queen, and all the fellowship of the Round Table, what Sir Bors had said about Sir Lancelot. Then Sir Gawain, Sir Uwain, Sir Sagramore le Desirous, Sir Aglovale and Sir Percival de Galis undertook, at the great desire of King Arthur, and above all of the queen, to search throughout all England, Wales and Scotland to find Sir Lancelot; and eighteen more knights rode with them to keep them company. And believe me, they lacked no money for their expenses; and so they were twenty-three knights.
Now we turn to Sir Lancelot, and speak of his trouble and woe, and what pain he endured there; for of cold, hunger and thirst he had plenty. And so, as these noble knights rode together, they agreed to split up, and then they rode in twos, in threes, in fours and in fives, and always they arranged where they should meet. And so Sir Aglovale and Sir Percival rode together to their mother, who was a queen in those days. And when she saw her two sons, she wept tenderly for joy. And then she said, "Ah, my dear sons, when your father was killed he left me four sons, of whom two are now killed. And for the death of my noble son, Sir Lamorak, my heart shall never be glad."
And then she knelt down on her knees before Aglovale and Sir Percival, and begged them to stay at home with her.
"Ah, sweet mother," said Sir Percival, "we cannot, for we come of king's blood on both sides, and so, mother, it is our nature to follow arms and noble deeds."
"Alas, my sweet sons," she said then, "for your sakes I shall lose all my joy and delight, and then I cannot endure wind and weather, what with the death of your father, King Pellinore, who was shamefully killed by the hands of Sir Gawain and his brother, Sir Gaheris: and they did not kill him like men, but by treachery. Ah, my dear sons, this is a pitiful grief for me, your father's death, and the death too of Sir Lamorak, who in knighthood had few equals. Now, my dear sons, keep this in your minds."
Then there was nothing but weeping and sobbing in the court when they were to leave, and she fell into a faint in the middle of the court.
And when she had come to, she sent a squire after them with plenty of money for expenses. And so when the squire had caught up with them, they would not let him ride with them, but sent him home again to comfort their mother, asking her humbly for her blessing. And so night overtook this squire, and by misfortune he happened to come to a castle where a baron lived. And so when the squire had come into the castle, the lord asked him where he came from, and whom he served.
"My lord," said the squire, "I serve a good knight who is called Sir Aglovale." The squire said it with good intentions, thinking he would be better treated for Sir Aglovale's sake than if he had said he served the queen, Aglovale's mother.
"Well, fellow," said the lord of that castle, "for Sir Aglovale's sake you'll get a bad lodging. Sir Aglovale killed my brother, and so you'll die, as part payment."
And then that lord commanded his men to take him away and kill him; and so they did, and dragged him out of the castle, and there they killed him without mercy.
Just then, in the morning, Sir Aglovale and Sir Percival came riding by a churchyard, where men and women were busy, and looking at the dead squire, and they meant to bury him.
"What is it there," said Sir Aglovale, "that you are staring at so hard?"
A good man stepped forward and said, "Fair knight, here lies a squire who was shamefully killed last night."
"How was he killed, my good fellow?" said Sir Aglovale.
"My fair sir," said the man, "the lord of this castle lodged this squire last night; and because he said he was the servant of a good knight who is with King Arthur, whose name is Sir Aglovale, the lord ordered him killed, and that is why he is dead."
"Many thanks," said Sir Aglovale, "and you shall see his death avenged swiftly; for I am that same knight for whose sake this squire was killed."
Then Sir Aglovale called Sir Percival to him, and told him to dismount quickly; and so they both dismounted, and handed their horses over to their men, and so they went on foot into the castle. And as soon as they were inside the castle gate, Sir Aglovale told the porter, "Go to your lord and tell him that I am Sir Aglovale, for whose sake this squire was killed last night."
At once the porter told this to his lord, whose name was Goodewin. At once he armed himself, and then he came into the courtyard and said, "Which of you is Sir Aglovale?"
"Here I am," said Aglovale. "Why did you kill my mother's squire last night?"
"I killed him because of you," said Sir Goodewin, "for you killed my brother, Sir Gawdelin."
"As for your brother," said Sir Aglovale, "I admit it, I killed him, for he was a false knight and a betrayer of ladies and of good knights. And for the death of my squire you shall die."
"I defy you," said Sir Goodewin.
Then they laid into each other as fiercely as two lions, and Sir Percival fought with all the rest who would fight. And within a while Sir Percival had killed all who would stand against him; for Sir Percival dealt his strokes so roughly that no man dared face him. And within a while Sir Aglovale had Sir Goodewin on the ground, and there he unlaced his helmet and struck off his head. And then they left and took their horses; and then they had the dead squire carried to a priory, and there they buried him.
And when this was done they rode into many countries, always asking after Sir Lancelot, but they could never hear of him; and at last they came to a castle called Cardican, and there Sir Percival and Sir Aglovale were lodged together. And secretly, about midnight, Sir Percival came to Aglovale's squire and said, "Get up and make yourself ready, for you and I are going to ride away secretly."
"Sir," said the squire, "I would very gladly ride with you wherever you want me to; but if my lord, your brother, catches me, he will kill me."
"Don't you worry about that, for I shall be your protection."
And so Sir Percival rode until it was past noon, and then he came to a bridge of stone, and there he found a knight who was bound with a chain fast around the waist to a pillar of stone.
"O fair knight," said the bound knight, "I beg you, free me from my bonds."
"What knight are you," said Sir Percival, "and why are you bound like this?"
"Sir, I shall tell you," said the knight. "I am a knight of the Round Table, and my name is Sir Persides; and I came this way by chance, and lodged here in this castle at the foot of the bridge, and in it lives a discourteous lady. And because she offered herself to me as my lover, and I refused her, she set her men on me suddenly, before I could get to my weapon; and so they bound me, and here I know well I shall die, unless some man of honour breaks my bonds."
"Cheer up," said Sir Percival, "and because you are a knight of the Round Table as well as I am, I trust to God to break your bonds."
And with that Sir Percival drew his sword and struck at the chain with such force that he cut the chain in two, and through Sir Persides' hauberk too, and hurt him a little.
"O Jesus," said Sir Persides, "that was as mighty a stroke as I ever felt, for if it had not been for the chain you would have killed me."
And with that Sir Persides saw a knight coming out of a castle as fast as ever he could gallop. "Watch out, sir," said Sir Persides, "here comes a man who wants to fight you."
"Let him come," said Sir Percival.
And so he met that knight in the middle of the bridge; and Sir Percival gave him such a blow that he knocked him clean off his horse and over a section of the bridge, so that if there had not been a little boat under the bridge, that knight would have drowned. And then Sir Percival took the knight's horse and had Sir Persides mount it; and so they rode to the castle, and told the lady to release Sir Persides' servants, or else he would kill every one he found; and so for fear she released them all. Then Sir Percival noticed a lady who stood in that tower.
"Ah, madam," said Sir Percival, "what kind of practice and custom is that for a lady, to destroy good knights unless they will be your lovers? Truly, this is a shameful custom for a lady, and if I did not have a great matter in hand I would put an end to your evil customs."
And so Sir Persides brought Sir Percival to his own castle, and there he gave him a warm welcome all that night. And in the morning, when Sir Percival had heard mass and broken his fast, he told Sir Persides to ride to King Arthur: "And tell the king how you met me; and tell my brother, Sir Aglovale, how I rescued you; and tell him not to look for me, for I am on the quest to find Sir Lancelot du Lake, and though he looks for me he shall not find me; and tell him I will never see him, or the court, until I have found Sir Lancelot. Also tell Sir Kay the Seneschal, and Sir Mordred, that I trust to Jesus to be of as great worth as either of them; for tell them I shall never forget the mockery and scorn they gave me the day that I was made knight. And tell them I will never see that court until men speak more honour of me than they ever did of either of them."
And so Sir Persides left Sir Percival, and then he rode to King Arthur, and told there about Sir Percival. And when Sir Aglovale heard him speak of his brother Sir Percival, he said, "He left me unkindly."
"Sir," said Sir Persides, "on my life, he will prove as noble a knight as any now living."
And when he saw Sir Kay and Sir Mordred, Sir Persides said this: "My fair lords both, Sir Percival greets you both well, and he sent you word by me that he trusts to God, before he ever comes to the court again, to be of as great nobility as ever you both were, and to have more men speak of his nobility than ever did of you."
"That may well be," said Sir Kay and Sir Mordred, "but at the time when he was made knight he looked very unlikely to prove a good knight."
"As for that," said King Arthur, "he is bound to prove a good knight, for his father and his brothers were noble knights."
And now we will turn to Sir Percival, who rode a long way; and in a forest he met a knight with a broken shield and a broken helmet. And as soon as each saw the other they quickly made ready to joust, and so crashed together with all the might of their horses, and met so hard that Sir Percival was struck to the ground. And then Sir Percival got up swiftly, and threw his shield onto his shoulder and drew his sword, and said to the other knight, "Dismount, and let us fight to the uttermost."
"Do you want more?" said that knight.
And with that he dismounted, and sent his horse away from him; and then they came together at an easy pace, and there they laid into each other with noble swords, and sometimes they struck and sometimes they thrust, and each gave the other many great wounds. So they fought for nearly half a day, and never rested except very little, and neither of them had fewer than fifteen wounds, and they bled so much that it was a marvel they could stand on their feet. But this knight who fought with Sir Percival was a proven knight and a skilful fighter, and Sir Percival was young and strong, and not as knowing in fighting as the other was.
Then Sir Percival spoke first, and said, "Sir knight, hold your hand a while, for we have fought too long over a trivial matter and quarrel; and so I beg you, tell me your name, for I was never matched before this time."
"God help me," said that knight, "and never before this time was there any knight who wounded me as badly as you have done, and yet I have fought in many battles. And now you shall know that I am a knight of the Round Table, and my name is Sir Ector de Maris, brother of the good knight Sir Lancelot du Lake."
"Alas," said Sir Percival, "and my name is Sir Percival de Galis, who have taken up my quest to look for Sir Lancelot, and now I am sure that I shall never finish my quest, for you have killed me with your hands."
"It is not so," said Sir Ector, "for I am killed by your hands, and cannot live. So I beg you," said Sir Ector to Sir Percival, "ride from here to a priory near by, and bring me a priest so that I may receive my Saviour, for I cannot live. And when you come to the court of King Arthur, do not tell my brother, Sir Lancelot, how you killed me, for then he would be your mortal enemy; but you may say that I was killed on my quest as I looked for him."
"Alas," said Sir Percival, "you are asking what can never be, for I am so faint from bleeding that I can scarcely stand. How then should I get on my horse?"
Then they both grieved beyond measure.
"This will do no good," said Sir Percival.
And then he knelt down and prayed devoutly to Almighty Jesus, for he was one of the best knights in the world at that time, and the one in whom the true faith was strongest. Just then the holy vessel of the Holy Grail came by, with every kind of sweetness and fragrance; but they could not clearly see who carried that vessel, though Sir Percival had a glimpse of the vessel and of the maiden who carried it, for he was a perfectly pure virgin himself. And immediately they were both as whole in skin and limb as they had ever been in their lives. Then they gave thanks to God with great humility.
"O Jesus," said Sir Percival, "what can this mean, that we are healed like this, when just now we were at the point of dying?"
"I know very well," said Sir Ector, "what it is. It is a holy vessel that is carried by a maiden, and in it is part of the holy blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, blessed may he be. But it cannot be seen," said Sir Ector, "except by a perfect man."
"God help me," said Sir Percival, "I saw a damsel, as I thought, all in white, with a vessel in both her hands, and immediately I was whole."
So then they took their horses and their armour, and mended their armour where it was broken as well as they could; and so they mounted their horses, and rode along talking together. And there Sir Ector de Maris told Sir Percival how he had looked for his brother, Sir Lancelot, a long time, and could never hear any news of him: "I have been in many strange adventures on this quest." And so each told the other of their adventures.
Here ends the eleventh book.
Here follows the twelfth book.
And now we leave Sir Ector and Sir Percival for a while, and speak of Sir Lancelot, who suffered and endured many hard trials, who ran stark mad from place to place all the while, and lived on fruit and whatever he could get, and drank water, for two years; and he had little other clothing but his shirt and his breeches. So, as Sir Lancelot wandered here and there, he came into a fair meadow where he found a tent; and close by, on a tree, there hung a white shield, and two swords hung beside it, and two spears leaned against a tree there. And when Sir Lancelot saw the swords, at once he leapt to one of them, and took it in his hand, and drew it out. And then he hacked at the shield, so that the whole meadow rang with the blows, and he made as much noise as if ten knights had been fighting together.
Then a dwarf came out, and leapt at Sir Lancelot, and tried to get the sword out of his hand. And then Sir Lancelot took him by both shoulders and threw him to the ground on his neck, so that he nearly broke his neck; and with that the dwarf cried for help. Then out came a fine-looking knight, handsomely dressed in scarlet trimmed with ermine. And as soon as he saw Sir Lancelot he judged that he must be out of his wits. And then he spoke to him kindly: "Good man, put down that sword, for it seems to me you have more need of sleep and of warm clothes than of swinging that sword."
"As for that," said Sir Lancelot, "don't come too near, for if you do, believe me, I will kill you."
And when the knight of the tent saw that, he leapt back inside the tent. And then the dwarf quickly armed him; and so the knight meant to take the sword from Sir Lancelot by force and strength, and so he came stepping out. And when Sir Lancelot saw him coming so, fully armed, with his sword in his hand, then Sir Lancelot flew at him with such force, and hit him such a blow on the helm, that the stroke stunned his brains, and with that the sword broke in three. And the knight fell to the earth as if he were dead, the blood bursting out of his mouth, his nose and his ears. And then Sir Lancelot ran into the tent, and rushed straight into the warm bed; and there was a lady in that bed, and she grabbed her shift and ran out of the tent. And when she saw her lord lying on the ground as if dead, she cried and wept as if she had gone mad. Then with her noise the knight woke out of his faint, and looked up weakly; and then he asked her where that madman was who had given him such a blow: "For I never had such a blow from any man's hand."
"Sir," said the dwarf, "there is no honour in hurting him, for he is a man out of his wits. And have no doubt, he has been a man of great honour, and has gone mad from some sorrow he has taken to heart. And it seems to me," said the dwarf, "he looks very like Sir Lancelot, for I saw him at the great tournament near Lonazep."
"Jesus forbid," said the knight, "that the noble knight Sir Lancelot should ever be in such a state! But whoever he is," said the knight, "I will do him no harm." And this knight's name was Bliant. Then he said to the dwarf, "Ride fast to my brother Sir Selivant, who is at the Castle Blank, and tell him what has happened to me, and tell him to bring a horse-litter with him, and then we will carry this knight to my castle."
So the dwarf rode fast, and he came back and brought Sir Selivant with him, and six men with a horse-litter; and so they picked up the feather bed with Sir Lancelot on it, and carried the whole thing away with them to the Castle Blank, and he never woke until he was inside the castle. And then they bound his hands and his feet, and gave him good food and good drink, and brought him back to his strength and his good looks; but they could not bring him back to his wits, nor to knowing himself. So Sir Lancelot was there more than a year and a half, decently clothed and well cared for.
Then one day the lord of that castle, Sir Bliant, took up his arms, on horseback, with a spear, to look for adventures. And as he rode in a forest two knights-errant met him; one was Breuse Saunce Pité, and the other his brother, Sir Bertelot. And these two both charged Sir Bliant at once, and broke their spears on his body. And then they drew their swords and fought a great fight, and fought together for a long time. But at last Sir Bliant was badly wounded, and felt himself growing faint; and then he fled on horseback toward his castle. And as they came rushing under the castle, where Sir Lancelot lay at a window, he saw how two knights were laying into Sir Bliant with their swords. And when Sir Lancelot saw that, mad as he was, he was sorry for his lord, Sir Bliant. And then Sir Lancelot broke the chains off his legs and his arms, and in breaking them he hurt his hands badly. And so Sir Lancelot ran out by a back gate, and there he met the two knights who were chasing Sir Bliant; and there he pulled Sir Bertelot down from his horse with his bare hands, and with that he wrenched his sword out of his hand. And so he leapt at Sir Breuse, and gave him such a blow on the head that he tumbled backward over his horse's rump. And when Sir Bertelot saw his brother take such a fall, he got a spear in his hand, and would have run Sir Lancelot through; Sir Bliant saw that, and struck off Sir Bertelot's hand. And then Sir Breuse and Sir Bertelot got to their horses and fled.
When Sir Selivant came and saw what Sir Lancelot had done for his brother, he thanked God, and so did his brother, that they had ever done him any good. But when Sir Bliant saw that Sir Lancelot was hurt from breaking his irons, he was sorry that he had ever bound him.
"Bind him no more," said Sir Selivant, "for he is lucky to have about, and gracious."
Then they rejoiced greatly over Sir Lancelot, and they bound him no more; and so he stayed there half a year and more. And early one morning Sir Lancelot saw a great boar coming near him with many hounds. But the boar was so big that no hounds could pull him down; and the hunters came after, blowing their horns, some on horseback and some on foot. And then Sir Lancelot saw one of them dismount and tie his horse to a tree, and lean his spear against the tree.
So Sir Lancelot came and found the horse tied to a tree, and a spear leaning against a tree, and a sword tied to the saddlebow; and then Sir Lancelot leapt into the saddle and got the spear in his hand, and then he rode after the boar. And then Sir Lancelot saw where the boar had set his rump hard against a tree close by a hermitage. Then Sir Lancelot ran at the boar with his spear, and with that the boar turned nimbly, and ripped out the lungs and the heart of the horse, so that Lancelot fell to the earth; and before Sir Lancelot could get clear of the horse, the boar ripped him through the brawn of the thigh right up to the back of the knee. And then Sir Lancelot was angry, and up he got onto his feet, and drew his sword, and he struck off the boar's head at one stroke. And with that the hermit came out, and saw that he had such a wound. Then the hermit came to Sir Lancelot and pitied him, and wanted to take him home to his hermitage; but when Sir Lancelot heard him speak, he was so angry with his wound that he ran at the hermit to kill him, and the hermit ran away. And when Sir Lancelot could not catch him, he threw his sword after him, for Sir Lancelot could go no further for bleeding. Then the hermit turned back, and asked Sir Lancelot how he had been hurt.
"Fellow," said Sir Lancelot, "this boar has bitten me badly."
"Then come with me," said the hermit, "and I will heal you."
"Go away," said Sir Lancelot, "and leave me alone."
Then the hermit ran off, and there he met a good knight with many men.
"Sir," said the hermit, "close by my place here is the handsomest man I ever saw, and he is badly wounded by a boar, and yet he has killed the boar. But I know well," said the hermit, "that if he is not helped, that fine man will die of that wound, and that would be a great pity."
Then at the hermit's request that knight got a cart, and in that cart the knight put the boar and Sir Lancelot, for Sir Lancelot was so weak that they could handle him very easily. And so Sir Lancelot was brought to the hermitage, and there the hermit healed him of his wound. But the hermit could not provide Sir Lancelot's keep, and so he declined and grew weak, both in body and in mind: for lack of food he grew madder than he had been before.
And then one day Sir Lancelot ran off into the forest; and by chance he came to the city of Corbin, where Dame Elaine was, who bore Galahad, Sir Lancelot's son. And so when he had come into the town he ran through the town to the castle; and then all the young men of that city ran after Sir Lancelot, and there they threw clods of turf at him, and gave him many heavy blows. And whenever Sir Lancelot could reach any of them, he threw them so hard that they never wanted to come into his hands again; for he broke the legs and the arms of some of them. And so he fled into the castle; and then knights and squires came out and rescued Sir Lancelot. And when they looked at him and saw his person, they thought they had never seen so handsome a man. And when they saw so many wounds on him, they all judged that he had been a man of honour. And then they had clothes provided for his body, and straw under him, and a little hut. And then every day they would throw him food, and set drink down for him, but there were few who would bring food to his hands.
So it happened that King Pelles had a nephew, whose name was Castor; and he asked the king to make him a knight, and so at Castor's request the king made him a knight at the feast of Candlemas. And when Sir Castor was made a knight, that same day he gave away many gowns. And then Sir Castor sent for the fool, who was Sir Lancelot. And when he had come before Sir Castor, he gave Sir Lancelot a robe of scarlet and everything that went with it. And when Sir Lancelot was dressed like a knight in this way, he was the handsomest man in all the court, and none was so well made. So when he saw his chance he went into the garden, and there Sir Lancelot lay down by a spring and slept. And so in the afternoon Dame Elaine and her maidens came into the garden to amuse themselves; and as they strolled up and down, one of Dame Elaine's maidens noticed a handsome man lying asleep by the spring, and at once pointed him out to Dame Elaine.
"Hush," said Dame Elaine, "and say not a word."
And then the maiden brought Dame Elaine to where he lay. And when she looked at him, at once she remembered him, and knew him truly for Sir Lancelot; and with that she began weeping so bitterly that she sank right down to the earth. And when she had wept like this for a long while, she got up and called her maidens and said she was sick.
And so she went out of the garden, and she went straight to her father, and there she took him aside by himself; and then she said, "Oh, father, now I need your help, and unless you help me, farewell to my good days for ever."
"What is it, daughter?" said King Pelles.
"Sir," she said, "it is this: I went into your garden to amuse myself, and there, by the spring, I found Sir Lancelot du Lake asleep."
"I can't believe that," said King Pelles.
"Sir," she said, "truly he is there, and it seems to me he must be driven out of his wits."
"Then keep quiet," said the king, "and let me handle it."
Then the king called to him the people he trusted most, four of them, and Dame Elaine, his daughter. And when they came to the spring and looked at Sir Lancelot, at once Dame Brisen recognised him.
"Sir," said Dame Brisen, "we must be careful how we handle him, for this knight is out of his mind, and if we wake him roughly, none of us knows what he will do. But you wait, and I will cast such an enchantment on him that he will not wake for the space of an hour."
And so she did. Then a little while after, the king commanded that everyone should clear away, so that no one would be on the path where the king was coming. And so when this was done, these four men and these ladies laid hands on Sir Lancelot, and so they carried him into a tower, and so into a chamber where the holy vessel of the Holy Grail was; and Sir Lancelot was laid beside that holy vessel by force. And a holy man came and uncovered the vessel, and so by miracle and by the power of that holy vessel Sir Lancelot was healed and recovered. And when he woke he groaned and sighed, and complained greatly that he was in terrible pain.
And when Sir Lancelot saw King Pelles and Elaine, he grew ashamed and said this: "O Lord Jesus, how did I come here? For God's sake, my lord, let me know how I came here."
"Sir," said Dame Elaine, "you came into this country like a madman, clean out of your wits, and here you have been kept as a fool; and no one here knew who you were, until by luck a maiden of mine brought me to you where you lay sleeping by a spring, and as soon as I looked at you properly I knew you. And then I told my father, and so you were brought before this holy vessel, and by its power you were healed like this."
"O Jesus have mercy," said Sir Lancelot. "If this is true, how many people there must be who know of my madness!"
"So help me God," said Elaine, "no one but my father, and I, and Dame Brisen."
"Now for the love of Christ," said Sir Lancelot, "keep it secret, and let no one in the world know of it, for I am deeply ashamed that I have gone so far astray; for I am banished out of the country of Logres for ever, that is to say the country of England."
And so Sir Lancelot lay more than a fortnight before he could stir for pain. And then one day he said these words to Dame Elaine: "Lady Elaine, for your sake I have had much hardship, care and anguish; there is no need to go over it again, you know how. All the same, I know well I did you wrong when I drew my sword on you, to kill you, on the morning after I had lain with you. And the whole cause of it was that you and Dame Brisen made me lie with you against my will; and, as you say, that night Galahad your son was conceived."
"That is the truth," said Dame Elaine.
"Now will you, for my love," said Sir Lancelot, "go to your father and get me a place from him where I can live? For I may never come to King Arthur's court."
"Sir," said Dame Elaine, "I will live and die with you, and only for your sake; and if my life could not help you and my death could, believe me, I would die for your sake. And I will go to my father, and I am sure there is nothing I can ask of him that I will not get. And wherever you are, my lord Sir Lancelot, have no doubt that I will be with you, with all the service I can give."
So straight away she went to her father and said, "Sir, my lord Sir Lancelot wishes to be here near you, in some castle of yours."
"Well, daughter," said the king, "since it is his wish to stay in these borderlands, he shall be in the Castle of Bliant, and you shall be there with him, and twenty of the fairest ladies in the country, and they shall all be of high blood, and you shall have ten knights with you; for, daughter, I want you to know that we are all honoured by the blood of Sir Lancelot."
Then Dame Elaine went to Sir Lancelot, and told him everything her father had arranged for him and her. Then the knight Sir Castor, who was King Pelles's nephew, came to Sir Lancelot, and asked him what his name was.
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "my name is Le Chevaler Mal Fet, that is to say, the knight who has done wrong."
"Sir," said Sir Castor, "that may well be, but all the same it seems to me your name should be Sir Lancelot du Lake, for I have seen you before now."
"Sir," said Lancelot, "you are not behaving like a well-bred knight. Suppose my name were Sir Lancelot, and I did not care to reveal my name: why should it trouble you to keep my secret here, when you are not hurt by it? But mark this: if it is ever in my power, I'll make you pay for it, and that I promise you truly."
Then Sir Castor knelt down and begged Sir Lancelot's pardon: "For I will never tell who you are, as long as you are in these parts." Then Sir Lancelot pardoned him.
And then, after this, King Pelles with ten knights, and Dame Elaine, and twenty ladies, rode to the Castle of Bliant, which stood on an island enclosed in iron, with a fine deep wide water around it. And when they were there Sir Lancelot had it called the Joyous Isle; and there he was called nothing else but Le Chevaler Mal Fet, the knight who has done wrong. Then Sir Lancelot had a shield made for himself, all black, with a crowned queen in the middle of it, all in silver, and a knight in full armour kneeling before her. And every day, whatever merriment all the ladies might make for him, once every day he would look toward the realm of Logres, where King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were. And then he would fall weeping as if his heart would burst.
So it happened at that time that Sir Lancelot heard of a jousting close by his castle, within three leagues. Then he called a dwarf to him, and told him to go to that jousting: "And before the knights leave, see that you make a proclamation there, in the hearing of all the knights, that there is a knight in the Joyous Isle, that is, the Castle of Bliant, and say his name is Le Chevaler Mal Fet, who will joust against any knights who come. And whoever gets the better of that knight shall have a fair maiden and a gerfalcon."
So when this proclamation was made, knights to the number of five hundred came to the Joyous Isle; and believe me, in Arthur's days there was never seen one knight who did as many deeds of arms as Sir Lancelot did those three days together; for, as the book truly records, he had the better of all five hundred knights, and not one of them was killed. And after that Sir Lancelot gave them all a great feast.
And in the meantime Sir Percival de Galis and Sir Ector de Maris came under that castle that was called the Joyous Isle. And as they looked at that splendid castle they wanted to go to it, but they could not for the broad water, and they could find no bridge. Then they saw on the other side a lady with a sparrowhawk on her hand, and Sir Percival called to her, and asked the lady who was in that castle.
"Fair knights," she said, "here within this castle is the fairest lady in this land, and her name is Elaine. We also have in this castle the fairest knight and the mightiest man, I dare say, who is alive, and he calls himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet."
"How did he come into these borderlands?" said Sir Percival.
"Truly," said the damsel, "he came into this country like a madman, with dogs and boys chasing him through the city of Corbin, and by the holy vessel of the Holy Grail he was brought back to his wits. But he will not fight any knight except between mid-morning and noon. And if you want to come into the castle," said the lady, "you must ride round to the far side of the castle, and there you will find a boat that will carry you and your horse."
Then they left, and came to the boat. And then Sir Percival dismounted, and said to Sir Ector de Maris, "You wait for me here until I find out what kind of knight he is; for it would be a shame to us, since he is only one knight, if we both fought him."
"Do as you like," said Sir Ector, "and I will wait for you here until I hear from you."
Then Sir Percival crossed the water, and when he came to the castle gate he said to the porter, "Go to the good knight within the castle, and tell him a knight-errant has come here to joust with him."
"Sir," said the porter, "ride on into the castle, and there is a common ground for jousting, where lords and ladies can watch you."
So as soon as Sir Lancelot had warning he was quickly ready; and there Sir Percival and Sir Lancelot met with such force, and their spears were so stout, that both the horses and the knights fell to the earth. Then they got clear of their horses, and drew their noble swords, and hewed pieces off their shields, and crashed together with their shields like two boars, and each wounded the other exceedingly badly. At last, when they had fought there more than two hours, Sir Percival spoke first.
"Fair knight," said Sir Percival, "I ask you to tell me your name, for I never met such a knight."
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "my name is Le Chevaler Mal Fet. Now tell me your name," said Sir Lancelot, "I ask you, noble knight."
"Truly," said Sir Percival, "my name is Sir Percival de Galis, and I am brother to the good knight Sir Lamorak de Galis, and King Pellinore was our father, and Sir Aglovale is my brother."
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "what have I done, to fight with you, who are a knight of the Round Table, and whose fellow I once was?"
And with that Sir Lancelot knelt down on his knees, and threw his shield and his sword away from him. When Sir Percival saw him do this he wondered what he meant. And then he said this: "Sir knight, whoever you are, I charge you by the high order of knighthood, tell me your true name."
Then he said, "So help me God, my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake, son of King Ban of Benwick."
"Alas," said Sir Percival, "what have I done? I was sent by the queen to look for you, and I have been looking for you for nearly two years now, and over there is Sir Ector de Maris, your brother, waiting for me on the far side of that water. Now for God's sake," said Sir Percival, "forgive me the offences I have done you here."
"It is soon forgiven," said Sir Lancelot.
Then Sir Percival sent for Sir Ector de Maris, and when Sir Lancelot caught sight of him, he ran to him and took him in his arms; and then Sir Ector knelt down, and they wept on each other, so that it moved everyone to pity to see them. Then Dame Elaine came, and she gave them as warm a welcome as lay in her power; and there she told Sir Ector and Sir Percival how and in what way Sir Lancelot had come into that country, and how he was healed. And there it came out how long Sir Lancelot had been with Sir Bliant and with Sir Selivant, and how he first met them, and how he left them because of a boar; and how the hermit healed Sir Lancelot of his great wound, and how he came to Corbin.
Now we leave Sir Lancelot in the Joyous Isle with the Lady Dame Elaine, and Sir Percival and Sir Ector enjoying themselves with them, and turn to Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Lionel, who had looked for Sir Lancelot for nearly the space of two years, and could never hear of him. And as they rode along like this, by chance they came to the house of Brandegore, and there Sir Bors was well known, for he had fathered a child on the king's daughter fifteen years before, and his name was Helin le Blank. And when Sir Bors saw that child he liked him exceedingly well. And so those knights had a good welcome from King Brandegore. And in the morning Sir Bors came before King Brandegore and said, "Here is my son Helin le Blank, for so it is said he is my son; and since it is so, I want you to know that I will take him with me to the court of King Arthur."
"Sir," said the king, "you may well take him with you, but he is too young."
"As for that," said Sir Bors, "I will have him with me, and bring him to the most honourable house in the world."
So when Sir Bors was to leave there was great sorrow over the departure of Helin le Blank, and there was great weeping. But Sir Bors and Sir Lionel left, and after a while they came to Camelot, where King Arthur was. And when King Arthur understood that Helin le Blank was Sir Bors's son, and King Brandegore's nephew, King Arthur had him made a knight of the Round Table; and so he proved a good knight and a bold one for adventures.
Now we will turn to our matter of Sir Lancelot. It happened one day that Sir Ector and Sir Percival came to Sir Lancelot and asked him what he meant to do, and whether he would go with them to King Arthur or not.
"No," said Sir Lancelot, "that cannot be by any means, for I was so treated at the court that I resolved never to come there again."
"Sir," said Sir Ector, "I am your brother, and you are the man in the world I love most; and if I understood that it would be to your dishonour, you may be sure I would never advise you to it. But King Arthur and all his knights, and Queen Guinevere above all, grieved and sorrowed so much that it was a marvel to hear and see. And you must remember the great honour and renown you have, how you have been more spoken of than any other knight now living; for there is no one who bears the name now but you and Sir Tristram. So, brother," said Sir Ector, "make yourself ready to ride to the court with us, and I dare say there was never a knight more welcome at the court than you. And I know well, and can prove it," said Sir Ector, "that the search for you has cost my lady the queen twenty thousand pounds."
"Well, brother," said Sir Lancelot, "I will do as you advise, and ride with you."
So then they took their horses and made themselves ready, and took their leave of King Pelles and of Dame Elaine. And when Sir Lancelot was to leave, Dame Elaine grieved greatly.
"My lord Sir Lancelot," said Dame Elaine, "at this same feast of Pentecost your son and mine, Galahad, is to be made a knight, for he is now a full fifteen winters old."
"Do as you like," said Sir Lancelot. "God give him grace to prove a good knight."
"As for that," said Dame Elaine, "I have no doubt he will prove the best man of his kin except one."
"Then he will be a good enough man," said Sir Lancelot.
Then they left, and within five days' journey they came to Camelot, which in English is Winchester. And when Sir Lancelot had come among them, the king and all the knights rejoiced greatly over him. And there Sir Percival de Galis and Sir Ector de Maris began and told all the adventures: that Sir Lancelot had been out of his mind the whole time of his absence, and how he called himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet, the knight who had done wrong; and how in three days Sir Lancelot struck down five hundred knights. And all the while Sir Ector and Sir Percival told these tales of Sir Lancelot, Queen Guinevere wept as if she would die. Then the queen gave him a joyful welcome.
"O Jesus," said King Arthur, "I wonder what made you, Sir Lancelot, go out of your mind. I and many others think it was for the love of fair Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles, by whom it is rumoured you have had a child, and his name is Galahad, and men say he will do marvels."
"My lord," said Sir Lancelot, "if I did anything foolish, I got what I went looking for."
And with that the king said no more. But all Sir Lancelot's kin knew for whom he had gone out of his mind. And then great feasts were held and there was great joy; and many great lords and ladies, when they heard that Sir Lancelot had come back to the court, rejoiced greatly.
Now we will leave this matter, and speak of Sir Tristram, and of Sir Palomides, who was the unchristened Saracen. When Sir Tristram had come home to Joyous Gard from his adventures (all this while that Sir Lancelot was missing like this, two years and more, Sir Tristram carried off the renown through all the realm of Logres, and many strange adventures happened to him, and he brought them to an end very well and manfully and honourably), so when he had come home, Isolde the Fair told him of the great feast that was to be held at the Pentecost coming next. And there she told him how Sir Lancelot had been missing two years, and all that while he had been out of his mind, and how he was helped by the holy vessel, the Holy Grail.
"Alas," said Sir Tristram, "that came of some quarrel between him and Queen Guinevere."
"Sir," said Dame Isolde, "I know all about it, for Queen Guinevere sent me a letter in which she wrote me everything that had happened, in order to ask you to look for him. And now, blessed be God," said Isolde the Fair, "he is whole and sound and has come back to the court."
"I am glad of it," said Sir Tristram, "and now you and I will make ready, for both you and I will be at the feast."
"Sir," said Isolde, "if it please you, I will not be there, for because of me you are a marked man to many good knights, and that has given you much more trouble for my sake than you have any need of."
"Then I will not be there," said Sir Tristram, "unless you are there."
"God forbid," said Isolde the Fair, "for then I would be spoken of with shame among all queens and ladies of rank. For you, who are called one of the noblest knights in the world, and a knight of the Round Table, how can you be missing from that feast? What will be said among all the knights? 'See how Sir Tristram hunts, and hawks, and cowers inside a castle with his lady, and forsakes his honour.' 'Alas,' some will say, 'it is a pity he was ever made a knight, or that he should ever have the love of a lady.' And what will queens and ladies say of me? 'It is a pity she is alive, when she will keep so noble a knight as you from his honour.'"
"So help me God," said Sir Tristram to Isolde the Fair, "that is exceedingly well said of you, and nobly advised; and now I well understand that you love me. And as you have advised me, I will do my part accordingly. But no man nor boy shall ride with me, only myself. And so I will ride on Tuesday next, and with no more armour of war than my spear and my sword."
And so when the day came Sir Tristram took his leave of Isolde the Fair, and she sent four knights with him, and within half a mile he sent them back. And a mile after that Sir Tristram saw ahead of him where Sir Palomides had struck down a knight, and had wounded him almost to death. Then Sir Tristram regretted that he was not armed, and then he halted and waited. With that Sir Palomides recognised Sir Tristram, and cried out loud, "Sir Tristram, now we have met, and before we part we will settle our old scores."
"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "there was never yet a Christian man who could boast that I ever fled from him; and believe me, Sir Palomides, you, a Saracen, will never boast that Sir Tristram de Liones fled from you."
And with that Sir Tristram set his horse running, and with all his might he came straight at Sir Palomides, and burst his spear on him into a hundred pieces. And straight away Sir Tristram drew his sword. And then he turned his horse and struck six great strokes at Palomides on his helm. And then Sir Palomides stood still, and looked at Sir Tristram, and marvelled at his madness and his folly. And then Sir Palomides said to himself, "If Sir Tristram were armed, it would be hard to stop him in this fight; and if I turn back and kill him, I am shamed wherever I go."
Then Sir Tristram spoke and said, "You coward knight, what are you playing at? Why won't you fight me? Have no doubt of it, I'll stand up to all your malice."
"Ah, Sir Tristram," said Palomides, "you know very well I cannot fight you for shame, for you are here without armour and I am armed, and if I kill you, the dishonour will be mine. And you know well," said Sir Palomides to Sir Tristram, "I know your strength and your hardiness to hold out against a good knight."
"That is true," said Sir Tristram. "I understand your valour well."
"You say well," said Sir Palomides. "Now, I ask you, answer me a question that I will put to you."
"Tell me what it is," said Sir Tristram, "and I will answer you truthfully, so help me God."
"Suppose," said Sir Palomides, "that you were armed at all points as well as I am, and I were as unarmoured as you are: what would you do to me now, by your true knighthood?"
"Ah," said Sir Tristram, "now I understand you well, Sir Palomides, for now I must give my own judgement, and, God bless me, what I say will not be said for any fear I have of you. But this is all: understand, Sir Palomides, that at this time you should leave me, for I would not fight you."
"No more will I," said Palomides, "and so ride on your way."
"As for that, I may choose," said Sir Tristram, "whether to ride on or to stay. But, Sir Palomides," said Sir Tristram, "I wonder at one thing: that you, who are so good a knight, will not be christened, when your brother Sir Safere has been christened for many a day."
"As for that," said Sir Palomides, "I may not be christened yet, because of a vow I made many years ago; and yet in my heart I believe in Jesus Christ and his gentle mother Mary. But I have only one battle to fight, and when that is done I will be baptised gladly."
"By my head," said Tristram, "as for one battle, you shall not have to look for it any longer. For God forbid," said Sir Tristram, "that through any failing of mine you should live as a Saracen any longer like this. For over there is a knight whom you, Sir Palomides, have hurt and struck down. Now help me to be armed in his armour, and I will soon fulfil your vow."
"As you wish," said Palomides, "so it shall be."
So they both rode to that knight, who was sitting on a bank, and then Sir Tristram greeted him, and he weakly greeted him in return.
"Sir knight," said Sir Tristram, "I ask you to tell me your real name."
"Sir," he said, "my name is Sir Galleron of Galway, a knight of the Round Table."
"So help me God," said Sir Tristram, "I am very sorry for your wounds. But this is the whole of it: I must beg you to lend me all your armour, every piece, for you see I am unarmed, and I must fight this knight."
"Sir," said the wounded knight, "you shall have it gladly; but you must take care, for I warn you, that knight is strong. Sir," said Galleron, "I beg you, tell me your name, and the name of that knight who has beaten me."
"Sir, as for my name, it is Sir Tristram de Liones; and as for the knight who has hurt you, his name is Sir Palomides, brother to the good knight Sir Safere, and Sir Palomides is still unchristened."
"Alas," said Sir Galleron, "it is a pity that so good a knight and so noble a man of arms should be unchristened."
"So help me God," said Sir Tristram, "either he will kill me or I him, or else he shall be christened before we part."
"My lord Sir Tristram," said Sir Galleron, "your renown and your honour are well known through many realms, and God save you this day from disgrace and shame."
Then Sir Tristram unarmed Galleron, who was a noble knight, and had done many deeds of arms, and he was a big knight, of flesh and bone. And when he was unarmed he stood on his feet, for he was bruised in the back by a spear; and yet, as well as Sir Galleron could, he armed Sir Tristram. And then Sir Tristram mounted his own horse, and took Sir Galleron's spear in his hand; and by then Sir Palomides was ready. And so they came crashing together, and each struck the other in the middle of his shield; and with that Sir Palomides's spear broke, and Sir Tristram struck down the horse. And Sir Palomides, as soon as he could, got clear of his horse, and set his shield, and pulled out his sword. Sir Tristram saw that, and with that he dismounted and tied his horse to a tree.
And then they came together like two wild boars, laying into each other, circling and sidestepping like noble men who had often been well tested in battle. But all the while Sir Palomides feared the might of Sir Tristram, and so he let him stop for breath. So they fought more than two hours, but often Sir Tristram struck such strokes at Sir Palomides that he brought him to his knees; and Sir Palomides broke and cut away many pieces of Sir Tristram's shield; and then Sir Palomides wounded Sir Tristram, for he was a good fighting man. Then Sir Tristram was mad with rage beyond measure, and rushed at Sir Palomides with such force that Sir Palomides fell flat on his face on the earth; and with that he leapt up nimbly onto his feet, and then Sir Tristram wounded Palomides badly through the shoulder. And all the while Sir Tristram kept fighting just as hard, and Sir Palomides did not hold back, but gave him many heavy strokes. And at last Sir Tristram doubled his strokes, and by luck Sir Tristram struck Sir Palomides's sword out of his hand; and if Sir Palomides had stooped for his sword he would have been killed.
Then Palomides stood still and looked at his sword with a sorrowful heart.
"How now?" said Sir Tristram to Palomides. "Now I have you at a disadvantage, as you had me today. But it shall never be said in any court, nor among good knights, that Sir Tristram would kill any knight who has no weapon. And so take your sword, and let us make an end of this fight."
"As for this fight," said Palomides, "I dare very well finish it, but I have no great wish to fight any more. And this is why," said Palomides: "my offence against you is not so great that we cannot be friends. All the offence I have given is and was for the love of Isolde the Fair. And as for her, I dare say she is peerless above all other ladies, and I never offered her any dishonour; and through her I have won the greater part of my honour. And since I never offended against her own person, and the offence I have done was against your own person, and for that offence you have given me many heavy strokes today, and I have given you some in return; and now I dare say I never felt a man of your might, nor one with so much wind, unless it was Sir Lancelot du Lake: therefore I ask you, my lord, to forgive me all the offence I have given you. And this same day take me to the nearest church, and first let me be fully confessed, and after that see to it that I am truly baptised. And then we will all ride together to Arthur's court, so that we are there for the high feast."
"Now take your horse," said Sir Tristram, "and as you say, so it shall be; and may God forgive you all your ill will, as I do. And within a mile of here is the Suffragan of Carlisle, the assistant bishop, who will give you the sacrament of baptism."
Then they took their horses, and Sir Galleron rode with them. And when they came to the Suffragan, Sir Tristram told him what they wanted. Then the Suffragan had a great vessel filled with water, and when he had blessed it he heard Sir Palomides's full confession, and Sir Tristram and Sir Galleron were his godfathers. And then soon after they left, riding toward Camelot, where King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were, and most of the knights of the Round Table. And so the king and all the court were glad that Sir Palomides was christened. And at that same feast Galahad came in and sat in the Siege Perilous. And so with that all the knights of the Round Table departed and went their separate ways. And Sir Tristram went back to Joyous Gard, and Sir Palomides followed the Questing Beast.
Here ends the second book of Sir Tristram, which was drawn out of French into English. But the third book is not retold here. And here follows the noble tale of the Sangreal, which is called the Holy Vessel, and the meaning of the blessed blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, blessed may it be, which was brought into this land by Joseph of Arimathea. Therefore, blessed Lord, have mercy on all sinful souls.
Here ends the twelfth book.
Here follows the thirteenth book.
On the eve of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table had come to Camelot and had heard their service there, and the tables were set ready for the meal, just then there rode into the hall a very beautiful gentlewoman on horseback, who had ridden very fast, for her horse was all in a sweat. Then she dismounted there, and came before the king and greeted him; and he said, "Damsel, God bless you."
"Sir," she said, "for God's sake tell me where Sir Lancelot is."
"You can see him over there," said the king.
Then she went to Lancelot and said, "Sir Lancelot, I greet you on King Pelles' behalf, and I ask you to come with me to a forest near here."
Then Sir Lancelot asked her whose household she belonged to.
"I live," she said, "with King Pelles."
"What do you want with me?" said Lancelot.
"You shall know," she said, "when you get there."
"Well," he said, "I will gladly go with you."
So Sir Lancelot told his squire to saddle his horse and bring his armour; and the squire did his bidding in all haste.
Then the queen came to Lancelot, and said, "Will you leave us at this high feast?"
"Madam," said the gentlewoman, "believe me, he shall be with you tomorrow by dinner time."
"If I thought," said the queen, "that he would not be with us here tomorrow, he would not go with you with my good will."
At that Sir Lancelot left with the gentlewoman, and rode until he came into a forest and into a great valley, where they saw an abbey of nuns; and there was a squire ready who opened the gates, and so they went in and got down from their horses; and a fair company gathered around Sir Lancelot, and welcomed him, and were exceedingly glad he had come. And then they led him to the Abbess's room and unarmed him; and just then he noticed two of his cousins lying on a bed, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and then he woke them; and when they saw him they rejoiced greatly.
"Sir," said Sir Bors to Sir Lancelot, "what chance has brought you here, for we expected to find you at Camelot tomorrow?"
"So help me God," said Sir Lancelot, "a gentlewoman brought me here, but I don't know why."
While they stood talking together like this, in came twelve nuns who brought Galahad with them, who was exceedingly handsome and well made, so that you could scarcely find his match in the world; and all those ladies wept.
"Sir," they all said, "we bring you here this child whom we have brought up, and we ask you to make him a knight, for there is no worthier man's hand from which he could receive the order of knighthood."
Sir Lancelot looked at the young squire and saw that he was comely and modest as a dove, with every kind of good feature, so that he thought he had never seen so finely formed a man of his age.
Then Sir Lancelot said, "Does this wish come from himself?"
He and all of them said yes.
"Then he shall," said Sir Lancelot, "receive the high order of knighthood tomorrow, in honour of the high feast."
That night Sir Lancelot was given an exceedingly warm welcome; and in the morning at the hour of prime, at Galahad's wish, he made him a knight and said, "God make him a good man, for in beauty you fall short of no one alive."
"Now, fair sir," said Sir Lancelot, "will you come with me to the court of King Arthur?"
"No," he said, "I will not go with you at this time."
Then he left them and took his two cousins with him, and so they came to Camelot by mid-morning on Whitsunday. By that time the king and the queen had gone to the great church to hear their service. Then the king and the queen were exceedingly glad to see Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and so was all the fellowship. So when the king and all the knights had come back from the service, the barons saw, written in golden letters on the seats of the Round Table all around, "Here ought to sit he," and "He ought to sit here." And so they went along until they came to the Siege Perilous, where they found letters newly written in gold which said: "Four hundred and fifty-four winters after the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ have passed, this seat ought to be filled."
Then they all said, "This is a marvellous thing, and a strange adventure."
"In the name of God," said Sir Lancelot; and then he counted up the term of the writing from the birth of our Lord to that day. "It seems to me," said Sir Lancelot, "that this seat ought to be filled this very day, for this is the feast of Pentecost after the four hundred and fifty-fourth year; and if it would please everyone, I would rather none of these letters were seen today, until he has come who is to achieve this adventure."
Then they had a cloth of silk made ready, to cover these letters on the Siege Perilous.
Then the king called for dinner to be served at once.
"Sir," said Sir Kay the Steward, "if you go to your meal now you will break the old custom of your court, for you have never been used to sit down to your meal on this day before you have seen some adventure."
"You are right," said the king, "but I was so glad of Sir Lancelot and of his cousins, who have come to the court safe and sound, that I did not think of my old custom."
So, as they stood talking, in came a squire and said to the king, "Sir, I bring you marvellous news."
"What is it?" said the king.
"Sir, down here at the river there is a great stone which I saw floating on the water, and I saw a sword sticking in it."
The king said, "I will see that marvel."
So all the knights went with him, and when they came to the river they found a stone floating there, as if it were of red marble, and a fine rich sword was stuck in it, and in the pommel were precious stones worked with cunning letters of gold. Then the barons read the letters, which said this: "Never shall any man take me from here, but only he by whose side I ought to hang, and he shall be the best knight in the world."
When the king had seen the letters, he said to Sir Lancelot, "Fair sir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am sure you are the best knight in the world."
Then Sir Lancelot answered very soberly, "Certainly, sir, it is not my sword. Also, sir, believe me, I have no courage to set my hand to it, for it does not belong at my side. Also, whoever tries to take the sword and fails will receive a wound from that sword that will not heal for a long time after. And I want you to know that this same day the adventures of the Sangreal, which is called the Holy Vessel, shall begin."
"Now, fair nephew," said the king to Sir Gawain, "you try it, for love of me."
"Sir," he said, "saving your good grace, I will not do that."
"Sir," said the king, "try to take the sword, and do it at my command."
"Sir," said Gawain, "I will obey your command."
And with that he took hold of the sword by the hilt, but he could not stir it.
"I thank you," said the king to Sir Gawain.
"My lord Sir Gawain," said Sir Lancelot, "now believe me, this sword shall touch you so badly that you will wish you had never set your hand to it, not for the best castle in this realm."
"Sir," he said, "I could not refuse my uncle's will and command."
But when the king heard this he regretted it greatly, and told Sir Percival that he should try it, for love of him.
And he said, "Gladly, to keep Sir Gawain company."
And with that he set his hand on the sword and pulled hard, but he could not move it. Then there were no more who dared be so bold as to set their hands to it.
"Now you may go to your dinner," said Sir Kay to the king, "for you have seen a marvellous adventure."
So the king and everyone went back to the court, and every knight knew his own place, and sat down in it, and young men who were knights served them.
So when they had been served, and all the seats were filled except the Siege Perilous alone, at once a marvellous thing happened: all the doors and windows of the palace shut by themselves. And yet the hall was not greatly darkened; and with that they were all dismayed, every one of them.
Then King Arthur spoke first and said, "By God, fair fellows and lords, we have seen marvels today, but before night I think we shall see greater marvels."
Meanwhile there came in a good old man, very aged, dressed all in white, and there was no knight who knew where he came from. And with him he brought a young knight, both of them on foot, the young one in red armour, without sword or shield, except for a scabbard hanging by his side.
And he said these words: "Peace be with you, fair lords." Then the old man said to Arthur, "Sir, I bring here a young knight who is of a king's lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea, through whom the marvels of this court, and of strange realms, shall be fully accomplished."
The king was very glad of his words, and said to the good man, "Sir, you are very welcome, and the young knight with you."
Then the old man had the young man take off his armour, and he was in a coat of red silk, and he had a cloak on his shoulder that was furred with ermine, and put that on him. And the old knight said to the young knight, "Sir, follow me."
And at once he led him to the Siege Perilous, beside which Sir Lancelot sat; and the good man lifted up the cloth, and found letters there that said this: "This is the seat of Galahad, the high prince."
"Sir," said the old knight, "believe me, that place is yours."
And then he sat him down firmly in that seat. And then the young knight said to the old man, "Sir, you may go on your way now, for you have done well what you were commanded to do; and commend me to my grandfather, King Pelles, and to my lord Petchere, and tell them on my behalf that I shall come and see them as soon as ever I can."
So the good man left; and twenty noble squires met him, and so they took their horses and went on their way.
Then all the knights of the Round Table marvelled greatly at Sir Galahad, that he dared sit there in that Siege Perilous, and was so young; and they did not know where he came from, except only that he came from God.
And they said, "This is he by whom the Holy Grail shall be achieved, for no one ever sat there but he came to harm."
Then Sir Lancelot looked at his son and rejoiced greatly in him.
Then Bors told his companions, "On my life, this young knight shall come to great honour."
This news spread through all the court, so that it reached the queen. Then she wondered what knight it could be who dared venture to sit in the Siege Perilous. Many told the queen that he looked very like Sir Lancelot.
"I can well believe," said the queen, "that Sir Lancelot fathered him on King Pelles' daughter, by whom he was made to lie, by enchantment, and his name is Galahad. I would gladly see him," said the queen, "for he must surely be a noble man, for so is the father who fathered him, as all the Round Table will bear me out."
So when the meal was over and the king and everyone had risen, the king went to the Siege Perilous and lifted up the cloth, and found the name of Galahad there; and then he showed it to Sir Gawain, and said, "Fair nephew, now we have Sir Galahad among us, the good knight who shall bring honour to us all; and on my life he shall achieve the Holy Grail, just as Sir Lancelot gave us to understand."
Then King Arthur came to Galahad and said, "Sir, you are welcome, for you shall move many good knights to the quest of the Holy Grail, and you shall achieve what no knights could ever bring to an end."
Then the king took him by the hand, and went down from the palace to show Galahad the adventure of the stone.
The queen heard of it, and came after them with many ladies, and they showed them the stone where it floated on the water.
"Sir," said the king to Sir Galahad, "here is as great a marvel as I ever saw, and very good knights have tried and failed."
"Sir," said Galahad, "that is no marvel, for this adventure is not theirs but mine; and because I was sure of this sword I brought none with me, for here by my side hangs the scabbard."
And at once he laid his hand on the sword, and easily drew it out of the stone, and put it in the sheath, and said to the king, "Now it goes better than it did before."
"Sir," said the king, "God will send you a shield."
"Now I have that sword," said Galahad, "that once belonged to the good knight Balin le Savage, and he was an exceedingly good fighting man; and with this sword he killed his brother Balan, and that was a great pity, for he was a good knight, and each killed the other because of the Dolorous Stroke that Balin gave to my grandfather King Pelles, which is not yet healed, nor shall it be until I heal him."
With that the king and all the rest saw a lady on a white palfrey come riding down along the river toward them. Then she greeted the king and the queen, and asked whether Sir Lancelot was there.
And then he answered for himself: "I am here, fair lady."
Then she said, weeping all the while, "How your great fortune has changed since this morning!"
"Damsel, why do you say so?" said Lancelot.
"I tell you the truth," said the damsel, "for this morning you were the best knight in the world, but whoever said so now would be a liar, for there is now one better than you, and it is well proved by the adventure of the sword, which you did not dare set your hand to; and that is the change and the loss of your name. And so I give you this to remember: that from now on you must not think that you are the best knight in the world."
"As for that," said Lancelot, "I know well I was never the best."
"Yes," said the damsel, "that you were, and are still, of any sinful man in the world. And, Sir King, Nacien the hermit sends you word that the greatest honour that ever came to a king in Britain shall come to you; and I will tell you why: for this day the Holy Grail shall appear in your house and feed you and all your fellowship of the Round Table."
So she left and went back the same way that she came.
"Now," said the king, "I am sure that all of you of the Round Table will depart on this quest of the Holy Grail, and I shall never see you all together again; so I want to see you all together in the meadow of Camelot, to joust and to fight in a tournament, so that after your deaths men may say of it that such good knights were all together on such a day."
They all agreed to that plan, and at the king's request, and put on the armour that belonged to jousting. But the king's whole purpose in all this was to see Galahad put to the test; for the king thought he would not easily come back to the court after he left. So they were assembled in the meadow, rich and poor alike. Then Sir Galahad, at the request of the king and the queen, put on a fine short coat of double mail, and he also put on his helmet, but he would take no shield, for all the king's asking. And then Sir Gawain and other knights begged him to take a spear. He did so; and the queen was in a tower with all her ladies, to watch that tournament. Then Sir Galahad took his place in the middle of the meadow, and began to break spears marvellously, so that everyone wondered at him; for there he outdid all the other knights, for within a short while he had overthrown many good knights of the Round Table, except two, and those were Sir Lancelot and Sir Percival.
Then the king, at the queen's request, had him dismount and unlace his helmet, so that the queen might see his face.
When she saw him she said, "Truly, I dare say that Sir Lancelot fathered him, for never were two men more alike, and so it is no marvel that he is of great prowess."
Then a lady who stood by the queen said, "Madam, for God's sake, is it right that he should be so good a knight?"
"Yes, truly," said the queen, "for on every side he comes of the best knights in the world and of the highest lineage; for Sir Lancelot is descended in only the eighth degree from our Lord Jesus Christ, and Sir Galahad is in the ninth degree from our Lord Jesus Christ, and so I dare say they are the greatest gentlemen in the world."
And then the king and people of every rank went home to Camelot, and so went to evensong at the great church, and then after that to supper, and every knight sat in his own place as they had before. Then at once they heard a cracking and crying of thunder, so that they thought the place would all be shattered to pieces. In the midst of this blast there came in a sunbeam seven times brighter than any day they had ever seen, and they were all lit by the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then every knight began to look at the others, and each saw the others, as it seemed to them, fairer than they had ever seen them before. And yet there was no knight who could speak a word for a long while, and so they looked at one another as if they had been struck dumb. Then the Holy Grail came into the hall, covered with white samite, but no one could see it, nor who carried it. And all the hall was filled with sweet smells, and every knight had such food and drink as he loved best in this world. And when the Holy Grail had been carried through the hall, the holy vessel suddenly departed, so that they did not know what had become of it; then they all had breath to speak. And then the king gave thanks to God for His good grace that He had sent them.
"Certainly," said the king, "we ought to thank our Lord Jesus greatly for what He has shown us this day, in honour of this high feast of Pentecost."
"Now," said Sir Gawain, "we have been served today with whatever food and drink we thought of; but one thing cheated us: we could not see the Holy Grail, it was so preciously covered. So I will make a vow here, that tomorrow, without waiting any longer, I shall set out on the quest of the Holy Grail, and that I shall keep at it for a year and a day, or more if need be, and I shall never return to the court until I have seen it more openly than it has been seen here; and if I cannot succeed, I shall come back, as one who cannot go against the will of our Lord Jesus Christ."
When the knights of the Round Table heard Sir Gawain say so, most of them rose and made the same vows as Sir Gawain had made. As soon as King Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he knew well that they could not take back their vows.
"Alas," said King Arthur to Sir Gawain, "you have nearly killed me with the vow and promise you have made; for through you I am robbed of the fairest fellowship and the truest in knighthood that was ever seen together in any realm of the world. For when they leave here I am sure they will never all meet again in this world, for many of them will die in the quest. And so I am more than a little sorry, for I have loved them as well as my life, and so it will grieve me very sorely, the breaking of this fellowship; for it has long been my custom to have them in my company."
And with that the tears came into his eyes. And then he said, "Gawain, Gawain, you have put me in great sorrow, for I greatly fear that my true fellowship will never meet here again."
"Ah," said Sir Lancelot, "comfort yourself; for it shall be a great honour to us, and much more than if we died in any other place, for of death we are sure."
"Ah, Lancelot," said the king, "the great love I have had for you all, all the days of my life, makes me say such sorrowful words; for no Christian king ever had so many worthy men at his table as I have had this day at the Round Table, and that is my great sorrow."
When the queen, the ladies and the gentlewomen knew this news, they had such sorrow and heaviness of heart that no tongue could tell it, for those knights had held them in honour and affection. But above all the others Queen Guinevere grieved greatly.
"I am amazed," she said, "that my lord would allow them to leave him."
So all the court was troubled because of the leaving of those knights. And many of those ladies who loved knights would have gone with their lovers; and so they would have done, had not an old knight in the habit of a religious order come among them; and then he spoke out loud and said, "Fair lords, who have sworn yourselves to the quest of the Holy Grail, Nacien the hermit sends you this word: that no one on this quest is to take a lady or a gentlewoman with him, for it is not fitting in so high a service as the one you labour in; for I warn you plainly, he who is not clean of his sins shall not see the mysteries of our Lord Jesus Christ."
And for this reason they left these ladies and gentlewomen behind.
After this the queen came to Galahad and asked him where he came from, and from what country. He told her where he came from. And she said he was the son of Lancelot. To that he said neither yes nor no.
"So help me God," said the queen, "you need not be ashamed of your father, for he is the handsomest knight, and comes of the best men in the world, and of the stock of kings on every side. And so by right you ought to be, in your deeds, an exceedingly good man; and certainly," she said, "you look very like him."
Then Sir Galahad was a little ashamed and said, "Madam, since you know it for certain, why do you ask me? For he who is my father shall be known openly, and soon enough."
And then they went to their rest. And in honour of Galahad's high rank he was led into King Arthur's own room, and he rested there in the king's own bed.
And as soon as it was day the king got up, for he had had no rest all that night for sorrow. Then he went to Gawain and to Sir Lancelot, who had got up to hear mass.
And then the king said again, "Ah, Gawain, Gawain, you have betrayed me; for my court shall never be the better for you, but you will never be as sorry for me as I am for you."
And with that the tears began to run down his face. And with that the king said, "Ah, knight, Sir Lancelot, I ask you to advise me, for I wish this quest were undone, if it could be."
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "you saw yesterday so many worthy knights who were sworn then that they cannot leave it off in any way at all."
"I know that well," said the king, "but it will weigh so heavily on me at their leaving that I know well no kind of joy will cure me."
And then the king and the queen went to the great church. So at once Lancelot and Gawain ordered their men to bring their armour. And when they were all armed except for their shields and their helmets, they came to their fellowship, who were all ready in the same way, to go to the great church to hear their service.
Then after the service was done the king wanted to know how many had undertaken the quest of the Holy Grail; and he asked them all to be counted. Then they found by the count a hundred and fifty, and all were knights of the Round Table. And then they put on their helmets and set out, and all of them commended themselves wholly to the queen; and there was weeping and great sorrow. Then the queen went off into her room and kept to herself, so that no one should see her great sorrow. When Sir Lancelot missed the queen he went to her room, and when she saw him she cried aloud, "Oh, Lancelot, Lancelot, you have betrayed me and put me to death, to leave my lord like this."
"Ah, madam, I beg you not to be displeased, for I shall come back as soon as I can with honour."
"Alas," she said, "that I ever saw you; but may He who suffered on the cross for all mankind be your good guide and safety, and that of the whole fellowship."
At that Sir Lancelot left, and found his fellowship waiting for him. And so they mounted their horses and rode through the streets of Camelot; and there was weeping from rich and poor, and the king turned away and could not speak for weeping. So within a while they came to a city, and a castle called Vagon. There they went into the castle, and the lord of that castle was an old man called Vagon, and he was a man of good life, and he threw open the gates, and gave them all the welcome he could. And so in the morning they all agreed that they should go their separate ways; and in the morning they set out with weeping faces, and every knight took the way that he liked best.
Now Sir Galahad rides on still without a shield, and so he rode four days without any adventure. And on the fourth day after evensong he came to a White Abbey, and there he was received with great reverence, and led to a room, and there his armour was taken off; and then he noticed two knights of the Round Table, one was Sir Bagdemagus, and the other was Sir Uwain.
And when they saw him they went to Galahad and made much of him, and so they went to supper.
"Sirs," said Sir Galahad, "what adventure brought you here?"
"Sir," they said, "we have been told that in this place there is a shield that no man may wear hung about his neck without coming to harm, either dead within three days, or maimed for ever."
"Ah, sir," said King Bagdemagus, "I shall wear it tomorrow, to try this adventure."
"In the name of God," said Sir Galahad.
"Sir," said Bagdemagus, "if I cannot achieve the adventure of this shield, you shall take it on yourself, for I am sure you will not fail."
"Sir," said Galahad, "I agree to that very gladly, for I have no shield."
So in the morning they got up and heard mass. Then Bagdemagus asked where the adventurous shield was. At once a monk led him behind an altar where the shield hung, as white as any snow, but in the middle was a red cross.
"Sir," said the monk, "this shield ought not to be hung about any knight's neck unless he is the worthiest knight in the world; so I advise you knights to think carefully."
"Well," said Bagdemagus, "I know well that I am not the best knight in the world, but still I shall try to wear it," and so he carried it out of the church.
And then he said to Galahad, "If you please, wait here until you know how I fare."
"I shall wait for you," said Galahad.
Then King Bagdemagus took a good squire with him, to bring news to Sir Galahad of how he fared.
Then when they had ridden some two miles and came to a fair valley in front of a hermitage, they saw a knight coming from that direction in white armour, horse and all; and he came as fast as his horse could run, with his spear in its rest, and Bagdemagus levelled his spear against him and broke it on the white knight. But the other struck him so hard that he burst the rings of his mail, and thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield did not cover him at that moment; and so he bore him off his horse. And with that he dismounted and took the white shield from him, saying, "Knight, you have made a great fool of yourself, for this shield ought to be borne by no one but him who shall have no equal among the living."
And then he came to Bagdemagus's squire and said, "Take this shield to the good knight Sir Galahad, whom you left in the abbey, and greet him well from me."
"Sir," said the squire, "what is your name?"
"Never mind my name," said the knight, "for it is not for you to know, nor for any earthly man."
"Now, fair sir," said the squire, "for the reverence of Jesus Christ, tell me why this shield may not be borne unless the one who bears it comes to harm."
"Now since you have begged me in that name," said the knight, "this shield belongs to no man but Galahad."
And the squire went to Bagdemagus and asked whether he was badly wounded or not.
"Yes, truly," he said, "I shall barely escape death."
Then the squire fetched his horse, and brought him with great difficulty to an abbey. Then he was taken down gently and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and his wounds were seen to there. And as the book tells, he lay there a long time, and barely escaped with his life.
"Sir Galahad," said the squire, "the knight who wounded Bagdemagus sends you greeting, and told me that you should bear this shield, through which great adventures shall come about."
"Now blessed be God and fortune," said Galahad.
And then he asked for his armour, and mounted his horse, and hung the white shield about his neck, and commended them to God. And Sir Uwain said he would keep him company if he pleased.
"Sir," said Galahad, "you may not, for I must go alone, except that this squire shall keep me company."
And so Uwain left.
Then within a while Galahad came to where the White Knight was waiting for him by the hermitage, and each greeted the other courteously.
"Sir," said Galahad, "many marvels have come about through this shield."
"Sir," said the knight, "it happened thirty-two years after the passion of our Lord Jesus Christ that Joseph of Arimathea, the noble knight who took our Lord down from the holy Cross, left Jerusalem at that time with a great part of his kindred with him. And so they journeyed on until they came to a city called Sarras. And at the very hour that Joseph came to Sarras there was a king called Evelake, who was at great war with the Saracens, and especially with one Saracen, who was King Evelake's cousin, a rich king and a mighty one, whose lands bordered on this land, and his name was Tolleme la Feintes. So one day these two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of Arimathea, went to King Evelake and told him he would be defeated and killed unless he left his belief in the old law and believed in the new law. And then and there he showed him the true belief in the Holy Trinity, to which he agreed with all his heart; and there this shield was made for King Evelake, in the name of Him who died on the Cross. And then through his good belief he got the better of King Tolleme. For when Evelake was in the battle there was a cloth set over the shield, and when he was in the greatest danger he had the cloth taken away, and then his enemies saw the figure of a man on the Cross, and because of it they were all defeated. And so it happened that a man of King Evelake's had his hand struck off, and carried that hand in his other hand; and Joseph called that man to him and told him to go and touch the Cross with good devotion. And as soon as that man had touched the Cross with his hand, it was as whole as it had ever been before. Then soon after a great marvel happened: the cross on the shield vanished away all at once, so that no one knew what had become of it. And then King Evelake was baptised, and most of the people of that city with him. So, soon after, Joseph wanted to leave, and King Evelake would go with him, whether he liked it or not. And so by chance they came into this land, which at that time was called Great Britain; and there they found a great wicked pagan, who put Joseph in prison. And so by chance news came to a worthy man called Mondrames, and he gathered all his people because of the great renown he had heard of Joseph; and so he came into the land of Great Britain and stripped this wicked pagan of his lands and destroyed him, and with that freed Joseph from prison. And after that all the people were converted to the Christian faith."
"Not long after that," the White Knight went on, "Joseph was laid on his deathbed. And when King Evelake saw that, he grieved greatly, and said, 'For love of you I have left my country, and since you must depart out of this world, leave me some token of yours so that I may think of you.'"
"'That I will do most gladly,' said Joseph. 'Now bring me your shield that I gave you when you went into battle against King Tolleme.'"
"Then Joseph bled badly at the nose, so that it could not be stopped by any means. And there on that shield he made a cross of his own blood. 'Now you may see a remembrance that I love you, for you shall never see this shield without thinking of me, and it shall always be as fresh as it is now. And no man shall ever bear this shield about his neck without regretting it, until the time that Galahad, the good knight, bears it; and the last of my line shall have it about his neck, and he shall do many marvellous deeds.'"
"'Now,' said King Evelake, 'where shall I put this shield, so that this worthy knight may have it?'"
"'You shall leave it where Nacien the hermit shall be laid after his death; for that good knight will come there on the fifteenth day after he receives the order of knighthood.' And so the day that they set is this very time, when you have your shield, and in the same abbey lies Nacien the hermit."
And then the White Knight vanished away.
As soon as the squire had heard these words, he got down off his small riding horse and knelt at Galahad's feet, and begged him that he might go with him until Galahad had made him a knight.
"Yes," said Galahad, "I would not refuse you."
"Then will you make me a knight?" said the squire. "And that order, by the grace of God, shall be well placed in me."
So Sir Galahad granted it to him, and turned back to the abbey they had come from; and there people rejoiced greatly over Sir Galahad. And as soon as he had dismounted, a monk took him to a tomb in a churchyard, where there was such a noise that whoever heard it would very nearly go mad or lose his strength.
"And sir," they said, "we think it is a fiend."
"Now take me there," said Galahad.
And so they did, all armed except for his helmet.
"Now," said the good man, "go to the tomb and lift it up."
So he did, and heard a great noise; and a voice said piteously, so that all men could hear it, "Sir Galahad, servant of Jesus Christ, do not come near me, for you will make me go back again to where I have been so long."
But Galahad was not at all afraid, and lifted up the stone; and out came so foul a smoke, and after it he saw leap out the foulest figure in the likeness of a man that he had ever seen; and then he crossed himself and knew well that it was a fiend. Then he heard a voice say, "Galahad, I see so many angels all around you that my power cannot harm you."
Just then Sir Galahad saw a body lying fully armed in that tomb, and beside him a sword.
"Now, fair brother," said Galahad, "let us remove this body, for it is not worthy to lie in this churchyard, for he was a false Christian."
And with that they all left and went to the abbey. And as soon as he was out of his armour a good man came and sat down beside him and said, "Sir, I will tell you what all that you saw in the tomb signifies. For that covered body signifies the hardship of the world, and the great sin that Our Lord found in the world. For there was such wretchedness that the father did not love the son, nor did the son love the father; and that was one of the reasons that Our Lord took flesh and blood of a pure maiden, for our sins were so great at that time that very nearly everything was wickedness."
"Truly," said Galahad, "I believe you entirely."
So Sir Galahad rested there that night; and in the morning he made the squire a knight, and asked him his name, and what family he came from.
"Sir," he said, "men call me Melias de Lile, and I am the son of the King of Denmark."
"Now, fair sir," said Galahad, "since you are descended from kings and queens, now see that knighthood is well placed in you, for you ought to be a mirror to all chivalry."
"Sir," said Sir Melias, "you speak the truth. But, sir, since you have made me a knight, by rights you must grant me my first wish, if it is reasonable."
"That is true," said Galahad.
"Then," said Melias, "that you will allow me to ride with you in this quest of the Holy Grail, until some adventure parts us."
"I grant it to you, sir."
Then men brought Sir Melias his armour and his spear and his horse, and so Sir Galahad and he rode on all that week before they found any adventure. And then on a Monday morning, as they were leaving an abbey, they came to a cross where two ways parted, and on that cross were letters written that said this: "Now, you knights-errant who go seeking adventurous knights, see here two ways. One way forbids you to go down it, for no man shall come out of it again unless he is a good man and a worthy knight. And if you go on the left hand, you will not easily win prowess there, for on this way you will soon be put to the test."
"Sir," said Melias to Galahad, "if it pleases you to let me take the way on the left hand, tell me, for there I can well prove my strength."
"It would be better," said Galahad, "if you did not ride that way, for I think I would come through that way better than you."
"No, my lord, I beg you, let me have that adventure."
"Take it, in God's name," said Galahad.
And then Melias rode into an old forest, and he rode in it two days and more. And then he came into a fair meadow, and there was a fair lodge of boughs. And then he saw in that lodge a chair, and in it a crown of gold, finely worked. Also there were cloths spread upon the ground, and many delicious foods set on them. Sir Melias looked at this adventure and thought it marvellous, but he was not hungry; but he took great notice of the crown of gold, and with that he stooped down and picked it up, and rode on his way with it. And at once he saw a knight come riding after him, who said, "Knight, set down that crown, which is not yours, and defend yourself!"
Then Sir Melias crossed himself and said, "Fair Lord of heaven, help and save your new-made knight."
And then they let their horses run as fast as they could, so that the other knight struck Sir Melias through his hauberk and through the left side, so that he fell to the ground near dead. And then he took the crown and went his way; and Sir Melias lay still and had no power to stir.
Meanwhile, by fortune, Sir Galahad came by and found him there in danger of death. And then he said, "Ah, Melias, who has wounded you? It would have been better to have ridden the other way."
And when Sir Melias heard him speak, "Sir," he said, "for the love of God, do not let me die in this forest, but carry me to the abbey near here, so that I may make my confession and have my last rites."
"It shall be done," said Galahad. "But where is the man who has wounded you?"
With that Sir Galahad heard a voice cry out loud among the leaves, "Knight, keep away from me!"
"Ah, sir," said Melias, "beware, for that is the man who has killed me."
Sir Galahad answered, "Sir knight, come on at your peril."
Then each squared up to the other, and they came together as fast as their horses could run, and Galahad struck him so that his spear went through his shoulder, and struck him down off his horse, and in the fall Galahad's spear broke.
With that another knight came out of the leaves and broke a spear on Galahad before he could even turn. Then Galahad drew his sword and struck off the man's left arm, so that it fell to the ground. And then he fled, and Sir Galahad pursued hard after him. And then he turned back to Sir Melias, and there he dismounted and set him gently on his horse in front of him, for the broken shaft of the spear was in his body; and Sir Galahad leapt up behind him, and held him in his arms, and so brought him to the abbey, and there took off his armour and brought him to his room. And then he asked for his Saviour. And when he had received Him, he said to Sir Galahad, "Sir, let death come when it pleases him."
And with that he drew the broken shaft of the spear out of his body, and then he fainted.
Then there came an old monk who had once been a knight, and looked at Sir Melias. And at once he searched his wound; and then he said to Sir Galahad, "I will heal him of his wound, by the grace of God, within the space of seven weeks."
Then Sir Galahad was glad, and took off his armour, and said he would stay there three days. And then he asked Sir Melias how it was with him. Then he said he was on the mend, thank God.
"Now I will leave," said Galahad, "for I have much on hand, for many good knights are very busy about it, and this knight and I were in the same quest of the Holy Grail."
"Sir," said a good man, "it was for his sin that he was wounded like this. And I marvel," said the good man to Melias, "how you dared take upon yourself so rich a thing as the high order of knighthood without a clean confession, and that was the reason you were so cruelly wounded. For the way on the right hand signifies the highway of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the way of a good, true, good-living man. And the other way signifies the way of sinners and unbelievers. And when the devil saw your pride and presumption, in taking yourself into the quest of the Holy Grail, that made you be overthrown, for it cannot be achieved except by virtuous living. Also, the writing on the cross was a sign of heavenly deeds, and of knightly deeds in God's works, and not knightly deeds in worldly works. And pride, which is the head of all deadly sins, caused this knight to part from Galahad. And when you took the crown of gold you sinned in covetousness and in theft: none of this was knightly deeds. And as for this Galahad, the holy knight who fought with the two knights: the two knights signify the two deadly sins that were wholly in this knight Melias; and they could not stand against you, Galahad, for you are without deadly sin."
Now Galahad left that place, and commended them all to God.
Sir Melias said, "My lord Galahad, as soon as I can ride I will look for you."
"God send you health," said Galahad, and so took his horse and left, and rode many days' journeys forward and back, wherever adventure would lead him. And at last it happened that he left a place, or a castle, which was called Abblasoure; and he had heard no mass, which he was always used to hearing before he left any castle or place, and he kept that as a custom. Then Sir Galahad came to a mountain where he found an old chapel, and found nobody there, for all, all was desolate; and there he knelt before the altar, and prayed God for wholesome counsel. So as he prayed he heard a voice that said, "Go now, you adventurous knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and there put an end to the wicked customs."
When Sir Galahad heard this he thanked God, and took his horse; and he had ridden no more than half a mile when he saw in the valley before him a strong castle with deep moats, and beside it ran a fair river called the Severn; and there he met a man of great age, and they greeted each other, and Galahad asked him the castle's name.
"Fair sir," he said, "it is the Castle of Maidens. That is a cursed castle, and so are all who live in it, for all pity has gone out of it, and all hardness and harm are in it. So I advise you, sir knight, to turn back."
"Sir," said Galahad, "you may be sure I will not turn back."
Then Sir Galahad looked over his arms to see that nothing was missing, and then he put his shield before him; and at once he was met by seven fair maidens, who said to him, "Sir knight, you are riding here in great folly, for you have the water to cross."
"Why should I not cross the water?" said Galahad.
So he rode away from them, and met a squire, who said, "Knight, those knights in the castle defy you, and forbid you to go any further until they know what you want."
"Fair sir," said Galahad, "I have come to destroy the wicked custom of this castle."
"Sir, if you hold to that, you will have enough to do."
"Go now," said Galahad, "and hurry my business along."
Then the squire went into the castle. And soon after, seven knights came out of the castle, and they were all brothers. And when they saw Galahad they cried, "Knight, look to yourself, for we promise you nothing but death!"
"What," said Galahad, "will you all fight me at once?"
"Yes," they said, "you can count on that."
Then Galahad put forward his spear and struck the foremost to the ground, so that he nearly broke his neck. And with that the others struck him great blows on his shield, so that their spears broke. Then Sir Galahad drew his sword, and set upon them so hard that it was a marvel to see, and so by great force he made them leave the field; and Galahad chased them until they went into the castle, and so out through the castle by another gate.
And there Sir Galahad was met by an old man in a religious habit, who said, "Sir, here, take the keys of this castle."
Then Sir Galahad opened the gates, and saw so many people in the streets that he could not count them, and they all said, "Sir, you are welcome, for we have waited here a long time for our deliverance."
Then a gentlewoman came to him and said, "These knights have fled, but they will come back tonight, and begin their evil custom here again."
"What do you want me to do?" said Galahad.
"Sir," said the gentlewoman, "send for all the knights who hold their lands from this castle to come here, and make them swear to keep the customs that were kept here in the old days."
"Gladly," said Galahad.
And she brought him a horn of ivory, richly bound with gold, and said, "Sir, blow this horn, which will be heard two miles around this castle."
When Sir Galahad had blown the horn he sat down on a bed.
Then a priest came to Galahad and said, "Sir, it is more than seven years now since these seven brothers came into this castle and lodged with the lord of this castle, who was called Duke Lianour, and he was lord of all this country. And when they saw the duke's daughter, who was a very beautiful woman, then by their false deceit they started a quarrel among themselves, and the duke in his goodness tried to part them, and there they killed him and his eldest son. And then they took the maiden and the treasure of the castle. And then by great force they held all the knights of this castle under their rule against their will, in great servitude and tribute, robbing and plundering the poor common people of all they had. So it happened one day that the duke's daughter said, 'You have done me great wrong in killing my own father and my brother, and in holding our lands like this. Nevertheless,' she said, 'you shall not hold this castle for many years, for you will be overcome by one knight.' This she prophesied seven years ago. 'Well,' said the seven knights, 'since you say so, no lady or knight shall ever pass this castle without being made to stay, whether they like it or not, or die for it, until that knight comes by whom we shall lose this castle.' And that is why it is called the Maidens' Castle, for they have devoured many maidens."
"Now," said Galahad, "is she here, the one through whom this castle was lost?"
"No, sir," said the priest, "she was dead within three nights after she was forced like this; and since then they have kept her younger sister, who suffers great pains, with many other ladies."
By this time the knights of the country had come, and then he made them do homage and swear fealty to the king's daughter, and set their hearts much at ease. And in the morning someone came to Galahad and told him that Gawain, Gareth and Uwain had killed the seven brothers.
"I can well believe it," said Sir Galahad, and took his armour and his horse, and commended them to God.
Now, the tale says, after Sir Gawain left, he rode many days' journeys, both this way and that. And at last he came to the abbey where Sir Galahad had the white shield, and there Sir Gawain learned the way to follow Sir Galahad; and so he rode to the abbey where Melias lay sick, and there Sir Melias told Sir Gawain of the marvellous adventures that Sir Galahad had done.
"Certainly," said Sir Gawain, "I am sorry that I did not take the way he went, for if I can meet him I will not lightly part from him, for Sir Galahad achieves all marvellous adventures."
"Sir," said one of the monks, "he will not have your company."
"Why?" said Sir Gawain.
"Sir," he said, "because you are wicked and sinful, and he is truly blessed."
Just as they stood talking like this, Sir Gareth came riding in. And then they rejoiced over each other. And in the morning they heard mass, and so left. And on the way they met Sir Uwain les Avoutres, and there Sir Uwain told Sir Gawain that he had met with no adventure since he left the court.
"Nor have we," said Sir Gawain.
And the three knights each promised the others not to part while they were in that quest, unless fortune caused it.
So they set off and rode where fortune took them, until they came by the Castle of Maidens; and there the seven brothers saw the three knights, and said, "Since we have been driven out of this castle by one knight, we will destroy all of King Arthur's knights that we can overcome, for the love of Sir Galahad."
And with that the seven knights set upon the three knights, and by fortune Sir Gawain killed one of the brothers, and each one of his companions killed another, and so they killed the rest. And then they took the way under the castle, and there they lost the way that Sir Galahad had ridden, and there each of them parted from the others; and Sir Gawain rode until he came to a hermitage, and there he found the good man saying his evensong of Our Lady; and there Sir Gawain asked for lodging for charity, and the good man granted it to him gladly.
Then the good man asked him who he was.
"Sir," he said, "I am a knight of King Arthur's who is in the quest of the Holy Grail, and my name is Sir Gawain."
"Sir," said the good man, "I would like to know how things stand between God and you."
"Sir," said Sir Gawain, "I will willingly show you my life, if it pleases you." And there he told the hermit how a monk of an abbey had called him a wicked knight.
"He might well say it," said the hermit, "for when you were first made a knight you should have given yourself to knightly deeds and virtuous living, and you have done the opposite, for you have lived wickedly for many winters; and Sir Galahad is a virgin and never sinned, and that is the reason that wherever he goes he shall achieve what neither you nor any like you shall attain, nor anyone in your company, for you have led the most faithless life that I ever heard of a knight living. For certainly, if you had not been as wicked as you are, the seven brothers would never have been killed by you and your two companions. For Sir Galahad by himself alone beat all seven of them the day before, but his way of life is such that he will not lightly kill any man. Also I can tell you that the Castle of Maidens signifies the good souls that were in prison before the Incarnation of Jesus Christ. And the seven knights signify the seven deadly sins that reigned in the world at that time; and I may liken the good Galahad to the Son of the High Father, who came down within a maiden and bought all the souls out of bondage: so did Sir Galahad free all the maidens out of the woeful castle."
"Now, Sir Gawain," said the good man, "you must do penance for your sin."
"Sir, what penance shall I do?"
"Such as I will give," said the good man.
"No," said Sir Gawain, "I can do no penance; for we knights-errant often suffer great woe and pain."
"Well," said the good man, and then he held his peace.
And in the morning Sir Gawain left the hermit, and commended him to God. And by chance he met Sir Aglovale and Sir Griflet, two knights of the Round Table. And they rode four days without finding any adventure, and on the fifth day they parted. And each went as chance befell him. Here the tale leaves Sir Gawain and his companions, and we speak of Sir Galahad.
So when Sir Galahad had left the Castle of Maidens he rode until he came to a wild forest, and there he met Sir Lancelot and Sir Percival, but they did not know him, for he was newly disguised. Just then Sir Lancelot, his father, lowered his spear and broke it on Sir Galahad, and Galahad struck him back so hard that he struck down horse and man. And then he drew his sword, and turned on Sir Percival, and struck him so hard on the helmet that it split down to the steel cap beneath; and if the sword had not swerved Sir Percival would have been killed, and with the stroke he fell out of his saddle. This joust was done in front of the hermitage where a recluse lived. And when she saw Sir Galahad ride, she said, "God be with you, best knight in the world." "Ah, certainly," she said, out loud, so that Lancelot and Percival could hear it, "if those two knights had known you as well as I do, they would not have taken you on."
When Sir Galahad heard her say this he was afraid of being recognised, and with that he struck his horse with his spurs and rode away from them at a great pace. Then they both realised that he was Galahad; and up they got on their horses, and rode hard after him, but in a little while he was out of their sight. And then they turned back, downcast.
"Let us ask that recluse over there for some news," said Percival.
"Do as you like," said Sir Lancelot.
When Sir Percival came to the recluse she knew him well enough, and Sir Lancelot too. But Sir Lancelot rode across and along a wild forest, and kept to no path but where wild adventure led him. And at last he came to a stone cross where two ways parted in waste land; and by the cross was a stone that was of marble, but it was so dark that Sir Lancelot could not tell what it was. Then Sir Lancelot looked about him, and saw an old chapel, and there he expected to have found people; and Sir Lancelot tied his horse to a tree, and there he took off his shield and hung it on a tree, and then went to the chapel door, and found it deserted and broken. And inside he found a fair altar, very richly adorned with cloth of pure silk, and there stood a fair bright candlestick, which held six great candles, and the candlestick was of silver. And when Sir Lancelot saw this light he had a great wish to go into the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter; then he was exceedingly downcast and dismayed. Then he went back to his horse and took off his saddle and bridle, and let him graze, and unlaced his helmet, and took off his sword belt, and lay down to sleep on his shield in front of the cross.
And so he fell asleep; and half awake and half asleep he saw two palfreys come by him, all fair and white, which carried a litter, and in it lay a sick knight. And when he was near the cross he stopped there and stayed still. All this Sir Lancelot saw and watched, for he was not truly asleep; and he heard him say, "O sweet Lord, when will this sorrow leave me? And when will the holy vessel come by me, through which I shall be blessed? For I have endured like this for a long time, for a little sin."
For a long while the knight lamented like this, and all the while Sir Lancelot heard it. With that Sir Lancelot saw the candlestick with the six candles come before the cross, and he saw nobody bringing it. Also there came a table of silver, and the holy vessel of the Holy Grail, which Lancelot had seen before in the house of King Pescheour, the Fisher King. And with that the sick knight sat up, and held up both his hands, and said, "Fair sweet Lord, who are here within this holy vessel, take heed of me, so that I may be made whole of this sickness."
And with that he went on his hands and knees so near that he touched the holy vessel and kissed it, and at once he was whole; and then he said, "Lord God, I thank You, for I am healed of this sickness."
So when the holy vessel had been there a long while, it went into the chapel with the candlestick and the light, so that Lancelot did not know where it had gone; for he was so weighed down by sin that he had no power to rise up before the holy vessel. And for that, many men spoke shame of him afterwards, but he repented after that. Then the sick knight got up and kissed the cross; at once his squire brought him his arms, and asked his lord how he was.
"Certainly," he said, "I thank God, very well; I am healed through the holy vessel. But I marvel at this sleeping knight, who had no power to wake when this holy vessel was brought here."
"I dare well say," said the squire, "that he is living in some deadly sin that he has never confessed."
"On my faith," said the knight, "whoever he is, he is unfortunate, for as I judge he is of the fellowship of the Round Table, which has entered into the quest of the Holy Grail."
"Sir," said the squire, "I have brought you all your arms here except your helmet and your sword, and so, with my agreement, you may take this knight's helmet and his sword now."
And so he did. And when he was fully armed he took Sir Lancelot's horse, for it was better than his own; and so they left the cross.
Then at once Sir Lancelot woke, and sat up, and thought over what he had seen there, and whether it was dreams or not. Just then he heard a voice that said, "Sir Lancelot, harder than the stone, and more bitter than the wood, and more naked and barer than the leaf of the fig tree: go away from here, and take yourself out of this holy place."
And when Sir Lancelot heard this he was exceedingly downcast and did not know what to do, and so he left, weeping bitterly, and cursed the time that he was born. For then he believed he would never have honour again. For those words went to his heart, until he knew why he was called so. Then Sir Lancelot went to the cross and found his helmet, his sword and his horse taken away. And then he called himself a true wretch, and the most unhappy of all knights; and there he said, "My sin and my wickedness have brought me to great dishonour. For when I sought worldly adventures for worldly desires, I always achieved them and had the better of it in every place, and I was never beaten in any quarrel, whether it was right or wrong. And now I take upon me the adventures of holy things, and now I see and understand that my old sin hinders me and shames me, so that I had no power to stir or speak when the holy blood appeared before me."
So he grieved like this until it was day, and heard the birds sing: then he was somewhat comforted. But when Sir Lancelot found his horse and his armour gone, then he knew well that God was displeased with him.
Then he left the cross on foot and went into a forest; and so by six in the morning he came to a high hill, and found a hermitage, and a hermit in it who was going to mass. And then Lancelot knelt down and cried to Our Lord for mercy for his wicked works. So when mass was done Lancelot called to him, and begged him for charity to hear his life.
"Willingly," said the good man. "Sir," he said, "are you of King Arthur's court and of the fellowship of the Round Table?"
"Yes, truly, and my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake, who has been very well spoken of, and now my good fortune is changed, for I am the greatest wretch in the world."
The hermit looked at him and marvelled at how humbled he was.
"Sir," said the hermit, "you ought to thank God more than any knight living, for He has caused you to have more worldly honour than any knight now alive. And it was your presumption, in taking it upon yourself to be in His presence in deadly sin, where His flesh and His blood were, that caused you not to be able to see it with worldly eyes; for He will not appear where such sinners are, unless it is to their great harm and their great shame. And there is no knight living now who ought to give God such great thanks as you, for He has given you beauty, comeliness, and great strength above all other knights; and so you are more beholden to God than any other man, to love Him and fear Him, for your strength and manhood will be of little use to you if God is against you."
Then Sir Lancelot wept, with a heavy face, and said, "Now I know well that you are telling me the truth."
"Sir," said the good man, "hide no old sin from me."
"Truly," said Sir Lancelot, "I am very loath to reveal it. For these fourteen years I have never revealed one thing that I have done, and for that I may now blame my shame and my misfortune."
And then he told that good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen beyond measure, and for a very long time. "And all my great deeds of arms that I have done, I did for the most part for the queen's sake, and for her sake I would fight, whether it was right or wrong, and I never fought only for God's sake, but to win honour and to make myself the better loved, and I thanked God for it little or not at all."
Then Sir Lancelot said, "I beg you, counsel me."
"I will counsel you," said the hermit, "if you will promise me that you will never come into that queen's company, as far as you can avoid it."
And then Sir Lancelot promised him that he would not, on his life.
"See that your heart and your mouth agree," said the good man, "and I promise you that you will have more honour than you ever had."
"Holy father," said Sir Lancelot, "I marvel at the voice that said such marvellous words to me, as you have heard already."
"Do not marvel at it," said the good man, "for it seems clear that God loves you. For men may understand that a stone is hard by nature, and one more than another especially; and that is to be understood of you, Sir Lancelot, for you will not leave your sin for any goodness that God has sent you. So you are harder than any stone, and you would never be made soft, neither by water nor by fire; and that is to say, the heat of the Holy Ghost cannot enter into you. Now take heed: in all the world men will not find one knight to whom Our Lord has given so much grace as He has given you. For He has given you beauty with comeliness, He has given you understanding, and discretion to know good from evil, He has given you prowess and boldness, and has given you to do such great deeds that you have always had the better of it, wherever you came; and now Our Lord will bear with you no longer, but you shall know Him, whether you will or not. And as to why the voice called you more bitter than wood: where too much sin lives, there can be only a little sweetness, and so you are likened to an old rotten tree."
"Now I have shown you why you are harder than the stone and more bitter than the tree. Now I will show you why you are more naked and barer than the fig tree. It happened that Our Lord preached in Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, and there He found that all hardness was lodged in the people, and in the whole town He found not one who would give Him lodging. And then He went outside the town, and found in the middle of the road a fig tree, which was very fair and well furnished with leaves, but it had no fruit. Then Our Lord cursed the tree that bore no fruit; the fig tree signifies Jerusalem, which had leaves and no fruit. So you, Sir Lancelot, when the Holy Grail was brought before you, He found no fruit in you, neither good thought nor good will, and found you defiled with lechery."
"Certainly," said Sir Lancelot, "all that you have said is true, and from now on I intend, by the grace of God, never to be as wicked as I have been, but to follow knighthood and to do feats of arms."
Then the good man gave Sir Lancelot such penance as he could do, and told him to pursue knighthood, and so absolved him, and begged Sir Lancelot to stay with him all that day.
"Gladly," said Sir Lancelot, "for I have neither helmet, nor horse, nor sword."
"As for that," said the good man, "I will help you to a horse before tomorrow evening, and to everything that belonged to you."
And then Sir Lancelot repented greatly.
Here ends the history of Sir Lancelot.
And here follows the story of Sir Percival de Galis, which is the fourteenth book.
Now the tale says that when Sir Lancelot had ridden off after Sir Galahad, who had had all these adventures told above, Sir Percival turned back to the recluse, where he thought he would get news of the knight that Lancelot was following. And so he knelt at her window, and the recluse opened it and asked Sir Percival what he wanted.
"Madam," he said, "I am a knight of King Arthur's court, and my name is Sir Percival de Galis."
When the recluse heard his name she was overjoyed to see him, for she had loved him much more than any other knight, as she ought to have done, for she was his aunt. And then she ordered the gates to be opened, and there she gave him all the welcome she could, and everything in her power was at his command.
So in the morning Sir Percival went to the recluse and asked her if she knew that knight with the white shield.
"Sir," she said, "why do you want to know?"
"Truly, madam," said Sir Percival, "I shall never be at ease until I know that knight's company, and can fight with him, for I cannot let him go so easily, since the shame is still on me."
"Ah, Percival," she said, "would you fight with him? I can see very well that you are eager to be killed as your father was, through recklessness."
"Madam," said Sir Percival, "it seems by your words that you know me."
"Yes," she said, "I ought to know you well, for I am your aunt, although I am in a priory now. For some people once called me the Queen of the Waste Lands, and I was called the richest queen in the world; and my riches never pleased me as much as my poverty does."
Then Sir Percival wept out of pure pity when he knew that she was his aunt.
"Ah, fair nephew," she said, "when did you last hear news of your mother?"
"Truly," he said, "I have heard none of her, but I dream of her often in my sleep; and so I do not know whether she is dead or alive."
"Certainly, fair nephew," she said, "your mother is dead, for after you left her she fell into such grief that, soon after she had made her confession, she died."
"Now God have mercy on her soul," said Sir Percival. "I am deeply sorry for it; but we must all leave this life. Now, fair aunt, tell me, who is the knight? I think it is the one who bore the red arms on Whitsunday."
"Believe me," she said, "this is he, for he ought not to do otherwise than go in red arms; and that same knight has no equal, for he does everything by miracle, and he shall never be overcome by any earthly man's hand."
"Also," she said, "Merlin made the Round Table as a sign of the roundness of the world, for by the Round Table the world is rightly signified. For all the world, Christian and heathen, comes to the Round Table; and when they are chosen to be of the fellowship of the Round Table they think themselves more blessed and more honoured than if they had won half the world. And you have seen that they have left their fathers and their mothers, and all their kin, and their wives and their children, to be of your fellowship. It is plain to see in you; for since you left your mother you would never go to see her, such fellowship did you find at the Round Table."
"When Merlin had founded the Round Table he said that through those who would be fellows of the Round Table the truth of the Holy Grail would be well known. And people asked him how they might know the ones who would do best and achieve the Holy Grail. Then he said there would be three white bulls who would achieve it, and two of them would be virgins, and the third would be chaste. And one of the three would surpass his father as much as the lion surpasses the leopard, both in strength and in daring."
"Those who heard Merlin say this said to Merlin, 'Since there is to be such a knight, you should make, by your arts, a seat in which no man may sit but he alone who will surpass all other knights.' Then Merlin answered that he would do so. And then he made the Siege Perilous, in which Galahad sat at his meal last Whitsunday."
"Now, madam," said Sir Percival, "I have heard so much from you that by my own good will I will never fight Sir Galahad except in the way of friendship. And for God's love, fair aunt, can you show me some way to find him? For I would dearly love his company."
"Fair nephew," she said, "you must ride to a castle called Goothe, where he has a first cousin, and there you may be lodged tonight. And as he directs you, follow after as fast as you can; and if he can tell you no news of him, ride straight to the Castle of Carbonek, where the Maimed King lies, for there you will hear true news of him."
Then Sir Percival left his aunt, and each of them grieved greatly. And so he rode until the time of evensong. And then he heard a clock strike; and then he noticed a house well enclosed with walls and deep ditches, and there he knocked at the gate and was let in, and he dismounted and was led to a room, and soon he was out of his armour. And there he had a very good welcome all that night; and in the morning he heard his mass, and in the monastery he found a priest ready at the altar. And on the right side he saw a pew closed in with iron, and behind the altar he saw a bed, rich and fair, as if of cloth of silk and gold.
Then Sir Percival noticed that there was a man or a woman in it, for the face was covered; then he stopped looking and listened to the service. And when it came to the consecration, the one who lay within that partition raised himself up and uncovered his head; and then he seemed to Sir Percival an exceedingly old man, and he had a crown of gold on his head, and his shoulders were bare and uncovered down to his navel. And then Sir Percival saw that his body was full of great wounds, on the shoulders, the arms and the face. And all the while he held up his hands toward Our Lord's body, and cried, "Fair, sweet Father, Jesus Christ, do not forget me." And so he lay down, but he was always at his prayers and devotions; and he seemed to be three hundred years old. And when the mass was done the priest took Our Lord's body and carried it to the sick king. And when he had received it he took off his crown, and commanded the crown to be set on the altar.
Then Sir Percival asked one of the brothers who he was.
"Sir," said the good man, "you have heard much of Joseph of Arimathea, how he was sent by Jesus Christ into this land to teach and preach the holy Christian faith; and for that he suffered many persecutions that the enemies of Christ did to him. And in the city of Sarras he converted a king whose name was Evelake. And so this king came with Joseph into this land, and he was always eager to be where the Holy Grail was; and once he came so near it that Our Lord was displeased with him, but still he followed it more and more, until God struck him almost blind. Then this king begged for mercy, and said, 'Fair Lord, let me never die until the good knight of my blood in the ninth generation has come, so that I may see him plainly, the one who shall achieve the Holy Grail, and so that I may kiss him.'"
"When the king had made his prayers in this way, he heard a voice that said, 'Your prayers are heard, for you shall not die until he has kissed you. And when that knight comes, the clearness of your eyes will come back, and you will see plainly, and your wounds will be healed, and before then they shall never close.' And this happened to King Evelake, and this same king has lived this holy life these three hundred years, and men say the knight who will heal him is at the court. Sir," said the good man, "I beg you, tell me what knight you are, and whether you are of King Arthur's court and of the Round Table."
"Yes, truly," he said, "and my name is Sir Percival de Galis."
And when the good man understood his name he rejoiced greatly over him.
And then Sir Percival left and rode until the hour of noon. And in a valley he met some twenty men-at-arms, who were carrying on a bier a knight who had been killed. And when they saw Sir Percival they asked him where he came from.
And he answered, "From the court of King Arthur."
Then they all cried out at once, "Kill him!"
Then Sir Percival struck the first to the ground, with his horse on top of him. And then seven of the knights struck on his shield all at once, and the rest killed his horse so that he fell to the ground. So they would have killed him or taken him, if the good knight Sir Galahad, with the red arms, had not come into those parts by chance. And when he saw all those knights against one knight he cried, "Spare me that knight's life!" And then he turned toward the twenty men-at-arms as fast as his horse could carry him, with his spear in rest, and struck the foremost to the ground, horse and man. And when his spear was broken he set his hand to his sword, and struck on the right hand and on the left so that it was a marvel to see, and at every stroke he struck one down or put him to shame, so that they would fight no more but fled into a thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed them.
And when Sir Percival saw him chase them like that, he grieved greatly that his horse was gone. And then he knew well that it was Sir Galahad.
And then he cried aloud, "Ah, fair knight, wait, and let me give you thanks, for you have done a great deal for me."
But Sir Galahad rode on so fast that at last he passed out of his sight. And Sir Percival went after him on foot as fast as he could, crying out. And then he met a yeoman riding on a small riding horse, who led in his hand a great steed blacker than any bear.
"Ah, fair friend," said Sir Percival, "as surely as I will ever do anything for you, and be your true knight at the first need you ask of me, lend me that black steed, so that I may overtake a knight who is riding ahead of me."
"Sir knight," said the yeoman, "I beg you to excuse me from that, for I cannot do it. For believe me, the horse belongs to such a man that if I lent it to you or to any man, he would kill me."
"Alas," said Sir Percival, "I never had so great a sorrow as I have had at losing that knight."
"Sir," said the yeoman, "I am very sorry for you, for a good horse would suit you well; but I dare not give you this horse unless you take him from me."
"That I will not do," said Sir Percival.
And so they parted; and Sir Percival sat down under a tree, and grieved beyond measure. And as he sat there, a knight came riding on the horse that the yeoman had been leading, and he was fully armed.
And at once the yeoman came spurring after as fast as he could, and asked Sir Percival if he had seen any knight riding on his black steed.
"Yes, sir, truly," he said. "Why, sir, do you ask me that?"
"Ah, sir, he has taken that steed from me by force; and so my lord will kill me wherever he finds me."
"Well," said Sir Percival, "what do you want me to do? You can see well that I am on foot, but if I had a good horse I would soon bring him back."
"Sir," said the yeoman, "take my small riding horse and do the best you can, and I will follow you on foot to learn how you get on."
Then Sir Percival mounted that small horse, and rode as fast as he could, and at last he saw that knight.
And then he cried, "Knight, turn back!"
And he turned and set his spear against Sir Percival, and he struck the small horse in the middle of the breast so that it fell down dead to the ground, and Sir Percival had a great fall there, and the other rode on his way.
And then Sir Percival was mad with rage, and cried, "Wait, you wicked knight! Coward, false-hearted knight, turn back and fight me on foot!"
But he did not answer, but went on his way. When Sir Percival saw that he would not turn, he threw away his helmet and sword, and said, "Now I am a true wretch, cursed and the most unlucky of all knights."
So in this sorrow he stayed there all that day until it was night; and then he was faint, and lay down and slept until midnight; and then he woke and saw before him a woman, who said to him very fiercely, "Sir Percival, what are you doing here?"
He answered, "I am doing neither good nor great harm."
"If you will promise me," she said, "that you will do my will when I summon you, I will lend you my own horse, which will carry you wherever you wish."
Sir Percival was glad of her offer, and promised her to fulfil all her desire.
"Then wait for me here, and I will go and fetch you a horse."
And so she soon came back and brought a horse with her that was utterly black. When Percival looked at that horse he marvelled that it was so big and so well equipped; and even so he was bold enough, and he leapt onto him, and took no thought for himself. And as soon as he was on him he thrust his spurs into him, and so he rode along beside a forest, and the moon shone clear. And within an hour or less the horse carried him four days' journey from there, until he came to a rough water that roared, and his horse would have carried him into it.
And when Sir Percival came near the brink, and saw the water so rough, he was afraid to cross it. And then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead. When the fiend felt himself burdened with that, he shook Sir Percival off, and he went into the water crying and roaring and making great lament, and it seemed to Sir Percival that the water burned. Then Sir Percival understood that it was a fiend, which would have brought him to his damnation. Then he commended himself to God, and prayed Our Lord to keep him from all such temptations; and so he prayed all that night until morning, when it was day. Then he saw that he was on a wild mountain that was almost entirely surrounded by the sea, so that he could see no land around him that might bring him help, but only wild beasts.
And then he went into a valley, and there he saw a young serpent carrying a young lion by the neck, and so it came past Sir Percival. With that a great lion came crying and roaring after the serpent. And as soon as Sir Percival saw this he marvelled, and hurried there, but at once the lion had overtaken the serpent and began to fight him. And then Sir Percival thought he would help the lion, for he was the more natural beast of the two; and with that he drew his sword, and set his shield before him, and there he gave the serpent such a blow that he had a deadly wound. When the lion saw that, he made no sign of fighting him, but gave him all the welcome a beast can give a man. Then Percival saw that, and threw down his shield, which was broken; and then he took off his helmet to get his breath, for he was greatly heated from fighting the serpent. And the lion kept going round him, fawning like a spaniel. And then he stroked him on the neck and on the shoulders. And then he thanked God for the company of that beast. And about noon the lion took up his little cub and bundled him up and carried him back to where he came from.
Then Sir Percival was alone. And as the tale tells, he was one of the men in the world at that time who believed most in Our Lord Jesus Christ, for in those days there were only a few people who believed in God perfectly. For in those days the son spared his father no more than a stranger. And so Sir Percival took comfort in our Lord Jesus, and begged God that no temptation should bring him out of God's service, but that he might endure as his true champion. So when Sir Percival had prayed, he saw the lion come toward him, and then he lay down at his feet. And so all that night the lion and he slept together; and while Sir Percival slept he dreamed a marvellous dream: that two ladies met him there, and that one sat on a lion, and the other sat on a serpent, and that one of them was young, and the other was old. And he thought that the younger one said, "Sir Percival, my lord greets you, and sends you word to prepare yourself and make ready, for tomorrow you must fight the strongest champion in the world. And if you are overcome, you will not get off with the loss of any of your limbs, but you will be shamed for ever, to the world's end."
And then he asked her who her lord was. And she said the greatest lord in all the world. And so she left so suddenly that he did not know where she had gone.
Then the other lady, who rode on the serpent, came forward, and she said, "Sir Percival, I have a complaint against you for what you have done to me, when I have not wronged you."
"Certainly, madam," he said, "I never wronged you nor any lady."
"Yes," she said, "I will tell you why. I have kept a serpent in this place for a long while, which served me a long while, and yesterday you killed him as he was taking his prey. Tell me for what reason you killed him, for the lion was not yours."
"Madam," said Sir Percival, "I know well the lion was not mine, but I did it because the lion is of a nobler nature than the serpent, and so I killed him. It seems to me I did you no wrong. Madam," he said, "what do you want me to do?"
"I want you," she said, "to become my man, in amends for my beast."
And then he answered, "That I will not grant you."
"No?" she said. "Truly, you were never anything but my servant until you received the homage of Our Lord Jesus Christ. Therefore I warn you, wherever I find you unguarded I will take you, as one who was once my man."
And so she left Sir Percival and left him sleeping, and he was badly troubled by his vision. And in the morning he got up and crossed himself, and he was exceedingly weak.
Then Sir Percival looked out to sea, and saw a ship come sailing toward him; and Sir Percival went to the ship and found it covered inside and out with white samite. And at the side stood an old man dressed in a surplice, in the likeness of a priest.
"Sir," said Sir Percival, "you are welcome."
"God keep you," said the good man. "Sir," said the old man, "where are you from?"
"Sir," said Sir Percival, "I am of King Arthur's court, and a knight of the Round Table, and I am on the quest of the Holy Grail; and here I am in great hardship, and never likely to escape out of this wilderness."
"Do not fear," said the good man. "If you are as true a knight as the order of chivalry requires, and of such heart as you ought to be, you need not fear that any enemy will kill you."
"Who are you?" said Sir Percival.
"Sir," said the old man, "I am from a strange country, and I have come here to comfort you."
"Sir," said Sir Percival, "what does the dream that I dreamed last night mean?"
And there he told him all of it.
"She who rode on the lion stands for the new law of holy church, that is to say, faith, good hope, belief and baptism. There is good reason why she seemed younger than the other, for she was born in the resurrection and the passion of Our Lord Jesus Christ. And out of great love she came to you to warn you of the great battle that is coming to you."
"Whom shall I fight?" said Sir Percival.
"The greatest champion in the world," said the old man. "For as the lady said, unless you acquit yourself well you will not get off with the loss of one limb, but you will be shamed to the world's end. And she who rode on the serpent stands for the old law, and that serpent stands for a fiend. And as for her blaming you for killing her servant, that means nothing; the serpent that you killed stands for the devil that you rode on to the rock. And when you made the sign of the cross, there you killed him, and put away his power. And when she asked you for amends, and to become her man, and you said you would not, that was to make you believe in her and leave your baptism."
So he commanded Sir Percival to go, and so he leapt over the side, and the ship and all went away he did not know where. Then he went up onto the rock and found the lion, which always kept him company, and he stroked him on the back and rejoiced greatly in him.
When Sir Percival had stayed there until midday, he saw a ship come rowing over the sea as if all the wind in the world were driving it. And so it drove in under that rock. And when Sir Percival saw this he hurried there, and found the ship covered with silk blacker than any bear, and in it was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she was dressed so richly that no one could be better.
And when she saw Sir Percival she said, "Who brought you into this wilderness, where you are never likely to get away from here? For you will die here of hunger and distress."
"Damsel," said Sir Percival, "I serve the best man in the world, and in his service he will not let me die. For whoever knocks shall enter, and whoever asks shall have, and whoever seeks him, he does not hide from him."
But then she said, "Sir Percival, do you know who I am?"
"Yes," he said.
"Now who taught you my name?" she said.
"Now," said Sir Percival, "I know you better than you think."
"And I have come out of the waste forest, where I found the Red Knight with the white shield," said the damsel.
"Ah, damsel," he said, "I would very gladly meet that knight."
"Sir knight," she said, "if you will promise me, by the faith that you owe to knighthood, that you will do my will whenever I summon you, then I will bring you to that knight."
"Yes," he said, "I promise to fulfil your desire."
"Well," she said, "now I will tell you. I saw him in the forest chasing two knights to a water called Mortaise; and he drove them into the water for fear of death, and the two knights crossed over, and the Red Knight went over after them, and there his horse was drowned, and he, through great strength, escaped to the land."
So she told him, and Sir Percival was exceedingly glad of it. Then she asked him if he had eaten any food lately.
"No, madam, truly, I have eaten no food these three days, but just now I spoke here with a good man who fed me with his good and holy words, and refreshed me greatly."
"Ah, sir knight," she said, "that same man is an enchanter and a spinner of words. For if you believe him you will certainly be shamed, and die on this rock of sheer hunger, and be eaten by wild beasts; and you are a young man and a handsome knight, and I will help you if you will let me."
"Who are you," said Sir Percival, "who offer me such great kindness?"
"I am," she said, "a gentlewoman who has been disinherited, who was once the richest woman in the world."
"Damsel," said Sir Percival, "who has disinherited you? For I feel great pity for you."
"Sir," she said, "I lived with the greatest man in the world, and he made me so fair and bright that there was none like me; and because of that great beauty I had a little more pride than I ought to have had. Also I said a word that did not please him. And then he would not let me stay any longer in his company, and so he drove me out of my inheritance, and so disinherited me, and he never had pity on me, nor on any of my followers, nor on my court. And since then, sir knight, since this happened to me, I and my people have taken many of his men from him, and made them become my men. For they never ask anything of me that I do not give them, that and much more. So I and all my servants have been against him night and day. Therefore I know of no good knight, nor any good man, whom I do not try to get on my side if I can. And since I know that you are a good knight, I beg you to help me; and since you are a fellow of the Round Table, you ought not to fail any gentlewoman who has been disinherited, if she asks you for help."
Then Sir Percival promised her all the help he could give; and then she thanked him. And at that time the weather was hot. Then she called a gentlewoman to her and told her to bring out a tent; and so she did, and pitched it on the gravel.
"Sir," she said, "now you may rest in this heat of the day."
Then he thanked her, and she took off his helmet and his shield, and there he slept a long while. And then he woke and asked her if she had any food.
And she said, "Yes, and you shall have plenty."
And so plenty was set on the table, and so much on it that he marvelled, for there was every kind of food he could think of. He also drank there the strongest wine he had ever drunk, as he thought, and with that he grew a little more heated than he ought to have been. With that he looked at the gentlewoman, and he thought she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. And then Sir Percival offered her his love, and begged her to be his. Then she refused him, after a fashion, when he asked her, so that he would be the more ardent for her, and he never stopped begging her for her love.
And when she saw him well heated, then she said, "Sir Percival, believe me, I will not do your will unless you swear that from now on you will be my true servant, and do nothing but what I command you. Will you promise me this, as you are a true knight?"
"Yes," he said, "fair lady, on my life."
"Well," she said, "now you shall do with me whatever you please; and now, believe me, you are the knight in the world I most desire."
And then two squires were ordered to make a bed in the middle of the tent. And at once she was undressed and laid in it. And then Sir Percival lay down beside her naked. And by chance and by grace he saw his sword lying on the ground, out of its sheath, and in its pommel was a red cross and the sign of the crucifix, and he thought of his knighthood and of the promise he had made earlier to the good man. Then he made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and with that the tent turned upside down, and then it changed into a smoke and a black cloud, and then he was afraid and cried aloud:
"Fair sweet Father, Jesus Christ, do not let me be shamed, who would have been lost if not for your good grace!"
And then he looked into a ship, and saw her go into it, and she said, "Sir Percival, you have betrayed me."
And so she went away with the wind, roaring and yelling, so that it seemed all the water burned behind her. Then Sir Percival grieved greatly, and drew his sword to him, saying, "Since my flesh would be my master, I will punish it." And with that he drove the sword through his thigh, so that the blood spurted out around him, and he said, "O good Lord, take this in recompense for what I have done against you, my Lord."
So then he dressed himself and armed himself, and called himself a wretch, saying, "How near I was to being lost, and to losing what I could never have got back, which was my virginity, for that can never be recovered once it is lost."
And then he stopped his bleeding wound with a piece of his shirt. So, as he was lamenting, he saw the same ship come from the East that the good man had been in the day before, and the noble knight was ashamed of himself, and with that he fell into a faint. And when he came to, he went to him weakly, and there he greeted this good man.
And then he asked Sir Percival, "How have you done since I left?"
"Sir," he said, "a gentlewoman was here, and she led me into deadly sin."
And there he told him all of it.
"Did you not know the maiden?" said the good man.
"Sir," he said, "no, but I know well that the fiend sent her here to shame me."
"O good knight," he said, "you are a fool, for that gentlewoman was the master fiend of hell, who has power over all devils, and she was the old lady you saw in your vision riding on the serpent."
Then he told Sir Percival how our Lord Jesus Christ drove him out of heaven for his sin, he who was the brightest angel of heaven, and so he lost his inheritance.
"And that was the champion you fought with, who would have overcome you if not for the grace of God. Now beware, Sir Percival, and take this as an example."
And then the good man vanished. Then Sir Percival took up his arms, and went into the ship, and so departed from there.
Here ends the fourteenth book, which is of Sir Percival.
And here follows the tale of Sir Lancelot, which is the fifteenth book.
When the hermit had kept Sir Lancelot three days, the hermit got him a horse, a helmet and a sword. And then he left at about the hour of noon. And then he saw a little house. And when he came near he saw a chapel, and beside it he saw an old man who was dressed all in white, very richly.
And then Sir Lancelot said, "God save you."
"God keep you," said the good man, "and make you a good knight."
Then Sir Lancelot dismounted and went into the chapel, and there he saw an old man lying dead, in a white shirt of exceedingly fine cloth.
"Sir," said the good man, "this man who is dead ought not to be in such clothing as you see him in, for in that he broke the oath of his order; for he has been a man of religion more than a hundred years."
And then the good man and Sir Lancelot went into the chapel; and the good man put a stole around his neck, and took a book, and then he conjured on that book; and with that they saw a figure so hideous and horrible that there was no man so hard-hearted or so hardy but he would have been afraid.
Then the fiend said, "You have troubled me greatly. Now tell me what you want with me."
"I want you," said the good man, "to tell me how my brother came to be dead, and whether he is saved or damned."
Then he said in a horrible voice, "He is not lost but saved."
"How can that be?" said the good man. "It seemed to me that he did not live well, for he broke his order by wearing a shirt where he ought to wear none, and whoever offends against our order does not do well."
"Not so," said the fiend. "This man who lies here dead came of a great lineage. And there was a lord called the Earl de Vale, who made great war on this man's nephew, who was called Aguarus. And so this Aguarus saw that the earl was stronger than he was. Then he went to take the advice of his uncle, who lies here dead, as you can see. And then this man asked leave, and went out of his hermitage to support his nephew against the mighty earl; and so it happened that this man who lies here dead did so much by his wisdom and his daring that the earl was taken, and three of his lords, by the strength of this dead man."
"Then," said the fiend, "there was peace between the earl and this Aguarus, and a firm guarantee that the earl would never make war on him again. Then this dead man who lies here came back to this hermitage; and then the earl set two of his nephews to take revenge on this man. So one day they came, and found this dead man at the consecration in his mass, and they waited for him until he had said mass. And then they set on him and drew their swords to kill him; but no sword would bite on him any more than on a spike of steel, for the high Lord whom he served preserved him. Then they made a great fire, and took off all his clothes, and the hair shirt off his back. And then this dead man, the hermit, said to them, 'Do you think you will burn me? It will not be in your power to harm so much as a thread on me, if there were any on my body.' 'No?' said one of them. 'We shall try it.' And then they stripped him, and put this shirt on him, and threw him in a fire, and there he lay all that night in that fire until it was day, and was not dead. And so in the morning I came and found him dead; but I found neither thread nor skin harmed, and so I took him out of the fire with great fear, and laid him here as you can see. And now you may let me go on my way, for I have told you the truth."
And then he left in a great storm. Then the good man and Sir Lancelot were gladder than they had been before. And then Sir Lancelot stayed with that good man that night.
"Sir," said the good man, "are you not Sir Lancelot du Lake?"
"Yes, sir," he said.
"What are you seeking in this country?"
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "I am going to seek the adventures of the Holy Grail."
"Well," he said, "you may well seek it, but even if it were here you would have no more power to see it than a blind man would have to see a bright sword. And that is because of your sin, or else you would be more able than any man living."
And then Sir Lancelot began to weep.
Then the good man said, "Have you made your confession since you entered on the quest of the Holy Grail?"
"Yes, sir," said Sir Lancelot.
Then in the morning, when the good man had sung his mass, they buried the dead man.
Then Sir Lancelot said, "Father, what shall I do?"
"Now," said the good man, "I ask you to take this hair shirt that belonged to this holy man and put it next to your skin, and it will do you great good."
"Sir, I will do it," said Sir Lancelot.
"Also I charge you to eat no meat as long as you are on the quest of the Holy Grail, and to drink no wine, and to hear mass every day if you can."
So he took the hair shirt and put it on, and so left at evensong time. And so he rode into a forest, and there he met a gentlewoman riding on a white palfrey.
And then she asked him, "Sir knight, where are you riding?"
"Certainly, damsel," said Lancelot, "I do not know where I am riding, except as fortune leads me."
"Ah, Sir Lancelot," she said, "I know what adventure you are seeking, for you were nearer to it once than you are now, and yet you shall see it more plainly than you ever did, and you will understand that in a short time."
Then Sir Lancelot asked her where he might find lodging that night.
"You will not find any this day or night, but tomorrow you will find good lodging, and relief from what you are anxious about."
And then he commended her to God. Then he rode until he came to a Cross, and took that for his host for that night.
And so he put his horse out to graze, and took off his helmet and his shield, and prayed to the Cross that he might never fall into deadly sin again. And so he lay down to sleep. And as soon as he was asleep a vision came to him there: that a man came before him all surrounded by stars, and that man had a crown of gold on his head, and that man led in his company seven kings and two knights. And all these worshipped the Cross, kneeling on their knees and holding up their hands toward heaven.
And they all said, "Fair sweet Father of heaven, come and visit us, and give each of us what we have deserved."
Then Lancelot looked up to heaven, and it seemed to him that the clouds opened, and an old man came down with a company of angels, and alighted among them, and gave each of them his blessing, and called them his servants, and good and true knights. And when this old man had said this he came to one of those knights, and said, "I have lost all that I put into you, for you have conducted yourself against me like a warrior, and fought wrongful wars out of vainglory, more for the pleasure of the world than to please me. Therefore you will be destroyed unless you give me back my treasure."
All this vision Sir Lancelot saw at the Cross. And in the morning he took his horse and rode until midday; and there by chance he met the same knight who had taken his horse, his helmet and his sword while he slept, when the Holy Grail appeared before the Cross. When Sir Lancelot saw him he did not greet him kindly, but cried aloud, "Knight, defend yourself! You have done me a great wrong."
And then they set their spears before them, and Sir Lancelot came at him so fiercely that he struck him and his horse down to the ground, so that he nearly broke his neck. Then Sir Lancelot took the knight's horse, which had been his own before, and got down from the horse he was sitting on, and mounted his own horse, and tied the knight's own horse to a tree, so that he might find that horse when he got up. Then Sir Lancelot rode until night, and by chance he met a hermit, and each of them greeted the other; and there he rested with that good man all night, and gave his horse what feed he could get.
Then the good man said to Lancelot, "Where are you from?"
"Sir," he said, "I am of Arthur's court, and my name is Sir Lancelot du Lake, and I am on the quest of the Holy Grail; and so I beg you to advise me about a vision that I had at the Cross."
And so he told him all of it.
"Look, Sir Lancelot," said the good man, "there you may understand the high lineage you come from, and what your vision means. Forty years after the passion of Jesus Christ, Joseph of Arimathea preached the victory of King Evelake, so that he got the better of his enemies in his battles. And as for the seven kings and the two knights: the first of them is called Nappus, a holy man; and the second was called Nacien, in memory of his grandfather, and in him dwelt our Lord Jesus Christ; and the third was called Helias le Grose; and the fourth was called Lisais; and the fifth was called Jonas. He left his own country and went into Wales, and took there the daughter of Manuel as his wife, by whom he had the land of Gaul, and he came to live in this country. And from him came King Lancelot, your grandfather, who married the King of Ireland's daughter there, and he was as worthy a man as you are; and from him came King Ban, your father, who was the last of the seven kings. And as for you, Sir Lancelot, it means that the angels said you were none of the seven fellowships. And the last was the ninth knight; he was signified by a lion, for he would surpass every kind of earthly knight, and that is Sir Galahad, whom you fathered on King Pelles's daughter. And you ought to thank God more than any other man living, for among earthly sinners you have no equal in knighthood, nor ever will have. But you have given God little thanks for all the great virtues that God has lent you."
"Sir," said Lancelot, "you say that that good knight is my son."
"You ought to know that, and no man better," said the good man, "for you knew King Pelles's daughter in the flesh, and on her you fathered Galahad, and he was the one who sat in the Siege Perilous at the feast of Pentecost. And so make it openly known that he is your son, fathered on King Pelles's daughter, for that will be to your honour and credit, and to all your kindred's. And I advise you never, anywhere, to press him to fight with you."
"Well," said Lancelot, "it seems to me that good knight should pray for me to the High Father, that I do not fall into sin again."
"You may be sure," said the good man, "that you fare much the better for his prayer; but the son shall not bear the wickedness of the father, nor shall the father bear the wickedness of the son, but each shall bear his own burden. And so beseech God alone, and He will help you in all your needs."
And then Sir Lancelot and he went to supper, and so Lancelot lay down to rest, and the hair shirt pricked Sir Lancelot's skin so much that it hurt him very badly, but he took it meekly, and endured the pain. And so in the morning he heard his mass and took his arms, and so took his leave.
And then he mounted his horse, and rode into a forest, and kept to no highway. And as he looked ahead of him he saw a fair plain, and beside it a fair castle, and before the castle were many tents of silk, of various colours. And it seemed to him that he saw five hundred knights riding there on horseback; and there were two sides. Those who were of the castle were all on black horses, with black trappings, and those who were outside were all on white horses with white trappings, and they all crashed into each other so that Sir Lancelot marvelled at it. And at last he thought that the side of the castle was getting the worst of it.
Then Sir Lancelot thought he would help the weaker side there, to increase his own renown in arms. And so Sir Lancelot thrust in on the side of the castle, and struck down a knight, horse and man, to the ground. And then he rushed here and there, and did marvellous deeds of arms. And then he drew his sword, and struck many knights to the ground, so that all who saw him marvelled that any one knight could do such great deeds of arms.
But all the while the white knights kept close around Sir Lancelot, to tire him and wear out his wind. But at last, since no man can endure for ever, Sir Lancelot grew so faint from fighting and toiling, and was so weary from his great deeds, that he could not lift up his arms to give a single stroke, so that he thought he would never bear arms again. And then they all took him and led him away into a forest, and there made him dismount and rest.
And then all the company of the castle was overcome for lack of him.
Then they all said to Sir Lancelot, "Blessed be God that you are now of our company, for we will hold you in our prison."
And so they left him with few words. And then Sir Lancelot grieved greatly. "For never before now was I at a tournament or jousts but I had the best of it, and now I am shamed." And then he said, "Now I am sure that I am more sinful than I ever was."
So he rode on grieving, and for half a day he was close to despair, until he came into a deep valley. And when Sir Lancelot saw that he could not ride up the mountain, he dismounted there under an apple tree, and there he left his helmet and his shield, and put his horse out to graze. And then he lay down to sleep.
And then it seemed to him that an old man came before him, who said, "Ah, Lancelot, man of evil faith and poor belief, why is your will turned so easily toward your deadly sin?"
And when he had said this he vanished, and Lancelot did not know where he had gone. Then he took his horse, and armed himself; and as he rode along he saw a chapel where there was a recluse, who had a window through which she could see up to the altar. And she called aloud to Lancelot, because he looked like a knight-errant. And then he came, and she asked him who he was, and from what place, and what he was going about to seek.
And then he told her all of it, word for word, and the truth of how it went with him at the tournament. And after that he told her the vision he had had that night in his sleep, and begged her to tell him what it might mean, for he was not at all easy about it.
"Ah, Lancelot," she said, "as long as you were a knight of earthly knighthood you were the most marvellous man in the world, and the most adventurous. Now," said the lady, "since you have been set among the knights of heavenly adventures, do not wonder if things went against you at that tournament, for that tournament yesterday was nothing but a sign from Our Lord. And even so there was no enchantment in it, for those at the tournament were earthly knights. The tournament was a sign to see who would have the most knights, Eliazar, the son of King Pelles, or Argustus, the son of King Harlon. But Eliazar was all clothed in white, and Argustus was covered in black, and they were the ones who were overcome."
"I will tell you all that this means," she said. "On the day of Pentecost, when King Arthur held his court, it happened that earthly kings and knights began a tournament together, that is to say, the quest of the Holy Grail. The earthly knights were the ones who were clothed all in black, and the covering stands for the sins they have not confessed. And those with the covering of white stand for virginity, and for those who chose chastity. And so the quest was begun in them. Then you saw the sinners and the good men, and when you saw the sinners being overcome, you leaned to that side out of boastfulness and worldly pride, and all that must be left behind in that quest; for in this quest you will have many companions who are your betters. For you are so feeble, so full of bad trust and so short of good belief, that this is what happened when you were there, where they took you and led you into the forest. And at once the Holy Grail appeared to the white knights, but you were so feeble in good belief and faith that you could not bear it, for all the teaching of the good man, but at once you turned to the sinners. And that caused your mishap, so that you should know good from evil, and the vainglory of the world, which is not worth a pear. And out of great pride you grieved greatly that you had not overcome all the white knights with the covering of white, by whom virginity and chastity were signified; and so God was angry with you, for God loves no such deeds in this quest. And this vision means that you were of evil faith and of poor belief, which will make you fall into the deep pit of hell if you do not take care. Now I have warned you of your vainglory and of your pride, by which you have many times offended against your Maker. Beware of everlasting pain, for of all earthly knights I have the most pity for you, for I know well that you have no equal among earthly sinful men."
And so she invited Sir Lancelot to dinner. And after dinner he took his horse and commended her to God, and so rode into a deep valley, and there he saw a river and a high mountain. And he had to cross the water, which was hideous; and then, in the name of God, he went into it with a good heart. And when he came over he saw an armed knight, horse and man as black as any bear. Without a word he struck Sir Lancelot's horse to the ground; and so he went on, and Lancelot did not know where he had gone. And then he took his helmet and his shield, and thanked God for his adventure.
Here the story of Sir Lancelot leaves off, and we speak of Sir Gawain, which is the sixteenth book.
When Sir Gawain had left his companions he rode a long time without any adventure. For he did not find a tenth part of the adventures he was used to finding. Sir Gawain rode from Whitsun until Michaelmas, the end of September, and found no adventure that pleased him. So one day it happened that Gawain met Sir Ector de Maris, and each of them rejoiced so greatly in the other that it was a marvel to tell. And so they told each other their news, and complained bitterly that they could find no adventure.
"Truly," said Sir Gawain to Sir Ector, "I am nearly weary of this quest, and I am loath to follow it any further in strange countries."
"One thing makes me wonder," said Sir Ector. "I have met twenty knights, companions of mine, and they all complain as I do."
"I wonder," said Sir Gawain, "where Sir Lancelot, your brother, is."
"Truly," said Sir Ector, "I can hear no news of him, nor of Sir Galahad, Percival, nor Sir Bors."
"Let them be," said Sir Gawain, "for those four have no equals. And if it were not for one thing in Sir Lancelot, he would have no equal among earthly men; but he is as we are, except that he took more pains. And if these four meet together, any man will be loath to meet with them; for if they fail of the Holy Grail, it is wasted labour for all the rest of us to try to win it."
So Ector and Gawain rode for more than eight days, and on a Saturday they found an old chapel, which was so ruined that it seemed no one ever came there. And there they dismounted, and set their spears by the door, and went into the chapel, and said their prayers there a long while, and sat down in the seats of the chapel. And as they talked of one thing and another, they fell asleep for heaviness of heart, and marvellous adventures came to them both. It seemed to Sir Gawain that he came into a meadow full of grasses and flowers, and there he saw a hayrack with bulls feeding at it, a hundred and fifty of them, proud and black, except that three of them were all white, and one of those had a black spot, and the other two were so fair and so white that they could be no whiter. And these three bulls that were so fair were tied with two strong cords. And the rest of the bulls said among themselves, "Let us go away from here to look for better pasture." And so some went, and some came back, but they were so lean that they could not stand upright; and of the bulls that were so white, one came back and no more. But when this white bull had come back among the others, a great cry rose up for lack of the breath that failed them; and so they scattered, one here and another there. This was the vision that came to Gawain that night.
But to Ector de Maris came another vision, the opposite of it. For it seemed to him that his brother, Sir Lancelot, and he got down out of a chariot and leapt onto two horses, and the one said to the other, "Let us go and seek what we shall not find." And he thought that a man beat Sir Lancelot, and stripped him, and dressed him in other clothes, which were all full of knots, and set him on a donkey, and so he rode until he came to the fairest spring he had ever seen; and Sir Lancelot got down and wanted to drink from that spring. And when he stooped to drink the water, the water sank away from him. And when Sir Lancelot saw that, he turned and went back toward the place he had come from. And in the meantime he thought that he himself and Sir Ector rode until they came to a rich man's house where there was a wedding. And there he saw a king, who said, "Sir knight, there is no place here for you." And then he turned back to the chariot that he had come from.
So after a while both Gawain and Ector woke up, and each told the other his vision, and they marvelled greatly at them.
"Truly," said Ector, "I shall never be merry until I hear news of my brother Lancelot."
Now as they sat talking like this, they saw a hand showing to the elbow, and it was covered with red samite, and from it hung a bridle that was not very rich, and in its fist it held a great candle which burned very bright; and so it passed before them, and went into the chapel, and then vanished, and they did not know where. And at once a voice came down, which said, "Knights of very evil faith and of poor belief, these two things have failed you, and therefore you may not come to the adventures of the Holy Grail."
Then Gawain spoke first and said, "Ector, did you hear those words?"
"Yes, truly," said Sir Ector, "I heard everything. Now let us go," said Sir Ector, "to some hermit who will tell us the meaning of our visions, for it seems to me that all our labour is in vain."
And so they left and rode into a valley, and there they met a squire riding on a small riding horse, and they greeted him courteously.
"Sir," said Gawain, "can you direct us to a hermit?"
"There is one on a little mountain here, but it is so rough that no horse can go up there, and so you must go on foot. There you will find a poor house, and in it is Nacien the hermit, who is the holiest man in this country."
And so they parted from each other.
And then in a valley they met a knight in full armour, who challenged them to joust as soon as he saw them.
"In the name of God," said Sir Gawain, "since I left Camelot no one has challenged me to joust except once."
"And now, sir," said Ector, "let me joust with him."
"No," said Gawain, "you shall not, unless I am beaten; I shall not mind then if you go after me."
And then each of them took up position against the other to joust, and they came together as fast as their horses could run, and burst their shields and their mail, the one more than the other. And Gawain was wounded in the left side, but the other knight was struck through the breast, and the spear came out at the other side, and so they both fell out of their saddles, and in falling they both broke their spears.
Gawain got up at once and put his hand to his sword, and cast his shield before him. But it was all for nothing, for the knight had no strength to get up against him.
Then Gawain said, "You must yield as a beaten man, or else I may kill you."
"Ah, sir knight," he said, "I am as good as dead. For God's sake and of your nobility, take me to an abbey here, so that I may receive my Creator."
"Sir," said Gawain, "I know of no religious house near here."
"Sir," said the knight, "set me on a horse in front of you, and I will show you the way."
Gawain set him up in the saddle, and leapt up behind him to hold him up, and so they came to an abbey where they were well received; and at once his armour was taken off, and he received his Creator. Then he begged Gawain to draw the broken spear shaft out of his body. Then Gawain asked him who he was, for he did not know him.
"I am," he said, "of King Arthur's court, and I was a companion of the Round Table, and we were sworn brothers together. And now, Sir Gawain, you have killed me, and my name is Uwain les Avoutres, who was once the son of King Uriens, and I was on the quest of the Holy Grail. And now may God forgive you for it, for it will always be said that one sworn brother killed the other."
"Alas," said Gawain, "that this mischance ever happened to me."
"No matter," said Uwain. "Since I must die this death, I could not die by the hand of a more honourable man. But when you come to the court, commend me to my lord King Arthur, and to all those who are left alive, and for old brotherhood think of me."
Then Gawain began to weep, and Ector too. And then Uwain himself and Sir Gawain drew out the broken spear shaft, and at once the soul left the body. Then Sir Gawain and Sir Ector buried him as men ought to bury a king's son, and had his name written on the tomb, and by whom he was killed.
Then Gawain and Ector left, as downcast as they could be over their mischance, and so they rode until they came to the rough mountain, and there they tied up their horses and went on foot to the hermitage. And when they had come up they saw a poor house, and beside the chapel a little garden, where Nacien the hermit gathered roots and herbs, for he had tasted no other food for a long while. And when he saw the knights-errant he came toward them and greeted them, and they greeted him in return.
"Fair lords," he said, "what adventure brought you here?"
"Sir," said Gawain, "we have come to speak with you, to be confessed."
"Sir," said the hermit, "I am ready."
Then they told him so much that he knew well who they were. And then he thought he would counsel them if he could.
Then Gawain began first and told him of the vision he had had in the chapel, and Ector told him everything as it is told above.
"Sir," said the hermit to Sir Gawain, "by the fair meadow and the hayrack in it you ought to understand the Round Table, and by the meadow you ought to understand humility and patience; those are the things which are always green and alive. For no one can ever overcome humility and patience; that is why the Round Table was founded, and its knighthood has always been such, through the brotherhood that was there, that it could not be overcome; for men said it was founded in patience and in humility. At the hayrack a hundred and fifty bulls were feeding; but they did not feed in the meadow, though their hearts should have been set in humility and patience; and the bulls were proud and black, all but three. By the bulls you are to understand the fellowship of the Round Table, who for their sin and their wickedness are black. Blackness means being without good or virtuous works. And the three bulls which were white, except only one that was spotted: the two white ones stand for Sir Galahad and Sir Percival, for they are virgins, pure and without spot; and the third, which had a spot, signifies Sir Bors de Ganis, who sinned only once against his virginity, but since then he has kept himself so well in chastity that all is forgiven him, and his misdeeds too. And as for why those three were tied by the necks: they are three knights in virginity and chastity, and there is no pride rooted in them. And the black bulls which said, 'Let us go away from here,' were those who at Pentecost, at the high feast, took it on themselves to go on the quest of the Holy Grail without confession: they could not enter the meadow of humility and patience. And so they went back into waste countries, which signifies death, for many of them will die there: each of them will kill another for sin, and those who escape will be so lean that it will be a marvel to see them. And of the three bulls without spot, one will come back, and the other two never."
Then Nacien spoke to Ector: "It is true that Lancelot and you came down out of one chariot: the chariot signifies the mastery and lordship which you came down from. But you two knights," said the hermit, "you go to seek what you shall never find, that is, the Holy Grail; for it is the secret thing of our Lord Jesus Christ. What does it mean that Sir Lancelot fell down off his horse? He has left pride and taken himself to humility, for he has cried loudly for mercy for his sin, and bitterly repented, and our Lord has clothed him in His clothing, which is full of knots: that is the hair shirt that he wears every day. And the donkey that he rode on is a beast of humility, for God would not ride on any warhorse, nor on any palfrey; so it was as a sign that a donkey signifies meekness that you saw Sir Lancelot ride on one in your sleep. And as for the spring, where the water sank away from him when he went to drink from it, and when he saw he could not have it he went back to where he came from: the spring signifies the high grace of God, and the more men desire to take it, the more their desire will be. So when he came near the Holy Grail, he humbled himself so that he did not hold himself a man worthy to be so near the Holy Vessel, for he had been so defiled by deadly sin for so many years; yet when he knelt to drink from the spring, there he saw great providence of the Holy Grail. And because he served the devil so long, he shall suffer punishment for twenty-four days, because he has been the devil's servant for twenty-four years. And then soon after he will return out of this country to Camelot, and he will tell part of the things that he has found."
"Now," said the hermit, "I will tell you what the hand with the candle and the bridle means. You are to understand by it the Holy Ghost, in whom charity always is; and the bridle signifies abstinence. For when abstinence is bridled in a Christian man's heart, she holds him so tight that he does not fall into deadly sin. And the candle, which gives brightness and sight, signifies the right way of Jesus Christ. And when he went and said, 'Knights of poor faith and of wicked belief,' these three things had failed, charity, abstinence and truth; therefore you may not achieve that high adventure of the Holy Grail."
"Certainly," said Gawain, "what you have said is true, for I see it plainly. Now, I beg you, good man and holy father, tell me why we have not met with as many adventures as we used to, when we commonly had the better of them."
"I will tell you gladly," said the good man. "The adventure of the Holy Grail, which you and many others have undertaken the quest of and do not find: the reason is that it does not appear to sinners. So do not marvel if you fail of it, and many others with you. For you are a faithless knight and a great murderer, and to good men it signifies other things than murder. For I dare say that, sinful as Sir Lancelot has been, since he went on the quest of the Holy Grail he has never killed a man, nor shall he, until he comes back to Camelot; for he has taken it on himself to forsake sin. And were it not that he is unsteady, and in his thoughts is likely to turn back, he would be the next to achieve it, after Galahad his son. But God knows his thoughts and his unsteadiness, and yet he will die a very holy man, and without doubt he has no equal among earthly sinful men."
"Sir," said Gawain, "it seems to me from your words that because of our sins it will do us no good to toil in this quest."
"Truly," said the good man, "there are a hundred like you who will never succeed in it, except to have shame."
And when they had heard these words they commended him to God.
Then the good man called Gawain, and said, "It is a long time since you were made a knight, and never since then have you served your Maker, and now you are so old a tree that there is neither life nor fruit in you. So take thought that you yield to Our Lord the bare bark, since the Fiend has the leaves and the fruit."
"Sir," said Gawain, "if I had the time I would speak with you, but my companion here, Sir Ector, has gone, and is waiting for me down there below the hill."
"Well," said the good man, "you would do better to take counsel."
Then Gawain left and came to Ector, and so they took their horses and rode until they came to a forester's house, who gave them very good lodging. And in the morning they left their host, and rode a long time before they could find any adventure.
When Bors had left Camelot he met a man of religion riding on a donkey, and Sir Bors greeted him. At once the good man knew that he was one of the knights-errant who were on the quest of the Holy Grail.
"Who are you?" said the good man.
"Sir," he said, "I am a knight who would gladly have counsel in the quest of the Holy Grail, for whoever can bring it to an end will have great earthly honour."
"Certainly," said the good man, "that is true, for he will be the best knight in the world, and the fairest of all the fellowship. But believe me, no one shall achieve it except by cleanness, that is, by pure confession."
So they rode together until they came to a hermitage. And there he begged Bors to stay all that night with him. And so Bors dismounted and put off his armour, and begged him that he might be confessed; and so they went into the chapel, and there he made a clean confession, and they ate bread and drank water together.
"Now," said the good man, "I beg you to eat nothing else until you sit at the table where the Holy Grail will be."
"Sir," he said, "I agree to that. But how do you know that I shall sit there?"
"Yes," said the good man, "I know that; but there will be only a few of your companions with you."
"All is welcome," said Sir Bors, "that God sends me."
"Also," said the good man, "instead of a shirt, and as a sign of chastisement, you shall wear a garment. So I beg you, take off all your clothes and your shirt."
And so he did. And then he gave him a scarlet coat, which was to serve instead of his shirt until he had fulfilled the quest of the Holy Grail. And the good man found in him so marvellous a life, and so steadfast, that he marvelled, and perceived that he had never been corrupted by the lusts of the flesh except at the one time when he fathered Helin le Blank.
Then he armed himself, and took his leave, and so departed. And a little way from there he looked up into a tree, and there he saw an exceedingly great bird on an old tree, and the tree was exceedingly dry, without leaves; and the bird sat at the top, and had young ones, which were dead of hunger. So he struck himself with his beak, which was great and sharp. And so the great bird bled until he died among his young. And the young birds took life from the blood of the great bird. When Bors saw this he knew well that it was a great sign; and when he saw that the great bird did not rise again, he took his horse and went on his way. So by evensong, by chance, he came to a strong, high tower, and there he was gladly given lodging.
And when his armour had been taken off they led him into a high tower where there was a lady, young, lively and fair. And she received him with great joy, and had him sit down beside her, and so he was set to supper with meat and many delicacies. And when Sir Bors saw that, he remembered his penance, and told a squire to bring him water. And so he brought it to him, and he soaked bread in it and ate it.
"Ah," said the lady, "I think you do not like my food."
"Yes, truly," said Sir Bors, "God thank you, madam, but I may eat no other food today."
Then she said no more for that time, for she was loath to displease him. Then after supper they talked of one thing and another.
With that a squire came and said, "Madam, you must provide yourself with a champion for tomorrow, or else your sister will have this castle and your lands too, unless you can find a knight who will fight tomorrow in your quarrel against Pridam le Noire."
Then she grieved and said, "Ah, Lord God, why did You grant me to hold my land, if I am now to be robbed of it without reason and right?"
And when Sir Bors had heard her speak like this, he said, "I will comfort you."
"Sir," she said, "I will tell you. There was a king here called Aniause, who held all this land in his keeping. So it happened by ill luck that he loved a gentlewoman a good deal older than I am. So he gave all this land into her keeping, and all his men to govern; and she brought in many evil customs, by which she put to death a great part of his kinsmen. And when he saw that, he had her driven out of this land, and handed it over to me, with all this land as my own domain. But as soon as that worthy king was dead, this other lady began to make war on me, and has destroyed many of my men, and turned them against me, so that I have hardly a man left; and I have nothing else but this high tower that she has left me. And even so she has promised that she will have this tower, unless I can find a knight to fight with her champion."
"Now tell me," said Sir Bors, "who is this Pridam le Noire?"
"Sir," she said, "he is the most feared man in this land."
"Now you may send her word that you have found a knight who will fight with that Pridam le Noire in God's quarrel and yours."
Then that lady was not a little glad, and sent word that she had found her champion, and that night Bors was well entertained. But he would not get into any bed, but lay on the floor, and he would never do otherwise until he had accomplished the quest of the Holy Grail.
And as soon as he was asleep a vision came to him: two birds came to him, the one as white as a swan, and the other marvellously black; but it was not as big as the other, but in the likeness of a raven. Then the white bird came to him and said, "If you would give me food and serve me, I would give you all the riches of the world, and I will make you as fair and as white as I am."
So the white bird went away, and the black bird came to him and said, "If you will, serve me tomorrow, and do not hold me in contempt because I am black, for believe me, my blackness is worth more than the other's whiteness."
And then he went away.
And he had another vision. It seemed to him that he came to a great place which looked like a chapel, and there he found a chair set on the left side, which was worm-eaten and feeble. And on the right hand were two flowers like lilies, and the one would have taken away the other's whiteness, but a good man parted them, so that the one did not touch the other; and then out of each flower came many flowers, and fruit in great plenty. Then it seemed to him that the good man said, "Would not a man do great folly who let these two flowers perish to save the rotten tree, so that it did not fall to the earth?"
"Sir," he said, "it seems to me that this wood could be of no use."
"Then take care," said the good man, "that you never see such an adventure happen to you."
Then he woke and made the sign of the cross in the middle of his forehead, and so got up and dressed. And the lady of the place came, and she greeted him, and he her in return, and so they went to a chapel and heard their service. And there came a company of knights, whom the lady had sent for, to lead Sir Bors to the battle. Then he asked for his arms. And when he was armed she begged him to take a little morsel to eat.
"No, madam," he said, "that I will not do until I have fought my battle, by the grace of God."
And so he leapt onto his horse and departed, with all the knights and men. And as soon as these two ladies met, the one whom Bors was to fight for made her complaint, and said, "Madam, you have done me wrong in robbing me of my lands that King Aniause gave me, and I am very loath that there should be any battle."
"You have no choice," said the other lady, "unless your knight withdraws."
Then the proclamation was made that whichever of the two knights had the better, his lady should have all the land. Now the one knight went off to one side, and the other to the other. Then they came together with such a great charge that they pierced their shields and their hauberks, and the spears flew in pieces, and they wounded each other badly. Then they crashed together, so that they both fell to the earth, with their horses between their legs; and at once they got up, and set hand to their swords, and struck each other on the head, so that they made great, deep wounds, and the blood ran out of their bodies. For Sir Bors found more defence in that knight than he had expected. For this Pridam was an exceedingly good knight, and he wounded Sir Bors very badly, and Bors him in return; but this Pridam kept up the fight just as hard all the while. Sir Bors saw that, and let him go on until he was nearly spent. And then he pressed on him more and more, and the other gave ground for fear of death. So as he drew back he fell flat on his back, and Sir Bors pulled at his helm so hard that he tore it from his head, and gave him great strokes in the face with the flat of his sword, and told him to yield or he would kill him.
Then he begged for mercy and said, "Fair knight, for the love of God do not kill me, and I will give you my word never to make war against your lady, but always to be on her side."
Then Bors let him be; then the old lady fled with all her knights.
So then Bors came to all those who held lands from his lady, and said he would destroy them unless they did her such service as belonged to their lands. So they did their homage, and those who would not were driven out of their lands. So it came about that the young lady came into her estate again, through the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de Ganis. So when all the country was well settled in peace, Sir Bors took his leave and departed; and she thanked him greatly, and would have given him great riches, but he refused them.
Then he rode all that day until night, and came to lodge with a lady who knew him well enough, and gave him a great welcome. In the morning, as soon as day appeared, Bors left there, and so rode into a forest until the hour of midday, and there a marvellous adventure befell him. At the parting of two ways he met two knights who were leading Lionel, his brother, stark naked, bound onto a strong small riding horse, with his hands bound in front of his chest. And each of them held thorns in his hands, with which they went on beating him so hard that the blood ran down in more than a hundred places on his body, so that he was all blood in front and behind. But he never said a word; like the great-hearted man he was, he endured everything they did to him as if he felt no pain.
At once Sir Bors made ready to rescue him, since he was his brother. And then he looked to the other side of him, and saw a knight who was carrying off a fair gentlewoman, and meant to take her into the thickest part of the forest, to be the more safely out of the way of those who were looking for him. And she, who felt anything but safe, cried out in a loud voice, "Saint Mary, help your maiden!"
And at once she saw Sir Bors come riding. And when she came near him she judged him to be a knight of the Round Table, and from that she hoped for some comfort; and then she implored him, by the faith that he owed to Him in whose service he had entered, "and for the faith you owe to the high order of knighthood, and for the sake of the noble King Arthur, who I suppose made you a knight, that you help me, and do not let me be shamed by this knight."
When Bors heard her speak like this he was so full of sorrow that he did not know what to do. "For if I leave my brother in danger he must be killed, and I would not have that for all the earth. And if I do not help the maiden she is shamed for ever, and she will also lose her virginity, which she can never get back."
Then he lifted up his eyes and said, weeping, "Fair sweet Lord Jesus Christ, whose liege man I am, keep Lionel my brother, so that these knights do not kill him; and for pity of you, and for Mary's sake, I will help this maiden."
Then he turned towards the knight who had the gentlewoman, and he cried, "Sir knight, take your hand off that maiden, or you are a dead man!"
And then the knight set the maiden down. He was armed at every point, except that he had no spear. Then he set his shield and drew his sword, and Bors struck him so hard that the spear went through his shield and his hauberk at the left shoulder. And by great strength he beat him down to the ground, and as Bors pulled his spear out, the knight fainted. Then Bors came to the maiden and said, "How does it seem to you now? You are free of this knight for the present."
"Now, sir," she said, "I beg you, take me back to the place where this knight took me."
"I will do that gladly," he said; and he took the wounded knight's horse, and set the gentlewoman on it, and so brought her where she wished.
"Sir knight," she said, "you have done better than you expected, for if I had lost my maidenhood, five hundred men would have died for it."
"What knight was he who had you in the forest?"
"On my faith," she said, "he is my cousin. And I never knew by what trickery the devil inflamed him, for yesterday he took me secretly from my father; for neither I nor any of my father's men suspected him at all. And if he had had my maidenhood he would have died for the sin, and his body would have been shamed and dishonoured for ever."
As she stood there talking with him, twelve knights came looking for her, and at once she told them all how Bors had rescued her. Then they rejoiced greatly, and begged him to come to her father, a great lord, where he would be most welcome.
"Truly," said Bors, "that cannot be at this time, for I have a great adventure to carry out in this country." So he commended them to God and left.
Then Sir Bors rode after Lionel his brother by the tracks of their horses, and so he rode searching for a long while. Then he overtook a man in the clothes of a religious order, riding a strong black horse, blacker than a berry, and the man said, "Sir knight, what are you looking for?"
"Sir," he said, "I am looking for my brother, whom I saw a little while ago being beaten by two knights."
"Ah, Bors, do not be dismayed, and do not fall into despair; for I will tell you the news such as it is, and truly, he is dead."
Then he showed him a newly killed body lying in a bush, and it seemed to him plainly that it was the body of Lionel. And then he grieved so much that he fell to the ground in a faint, and lay there a long while. And when he came to himself he said, "Fair brother, since the fellowship of you and me is broken, I shall never have joy in my heart. And now may He whom I have taken for my master be my help."
And when he had said this he lifted the body lightly in his arms and laid it across the saddlebow. And then he said to the man, "Can you direct me to some chapel where I may bury this body?"
"Come on," he said, "there is one close by."
And so they rode until they saw a fine tower, and in front of it there seemed to be an old, decaying chapel. And then they both dismounted, and laid him in a marble tomb.
"Now let us leave him here," said the good man, "and go to our lodging until tomorrow. We will come back here to do him service."
"Sir," said Bors, "are you a priest?"
"Yes, truly," he said.
"Then I beg you, explain to me a dream that came to me last night."
"Go on," he said.
Then he began, and told him all about the great bird in the forest, and after that about his birds, one white and the other black, and about the rotten tree, and the white flowers.
"Sir, I will tell you part of it now, and the rest tomorrow. The white bird stands for a gentlewoman, fair and rich, who loves you as a lover and has loved you long; and if you refuse her love she will go and die at once, if you have no pity on her. That is what the great bird means, which will make you refuse her. Now it is not out of any fear you have, nor any dread of God, that you will refuse her; you would do it only to be thought chaste, to win the praise of the vain glory of the world. For this will happen to you now if you refuse her: Lancelot, the good knight, your cousin, will die. And then men will say that you are a killer, both of your brother, Sir Lionel, and of your cousin, Sir Lancelot du Lake, whom you could easily have saved and rescued; but you chose to rescue a maiden who is nothing to you. Now consider whether it would have been the greater harm, your brother's death, or to have let her lose her maidenhood."
Then he asked him, "Have you heard the meaning of your dream that I have told you?"
"Yes, truly," said Sir Bors, "I have heard and well understood all your explanation and interpretation of my dream."
Then said the man in the black clothes, "Then it will be your fault if Sir Lancelot, your cousin, dies."
"Sir," said Bors, "I would hate that; for believe me, there is nothing in the world I would not rather do than see my lord Sir Lancelot du Lake die through my fault."
"Choose now, the one or the other," said the good man.
And then he led Sir Bors into a high tower, and there he found knights and ladies. The ladies said he was welcome, and so they took off his armour. And when he was in his doublet they brought him a cloak trimmed with ermine and put it around him; and then they gave him such a welcome that he forgot all his sorrow and anguish, and set his heart only on these delights and luxuries, and gave no more thought to his brother Sir Lionel, nor to Sir Lancelot du Lake his cousin. And at once there came out of a chamber to him the fairest lady he had ever seen, and more richly dressed than he had ever seen Queen Guinevere or any other lady of rank.
"Look, Sir Bors," they said, "here is the lady to whom we owe all our service, and I believe she is the richest lady and the fairest in all the world, and the one who loves you best above all other knights, for she will have no knight but you."
And when he heard that speech he was dismayed. Nevertheless she greeted him, and he her; and then they sat down together and spoke of many things, until she begged him to be her love, for she had loved him above all earthly men, and she would make him richer than any man of his age had ever been. When Bors understood her words he was very ill at ease, for he would on no account break his chastity, and so he did not know how to answer her.
"Alas, Bors," she said, "will you not do my will?"
"Madam," said Bors, "there is no lady in the world whose will I would do in this matter, for my brother lies dead, who was killed only just now."
"Ah, Bors," she said, "I have loved you long, for the great beauty I have seen in you and the great boldness I have heard of in you, so that you must lie with me this night; and so I beg you to grant it to me."
"Truly," he said, "I will not do it in any way."
Then she made such a show of grief before him as though she would have died. "Well, Bors," she said, "you have brought me to this, close to my end." And with that she took him by the hand and told him to look at her. "And you shall see how I will die for your love."
"Ah," he said then, "that I shall never see."
Then she left and went up onto a high battlement, and took twelve gentlewomen with her; and when they were up there, one of the gentlewomen cried out and said, "Ah, Sir Bors, noble knight, have mercy on us all, and let my lady have her will! And if you do not, we must all die with our lady, by falling from this high tower. And if you let us die like this for so small a thing, all ladies and gentlewomen will speak of you with dishonour."
Then he looked up, and they all seemed to be ladies of high rank, and richly and finely dressed. Then he had great pity on them; nevertheless he was settled in his own mind that he would rather they all lost their souls than he lost his. And with that they all fell down at once to the ground. And when he saw that, he was utterly dismayed, and marvelled greatly at it. With that he crossed himself, body and face. And at once he heard a great noise and a great cry, as though all the fiends of hell were about him; and with that he saw neither tower, nor lady, nor gentlewoman, nor the chapel where he had brought his brother. Then he held up both his hands to heaven and said, "Fair Father God, I have had a narrow escape!" And then he took his arms and his horse and rode on his way.
Then he heard a clock strike on his right hand; and he went that way and came to an abbey on his right hand, enclosed with high walls, and there he was let in. They supposed that he was one of the quest of the Holy Grail, so they led him into a chamber and took off his armour.
"Sirs," said Sir Bors, "if there is any holy man in this house, I beg you, let me speak with him."
Then one of them led him to the Abbot, who was in a chapel. And then Sir Bors greeted him, and he greeted him in return.
"Sir," said Bors, "I am a knight-errant." And he told him all the adventure that he had seen.
"Sir knight," said the Abbot, "I do not know who you are, for I never thought that a knight of your age could be so strong in the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ. Nevertheless, you shall go to your rest, for I will not advise you today; it is too late. And tomorrow I will advise you as well as I can."
And that night Sir Bors was richly served; and early in the morning he heard mass, and the Abbot came to him and bade him good morning, and Bors returned it. And then he told him that he was a companion of the quest of the Holy Grail, and how the holy man had charged him to eat only bread and water.
Then the Abbot said, "Our Lord Jesus Christ showed Himself to you in the likeness of a soul that suffered great anguish for us, since He was put upon the cross and bled His heart's blood for mankind. There was the sign and the likeness of the Holy Grail that appeared before you, for the blood that the great bird bled brought the chicks back from death to life. And the bare tree signifies the world, which is naked and without fruit unless the fruit comes from Our Lord. Also the lady you fought for, and King Aniause who was lord there before, signify Jesus Christ, who is the King of the world. And your fighting the champion for the lady signifies this: when you took up the battle for the lady, by her you are to understand the new law of Jesus Christ and Holy Church; and by the other lady you are to understand the old law and the devil, who wars against Holy Church all day long; and so your battle was a just one. For you are Jesus Christ's knights, and so you ought to be defenders of Holy Church. And by the black bird you may understand Holy Church, which says, 'I am black, but I am fair.' And by the white bird men may understand the devil, and I will tell you how: the swan is white outside and black within. It is hypocrisy, which is sallow or pale on the outside and looks from without like the servants of Jesus Christ, but within they are so horrible with filth and sin, and they deceive the world wickedly. Also, when the devil appeared to you in the likeness of a man of religion, and blamed you for leaving your brother for a lady, he led you to where it seemed to you your brother had been killed; but he is still alive. And all this was done to lead you into error, and bring you to despair and lechery, for he knew you were tender-hearted; and all of it was so that you should not find the blessed adventure of the Holy Grail. And the third bird signifies the hard battle against the fair ladies, who were all devils. Also the dry tree and the white lily: the dry tree signifies your brother Lionel, who is dry and without virtue, and so many men ought to call him the rotten tree and the worm-eaten tree, for he is a murderer and acts against the order of knighthood. And the two white flowers signify two virgins: the one is a knight who was wounded the other day, and the other is the gentlewoman you rescued. And as for why the one flower drew close to the other, that was the knight who would have defiled her and himself both. And, Sir Bors, you would have been a great fool, and in great danger, to have watched those two flowers perish in order to help the rotten tree; for if they had sinned together they would have been damned. And because you rescued them both, men may call you a true knight and servant of Jesus Christ."
Then Sir Bors went on from there and commended the Abbot to God. And then he rode all that day, and lodged with an old lady. And in the morning he rode to a castle in a valley, and there he met a yeoman going at a great pace towards a forest.
"Tell me," said Sir Bors, "can you tell me of any adventure?"
"Sir," he said, "here below this castle there is to be a great and marvellous tournament."
"What people will be in it?" said Sir Bors.
"The Earl of Plains will be on the one side, and the lady's nephew of Hervin on the other."
Then Bors thought he would be there, in case he might meet his brother Sir Lionel, or any others of his fellowship who were in the quest of the Holy Grail. And then he turned aside to a hermitage that stood at the edge of the forest.
And when he got there he found Sir Lionel his brother, who sat fully armed at the entrance of the chapel door, to lodge there until the morning when the tournament was to be. And when Sir Bors saw him he was so glad of him that his joy was a marvel to tell. And then he dismounted from his horse and said, "Fair sweet brother, when did you come here?"
As soon as Lionel saw him he said, "Ah, Bors, you have nothing to boast of, for as far as you were concerned I might have been killed. When you saw two knights leading me away and beating me, you left me to go and help a gentlewoman, and left me in danger of death; for never before did any brother do another so great a betrayal. And for that misdeed I promise you nothing now but death, for you have well deserved it. So look out for yourself from now on, and you'll find out as soon as I am armed."
When Sir Bors understood his brother's anger he knelt down on the ground and begged his pardon, holding up both his hands, and begged him to forgive him his ill will.
"No," said Lionel, "that will never be, if I can get the upper hand. I swear it to God: you will die for it, for it would be a pity for you to live any longer."
Then and there he went in and took his armour, and mounted his horse, and came before him and said, "Bors, keep away from me, for I will treat you as I would a felon or a traitor; for you are the most faithless knight that ever came out of so worthy a house as that of King Bors de Ganis, who was our father. So get up on your horse, and that way you will be at your best advantage. And if you won't, I'll ride at you where you stand on foot, and so the shame will be mine and the harm yours; but I care nothing for that shame."
When Sir Bors saw that he must fight his brother or else die, he did not know what to do. His heart advised him against it, since Lionel was born before him, and so he owed him reverence. Yet he knelt down before the feet of Lionel's horse and said, "Fair sweet brother, have mercy on me and do not kill me, and remember the great love that ought to be between the two of us."
Lionel cared nothing for what Sir Bors said to him, for the devil had brought him to such a will that he meant to kill him. Then, when Lionel saw that he would do nothing else, and would not get up to give him battle, he charged right over him, so that he struck Bors down to the ground with his horse, feet upward, and hurt him so badly that he fainted from the distress he felt at the thought of dying without confession. So when Lionel saw this, he dismounted from his horse to strike off his head. And so he took him by the helm, and would have torn it from his head. Then the hermit came running to him, who was a good man and of great age, and had heard all the words that passed between them, and so he threw himself down upon Sir Bors.
Then he said to Lionel, "Ah, noble knight, have mercy on me and on your brother, for if you kill him you will die in sin, and that would be a sorrowful thing, for he is one of the worthiest knights in the world, and of the best character."
"So help me God," said Lionel, "sir priest, unless you get away from him I will kill you, and he will be none the sooner spared for it."
"Certainly," said the good man, "I would rather you killed me than him, for my death will be no great harm, not half so much as his."
"Very well," said Lionel, "I'm content." And he set his hand to his sword and struck him so hard that his head flew backward. Even so, he did not hold back from his wicked purpose, but took his brother by the helm and unlaced it to strike off his head, and he would have killed him without fail. But so it happened that Colgrevance, a fellow of the Round Table, came there at that moment, as Our Lord willed. And when he saw the good man killed he wondered greatly what it could be. And then he saw that Lionel was about to kill his brother, and he recognised Sir Bors, whom he loved very much. Then he leapt down and took Lionel by the shoulders, and pulled him hard back from Bors, and said, "Lionel, will you kill your brother, one of the worthiest knights in the world? No good man should allow that."
"What," said Lionel, "will you stop me? Then if you meddle in this I'll kill you, and him after."
"What," said Colgrevance, "is it true that you will kill him?"
"Kill him I will," he said, "whoever says otherwise, for he has done so much against me that he has well deserved it."
And so he ran at him, and would have struck him through the head; and Sir Colgrevance ran between them and said, "If you are so bold as to do that again, the two of us will fight it out together."
When Lionel heard his words he took his shield before him and asked him who he was. And he told him: Colgrevance, one of his fellows. Then Lionel defied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helm. Then he drew his sword, for he was an exceedingly good knight, and defended himself most manfully. The battle lasted so long that Bors got up, in great pain, and saw Colgrevance, the good knight, fighting with his brother for his sake. Then he was very sorry and downcast, and thought that if Colgrevance killed his brother he would never have joy; and if his brother killed Colgrevance, "the shame would be mine for ever." Then he would have got up to part them, but he did not have the strength to stand on his feet; so he waited there until Colgrevance had the worst of it, for Lionel was a knight of great prowess and very bold, and he had pierced Colgrevance's hauberk and helm, so that he expected nothing but death; for he had lost so much blood that it was a marvel he could stand upright. Then he looked at Sir Bors, who was sitting up, trying to raise himself, and said, "Ah, Bors, why don't you come and get me out of danger of death, which I put myself into to help you, when you were close to death just now?"
"Certainly," said Lionel, "that won't do you any good, for neither of you will be able to protect the other: you will both die by my hand."
When Bors heard that, he made such an effort that he got up and put on his helm. Then for the first time he saw the hermit-priest who had been killed, and he grieved over him marvellously.
Then Colgrevance called out again and again to Sir Bors, "Why will you let me die here for your sake? If it pleases you that I die for you, it will please me all the better, to save a worthy man."
At that word Sir Lionel struck the helm off his head. Then Colgrevance saw that he could not escape; then he said, "Fair sweet Jesus, have mercy on my soul for what I have done wrong; and may the sorrow my heart suffers for doing good, and the charity I would have done here, be a relief of penance to me for my soul's health."
At these words Lionel struck him so hard that he bore him to the ground. Having killed Colgrevance, he ran at his brother like a fiend, and gave him such a stroke that he made him stagger. And Bors, who was full of humility, begged him for God's love to leave off this battle, "For if it happened, fair brother, that I killed you or you me, we would both die in that sin."
"May God never help me if I have any mercy on you, if I can get the upper hand."
Then Bors drew his sword, weeping, and said, "Fair brother, God knows my intent. Ah, fair brother, you have done great evil this day to kill such a holy priest, who never did any wrong. You have also killed a noble knight, and one of our fellows. And you know well that I am not much afraid of you, but I fear the wrath of God; and this is an unnatural war, so may God show a miracle upon us both. Now God have mercy on me, though I defend my life against my brother."
With that Bors lifted his hand and would have struck his brother.
And then he heard a voice that said, "Flee, Bors, and do not touch him, or else you will kill him."
At that moment a cloud came down between them, in the likeness of a fire and a marvellous flame, so that both their shields burned. Then they were so badly frightened that they both fell to the ground, and lay there a long while in a faint. And when they came to themselves, Bors saw that his brother had come to no harm; then he held up both his hands, for he feared God had taken vengeance on him. With that he heard a voice say, "Bors, go from here, and keep your brother company no longer, but take your way straight to the sea, for Sir Percival is waiting for you there."
Then he said to his brother, "Fair sweet brother, for God's love forgive me all the wrong I have done you."
Then he answered, "May God forgive you, and I do, gladly."
So Sir Bors left him and rode the shortest way to the sea. And at last, by fortune, he came to an abbey which was near the sea. That night Bors rested there; and in his sleep a voice came to him and told him to go to the sea. Then he leapt up and made the sign of the cross in the middle of his forehead, and took his armour, and made his horse ready, and mounted; and he rode out through a gap in a broken wall, and rode on until he came to the sea. And on the shore he found a ship covered all in white samite, and he dismounted and commended himself to Jesus Christ. And as soon as he went aboard the ship, it set off out to sea, and went so fast that it seemed to him the ship was flying. But it was soon dark, so that he could recognise no one, and so he slept until it was day. Then he woke, and saw in the middle of the ship a knight lying fully armed except for his helm. Then he knew that it was Sir Percival of Wales, and he was overjoyed to see him. But Sir Percival was taken aback at the sight of him, and asked him who he was.
"Ah, fair sir," said Bors, "don't you know me?"
"Certainly," he said, "I wonder how you came here, unless Our Lord brought you here Himself."
Then Sir Bors smiled and took off his helm. Then Percival knew him, and each rejoiced so greatly in the other that it was a marvel to hear. Then Bors told him how he had come into the ship, and at whose bidding; and each told the other of their temptations, as you have heard before. So they went down the sea, sometimes backward, sometimes forward, and each comforted the other, and they were often at their prayers.
Then said Sir Percival, "We lack nothing but Galahad, the good knight."
Thus ends the sixteenth book, which is of Sir Gawain, Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Percival.
Here follows the seventeenth book, which is of the noble knight Sir Galahad.
Now this story says that when Galahad had rescued Percival from the twenty knights, he went then into a waste forest, in which he rode for many days; and he met with many adventures, which he brought to an end, and of which the story makes no mention here. Then one day he took his way to the sea, and it happened as he passed by a castle that there was a marvellous tournament going on there; but those outside had done so much that those inside were getting the worst of it, and yet those inside were good enough knights. When Galahad saw that those inside were in such great distress that men were killing them at the gate of the castle, he decided to help them, and he set his spear forward and struck the first man so that he fell to the earth, and the spear broke to pieces. Then he drew his sword and struck where they were thickest, and he did such wonderful deeds of arms that they all marvelled. Then it happened that Gawain and Sir Ector de Maris were with the knights outside. But when they saw the white shield with the red cross, the one said to the other, "There is the good knight, Sir Galahad, the high prince. Now a man would be a great fool to meet him in a fight." So by chance Galahad came upon Sir Gawain, and he struck him so hard that he split his helm and the iron cap under it to the head, so that Gawain fell to the earth; but the stroke was so great that it slanted down to the ground and carved his horse's shoulder in two.
When Ector saw Gawain down he drew aside, and thought it no wisdom to stand against him, and also out of natural love, because he was Galahad's uncle. So through his great boldness Galahad beat back all the knights outside. And then those inside came out and chased them all about. But when Galahad saw that none of them would turn back to fight, he slipped away secretly, so that no one knew what had become of him.
"Now by my head," said Gawain to Ector, "now the marvels are true that were said by Lancelot du Lake, that the sword which stuck in the stone would give me such a blow that I would not have it for the best castle in this world; and truly, now it is proved true, for I never had such a stroke from a man's hand before."
"Sir," said Ector, "it seems to me your quest is done."
"And yours is not done," said Gawain, "but mine is done. I shall seek no further."
Then Gawain was carried into a castle, and they took off his armour and laid him in a rich bed, and a doctor found that he would live, and be healed within a month. So Gawain and Ector stayed together, for Sir Ector would not leave until Gawain was healed.
And the good knight Galahad rode on so long that he came that night to the Castle of Carbonek; and it so happened that night overtook him at a hermitage. And the good man was glad when he saw that he was a knight-errant. Then, when they were at rest, there came a gentlewoman knocking at the door, and called for Galahad, and so the good man came to the door to find out what she wanted. Then she called to the hermit, "Sir Ulfin, I am a gentlewoman who would speak with the knight who is with you."
Then the good man woke Galahad, and said to him, "Get up, and speak with a gentlewoman who seems to have great need of you."
Then Galahad went to her and asked her what she wanted.
"Galahad," she said, "I want you to arm yourself, and mount your horse and follow me, for within these three days I will show you the highest adventure that any knight ever saw."
At once Galahad armed himself, and took his horse, and commended himself to God, and told the gentlewoman to go ahead, and he would follow wherever she pleased.
So she rode as fast as her palfrey could carry her, until she came to the sea, which was called Collibe. And at nightfall they came to a castle in a valley, enclosed by running water and by strong, high walls; and so she went into the castle with Galahad, and there he was given a warm welcome, for the lady of that castle was the damsel's mistress. So when he had taken off his armour, the damsel said, "Madam, shall we stay here all this day?"
"No," she said, "only until he has dined and slept a little."
So he ate and slept a while, until the maiden called him, and he armed himself by torchlight. And when the maiden and he were both on horseback, the lady gave Galahad a fair page, richly dressed; and so they left the castle and rode until they came to the seaside. And there they found the ship that Bors and Percival were in, and they called from the ship's side, "Sir Galahad, you are welcome! We have waited for you a long time."
And when he heard them he asked them who they were.
"Sir," she said, "leave your horse here, and I will leave mine." And they took their saddles and their bridles with them, and made the sign of the cross over them, and so went aboard the ship. And the two knights received them both with great joy, and each knew the other; and so the wind rose, and drove them through the sea at a marvellous pace. And within a while it was dawn.
Then Galahad took off his helm and his sword, and asked his companions where that fair ship had come from.
"Truly," they said, "you know as well as we do, except by God's grace."
And then each told the other of all their hard adventures, and of their great temptations.
"Truly," said Galahad, "you are much bound to God, for you have come safely through great adventures; and if it had not been for the gentlewoman I would not have come here; for as for you, I never expected to find you in these strange countries."
"Ah, Galahad," said Bors, "if Lancelot your father were here, then we would be well content, for then it would seem to us that we lacked nothing."
"That cannot be," said Galahad, "unless it pleased Our Lord."
By then the ship had gone from the land of Logres, and by chance it came in between two rocks, exceedingly great and marvellous; but there they could not land, for there was a whirlpool of the sea there; except that there was another ship, and onto it they could go without danger.
"Let us go there," said the gentlewoman, "and there we shall see adventures, for such is Our Lord's will."
And when they came there they found the ship rich enough, but they found neither man nor woman in it. But at the end of the ship they found two fair inscriptions, which spoke a dreadful and a marvellous word: "You who shall enter this ship, take care that you be steadfast in faith, for I am Faith, and so take care how you enter, for if you fail I shall not help you."
Then the gentlewoman said, "Percival, do you know who I am?"
"Certainly not," he said, "to my knowledge."
"Know this," she said, "that I am your sister, the daughter of King Pellinore, and so believe me, you are the man in the world I love most; and if you are not perfect in your belief in Jesus Christ, do not enter in any way at all, for then you would perish in the ship, for it is so perfect that it will suffer no sinner in it."
When Percival understood that she was truly his sister, he was glad at heart, and said, "Fair sister, I will go in, for if I am an unbeliever or an untrue knight, there I shall perish."
In the meantime Galahad crossed himself and went aboard; and then after him the gentlewoman, and then Sir Bors and Sir Percival. And when they were in, it was so marvellously fair and rich that they marvelled; and in the middle of the ship was a fair bed, and Galahad went to it, and found a crown of silk there. And at its foot was a sword, rich and fair, and it was drawn out of the sheath half a foot and more. And the sword was of many fashions: the pommel was of stone, and there were in it all the colours that any man could find, and each of the colours had its own powers; and the grip plates of the hilt were made of the ribs of two different beasts. The one beast was a serpent that lived in Calidone, and is called the Serpent of the Fiend; and its bone has such a power that no hand that holds it shall ever be weary or hurt. And the other beast is a fish, not very large, that lives in the river Euphrates; and that fish is called Ertanax, and its bones are of such a nature that whoever holds them shall have so much will that he shall never be weary, and he shall not think of any joy or sorrow that he has had, but only of the thing that he sees before him. And as for this sword, no man shall ever grasp it by the hilt but one; but he shall surpass all others.
"In the name of God," said Percival, "I will try to hold it."
So he set his hand to the sword, but he could not grasp it.
"By my faith," he said, "now I have failed."
Bors set his hand to it and failed.
Then Galahad looked at the sword and saw letters like blood that said: "Let no one try to draw me out of my sheath unless he is bolder than any other; and whoever draws me, believe me, he shall never escape being shamed in his body, or wounded to the death."
"By my faith," said Galahad, "I would draw this sword out of the sheath, but the forbidding is so great that I will not set my hand to it."
"Now, sirs," said the gentlewoman, "know this, that the drawing of this sword is forbidden to all men except only to you. Also, this ship came to land in the realm of Logres; and at that time there was deadly war between King Labor, who was father to the Maimed King, and King Hurlame, who was a Saracen. But then he was newly christened, so that men held him afterwards one of the cleverest men in the world. And so one day it happened that King Labor and King Hurlame had gathered their people by the sea, where this ship had come to land; and there King Hurlame was defeated, and his men killed; and he was afraid of being killed, and fled to his ship, and there found this sword and drew it, and came out and found King Labor, the man in all Christendom in whom there was then the greatest faith. And when King Hurlame saw King Labor he raised this sword, and struck him on the helm so hard that he split him and his horse to the ground with the first stroke of his sword. And this was in the realm of Logres; and so great plague and great harm fell on both realms. For after that neither corn nor grass grew, nor hardly any fruit, nor were there any fish in the water; and that is why men call it the lands of the two borders, the Waste Land, because of that dolorous stroke. And when King Hurlame saw that this sword cut so well, he turned back to fetch the scabbard, and so came into this ship and went aboard, and put the sword back in its sheath. And as soon as he had done it he fell down dead before the bed. So the sword was proved, that no one ever drew it without being killed or maimed. So he lay there until a maiden came into the ship and threw him out, for there was no man in the world bold enough to go into that ship because of the prohibition."
And then they looked at the scabbard. It seemed to be made of a serpent's skin, and on it were letters of gold and silver. And the girdle was a poor thing to look at, and not fit to hold so rich a sword. And the letters said: "He who shall wield me ought to be bolder than any other, if he bears me as truly as I ought to be borne. For the body of him by whom I ought to hang shall not be shamed in any place while he is girded with this girdle, and let no one ever be so bold as to take this girdle away; for it ought not to be taken away except by the hands of a maiden, and she must be a king's daughter and a queen's, and she must be a maiden all the days of her life, both in will and in deed. And if she breaks her virginity she shall die the most shameful death that any woman ever died."
"Sir," said Percival, "turn this sword over, so that we may see what is on the other side."
And it was red as blood, with letters as black as any coal, which said: "He who shall praise me most shall find me most to blame at a time of great need; and to the one to whom I should be most courteous I shall be most cruel, and that shall be at one time."
"Fair brother," she said to Percival, "it happened some forty years after the Passion of Jesus Christ that Nacien, the brother-in-law of King Mordrains, was carried, by the commandment of Our Lord, to a town more than fourteen days' journey from his country, onto an island in the parts of the West that men called the Isle of Turnance. So it happened that he found this ship at the entrance of a rock, and he found the bed and this sword just as we have heard now. Even so, he did not have the boldness to draw it; and he stayed there some eight days, and on the ninth day a great wind blew up which carried him away from the island, and brought him to another island by a rock, and there he found the greatest giant that any man ever saw. With that this horrible giant came to kill him; and he looked about him and could not flee, and he had nothing to defend himself with. So he ran to the sword, and when he saw it naked he praised it highly, and then he shook it, and with that he broke it in the middle. 'Ah,' said Nacien, 'the thing that I most praised I ought now most to blame.' And with that he threw the pieces of his sword over the bed. And afterwards he leapt over the side to fight with the giant, and killed him."
"And at once he went aboard the ship again, and the wind rose and drove him through the sea, so that by chance he came to another ship where King Mordrains was, who had been sorely tempted by a fiend at the Port of Perilous Rock. And when the one saw the other they rejoiced greatly over each other, and each told the other of his adventure, and how the sword had failed him in his greatest need. When Mordrains saw the sword he praised it highly. 'But,' he said, 'the breaking was not to be done except by your own wickedness, for you are in some sin.' And there he took the sword and set the pieces together, and they joined as fair as they ever were before; and he put the sword in the sheath, and laid it down on the bed. Then they heard a voice that said, 'Get out of this ship for a little while, and go into the other, for fear you fall into deadly sin; for if you are found in deadly sin you cannot escape, but will perish.' And so they went into the other ship. And as Nacien went over the side he was struck by a sword on the right foot, so that he fell flat on his face on the ship's deck; and with that he said, 'O God, how I am hurt!' And then a voice came and said, 'Take that for the offence you committed in drawing this sword. That is why you receive a wound, for you were never worthy to handle it, as the writing says.'"
"In the name of God," said Galahad, "you are very wise in these matters."
"Sir," she said, "there was a king called Pelles, the Maimed King. And while he could still ride he did much to uphold Christendom and Holy Church. So one day he was hunting in a wood of his that ran down to the sea; and at last he lost his hounds and all his knights except only one. And there he and his knight went on until they came toward Ireland, and there he found the ship. And when he saw the letters and understood them, he went in all the same, for he was very perfect in his life, but his knight had no courage to go in; and there he found this sword, and drew it out as far as you can see. So with that a spear came in, with which he was struck through both thighs, and he could never be healed after that, nor shall he be until we come to him. So," she said, "was not King Pelles, your grandfather, maimed for his boldness?"
"In the name of God, damsel," said Galahad.
So they went toward the bed to look all about it, and above its head there hung two swords. Also there were two spindles which were as white as any snow, and others that were as red as blood, and others above them as green as any emerald: these were the three colours of the spindles, and they were the natural colour of the wood within, without any painting.
"These spindles," said the damsel, "came from the time when sinful Eve went to gather the fruit for which Adam and she were put out of paradise: she took with her the bough on which the apple hung. Then she saw that the branch was fair and green, and she remembered the loss that came from the tree. Then she decided to keep the branch as long as she could. And because she had no chest to keep it in, she put it in the earth. So by the will of Our Lord the branch grew into a great tree within a little while, and it was as white as any snow, branches, boughs and leaves: that was a sign that a maiden had planted it. But afterwards God came to Adam, and told him to know his wife in the flesh, as nature required. So Adam lay with his wife under the same tree; and at once the tree that had been white turned as green as any grass, and everything that came out of it; and at the same time that they lay together, Abel was conceived. So the tree was green in colour for a long time. And so it happened many days after that, under the same tree, Cain killed Abel, from which came a great marvel. For as soon as Abel had received his death under the green tree, it lost its green colour and became red; and that was a sign of the blood. And at once all the plants that had grown from it died, but the tree grew and flourished marvellously, and it was the fairest tree and the most delightful that any man could behold and see; and so the plants that had grown out of it before Abel was killed under it all died."
So the tree lasted until Solomon, King David's son, reigned and held the land after his father. This Solomon was wise, and knew all the powers of stones and trees, and he knew the course of the stars, and many other different things. This Solomon had a wicked wife, because of whom he thought that there had never been a good woman, and so he scorned women in his books. So a voice once answered him: "Solomon, if sorrow comes to a man through a woman, never mind it; for yet there shall come a woman from whom shall come a hundred times more joy to men than this sorrow gives grief; and that woman shall be born of your line."
Then when Solomon heard these words he thought himself nothing but a fool, and he found the truth of it in old books. Also the Holy Ghost showed him the coming of the glorious Virgin Mary. Then he asked the voice whether it would be in the branch of his line.
"No," said the voice, "but there shall come a man who shall be a virgin, and the last of your blood, and he shall be as good a knight as Duke Josua, your brother-in-law."
"Now I have made certain for you the thing you were in doubt of."
Then Solomon was glad that any such man should come of his line; but all the while he wondered and pondered who that should be, and what his name might be. His wife saw that he was pondering, and thought she would find it out at some time; and so she waited her chance, and asked him the reason for his pondering, and he told her all of it, how the voice had spoken to him.
"Well," she said, "I will have a ship made of the best and most lasting wood that men can find."
So Solomon sent for all the carpenters of the land, and the best ones. And when they had made the ship the lady said to Solomon, "Sir," she said, "since it is so that this knight is to surpass all the knights of chivalry who have been before him and who shall come after him, I will tell you something more," she said. "You shall go into Our Lord's temple, where King David's sword is, your father's, which is the most marvellous and the sharpest that was ever taken in any knight's hand. So take that, and take off the pommel, and make a pommel of precious stones for it, so cunningly made that no one can see but that it is all one piece; and after that, have a hilt made for it so marvellously and wonderfully that no one may recognise it; and after that, have a marvellous sheath made. And when you have done all this, I will have a girdle made for it, such as shall please me."
King Solomon had all this made as she planned it, both the ship and all the rest. And when the ship was ready in the sea to sail, the lady had a great bed made, marvellously rich, and set it at the head of the bed, covered with silk, and laid the sword at its foot; and the girdles were of hemp, and at that the king was angry.
"Sir, believe me," she said, "I have nothing so high that it would be worthy to hold up so high a sword; and a maiden shall bring other girdles to it, but I do not know when it shall be, nor at what time."
And then she had a covering made for the ship, of silk cloth that would never rot in any kind of weather. Then that lady went and had a carpenter come to the tree under which Abel was killed.
"Now," she said, "carve me out of this tree as much wood as will make me a spindle."
"Ah, madam," he said, "this is the tree that our first mother planted."
"Do it," she said, "or I will destroy you."
As soon as he began to work, drops of blood came out; and then he would have stopped, but she would not allow him to, and so he took away as much wood as would make a spindle; and so she made him take as much from the green tree and from the white tree. And when these three spindles were shaped she had them fastened to the canopy of the bed.
When Solomon saw this, he said to his wife, "You have done marvellously; for though all the world were here right now, no one could work out why all this was made, except Our Lord Himself; and you who have done it do not know what it will mean."
"Let it be, now," she said, "for you will hear news of it sooner than you think."
Now you shall hear a wonderful tale of King Solomon and his wife.
That night Solomon lay in front of the ship with only a few companions. And when he was asleep it seemed to him that a great company of angels came from heaven, and came down into the ship, and took water which was brought by an angel in a vessel of silver, and sprinkled all the ship with it. And afterwards he came to the sword and drew letters on the hilt. And afterwards he went to the ship's side, and wrote other letters there, which said: "You who would come into me, take care that you are full in the faith, for I am nothing but Faith and Belief."
When Solomon saw these letters he was dismayed, so that he did not dare go in, and so he drew back; and at once the ship was pushed out into the sea, and it went so fast that he lost sight of it within a little while. And then a small voice said, "Solomon, the last knight of your line shall rest in this bed."
Then Solomon went and woke his wife, and told her of the adventures of the ship.
Now the story says that the three companions looked at the bed and the three spindles for a long while. Then they were certain that they were of natural colours, without painting. Then they lifted a cloth which lay above the floor, and found there what seemed to be a rich purse. And Percival took it, and found a written paper in it, and so he read it, and it told of the making of the spindles and of the ship, where it came from, and by whom it was made.
"Now," said Galahad, "where shall we find the gentlewoman who is to make new girdles for the sword?"
"Fair sir," said Percival's sister, "do not be dismayed, for by God's leave I will make a girdle for the sword, such as shall belong to it."
And then she opened a box and took out girdles which were finely worked with golden threads, and on them were set very precious stones, and a rich buckle of gold.
"Look, lords," she said, "here is a girdle that ought to be set about the sword. And believe me, the greatest part of this girdle was made of my hair, which I loved well while I was a woman of the world. But as soon as I knew that this adventure was ordained for me, I cut off my hair, and made this girdle in the name of God."
"You are well met," said Sir Bors, "for certainly you have saved us from a great deal of trouble, which we would have gone into if it had not been for your news."
Then the gentlewoman went and set it on the sword as its girdle.
"Now," said the fellowship, "what is the name of the sword, and what shall we call it?"
"Truly," she said, "the name of the sword is the Sword with the Strange Girdles; and the sheath is Mover of Blood; for no man who has blood in him shall ever see the one part of the sheath, which was made of the Tree of Life."
Then they said to Galahad, "In the name of Jesus Christ, we beg you to gird yourself with this sword, which has been so much longed for in the realm of Logres."
"Now let me begin to grip this sword," said Galahad, "to give you courage; but believe me, it belongs no more to me than it does to you."
And then he closed his fingers round it a good way; and then she girded the sword about his waist.
"Now I do not care if I die," she said, "for now I count myself one of the blessed maidens of the world, who has made the worthiest knight in the world."
"Damsel," said Galahad, "you have done so much that I will be your knight all the days of my life."
Then they left that ship and went to the other. And at once the wind drove them out to sea at a great pace, but they had no food. But it happened that in the morning they came to a castle that men call Carteloise, which was in the borders of Scotland. And when they had passed the harbour, the gentlewoman said, "Lords, there are men here who, if they knew that you were of King Arthur's court, would attack you at once."
"Damsel," said Galahad, "He who brought us out of the rock shall deliver us from them."
So it happened, as they were speaking like this, that a squire came by them and asked who they were; and they said they were of King Arthur's household.
"Is that true?" he said. "Now by my head," he said, "you are in a bad way." And then he turned back to the cliff fortress.
And within a while they heard a horn blow. Then a gentlewoman came to them and asked them where they were from; and they told her.
"Fair lords," she said, "for the love of God turn back if you can, for you have come to your death."
"No," they said, "we will not turn back, for He in whose service we have set out shall help us."
Then, as they stood talking, knights came up well armed, and told them to yield or else die.
"That yielding," they said, "will do you harm."
And with that they let their horses run at them, and Sir Percival struck the foremost to the earth, and took his horse and mounted it, and Galahad did the same. Bors served another the same way too, for they had no horses in that country, for they had left their horses behind when they took ship in other countries. And so when they were mounted they began to set upon them; and the men of the castle fled into the strong fortress, and the three knights after them into the castle, and there they dismounted, and with their swords they cut them down, and got into the hall.
Then, when they saw the great multitude of people they had killed, they counted themselves great sinners.
"Certainly," said Bors, "I think that if God had loved them, we would not have had the power to kill them like this. But they have done so much against Our Lord that He would not allow them to reign any longer."
"Do not say so," said Galahad, "for if they did wrong against God, the vengeance is not ours, but His who has power over it."
Then there came out of a chamber a good man who was a priest, and he carried the Body of Our Lord in a cup. And when he saw the men lying dead in the hall he was utterly dismayed; and Galahad took off his helm and knelt down, and so did his two companions.
"Sir," they said, "have no fear of us, for we are of King Arthur's court."
Then the good man asked how they had been killed so suddenly, and they told him.
"Truly," said the good man, "if you could live as long as the world lasts, you could never have done so great a work of charity as this."
"Sir," said Galahad, "I am very sorry for it, since they were christened men."
"No, do not be sorry," he said, "for they were not christened, and I will tell you what I know of this castle. Not more than a year ago, the lord here was Earl Hernox, and he had three sons, good knights of arms, and a daughter, the fairest gentlewoman that men knew. And those three knights loved their sister so badly that they burned with desire for her, and so they lay with her against her will. And because she cried out to her father, they killed her, and took their father and put him in prison, and wounded him almost to death, but a cousin of hers rescued him. And then they did great wickedness: they killed clerks and priests, and had chapels torn down, so that Our Lord's service could not be served or said. And this very day her father sent for me to hear his confession and give him communion; but no man ever had such shame as I had this day from the three brothers. But the earl told me to bear it, for he said they would not last long, for three servants of Our Lord would destroy them; and now it is brought to an end. And by this you may know that Our Lord is not displeased with your deeds."
"Certainly," said Galahad, "if it had not pleased Our Lord, we would never have killed so many men in so short a while."
And then they brought the Earl Hernox out of prison into the middle of the hall, and he knew Galahad at once, and yet he had never seen him before except by a revelation of Our Lord.
Then he began to weep very tenderly, and said, "I have waited a long time for you to come. But for God's love, hold me in your arms, so that my soul may leave my body in the arms of as good a man as you are."
"Gladly," said Galahad.
And then a voice spoke on high, so that all heard it: "Galahad, you have avenged me well on God's enemies. Now you must go to the Maimed King as soon as you can, for through you he shall receive the health he has waited for so long."
And with that the soul left the body, and Galahad had him buried as was fitting.
Then the three knights left at once, and Percival's sister with them. And so they came into a desolate forest, and there they saw in front of them a white hart, which four lions were leading. Then they agreed among themselves to follow it to find out where it was going; and so they rode after it at a great pace until they came to a valley, and near it was a hermitage where a holy man lived, and the hart and the lions went in there too. So when they saw all this they turned to the chapel, and saw the holy man in a religious habit and in the armour of Our Lord, the vestments of the mass, for he was going to sing the mass of the Holy Ghost; and so they went in and heard mass. And at the silent prayers of the mass the three of them saw the hart become a man, which amazed them, and he was set upon the altar in a rich seat; and they saw that the four lions were changed, the one into the form of a man, the next into the form of a lion, the third into an eagle, and the fourth was changed into an ox. Then they took up their seat where the hart sat, and went out through a glass window, and nothing was damaged or broken; and the knights heard a voice say, "In just this way the Son of God entered the womb of the maiden Mary, whose virginity was neither damaged nor harmed." And when they heard these words they fell down to the earth and were stunned; and with that there was a great brightness.
And when they had come to themselves again they went to the holy man and begged him to tell them the truth.
"What have you seen?" he said.
And they told him all that they had seen.
"Ah, lords," he said, "you are welcome. Now I know well that you are the good knights who shall bring the Holy Grail to its end; for you are the ones to whom Our Lord shall show great secrets. And it is right that Our Lord should be signified by a hart, for when the hart is old he grows young again in his white skin. Just so Our Lord comes again from death to life, for He lost His earthly flesh, the mortal flesh which He had taken in the womb of the blessed Virgin Mary; and for that reason Our Lord appeared as a white hart without a spot. And the four that were with Him are to be understood as the Four Evangelists, who set down in writing a part of the deeds of Jesus Christ that He did once when He was among you as an earthly man. For believe me, never before could any knight know the truth of this; for often before now Our Lord has shown Himself to good men and to good knights in the likeness of a hart, but I believe that from now on you will see it no more."
And then they rejoiced greatly, and stayed there all that day. And the next morning, when they had heard mass, they left and commended the holy man to God; and so they came to a castle and passed it by. Then a knight in armour came after them and said, "Lords, listen to what I have to say to you."
"This gentlewoman you are leading with you, is she a maiden?"
"Sir," she said, "a maiden I am."
Then he took her horse by the bridle and said, "By the Holy Cross, you shall not get away from me before you have paid the custom of this castle."
"Let her go," said Percival. "You are not wise, for a maiden is free wherever she comes."
Meanwhile some ten or twelve knights in armour came out of the castle, and with them came gentlewomen holding a dish of silver.
And then they said, "This gentlewoman must pay us the custom of this castle."
"Sir," said one knight, "every maiden who passes by here must give this dish full of blood from her right arm."
"Shame on you who brought in such customs," said Galahad. "And so God save me, I promise you this: you shall not have it from this gentlewoman while I live."
"So help me God," said Percival, "I would rather be killed."
"And so would I," said Sir Bors.
"By my faith," said the knight, "then you shall die, for you cannot hold out against us, even if you were the best knights in the world."
Then they charged at each other, and the three companions beat the ten knights, and then set their hands to their swords and beat them down and killed them. Then some sixty knights in armour came out of the castle.
"Fair lords," said the three companions, "have mercy on yourselves and do not fight with us."
"No, fair lords," said the knights of the castle, "we advise you to withdraw, for you are the best knights in the world, and so do no more, for you have done enough. We will let you go with the harm you have done, but we must have the custom."
"Truly," said Galahad, "you are wasting your words."
"Well," they said, "do you want to die?"
"We have not come to that yet," said Galahad.
Then they began to fight together, and Galahad drew his sword, the one with the strange girdles, and struck on the right hand and on the left, and killed whoever stood up to him, and did such marvels that no one who saw him thought he was an earthly man, but some unearthly prodigy. And his two companions helped him exceedingly well, and so they each kept up the engagement equally hard until it was night: then they had to break off.
Then a good knight came out and said to the three companions, "If you will come in tonight and take such lodging as there is here, you shall be very welcome. And we promise you on our lives, and as we are true knights, to leave you tomorrow in the same state as we find you, without any treachery. And as soon as you know about the custom, we dare say you will agree to it."
"For God's love," said the gentlewoman, "go in there, and do not hold back for my sake."
"Let us go," said Galahad; and so they went into the chapel. And when they had dismounted, the people there made them very welcome. Then after a while the three knights asked about the custom of the castle, and the reason for it.
"What it is," they said, "we will tell you truly."
"There is a gentlewoman in this castle to whom we belong, and this castle is hers, and many others too. Many years ago it happened that a sickness came upon her; and when she had lain sick a long time she fell into a leprosy, and no doctor could give her any remedy. But at last an old man said that if she could have a dish full of the blood of a maiden who was a pure virgin in will and in deed, and a king's daughter, that blood would be her health, if she were anointed with it; and that is why this custom was made."
"Now, fair knights," said Percival's sister, "I can see well that this gentlewoman is as good as dead."
"Truly," said Galahad, "if you bleed so much you may die."
"Truly," she said, "if I die to heal her I shall win great honour and my soul's health, and honour for my family; and one harm is better than two. And so there shall be no more fighting, but tomorrow I shall pay you the custom of this castle."
And then there was great joy, more than there had been before, for otherwise there would have been mortal war in the morning; and she would have it no other way, whether they liked it or not.
That night the three companions were given the best of everything; and in the morning they heard mass, and Sir Percival's sister told them to bring out the sick lady. So she was brought, and she was very ill.
Then Percival's sister said, "Who will let my blood?"
So someone came forward and opened her vein, and she bled so much that the dish was full. Then she lifted up her hand and crossed herself; and then she said to the lady, "Madam, I have come to my death to make you whole. For God's love, pray for me."
With that she fell into a faint. Then Galahad and his two companions leapt up to her, and lifted her up and stopped the bleeding, but she had bled so much that she could not live.
Then she said, when she had come to, "Fair brother Percival, I am dying for the healing of this lady, so I ask you not to bury me in this country, but as soon as I am dead put me in a boat at the nearest harbour, and let me go wherever chance will take me. And as soon as you three come to the City of Sarras, to achieve the Holy Grail there, you shall find me arrived beneath a tower, and bury me there in the holy place; for I tell you this much, Galahad shall be buried there, and you too, in the same place."
Then Percival understood these words, and promised it to her, weeping.
And then a voice said, "Lords and companions, tomorrow at the hour of prime you three shall part, each from the others, until the adventure brings you to the Maimed King."
Then she asked for her Saviour in the sacrament; and as soon as she had received it the soul left the body. And that same day the lady was healed, when she was anointed with the blood. Then Sir Percival wrote a letter telling all the ways she had helped them in strange adventures, and put it in her right hand, and so laid her in a barge, and covered it with black silk; and so the wind rose, and drove the barge away from the land, and all the knights watched it until it was out of their sight. Then they all went back towards the castle, and at once there came a sudden storm, with thunder, lightning and rain, as if the whole earth would have broken apart. And half the castle was turned upside down. It was past evensong before the storm stopped.
Then they saw in front of them a knight in armour, badly wounded in the body and in the head, who said, "O God, help me, for now is my need!"
After this knight came another knight and a dwarf, who shouted to him from far off, "Stand! You can't escape!"
Then the wounded knight held up his hands to God, praying that he should not die in such distress.
"Truly," said Galahad, "I will help him, for the sake of Him he is calling on."
"Sir," said Bors, "I will do it, for it is not a task for you, since he is only one knight."
"Sir," said Galahad, "I grant it."
So Sir Bors took his horse, and commended himself to God, and rode after them to rescue the wounded knight. Now we turn to the two companions.
Now the story says that all night Galahad and Percival were in a chapel at their prayers, praying for Sir Bors to be kept safe. Then in the morning they put on their armour and went towards the castle, to find out what had happened to the people in it. And when they came there they found that there was neither man nor woman who was not dead, by the vengeance of Our Lord.
With that they heard a voice that said, "This vengeance is for the shedding of maidens' blood."
They also found, at the end of the chapel, a churchyard, and in it they could see some sixty fair tombs. And that place was so fair and so delightful that it seemed to them there had been no storm there; for there lay the bodies of all the good maidens who had been martyred for the sick lady's sake. They also found the names of each of them, and what blood they came from, and all were of kings' blood, and twelve of them were kings' daughters. Then they left and went into a forest.
"Now," said Percival to Galahad, "we must part. So let us pray Our Lord that we may meet again soon."
Then they took off their helmets and kissed each other, and wept at their parting.
Now the story says that when Lancelot had come to the water of Mortoise, as was told before, he was in great peril, and so he lay down and slept, and accepted whatever adventure God would send him. So when he was asleep a vision came to him and said, "Lancelot, get up and take your armour, and go aboard the first ship you find."
And when he heard these words he leapt up and saw a great brightness all around him. And then he lifted up his hand and crossed himself, and so took his arms and made himself ready; and so by chance he came to a shore, and found a ship that had neither sail nor oar. And as soon as he was inside the ship he felt the greatest sweetness he had ever felt, and he was filled with everything he could think of or desire.
Then he said, "Fair sweet Father, Jesus Christ, I do not know what joy I am in, for this joy surpasses all the earthly joys I was ever in."
And so in this joy he lay down on the deck of the ship, and slept until day. And when he woke he found there a fair bed, and lying in it a gentlewoman, dead, who was Sir Percival's sister. And as Lancelot looked her over carefully, he noticed a letter in her right hand, which he read, and which told him all the adventures that you have heard before, and what family she came from. So Sir Lancelot stayed with this gentlewoman a month and more. If you ask how he lived: He who fed the people of Israel with manna in the desert, so was he fed; for every day, when he had said his prayers, he was sustained by the grace of the Holy Ghost.
So one night he went to amuse himself by the waterside, for he was somewhat weary of the ship. And then he listened and heard a horse coming, and someone riding on it. And when it came near, it seemed to be a knight. And so Lancelot let him pass, and the knight went to where the ship was; and there he dismounted, and took off the saddle and the bridle and sent the horse away, and went into the ship.
And then Lancelot turned to him and said, "You are welcome."
And he answered and greeted him in return, and asked him, "What is your name? For my heart goes out to you greatly."
"Truly," he said, "my name is Lancelot du Lake."
"Sir," said he, "then you are welcome, for you were the one who began me in this world."
"Ah," said Lancelot, "are you Galahad?"
"Yes, truly," he said; and so he knelt down and asked for his blessing, and afterwards took off his helmet and kissed him.
And there was great joy between them, for no tongue can tell the joy they had in each other, and many a loving word was spoken between them, as is natural between kin, which there is no need to repeat here. And there each told the other of the adventures and marvels that had befallen them on their many journeys since they left the court.
As soon as Galahad saw the gentlewoman dead in the bed, he knew her well enough, and spoke of her with great honour, saying she was the best maiden living, and that her death was a great pity. But when Lancelot heard how the marvellous sword had been won, and who made it, and all the marvels told before, he begged Galahad, his son, to show him the sword, and so he did; and at once Lancelot kissed the pommel, and the hilt, and the scabbard.
"Truly," said Lancelot, "never before did I know of such high adventures, so marvellous and strange."
So Lancelot and Galahad stayed in that ship half a year, and served God day and night with all their strength; and often they landed on islands far from people, where nothing came but wild beasts, and there they found many strange and perilous adventures, which they brought to an end. But because those adventures were with wild beasts, and not in the quest of the Holy Grail, the tale makes no mention of them here, for it would take too long to tell of all the adventures that befell them.
So afterwards, on a Monday, it happened that they landed at the edge of a forest, in front of a cross. And then they saw a knight armed all in white, richly mounted, leading a white horse in his right hand. And so he came to the ship, and greeted the two knights in the name of the High Lord, and said, "Galahad, sir, you have been with your father long enough. Come out of the ship, and leap up on this horse, and go where the adventures shall lead you in the quest of the Holy Grail."
Then Galahad went to his father and kissed him tenderly, and said, "Fair sweet father, I do not know when I shall see you again, until I see the body of Jesus Christ."
"I beg you," said Lancelot, "pray to the High Father that He keep me in His service."
And so Galahad took his horse, and then they heard a voice that said, "Take care to do well, for the one of you shall never see the other again before the dreadful Day of Judgement."
"Now, son Galahad," said Lancelot, "since we must part and never see each other again, I pray to the High Father to preserve both you and me."
"Sir," said Galahad, "no prayer avails as much as yours."
And with that Galahad rode into the forest.
And the wind rose, and drove Lancelot for more than a month across the sea, and he slept but little, but prayed to God that he might see some sign of the Holy Grail. So it happened one night, at midnight, that he arrived in front of a castle, on its back side, a rich and fair one, and there was a back gate open towards the sea. It stood open without any guard, except that two lions guarded the entrance; and the moon shone clear.
At once Sir Lancelot heard a voice that said, "Lancelot, go out of this ship and enter the castle, where you shall see a great part of your desire."
Then he ran to his arms, and armed himself, and so went to the gate and saw the lions. Then he set his hand to his sword and drew it. Then suddenly a dwarf came and struck him on the arm so hard that the sword fell out of his hand.
Then he heard a voice say, "O man of evil faith and poor belief, why do you trust more in your armour than in your Maker? For He could help you more than your armour, He in whose service you are set."
Then Lancelot said, "Fair Father Jesus Christ, I thank You for Your great mercy, that You rebuke me for my misdeed. Now I see well that You hold me for Your servant."
Then he took up his sword again and put it back in its sheath, and made the sign of the cross on his forehead, and came to the lions, and they made as if to do him harm. Nevertheless he passed by them without hurt, and went into the castle, to the keep, and there everyone was asleep. Then Lancelot went in, armed as he was, for he found no gate or door that was not open. And at last he found a room whose door was shut, and he set his hand to it to open it, but he could not.
Then he strained hard to open the door. Then he listened and heard a voice singing so sweetly that it seemed no earthly thing; and he thought the voice said, "Joy and honour be to the Father of Heaven."
Then Lancelot knelt down before the room, for he knew well that the Holy Grail was inside that room.
Then he said, "Fair sweet Father, Jesus Christ, if ever I did anything that pleased You, Lord, for Your pity do not scorn me for the sins I have done in the past, and show me something of what I am seeking."
And with that he saw the door of the room open, and out of it came a great brightness, so that the house was as bright as if all the torches in the world had been there.
So he came to the door of the room, and would have gone in. And at once a voice said to him, "Flee, Lancelot, and do not go in, for you ought not to do it; and if you go in, you shall regret it."
Then he drew back, very downcast. Then he looked up into the middle of the room, and saw a table of silver, and the Holy Vessel, covered with red samite, and many angels around it, of whom one held a burning candle of wax, and another held a cross and the ornaments of an altar. And before the Holy Vessel he saw a holy man dressed as a priest. And it seemed that he was at the consecration of the mass. And it seemed to Lancelot that above the priest's hands there were three men, of whom two put the youngest, in likeness, between the priest's hands; and so the priest lifted it up very high, and it seemed that he was showing it to the people. And then Lancelot marvelled not a little, for he thought the priest was so heavily weighed down by the figure that it seemed to him he would fall to the earth.
And when he saw no one near who would help him, then he came to the door at a great pace, and said, "Fair Father Jesus Christ, do not count it as a sin if I help the good man, who has great need of help."
At once he went into the room, and came towards the table of silver; and when he came near he felt a breath which he thought was mingled with fire, and it struck him so hard in the face that he thought it burned his face. And with that he fell to the earth, and had no power to get up, like a man so overcome that he had lost the power of his body, and his hearing, and his sight. Then he felt many hands around him, which picked him up and carried him out of the door of the room, without his coming out of his faint at all, and left him there, seeming dead to everyone.
So the next morning, when it was broad day, the people within got up, and found Lancelot lying before the door of the room. They all marvelled at how he had got in, and so they looked him over, and felt his pulse to find out whether there was any life in him; and so they found life in him, but he could not stand or stir any limb he had. And so they took him by every part of his body, and carried him into a room, and laid him in a rich bed, far from everyone; and so he lay four days.
Then one said he was alive, and another said no.
"In the name of God," said an old man, "I tell you truly, he is not dead, but as full of life as the mightiest of you all. And so I advise you that he be well cared for until God sends him life again."
In this way they cared for Lancelot twenty-four days and as many nights, and all that time he lay still as a dead man; and on the twenty-fifth day, after midday, it happened that he opened his eyes. And when he saw people he grieved greatly, and said, "Why have you woken me? For I was more at ease than I am now. O Jesus Christ, who could be so blessed as to see openly Your great marvels of secrecy, there where no sinner may be!"
"What have you seen?" said those around him.
"I have seen," he said, "marvels so great that no tongue can tell them, and more than any heart can think. And if my son had not been here before me, I would have seen much more."
Then they told him how he had lain there twenty-four days and nights. Then he thought it was punishment for the twenty-four years he had been a sinner, and that for this Our Lord had put him to penance for twenty-four days and nights. Then Sir Lancelot looked in front of him, and saw the hair shirt he had worn for nearly a year, and he was very sorry that he had broken the promise he had vowed to the hermit.
Then they asked how it was with him.
"Truly," he said, "I am whole in body, thanks be to Our Lord. And so, sirs, for God's love tell me where I am."
Then they all said that he was in the castle of Carbonek.
With that a gentlewoman came and brought him a shirt of fine linen cloth, but he did not change into it there, but took the hair shirt back to him again.
"Sir," they said, "the quest of the Holy Grail is achieved now, for you; you shall never see any more of the Holy Grail than you have seen."
"Now I thank God," said Lancelot, "for His great mercy in what I have seen, for it is enough for me. For as I believe, no man in this world has lived better than I have done, to achieve what I have achieved."
And with that he took the hair shirt and put it on, and over it he put a linen shirt, and after that a robe of scarlet, fresh and new. And when he was dressed like this they all marvelled, for they knew him, that he was Lancelot, the good knight.
And then they all said, "O my lord Sir Lancelot, is it you?"
And he said, "Truly, I am he."
Then word came to King Pelles that the knight who had lain so long as if dead was Sir Lancelot. Then the king was very glad, and went to see him. And when Lancelot saw him coming he went to meet him, and there the king made him very welcome. And there the king told him the news that his fair daughter was dead.
Then Lancelot was very sad about it, and said, "Sir, I am sorry for the death of your daughter, for she was a very fair lady, fresh and young. And I know well that she bore the best knight who is now on the earth, or who ever was since God was born."
So the king kept him there four days, and on the next day he took his leave of King Pelles and of all the company, and thanked them for their great trouble.
Just as they sat at their dinner in the great hall, it so happened that the Holy Grail had filled the table with every kind of food that any heart could think of. And as they sat there they saw all the doors and the windows of the place shut without anyone's hand, at which they were all dismayed, and no one knew what to do.
And then it happened suddenly that a knight came to the main door and knocked, and shouted, "Open the door!"
But they would not. And still he shouted, "Open!" But they would not. And at last it annoyed them so much that the king himself got up and came to a window, there where the knight was calling.
Then he said, "Sir knight, you shall not come in at this time, while the Holy Grail is here, and so go elsewhere. For truly you are none of the knights of the quest, but one of those who have served the Fiend and left the service of Our Lord."
And the knight was exceedingly angry at the king's words.
"Sir knight," said the king, "since you are so eager to come in, tell me what country you are from."
"Sir," he said, "I am from the realm of Logres, and my name is Ector de Maris, and I am brother to my lord, Sir Lancelot."
"In the name of God," said the king, "I am sorry for what I have said, for your brother is here inside."
And when Ector de Maris understood that his brother was there, for he was the man in the world he most feared and loved, he said, "Ah God, now my sorrow and shame are doubled. The holy man on the hill spoke very truly to Gawain and to me about our dreams."
Then he rode out of the court as fast as his horse could go, and so on through the castle.
Then King Pelles came to Sir Lancelot and told him news of his brother, at which he was so sorry that he did not know what to do. So Sir Lancelot departed, and took his arms, and said he would go and see the realm of Logres, "which I have not seen in twelve months." And with that he commended the king to God, and so rode through many realms. And at last he came to a white abbey, and there they gave him a warm welcome that night; and in the morning he rose and heard mass. And before an altar he found a rich tomb, which was newly made; and then he looked closely, and saw that the sides were written in gold, which said: "Here lies King Bagdemagus of Gore, whom King Arthur's nephew killed"; and it named him, Sir Gawain. Then he was not a little sorry, for Lancelot loved him much more than any other, and if it had been anyone other than Gawain, he would not have escaped from death to life; and he said to himself, "Ah, Lord God, this is a great blow to King Arthur's court, the loss of such a man." And then he departed and came to the abbey where Galahad did the adventure of the tombs, and won the white shield with the red cross; and there he was given a warm welcome all that night.
And in the morning he turned towards Camelot, where he found King Arthur and the queen. But many of the knights of the Round Table were killed and destroyed, more than half. And so three had come home, Ector, Gawain and Lionel, and many others that need not be listed. And all the court was exceedingly glad of Sir Lancelot, and the king asked him much news of his son Galahad. And there Lancelot told the king of the adventures that had befallen him since he departed. And he also told him of the adventures of Galahad, Percival and Bors, which he knew from the letter of the dead damsel, and as Galahad had told him.
"Now would to God," said the king, "that they were all three here."
"That shall never be," said Lancelot, "for two of them you shall never see again, but one of them shall come back."
Now we leave this story and speak of Galahad.
Now, the story says, Galahad rode many days' journeys in vain. And at last he came to the abbey where King Mordrains was, and when he heard that, he thought he would stay to see him. And in the morning, when he had heard mass, Galahad came to King Mordrains, and at once the king saw him, who had lain blind for a long time. And then he turned towards him, and said, "Galahad, servant of Jesus Christ, whose coming I have waited for so long, now embrace me and let me rest on your breast, so that I may rest between your arms. For you are a pure virgin above all knights, like the flower of the lily, in which virginity is signified, and you are the rose, which is the flower of all good virtues, and in colour like fire. For the fire of the Holy Ghost has taken such hold in you that my flesh, which was all dead with old age, has become young again."
When Galahad heard his words, he embraced him, all his body. Then the king said, "Fair Lord Jesus Christ, now I have my wish. Now I ask You, at this point where I am, to come and visit me." And at once Our Lord heard his prayer: with that the soul departed from the body.
And then Galahad buried him as a king ought to be buried, and so departed, and so came into a perilous forest where he found the spring that boils with great waves, as the tale told before. And as soon as Galahad set his hand to it, it stopped, so that it burned no more, and the heat went away. For its burning was a sign of lechery, which was much practised at that time. But that heat could not withstand his pure virginity. And this was taken in that country for a miracle. And so ever after it was called Galahad's spring.
Then by chance he came into the country of Gore, and into the abbey where Lancelot had been before, and found the tomb of King Bagdemagus, but he was the founder of it, Joseph of Arimathea's son; and the tomb of Simeon, where Lancelot had failed. Then he looked into a vault under the church, and there he saw a tomb that burned most marvellously. Then he asked the brothers what it was.
"Sir," they said, "a marvellous adventure that can never be brought to an end except by him who surpasses in goodness and in knighthood all those of the Round Table."
"I wish," said Galahad, "that you would lead me to it."
"Gladly," they said, and so they led him to a cave. And he went down the steps, and came near the tomb. And then the flames died, and the fire stopped, which for many a day had been great. Then a voice came that said, "You owe great thanks to Our Lord, who has given you a good hour, so that you may draw souls out of earthly pain, and put them into the joys of paradise. I am of your kindred, and I have dwelt in this heat for three hundred and fifty-four years to be purged of the sin that I committed against Joseph of Arimathea."
Then Galahad took the body in his arms and carried it into the church. And that night Galahad lay in the abbey; and in the morning he had a service said for him, and buried him before the high altar.
So he departed from there, and commended the brothers to God; and so he rode for five days until he came to the Maimed King. And all those five days Percival followed him, asking where he had been; and so someone told him how the adventures of Logres had been achieved. So one day it happened that they came out of a great forest, and there they came across Sir Bors, who was riding alone. There is no need to tell whether they were glad; and he greeted them, and they wished him honour and good fortune, and each told the other his news.
Then Bors said, "For more than a year and a half I have not slept ten nights where men live, but only in wild forests and in mountains; but God was always my comfort."
Then they rode a long while until they came to the castle of Carbonek. And when they had entered the castle, King Pelles knew them; then there was great joy, for they knew well by their coming that they had fulfilled the quest of the Holy Grail. Then Eliazar, King Pelles' son, brought before them the broken sword with which Joseph was stabbed through the thigh. Then Bors set his hand to it, to see whether he could join it together again; but it would not be. Then he handed it to Percival, but he had no more power over it than Bors.
"Now you have it," said Percival to Galahad, "for if it is ever achieved by any man of flesh and blood, you must do it."
And then he took the pieces and set them together, and it seemed that they had never been broken, and it was as sound as when it was first forged. And when those in the castle saw that the adventure of the sword was achieved, they gave the sword to Bors, for it could not be better placed; for he was a good knight and a worthy man.
And a little before evening the sword rose up, great and marvellous, and was full of such great heat that many men fell down for fear. And at once a voice came down among them, and said, "Let those who ought not to sit at the table of Jesus Christ rise, for now true knights shall be fed."
So they went away from there, all except King Pelles and Eliazar his son, who were holy men, and a maid who was his niece; and so these three companions and those three were there, and no more. At once they saw knights come in at the hall door, all armed, and they took off their helmets and their armour, and said to Galahad, "Sir, we have hurried hard to be with you at this table, where the holy food shall be shared out."
Then he said, "You are welcome, but where are you from?"
So three of them said they were from Gaul, and another three said they were from Ireland, and the other three said they were from Denmark. And as they sat there, a wooden bed came out of a chamber, carried by four gentlewomen; and in the bed lay a good man, sick, with a crown of gold on his head; and there in the middle of the room they set him down, and went their way again. Then he lifted up his head, and said, "Galahad, knight, you are welcome, for I have greatly longed for your coming, for I have been a long time in such pain and in such anguish. But now I trust in God that the time has come when my pain shall be eased, so that I shall pass out of this world, as was promised me long ago."
With that a voice said, "There are two among you who are not in the quest of the Holy Grail, and therefore leave."
Then King Pelles and his son departed. And with that it seemed to them that there came a man, and four angels from heaven, a man dressed like a bishop, with a cross in his hand; and these four angels carried him in a chair, and set him down before the table of silver on which the Holy Grail stood. And it seemed that he had letters in the middle of his forehead, which said: "See here Joseph, the first bishop of Christendom, the same whom Our Lord succoured in the city of Sarras in the spiritual place." Then the knights marvelled, for that bishop had been dead more than three hundred years before.
"O knights," he said, "do not marvel, for I was once an earthly man."
With that they heard the chamber door open, and there they saw angels; and two carried candles of wax, and the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled marvellously, so that three drops fell into a box which he held in his other hand. And they set the candles on the table, and the third set the towel on the vessel, and the fourth set the holy spear straight upright on the vessel. And then the bishop made as though he were going to the consecration of the mass. And then he took a wafer which was made in the likeness of bread. And at the lifting up there came a figure in the likeness of a child, and the face was as red and as bright as any fire, and he struck himself into the bread, so that they all saw that the bread was formed of a man of flesh; and then he put it into the Holy Vessel again, and then he did all that belonged to a priest to do at a mass. And then he went to Galahad and kissed him, and told him to go and kiss his companions: and so he did at once.
"Now," he said, "servants of Jesus Christ, you shall be fed before this table with sweet food that knights never tasted."
And when he had spoken, he vanished away. And they sat down at the table in great fear, and said their prayers.
Then they looked and saw a man come out of the Holy Vessel, who had all the signs of the Passion of Jesus Christ, bleeding openly, and he said, "My knights, and my servants, and my true children, who have come out of mortal life into spiritual life, I will no longer hide myself from you, but you shall now see a part of my secrets and of my hidden things. Now hold and receive the high food that you have so much desired."
Then he himself took the Holy Vessel and came to Galahad; and he knelt down, and there he received his Saviour, and after him all his companions received it; and they thought it so sweet that it was marvellous to tell. Then he said to Galahad, "Son, do you know what I hold between my hands?"
"No," said Galahad, "unless you will tell me."
"This is," he said, "the holy dish in which I ate the lamb on Maundy Thursday. And now you have seen what you most desired to see, but you have not yet seen it as openly as you shall see it in the city of Sarras in the spiritual place. Therefore you must go from here and carry this Holy Vessel with you; for this night it shall depart from the realm of Logres, so that it shall never be seen here again. And do you know why? Because he is not served nor worshipped as is his due by the people of this land, for they have turned to evil living; therefore I shall strip them of the honour that I have done them. And therefore you three go tomorrow to the sea, where you shall find your ship ready, and take with you the sword with the strange girdles, and no one more with you but Sir Percival and Sir Bors. Also I wish you to take with you some of the blood of this spear, to anoint the Maimed King, both his legs and all his body, and he shall have his health."
"Sir," said Galahad, "why shall these other companions not go with us?"
"For this reason: just as I sent my apostles apart, one here and another there, so I wish you to go apart; and two of you shall die in my service, but one of you shall come back and tell the news."
Then he gave them his blessing and vanished away.
And Galahad went at once to the spear which lay on the table, and touched the blood with his fingers, and came afterwards to the Maimed King and anointed his legs.
And with that he dressed himself at once, and leapt to his feet out of his bed a whole man, and thanked Our Lord that He had healed him. And that was not for the world's sake, for he at once gave himself to a house of religion of white monks, and was a most holy man.
That same night, about midnight, a voice came among them which said, "My sons and not my chief sons, my friends and not my warriors, go from here to where you hope to do best, and as I told you."
"Ah, thanks be to You, Lord, that You deign to call us, Your sinners. Now we may well prove that we have not lost our labour."
And at once, in all haste, they took their armour and departed.
But as for the three knights of Gaul, one of them was called Claudine, King Claudas' son, and the other two were men of high birth. Then Galahad asked each of them, if they came to King Arthur's court, to "greet my lord Sir Lancelot, my father, and all the fellowship of the Round Table"; and he asked them, if they came to those parts, not to forget it.
Right so Galahad departed, and Percival and Bors with him; and so they rode three days, and then they came to a shore, and found the ship that the tale spoke of before. And when they came on board, they found in the middle of it the table of silver which they had left with the Maimed King, and the Holy Grail, which was covered with red samite.
Then they were glad to have such things in their company; and so they entered and made great reverence to it; and Galahad prayed a long time to Our Lord that, at whatever time he asked, he should pass out of this world.
He prayed so much that at last a voice said to him, "Galahad, you shall have your request; and when you ask for the death of your body you shall have it, and then you shall find the life of the soul."
Percival heard this, and begged him, by the fellowship that was between them, to tell him why he asked for such things.
"That I will tell you," said Galahad. "The other day, when we saw a part of the adventures of the Holy Grail, I was in such joy of heart that I believe no earthly man was ever so joyful. And therefore I know well that when my body is dead, my soul shall be in great joy, to see the blessed Trinity every day, and the majesty of Our Lord Jesus Christ."
They were in the ship so long that they said to Galahad, "Sir, you ought to lie in this bed, for so the inscription says." And so he lay down and slept a long while; and when he woke he looked before him and saw the city of Sarras. And as they were about to land, they saw the ship in which Percival had put his sister.
"Truly," said Percival, "in the name of God, my sister has kept her promise to us well."
Then they took the table of silver out of the ship, and Galahad gave it to Percival and to Bors to go in front, and Galahad came behind. And right so they went to the city, and at the gate of the city they saw a crooked old man. Then Galahad called him and told him to help carry this heavy thing.
"Truly," said the old man, "it is ten years since I could walk without crutches."
"Never mind that," said Galahad, "but get up and show your good will."
And so he tried, and found himself as whole as he ever was. Then he ran to the table, and took one end of it opposite Galahad. And at once a great stir arose in the city, that a cripple had been made whole by marvellous knights who had entered the city.
Then soon after, the three knights went to the water, and brought Percival's sister up into the palace, and buried her as richly as a king's daughter ought to be buried. And when the king of the city, who was called Estorause, saw the companions, he asked them where they were from, and what it was that they had brought on the table of silver. And they told him the truth of the Holy Grail, and the power which God had sent there. Then the king, who was a tyrant, and came of a line of pagans, took them and put them in prison in a deep pit.
But as soon as they were there, Our Lord sent them the Holy Grail, by whose grace they were always filled while they were in prison.
So at the year's end it happened that this King Estorause lay sick, and felt that he would die. Then he sent for the three knights, and they came before him; and he begged their pardon for what he had done to them, and they forgave him graciously; and he died at once. When the king was dead, all the city was dismayed, and did not know who should be their king. Right as they were in council, a voice came among them, and told them to choose the youngest of those three knights to be their king: "For he shall maintain you and all yours well." So they made Galahad king with the full assent of the holy city, and otherwise they would have killed him. And when he had come to look over the land, he had a chest of gold and of precious stones made above the table of silver, which covered the Holy Vessel. And every day, early, the three companions would come before it and say their prayers.
Now at the year's end, on the very same day that Galahad had first worn the crown of gold, he rose early, and his companions with him, and came to the palace, and saw before them the Holy Vessel, and a man kneeling on his knees in the likeness of a bishop, who had about him a great fellowship of angels, as if it had been Jesus Christ himself; and then he rose and began a mass of Our Lady. And when he came to the sacrament of the mass, and had done, he at once called Galahad, and said to him, "Come forward, servant of Jesus Christ, and you shall see what you have so much desired to see."
And then Galahad began to tremble very hard, as his mortal flesh began to behold the spiritual things. Then he held up his hands towards heaven and said, "Lord, I thank You, for now I see what has been my desire for many a day. Now, blessed Lord, I would not live any longer, if it might please You, Lord."
And with that the good man took Our Lord's body between his hands, and offered it to Galahad, and he received it most gladly and meekly.
"Now do you know who I am?" said the good man.
"No," said Galahad.
"I am Joseph of Arimathea, whom Our Lord has sent here to you to keep you company. And do you know why He has sent me rather than any other? Because you have resembled me in two things: in that you have seen the marvels of the Holy Grail, and in that you have been a pure virgin, as I have been and am."
And when he had said these words, Galahad went to Percival and kissed him, and commended him to God; and so he went to Sir Bors and kissed him, and commended him to God, and said, "Fair lord, greet my lord Sir Lancelot, my father, for me, and as soon as you see him, tell him to remember this unstable world."
And with that he knelt down before the table and said his prayers, and then suddenly his soul departed to Jesus Christ, and a great multitude of angels carried his soul up to heaven, so that the two companions could plainly see it. The two companions also saw a hand come from heaven, but they did not see the body. And then it came straight to the Vessel, and took it and the spear, and so carried it up to heaven. Since then there was never any man so bold as to say that he had seen the Holy Grail.
When Percival and Bors saw Galahad dead, they grieved as much as ever two men did. And if they had not been good men, they might easily have fallen into despair. And the people of the country and of the city were deeply downcast. And then he was buried; and as soon as he was buried, Sir Percival gave himself to a hermitage outside the city, and took the habit of religion. And Bors was always with him, but he never changed out of his secular clothes, because he intended to go back to the realm of Logres. So Sir Percival lived a year and two months in the hermitage, a most holy life, and then passed out of this world; and Bors had him buried beside his sister and beside Galahad in the spiritual place.
When Bors saw that he was in countries as far away as the parts of Babylon, he departed from Sarras, and armed himself and came to the sea, and went on board a ship; and so by good fortune he came into the realm of Logres; and he rode so fast that he came to Camelot, where the king was. And then great joy was made of him in the court, for they had all thought he was dead, since he had been out of the country so long. And when they had eaten, the king had great scholars come before him, so that they could write a chronicle of the high adventures of the good knights. When Bors had told him of the adventures of the Holy Grail, such as had befallen him and his three companions, that is, Lancelot, Percival, Galahad and himself, then Lancelot told the adventures of the Holy Grail that he had seen. All this was written in great books, and stored away in chests at Salisbury.
And at once Sir Bors said to Sir Lancelot, "Galahad, your own son, sent you his greetings by me, and after you King Arthur and all the court, and so did Sir Percival; for I buried them with my own hands in the city of Sarras. Also, Sir Lancelot, Galahad begged you to remember this unstable world, as you promised him when you were together for more than half a year."
"This is true," said Lancelot. "Now I trust to God that his prayer shall help me."
Then Lancelot took Sir Bors in his arms, and said, "Noble cousin, you are most welcome to me, and in all that I can ever do for you and for yours, you shall find my poor body ready at all times, while the spirit is in it; and that I promise you faithfully, and never to fail. And believe me, noble cousin, Sir Bors, you and I will never part from each other while our lives last."
"Sir," he said, "I will do as you will."
Thus ends the history of the Holy Grail, which was briefly drawn out of French into English, and which is a story chronicled as one of the truest and the holiest that is in this world, and which is the seventeenth book.
And here follows the eighteenth book.
So after the quest of the Holy Grail was fulfilled, and all the knights who were left alive had come back to the Round Table, as the book of the Holy Grail tells, then there was great joy in the court. And above all King Arthur and Queen Guinevere rejoiced greatly over the remnant who had come home, and the king and the queen were exceedingly glad of Sir Lancelot and of Sir Bors, for they had been away an exceedingly long time on the quest of the Holy Grail.
Then, as the book says, Sir Lancelot began to go to Queen Guinevere again, and forgot the promise and the perfection that he had made on the quest. For, as the book says, if Sir Lancelot had not been so set inwardly on the queen, in his private thoughts and in his mind, as he seemed outwardly to be set on God, no knight would have surpassed him in the quest of the Holy Grail. But his thoughts were always secretly on the queen, and so they loved each other more hotly than they had done before, and had so many secret meetings together that many in the court spoke of it, and above all Sir Agravain, Sir Gawain's brother, for he was always loose-tongued.
So it happened that Sir Lancelot had many ladies and damsels coming to him daily, begging him to be their champion, and in all such matters of right Sir Lancelot applied himself daily to do the work for the pleasure of Our Lord Jesus Christ. And as much as ever he could he kept himself away from the company and fellowship of Queen Guinevere, to avoid scandal and rumour; and because of that the queen grew angry with Sir Lancelot. And one day she called Sir Lancelot to her chamber, and said this: "Sir Lancelot, I see and feel every day that your love is beginning to cool, for you take no joy in being in my presence, but you are always away from this court, and you take up quarrels and causes for ladies and gentlewomen nowadays more than you ever used to before."
"Ah, madam," said Lancelot, "in this you must hold me excused, for several reasons. One is that I have only lately come from the quest of the Holy Grail; and I thank God for His great mercy, and never for my own deserving, that on that quest of mine I saw as much as any sinful man ever saw, and so I was told. And if I had not had my private thoughts of returning to your love again, as I do, I would have seen as great mysteries as ever my son Galahad saw, or Percival, or Sir Bors; and so, madam, I have only lately come from that quest. Believe me, madam, the high service in which I did my diligent labour cannot yet be lightly forgotten. Also, madam, believe me, there are many men who speak of our love in this court, and watch you and me closely, such as Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred. And madam, believe me, I fear them more for your sake than for any fear I have of them for myself, for I may manage to escape and get myself clear in a great need, where you must stay and bear everything that will be said to you. And then if you fall into any distress through wilful folly, there is no other remedy or help but through me and my kin. And believe me, madam, the boldness of you and me will bring us to great shame and scandal, and I would be loath to see you dishonoured. And that is the reason I take it upon myself to do more for damsels and maidens than I ever did before: so that men should understand that my joy and my delight and my pleasure is to fight for damsels and maidens."
All this while the queen stood still and let Sir Lancelot say what he wished. And when he had said it all she burst into tears, and so she sobbed and wept a long while. And when she could speak she said, "Lancelot, now I understand very well that you are a false, faithless knight and a common lecher, and that you love and keep other ladies, and have nothing but disdain and scorn for me. For believe me," she said, "now I understand your falseness, and so I shall never love you again. And don't you ever dare come into my sight. And here and now I banish you from this court, so that you never come within it; and I forbid you my company, and on pain of your head, see me no more."
At that Sir Lancelot left in great heaviness of heart, so that he could scarcely hold himself up for the grief he made.
Then he called Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Lionel, and told them how the queen had forbidden him the court, and so he meant to go away into his own country.
"Fair sir," said Sir Bors de Ganis, "you shall not leave this land, if you take my advice. You must remember in what honour you are renowned, and called the noblest knight in the world; and you have many great matters in hand. And women in their haste will often do what they bitterly regret. And so, by my advice, you shall take your horse and ride to the good hermit near here beside Windsor, who was once a good knight, his name is Sir Brasias, and there you shall stay until I send you word of better news."
"Brother," said Sir Lancelot, "believe me, I am very loath to leave this realm, but the queen has forbidden me so sternly that it seems to me she will never be my good lady again as she has been."
"Never say so," said Sir Bors, "for many times before this she has been angry with you, and afterwards she was the first to regret it."
"You speak well," said Lancelot, "for now I will do as you advise, and take my horse and my armour, and ride to the hermit Sir Brasias, and there I will rest until I hear some kind of news from you. But, fair brother, I beg you, win me back the love of my lady Queen Guinevere, if you can."
"Sir," said Sir Bors, "you need not urge me in such matters, for you know well I will do what I can to please you."
And then the noble knight Sir Lancelot left suddenly, with a very heavy heart, so that no living creature knew of him, or where he had gone, except Sir Bors. So when Sir Lancelot had gone, the queen outwardly showed no sort of sorrow to any of his kin or to anyone else. But believe me, inwardly, as the book says, she grieved deeply; but she carried it off with a proud face, as though she felt nothing and feared nothing.
And then the queen had a private dinner made in London for the knights of the Round Table. And it was all to show outwardly that she took as great joy in all the other knights of the Round Table as she did in Sir Lancelot. At that dinner she had only Sir Gawain and his brothers, that is to say Sir Agravain, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gareth and Sir Mordred. Also there were Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Blamore de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Lionel, Sir Palomides, Safere his brother, Sir La Cote Male Taile, Sir Persant, Sir Ironside, Sir Brandiles, Sir Kay the Seneschal, Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Patrise, a knight of Ireland, Aliduk, Sir Astamore, and Sir Pinel le Savage, who was cousin to Sir Lamorak de Galis, the good knight whom Sir Gawain and his brothers killed by treachery. And so these twenty-four knights were to dine with the queen in a private place by themselves, and a great feast was made of all kinds of delicacies.
But Sir Gawain had a custom that he kept daily at dinner and at supper: he loved all kinds of fruit, and above all apples and pears. And so whoever dined or feasted Sir Gawain would usually provide good fruit for him, and so did the queen, to please Sir Gawain; she had all kinds of fruit provided for him, for Sir Gawain was an exceedingly hot-blooded knight by nature. And this Pinel hated Sir Gawain because of his kinsman Sir Lamorak de Galis; and so, out of pure envy and hate, Sir Pinel poisoned certain apples, to poison Sir Gawain. And so all went well until the end of the meal; and then by misfortune it happened that a good knight named Patrise, cousin to Sir Mador de la Porte, took a poisoned apple. And when he had eaten it he swelled up until he burst, and there Sir Patrise fell down suddenly dead among them.
Then every knight leapt up from the table, ashamed and raging with anger, nearly out of their wits. For they did not know what to say; seeing that Queen Guinevere had made the feast and dinner, they all had suspicion of her.
"My lady the queen," said Gawain, "believe me, madam, this dinner was made for me, for everyone who knows my habits knows that I love fruit, and now I see well that I came near to being killed. And so, madam, I fear you will be put to shame."
Then the queen stood still and was so badly dismayed that she did not know what to say.
"This shall not end like this," said Sir Mador de la Porte, "for here I have lost a very noble knight of my blood; and so for this shame and insult I will be avenged to the uttermost."
And there, openly, Sir Mador accused the queen of the death of his cousin Sir Patrise. Then they all stood still, so that no one would say a word against him, for they all had great suspicion of the queen, because she had had that dinner made. And the queen was so dismayed that she could do nothing else but weep so bitterly that she fell in a faint. At this noise and outcry King Arthur came to them, and when he learned of that trouble he was an exceedingly sorrowful man.
And all the while Sir Mador stood still before the king, and all the while he accused the queen of treason; for the custom at that time was that every kind of shameful killing was called treason.
"Fair lords," said King Arthur, "I am sorry for this trouble, but the case is such that I may not take part in this matter, for I must be a rightful judge; and I am sorry that I may not do battle for my wife, for as I judge it this deed never came from her. And so I suppose she shall not be wholly dishonoured, but that some good knight will put his body in danger for my queen rather than see her burned in a wrongful cause. And so, Sir Mador, do not be so hasty, for it may be that she will not be entirely without friends. And so ask for your day of battle, and she shall provide herself with some good knight who will answer you, or else it would be a great shame to me and to all my court."
"My gracious lord," said Sir Mador, "you must hold me excused, for though you are our king in that rank, you are only a knight as we are, and you are sworn to knighthood just as we are. And so I beg you not to be displeased, for there is not one of the twenty-four knights who were invited to this dinner who does not have great suspicion of the queen. What do you all say, my lords?" said Sir Mador.
Then they answered at once that they could not clear the queen; for she had made the dinner, and either it must have come from her or from her servants.
"Alas," said the queen, "I made this dinner with good intent, and never for any evil, so help me Almighty God in my right, for I never intended to do such evil deeds; and I appeal to God on that."
"My lord the king," said Sir Mador, "I ask you, as you are a righteous king, to give me a day on which I may have justice."
"Well," said the king, "I set the day fifteen days from today, when you are to be ready, armed, on horseback, in the meadow beside Westminster. And if it happens that there is any knight to meet you, then do your best, and God defend the right. And if it happens that there is no knight on that day, then my queen must be burned, and she shall be there, ready to receive her judgement."
"I am answered," said Sir Mador.
And every knight went where he pleased.
So when the king and the queen were together the king asked the queen how this had come about.
The queen answered, "So help me God, I do not know how, or in what way."
"Where is Sir Lancelot?" said King Arthur. "If he were here he would not hesitate to do battle for you."
"Sir," said the queen, "I do not know where he is, but his brother and his kinsmen think that he is not in this realm."
"I am sorry for that," said King Arthur, "for if he were here he would soon stop this strife. Then I will advise you," said the king, "to go to Sir Bors and ask him to do battle for you for Sir Lancelot's sake, and on my life he will not refuse you. For I see well," said the king, "that none of these twenty-four knights who were with you at your dinner, where Sir Patrise was killed, will do battle for you, and not one of them will speak well of you, and that will be a great scandal for you in this court."
"Alas," said the queen, "I cannot help it, but now I miss Sir Lancelot, for if he were here he would soon set my heart at ease."
"What is the matter with you," said the king, "that you cannot keep Sir Lancelot on your side? For believe me," said the king, "whoever has Sir Lancelot on his side has the man of greatest honour in the world on his side. Now go your way," said the king to the queen, "and ask Sir Bors to do battle for you for Sir Lancelot's sake."
So the queen left the king, and sent for Sir Bors to come to her chamber. And when he had come she begged him for help.
"Madam," he said, "what would you have me do? For I may not, with my honour, take part in this matter, because I was at the same dinner, for fear that any of those knights would suspect me. Also, madam," said Sir Bors, "now you miss Sir Lancelot, for he would not have failed you either in right or in wrong, as you have well proved when you have been in danger; and now you have driven him out of this country, the man by whom you and all of us were daily honoured. And so, madam, I marvel how you dare for shame ask me to do anything for you, seeing that you have chased him out of your country, the man by whom we were upheld and honoured."
"Alas, fair knight," said the queen, "I put myself wholly in your grace, and all that has been done amiss I will put right as you advise me."
And with that she knelt down on both her knees, and begged Sir Bors to have mercy on her: "Or else I shall have a shameful death, and I never did anything to deserve it."
Just then King Arthur came, and found the queen kneeling before Sir Bors. Then Sir Bors pulled her up, and said, "Madam, you do me great dishonour."
"Ah, noble knight," said the king, "have mercy on my queen, courteous knight, for I am now certain that she is falsely accused. And so, courteous knight," said the king, "promise her to do battle for her, I beg you, for the love of Sir Lancelot."
"My lord," said Sir Bors, "you ask of me the greatest thing that any man could ask of me; and believe me, if I agree to do battle for the queen I shall anger many of my fellowship of the Round Table. But as for that," said Bors, "I will grant it, my lord: for my lord Sir Lancelot's sake, and for your sake, I will be the queen's champion on that day, unless by chance a better knight than I am comes to do battle for her."
"Will you promise me this," said the king, "on your faith?"
"Yes, sir," said Sir Bors, "in that I will not fail you, nor her either, unless a better knight than I am comes, and then he shall have the battle."
Then the king and the queen were exceedingly glad, and so they left, and thanked him heartily.
So then Sir Bors set off secretly one day, and rode to Sir Lancelot where he was with the hermit Sir Brasias, and told him all that had happened.
"Ah, Jesus," said Sir Lancelot, "this has turned out happily, just as I would have it. And so I beg you, make yourself ready to do battle, but see that you wait until you see me come, as long as you can. For I am sure Mador is a hot-tempered knight when he is inflamed, for the longer you hold him off the hastier he will be for the battle."
"Sir," said Bors, "leave him to me. Don't doubt it, you shall have all your will."
Then Sir Bors left him and came back to the court. Then it was rumoured all over the court that Sir Bors was to do battle for the queen; and because of that many knights were displeased with him, that he would take it on himself to do battle in the queen's cause; for there were only a few knights in all the court who did not think the queen was in the wrong, and that she had committed that treason.
So Sir Bors answered his fellows of the Round Table like this: "Believe me, my fair lords, it would be a shame to us all if we stood by and saw the most noble queen in the world shamed openly, considering that her lord and our lord is the man of greatest honour in the world, and the most Christian, and he has always honoured us all in all places."
Many answered him back: "As for our most noble King Arthur, we love him and honour him as well as you do, but as for Queen Guinevere, we do not love her, because she is a destroyer of good knights."
"Fair lords," said Sir Bors, "it seems to me you do not speak as you should. For never yet in all my days have I known, or heard it said, that she was ever a destroyer of any good knight. But at all times, as far as ever I could tell, she was an upholder of good knights; and she has always been generous and open-handed with her goods to all good knights, and the most bountiful lady with her gifts and her good grace that I ever saw or heard tell of. And so it would be a shame," said Sir Bors, "to all of us, toward our most noble king's wife, if we allowed her to be shamefully put to death. And believe me," said Sir Bors, "I will not allow it, for I dare say this much: the queen is not guilty of Sir Patrise's death, for she never bore him any ill will, nor any of the twenty-four knights who were at that dinner. For I dare say she invited us to dinner out of good love, and not out of any evil design, and I have no doubt that will be proved hereafter; for however the game goes, there was treason among us."
Then some said to Sir Bors, "We can well believe what you say."
And so some of them were well pleased, and some were not.
The day came on fast, until it was the evening before the battle was to be. Then the queen sent for Sir Bors and asked him what he intended.
"Truly, madam," he said, "I intend just what I promised you, that is to say, I shall not fail you, unless by chance a better knight than I am comes to do battle for you; then, madam, I am released from my promise."
"Do you wish," said the queen, "that I tell my lord Arthur this?"
"Do as you please, madam."
Then the queen went to the king and told him Sir Bors's answer.
"Have no doubt about Sir Bors," said the king, "for I call him now one of the best knights in the world, and the most dependable man."
And so things went on until the morning, and the king and the queen and all the knights who were there at that time made their way to the meadow beside Westminster where the battle was to be. And so when the king had come with the queen and many knights of the Round Table, then the queen was put there in the Constable's custody, and a great fire was made around an iron stake, so that if Sir Mador de la Porte had the better of it, she would be burned. Such was the custom in those days: that neither for favour, nor for love, nor for kinship, should there be anything but righteous judgement, as much upon a king as upon a knight, and as much upon a queen as upon any other poor lady.
So in the meantime Sir Mador de la Porte came in, and swore his oath before the king that the queen had done this treason to his cousin Sir Patrise, and that he would prove his oath with his body, hand to hand, against anyone who said the contrary.
Just then Sir Bors de Ganis came in, and said that as for Queen Guinevere, she was in the right, "and I will make it good with my hands that she is not guilty of this treason that is laid on her."
"Then get ready," said Sir Mador, "and we shall prove whether you are in the right or I am."
"Sir Mador," said Sir Bors, "believe me, I know you for a good knight. Nevertheless I shall not fear you so greatly, but I trust to God I shall be able to withstand your malice. But this much I have promised my lord Arthur and my lady the queen: that I shall do battle for her in this cause to the uttermost, unless a better knight than I am comes and releases me."
"Is that all?" said Sir Mador. "Either come out and do battle with me, or else say no."
"Take your horse," said Sir Bors, "and, as I suppose, you shall not wait long before you are answered."
Then each of them went to his tent and made ready for horseback as he thought best. And at once Sir Mador came into the field with his shield on his shoulder and his spear in his hand; and so he rode around the place, calling out to Arthur, "Tell your champion to come out, if he dares."
Then Sir Bors was ashamed, and took his horse and came to the end of the lists. And then he saw, coming from a wood close by, a knight all armed, on a white horse, with a strange shield bearing strange arms. And he came riding as fast as his horse could run, and so he came to Sir Bors, and said this: "Fair knight, I beg you not to be displeased, for here a better knight than you must have this battle; and so I beg you to withdraw. For believe me, I have made a very long journey today, and this battle ought to be mine, and so I promised you when I last spoke with you; and with all my heart I thank you for your good will."
Then Sir Bors rode to King Arthur and told him how a knight had come who wanted to have the battle, to fight for the queen.
"What knight is he?" said the king.
"I do not know," said Sir Bors, "but he made an agreement with me to be here this day. Now, my lord," said Sir Bors, "here I am released."
Then the king called to that knight, and asked him if he would fight for the queen.
Then he answered the king, "That is why I came here. And so, sir king," he said, "do not delay me any longer, for I may not stay. For as soon as I have finished this battle I must leave here, for I have many matters to deal with elsewhere. For believe me," said that knight, "it is a dishonour to all you knights of the Round Table, to see and know so noble a lady and so courteous a queen as Queen Guinevere is, rebuked and shamed like this among you."
Then they all marvelled what knight that might be who took the battle on himself like that. For there was not one who knew him, unless it was Sir Bors.
Then Sir Mador de la Porte said to the king, "Now let me know who it is I am to fight with."
And then they rode to the ends of the lists, and there they levelled their spears, and ran together with all their might. And Sir Mador's spear broke all to pieces, but the other's spear held, and bore Sir Mador's horse and all over backward to the earth, a great fall. But strongly and swiftly he got clear of his horse and put his shield before him, and then drew his sword, and told the other knight to dismount and do battle with him on foot. Then that knight got down from his horse nimbly, like a valiant man, and put his shield before him and drew his sword. And so they came eagerly to battle, and each gave the other many great strokes, circling and sidestepping, slashing and thrusting, and crashing together with their swords as if they were wild boars. So they fought for nearly an hour, for this Sir Mador was a strong knight, and well proved in many hard battles. But at last this knight struck Sir Mador face down upon the earth, and the knight stepped close to him to have pulled Sir Mador flat on the ground; and with that Sir Mador suddenly got up, and as he rose he struck that knight through the thick of the thighs, so that the blood ran out fiercely. And when the knight felt himself so wounded, and saw his blood, he let him get up on his feet. And then he gave him such a blow on the helm that he fell flat to the earth, and with that he strode to him to pull his helm off his head. And then Sir Mador begged that knight to spare his life, and so he yielded himself as beaten, and released the queen from his accusation.
"I will not grant you your life," said that knight, "except on condition that you freely release the queen for ever, and that no mention be made upon Sir Patrise's tomb that Queen Guinevere ever consented to that treason."
"All this shall be done," said Sir Mador. "I give up my accusation entirely, for ever."
Then the knights who were the marshals of the lists took up Sir Mador and led him to his tent, and the other knight went straight to the foot of the stairs where King Arthur sat. And by that time the queen had come to the king, and they kissed each other heartily. And when the king saw that knight, he stooped down to him and thanked him, and so did the queen; and the king begged him to take off his helmet, and to rest, and to take some bread soaked in wine. And then he took off his helm to drink, and then every knight knew that it was Sir Lancelot du Lake. As soon as the king knew that, he took the queen by the hand, and went to Sir Lancelot, and said, "Sir, many thanks for the great labour you have had this day for me and for my queen."
"My lord," said Sir Lancelot, "believe me, by right I ought always to do battle in your cause, and in my lady the queen's cause. For you are the man who gave me the high order of knighthood, and that day my lady your queen did me great honour, or else I would have been shamed. For that same day that you made me a knight, through my haste I lost my sword, and my lady your queen found it, and wrapped it in her train, and gave me my sword when I needed it; or else I would have been shamed among all knights. And so, my lord Arthur, I promised her that day to be her knight for ever, in right or in wrong."
"Many thanks," said the king, "for this day's work. And believe me," said the king, "I shall repay your goodness."
And all the while the queen gazed at Sir Lancelot, and wept so tenderly that she almost sank to the ground, for sorrow that he had done her such great goodness when she had shown him great unkindness. Then the knights of his kin gathered around him, and there they all rejoiced greatly over one another. And so all the knights of the Round Table who were there at that time came and welcomed him. And then Sir Mador was taken to be cared for by the doctors, and Sir Lancelot was healed of his wound. And then there was great joy and merriment in that court.
And so it happened that the Damsel of the Lake, whose name was Nimue, who had married the good knight Sir Pelleas, came to the court; for she always did great good to King Arthur and to all his knights through her sorcery and enchantments. And so when she heard how the queen was in trouble over the death of Sir Patrise, then she said openly that the queen was never guilty; and there she revealed by whom it was done, and named him, Sir Pinel; and why he did it was openly revealed there too. And so the queen was cleared, and the knight Pinel fled into his own country. Then it was openly known that Sir Pinel had poisoned the apples at the feast with the intention of killing Sir Gawain, because Sir Gawain and his brothers had killed Sir Lamorak de Galis, to whom Sir Pinel was cousin. Then Sir Patrise was buried in a tomb in the church of Westminster, and on it was written: "Here lies Sir Patrise of Ireland, killed by Sir Pinel le Savage, who poisoned apples to kill Sir Gawain; and by misfortune Sir Patrise ate one of those apples, and then suddenly he burst." Also it was written upon the tomb that Queen Guinevere was accused of treason over the death of Sir Patrise by Sir Mador de la Porte; and an account was given there of how Sir Lancelot fought with him for Queen Guinevere, and overcame him in open battle. All this was written upon the tomb of Sir Patrise to clear the queen. And then Sir Mador sued daily and for a long time to have the queen's good grace; and so, through Sir Lancelot, he was brought back into the queen's good grace, and all was forgiven.
So things went on until the feast of Our Lady's Assumption. Within fifteen days of that feast the king had a great jousting and a tournament proclaimed, to be held on that day at Camelot, that is, Winchester; and the king had it proclaimed that he and the King of Scots would joust against all who would come against them. And when this proclamation was made, many knights came there. So there came the King of North Wales, and King Anguish of Ireland, and the King with the Hundred Knights, and Galahalt, the high prince, and the King of Northumberland, and many other noble dukes and earls of various countries. So King Arthur made ready to leave for these jousts, and would have had the queen with him, but at that time she would not go, she said, for she was sick and could not ride at that time.
"I am sorry for that," said the king, "for in these seven years you have not seen such a noble company together, except at Whitsun when Galahad left the court."
"Truly," said the queen to the king, "you must hold me excused. I cannot be there, and I am sorry for it."
And many thought the queen would not be there because of Sir Lancelot du Lake; for Sir Lancelot would not ride with the king, for he said that he was not healed of the wound that Sir Mador had given him. Because of that the king was downcast and exceedingly angry. And so he set off toward Winchester with his company; and so on the way the king lodged in a town called Astolat, which in English is now called Guildford, and there the king stayed in the castle.
So when the king had gone, the queen called Sir Lancelot to her, and said this: "Sir Lancelot, you are greatly to blame for staying behind my lord like this. What do you suppose your enemies and mine will say and think? Nothing else but, 'See how Sir Lancelot always stays behind the king, and so does the queen, so that they can have their pleasure together.' And that is what they will say," said the queen to Sir Lancelot, "have no doubt of it."
"Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "I praise your good sense; it has come to you only lately that you are so wise. And therefore, madam, this time I will be ruled by your advice, and tonight I will take my rest, and tomorrow early I will take my way toward Winchester. But you may be sure," said Sir Lancelot to the queen, "that at those jousts I will be against the king, and against all his fellowship."
"You may do there as you please," said the queen, "but by my advice you will not be against your king and your fellowship. For among them are very many hardy knights of your own blood, as you know well enough; there is no need to name them over."
"Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "I beg you not to be displeased with me, for I will take whatever chance God sends me."
And so early the next morning Sir Lancelot heard mass and broke his fast, and so took his leave of the queen and departed. And then he rode on and on until he came to Astolat, that is Guildford; and there it happened that in the evening he came to the house of an old baron who was called Sir Bernard of Astolat. And as Sir Lancelot went into his lodging, King Arthur saw him as he was walking in a garden beside the castle, saw how he took his lodging, and knew him very well.
"Well, now," said King Arthur to the knights who were with him in that garden beside the castle, "I have just seen a knight who will play his part at the jousts we are going to. I promise you he will do marvels."
"Who is that? Tell us, we beg you," said many knights who were there at that time.
"You won't learn it from me," said the king, "not at this time."
And so the king smiled, and went to his lodging.
So when Sir Lancelot was in his lodging, and had taken off his armour in his chamber, the old baron came to him, bowing respectfully, and welcomed him in the best manner; but the old knight did not know Sir Lancelot.
"Fair sir," said Sir Lancelot to his host, "I would ask you to lend me a shield that is not commonly known, for mine is well known."
"Sir," said his host, "you shall have your wish, for it seems to me you are one of the likeliest knights in the world, and therefore I will show you friendship. Sir, you may be sure I have two sons who were made knights only lately, and the elder is called Sir Tirre, and he was hurt the very day he was made a knight, so that he cannot ride; and you shall have his shield, for that is not known, I dare say, anywhere but here. And my younger son is called Lavaine, and if it pleases you, he shall ride with you to those jousts; and he is strong and vigorous for his age. For my heart tells me strongly that you must be a noble knight, and therefore I beg you, tell me your name," said Sir Bernard.
"As for that," said Sir Lancelot, "you must hold me excused for now; and if God gives me grace to do well at the jousts, I will come back and tell you. But I beg you," said Sir Lancelot, "by all means let me have your son, Sir Lavaine, with me, and let me have his brother's shield."
"All this shall be done," said Sir Bernard.
This old baron had a daughter who in those days was called the Fair Maiden of Astolat. And all the while she gazed at Sir Lancelot in wonder; and as the book says, she set such a love upon Sir Lancelot that she could never take her love back, and of it she died; and her name was Elaine le Blank. So as she came and went she was so hot in her love that she begged Sir Lancelot to wear a token of hers at the jousts.
"Fair damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "if I grant you that, you may say I do more for love of you than I ever did for lady or damsel."
Then he remembered that he meant to go to the jousts in disguise. And because he had never before that time worn any kind of token of any damsel, he thought that he would wear one of hers, so that none of his own blood would know him by it; and then he said, "Fair maiden, I will grant you that, to wear a token of yours on my helmet; and so whatever it is, show it to me."
"Sir," she said, "it is a red sleeve of mine, of scarlet, finely embroidered with great pearls." And so she brought it to him.
So Sir Lancelot took it, and said, "Never before did I do so much for any damsel."
And then Sir Lancelot gave his shield into the fair maiden's keeping, and asked her to keep it until he came back; and so that night he had a merry rest and a warm welcome, for the damsel Elaine was always about Sir Lancelot for as long as she was allowed to be.
So one day, in the morning, King Arthur and all his knights departed, for their king had waited there three days for his noble knights. And so when the king had ridden off, Sir Lancelot and Sir Lavaine made themselves ready to ride, and each of them had a white shield, and Sir Lancelot had the red sleeve carried with him. And so they took their leave of Sir Bernard, the old baron, and of his daughter, the Fair Maiden of Astolat. And then they rode on until they came to Camelot, which at that time was called Winchester; and there was a great crowd of kings, dukes, earls and barons, and many noble knights. But there Sir Lancelot was lodged in secret, through Sir Lavaine's arranging, with a rich townsman, so that no one in that town knew who they were. And so they rested there until Our Lady's Day of the Assumption, when the great feast was to be held. So then the trumpets blew to call them to the field, and King Arthur was seated high up on a stand to watch who did best. But as the French book says, the king would not allow Sir Gawain to leave his side, for Sir Gawain never got the better of things if Sir Lancelot was in the field; and many times Sir Gawain had been put to shame when Lancelot came into any jousts in disguise.
Then some of the kings, such as King Anguish of Ireland and the King of Scots, had at that time come over to King Arthur's side. And then on the other side were the King of North Wales, and the King with the Hundred Knights, and the King of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt, the high prince. But these three kings and this duke were far too weak to hold out against King Arthur's side, for with him were the noblest knights in the world. So then each side drew back from the other, and every man made himself ready in his best manner to do what he could.
Then Sir Lancelot made himself ready, and put the red sleeve on his head, and fastened it tight; and so Sir Lancelot and Sir Lavaine left Winchester in secret, and rode to a little leafy wood behind the side that held against King Arthur's side, and there they kept still until the two sides crashed together. And then the King of Scots and the King of Ireland came in on Arthur's side, and against them came the King of Northumberland; and the King with the Hundred Knights struck down the King of Northumberland, and the King with the Hundred Knights struck down King Anguish of Ireland. Then Sir Palomides, who was on Arthur's side, met Sir Galahalt, and each of them struck the other down, and each side helped its lords back on horseback. So a hard attack began on both sides. And then in came Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramore le Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Kay the Seneschal, Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Sir Mordred, Sir Meliot de Logres, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Safere, Sir Epinogris and Sir Galleron of Galway. All these fifteen knights were knights of the Round Table. So these, with others besides, came in together, and beat back the King of Northumberland and the King of North Wales. When Sir Lancelot saw this, as he waited in the little leafy wood, he said to Sir Lavaine, "Look over there, at that company of good knights; they hold together like boars that are worried by dogs."
"That is true," said Sir Lavaine.
"Now," said Sir Lancelot, "if you will help me a little, you shall see that company over there, which is now chasing these men on our side, go back as fast as they came forward."
"Sir, don't hold back," said Sir Lavaine, "for I will do what I can."
Then Sir Lancelot and Sir Lavaine came in at the thickest of the fighting, and there Sir Lancelot struck down Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramore, Sir Dodinas, Sir Kay and Sir Griflet, and all this he did with one spear; and Sir Lavaine struck down Sir Lucan the butler and Sir Bedivere. And then Sir Lancelot got another spear, and there he struck down Sir Agravain, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred, and Sir Meliot de Logres; and Sir Lavaine struck down Ozanna le Cure Hardy. And then Sir Lancelot drew his sword, and there he struck on the right hand and on the left, and by great force he unhorsed Sir Safere, Sir Epinogris and Sir Galleron; and then the knights of the Round Table drew back, after they had got their horses again as best they could.
"Oh, Jesus have mercy," said Sir Gawain, "what knight is that over there, who does such marvellous deeds of arms in that field?"
"I know well who he is," said King Arthur, "but at this time I will not name him."
"Sir," said Sir Gawain, "I would say it was Sir Lancelot, by his riding and by the blows I see him deal, but still it seems to me it cannot be he, because he wears the red sleeve on his head; for I never knew him wear a token at any jousts, of lady or gentlewoman."
"Let him be," said King Arthur. "He will be better known, and do more, before he leaves."
Then the side that was against King Arthur took heart, and then those who before had been badly beaten held together. Then Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Lionel called to them the knights of their blood, such as Sir Blamore de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Aliduke, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin and Sir Bellangere le Beuse. So these nine knights of Sir Lancelot's kin thrust in mightily, for they were all noble knights; and out of the great hatred and resentment they had toward him, they meant to put that noble knight Sir Lancelot to shame, and Sir Lavaine too, for they did not know them; and so they came crashing in together, and struck down many knights of North Wales and of Northumberland. And when Sir Lancelot saw them doing so, he got a spear in his hand; and there Sir Bors, Sir Ector and Sir Lionel all met him at once, and all three of them struck him at once with their spears. And with the force of themselves they struck Sir Lancelot's horse to the ground; and by misfortune Sir Bors struck Sir Lancelot through the shield into the side, and the spear broke, and the head was left in his side.
When Sir Lavaine saw his master lying on the ground, he ran at the King of Scots and struck him to the ground; and by great force he took his horse, and brought it to Sir Lancelot, and in spite of them all he got him to mount that horse. And then Lancelot got a spear in his hand, and there he struck Sir Bors, horse and man, to the ground. In the same way he served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel; and Sir Lavaine struck down Sir Blamore de Ganis. And then Sir Lancelot drew his sword, for he felt himself so badly hurt that he expected to have his death there. And then he gave Sir Bleoberis such a blow on the helmet that he fell down to the ground in a faint. And in the same way he served Sir Aliduke and Sir Galihud. And Sir Lavaine struck down Sir Bellangere, who was the son of Alisander le Orphelin.
And by this time Sir Bors was on horseback again, and then he came with Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, and all three of them struck with their swords on Sir Lancelot's helmet. And when he felt their blows, and his wound, which was so grievous, then he resolved to do what he could while he could last. And then he gave Sir Bors such a blow that he made him bow his head exceedingly low; and with that he tore off his helmet, and might have killed him; and so he pulled him down, and in the same way he served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel. For as the book says, he might have killed them, but when he saw their faces his heart would not let him do it, and he left them there. And then afterwards he crashed into the thickest of the crowd of them all, and did there the most marvellous deeds of arms that any man ever saw or heard tell of, and Sir Lavaine, the good knight, was with him all the while. And there Sir Lancelot with his sword struck down and pulled down, as the French book tells, more than thirty knights, and most of them were of the Round Table; and Sir Lavaine did very well that day, for he struck down ten knights of the Round Table.
"Jesus have mercy," said Sir Gawain to Arthur, "I wonder what knight he is, the one with the red sleeve."
"Sir," said King Arthur, "he will be known before he leaves."
And then the king had the horns blown to send them to their lodgings, and the heralds gave the prize to the knight with the white shield who wore the red sleeve. Then the King with the Hundred Knights, the King of North Wales, the King of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt, the high prince, came and said to Sir Lancelot, "Fair knight, God bless you, for you have done much for us this day; and so we beg you to come with us, so that you may receive the honour and the prize, as you have honourably deserved."
"My fair lords," said Sir Lancelot, "believe me, if I have earned thanks I have paid dearly for them, and I regret it, for I am not likely ever to escape with my life. And so, fair lords, I beg you to allow me to go where I please, for I am badly hurt. I care nothing for any honour, for I would rather rest than be lord of all the world."
And with that he groaned pitifully, and rode off from them at a great gallop until he came under the edge of a wood.
And when he saw that he was nearly a mile from the field, so that he was sure he could not be seen, then he said in a loud voice, "Oh, noble knight, Sir Lavaine, help me get this broken spear shaft out of my side, for it sticks in so hard that it is nearly killing me."
"Oh, my own lord," said Sir Lavaine, "I would gladly do whatever would please you, but I am badly afraid that if I pull out the broken shaft you will be in danger of death."
"I charge you," said Sir Lancelot, "as you love me, draw it out."
And with that he got down from his horse, and so did Sir Lavaine; and at once Sir Lavaine drew the broken shaft out of his side, and he gave a great shriek and a terrible, ghastly groan, and the blood burst out, nearly a pint at once, so that at last he sank down on his buttocks, and so fainted, pale as death.
"Alas," said Sir Lavaine, "what shall I do?"
And then he turned Sir Lancelot into the wind; but even so he lay there nearly half an hour as if he were dead.
And so at last Sir Lancelot opened his eyes, and said, "Oh, Lavaine, help me get on my horse, for close by here, within two miles, there is a good hermit who was once a very noble knight and a great lord of estates. And out of great goodness he has taken himself to voluntary poverty, and given up many lands; and his name is Sir Baudwin of Brittany, and he is a very fine surgeon and a good doctor. Now let us see; help me up so that I can get there, for my heart always tells me that I shall never die at my first cousin's hands."
And then with great pain Sir Lavaine helped him onto his horse. And then they rode together at a great gallop, and all the while Sir Lancelot bled so that it ran down to the ground; and so by good fortune they came to that hermitage, which stood under a wood, with a great cliff on the other side, and a fair stream running below it. And then Sir Lavaine beat on the gate with the butt of his spear, and cried out hard, "Let us in, for Jesus' sake!"
And a handsome boy came to them, and asked them what they wanted.
"Fair son," said Sir Lavaine, "go and beg your lord, the hermit, for God's sake to let in a knight here who is very badly wounded; and tell your lord that this day I saw him do more deeds of arms than I ever heard tell that any man did."
So the boy went in quickly, and then he brought the hermit, who was an exceedingly good man. When Sir Lavaine saw him he begged him for God's sake for help.
"What knight is he?" said the hermit. "Is he of King Arthur's household, or not?"
"I don't know," said Sir Lavaine, "who he is, or what his name is, but I know well that I saw him do marvellously this day in deeds of arms."
"On whose side was he?" said the hermit.
"Sir," said Sir Lavaine, "he was against King Arthur this day, and there he won the prize over all the knights of the Round Table."
"I have seen the day," said the hermit, "when I would have loved him the less for being against my lord, King Arthur, for once I was one of the fellowship of the Round Table; but I thank God that now I am of another mind. But where is he? Let me see him."
Then Sir Lavaine brought the hermit to him.
And when the hermit looked at him, as he sat leaning on his saddlebow, bleeding pitifully all the while, the knight-hermit kept thinking that he ought to know him, but he could not place him, because he was so pale from bleeding.
"What knight are you," said the hermit, "and where were you born?"
"My fair lord," said Sir Lancelot, "I am a stranger and a knight-errant, who travels through many realms to win honour."
Then the hermit looked at him more carefully, and saw by a wound on his cheek that he was Sir Lancelot.
"Alas," said the hermit, "my own lord, why do you hide your name from me? Truly, I ought by rights to know you, for you are the noblest knight in the world, for I know you well for Sir Lancelot."
"Sir," he said, "since you know me, help me if you can, for God's sake, for I would be out of this pain at once, one way or the other, to death or to life."
"Have no fear," said the hermit, "you shall live and do very well."
And so the hermit called two of his servants to him, and so he and his servants carried him into the hermitage, and quickly took off his armour, and laid him in his bed. And then at once the hermit stopped his bleeding, and made him drink good wine, so that Sir Lancelot was well refreshed and came to himself. For in those days it was not the custom of hermits as it is nowadays, for there were no hermits in those days who had not been men of honour and of prowess; and those hermits kept great households, and gave relief to people who were in distress.
Now we turn to King Arthur, and leave Sir Lancelot in the hermitage. So when the kings of both sides had come together, and the great feast was to be held, King Arthur asked the King of North Wales and his fellowship where that knight was who had worn the red sleeve. "Bring him before me, so that he may have his praise, and honour, and the prize, as is right."
Then Sir Galahalt, the high prince, and the King with the Hundred Knights spoke: "We think that knight has come to harm, and that he is never likely to see you or any of us again, and that is the greatest pity we ever knew of any knight."
"Alas," said Arthur, "how can this be? Is he so badly hurt? What is his name?" said King Arthur.
"Truly," they all said, "we do not know his name, or where he came from, or where he was going."
"Alas," said the king, "this is the worst news that has come to me in these seven years, for I would not for all the lands I rule have it known to me that that noble knight was dead."
"Do you know him?" they all said.
"As for that," said Arthur, "whether I know him or not, you shall not learn from me what man he is; but may Almighty Jesus send me good news of him."
And so said they all.
"By my head," said Sir Gawain, "if the good knight is so badly hurt, it is a great loss and a pity to all this land, for he is one of the noblest knights I ever saw handle a spear or a sword in the field; and if he can be found, I will find him, for I am sure he is not far from this town."
"You will have done well," said King Arthur, "if you can find him, unless he is in such a state that he cannot help himself."
"Jesus forbid," said Sir Gawain, "but I will know who he is, if I can find him."
At once Sir Gawain took a squire with him, on small riding horses, and rode all around Camelot for six or seven miles; but he came back again and could hear no word of him. Then within two days King Arthur and all the fellowship returned to London again. And so as they rode along the way it happened that Sir Gawain lodged at Astolat with Sir Bernard, where Sir Lancelot had lodged. And so as Sir Gawain was in his chamber resting, Sir Bernard, the old baron, came to him, and his daughter Elaine, to entertain him and to ask him what news there was, and who did best at that tournament of Winchester.
"So help me God," said Sir Gawain, "there were two knights who carried two white shields, but one of them wore a red sleeve on his head, and certainly he was one of the best knights I ever saw joust in the field. For I dare say," said Sir Gawain, "that that one knight with the red sleeve struck down forty knights of the Round Table, and his companion did very well and honourably."
"Now blessed be God," said the Fair Maiden of Astolat, "that that knight did so well, for he is the first man in the world I ever loved, and truly he will be the last that I ever love."
"Now, fair maid," said Sir Gawain, "is that good knight your love?"
"Certainly, sir," she said, "you may be sure he is my love."
"Then do you know his name?" said Sir Gawain.
"No, truly," said the damsel, "I don't know his name, or where he comes from; but as for saying that I love him, I promise you, and God, that I love him."
"How did you first come to know him?" said Sir Gawain.
Then she told him all that you have heard before, and how her father gave him her brother to serve him, and how her father lent him her brother Sir Tirre's shield. "And he left his own shield here with me."
"For what reason did he do that?" said Sir Gawain.
"For this reason," said the damsel: "his shield was too well known among many noble knights."
"Ah, fair damsel," said Sir Gawain, "if you please, let me have a sight of that shield."
"Sir," she said, "it is in my chamber, in a cover, and if you will come with me you shall see it."
"No," said Sir Bernard to his daughter, "have it sent for."
So when the shield had come, Sir Gawain took off the cover, and when he looked at that shield he knew at once that it was Sir Lancelot's shield, and his own coat of arms.
"Ah, Jesus have mercy," said Sir Gawain, "now my heart is heavier than it ever was before."
"Why?" said Elaine.
"Because I have good cause," said Sir Gawain. "Is the knight who owns this shield your love?"
"Yes, truly," she said, "he is my love. I wish to God I were his."
"So God help me," said Sir Gawain, "fair damsel, you have chosen well, for if he is your love, you love the most honourable knight in the world, and the man of most renown."
"So I always thought," said the damsel, "for never before that time did I love any knight, of all the knights I ever saw."
"God grant," said Sir Gawain, "that each of you may have joy of the other, but that is a great hazard. But truly," said Sir Gawain to the damsel, "you may count yourself very fortunate, for I have known that noble knight these twenty-four years, and never before that day did I, or any other knight, I will swear to it, see or hear tell that he ever wore a token or sign of any lady, gentlewoman or maiden, at any jousts or tournament. And therefore, fair maiden," said Sir Gawain, "you are much obliged to him and owe him thanks. But I fear," said Sir Gawain, "that you will never see him in this world, and that is the greatest pity there ever was for any earthly knight."
"Alas," she said, "how can this be? Is he dead?"
"I don't say so," said Sir Gawain, "but you may be sure he is grievously wounded, by every kind of sign, and by the look of things more likely to be dead than alive; and you may be sure he is the noble knight Sir Lancelot, for I know him by this shield."
"Alas," said the Fair Maiden of Astolat, "how can this be, and what was his wound?"
"Truly," said Sir Gawain, "the man in the world who loved him best wounded him so; and I dare say," said Sir Gawain, "that if the knight who wounded him knew for certain that he had wounded Sir Lancelot, it would be the greatest sorrow that ever came to his heart."
"Now, dear father," said Elaine then, "I beg you to give me leave to ride and look for him, or else I know well I shall go out of my mind; for I will never stop until I find him and my brother, Sir Lavaine."
"Do as you please," said her father, "for I am deeply sorry for the hurt of that noble knight."
At once the maiden made herself ready, grieving greatly in front of Sir Gawain.
Then in the morning Sir Gawain came to King Arthur, and told him how he had found Sir Lancelot's shield in the keeping of the Fair Maiden of Astolat.
"I knew all that beforehand," said King Arthur, "and that was why I would not let you fight in the great jousts; for I saw him," said King Arthur, "when he came to his lodging in Astolat very late in the evening. But I do marvel," said Arthur, "that he would ever wear the token of any damsel, for before now I never heard or knew that he ever wore a token of any earthly woman."
"By my head," said Sir Gawain, "the Fair Maiden of Astolat loves him marvellously well; what it means I cannot say; and she has ridden after him to look for him."
So the king and all of them came to London, and there Sir Gawain told the whole court openly that it was Sir Lancelot who had jousted best.
And when Sir Bors heard that, you may be sure he was a downcast man, and so were all his kinsmen. But when Queen Guinevere learned that Sir Lancelot had worn the red sleeve of the Fair Maiden of Astolat, she was nearly out of her mind with anger. And then she sent for Sir Bors de Ganis in all the haste there could be. So when Sir Bors had come before the queen, she said, "Ah, Sir Bors, have you heard how falsely Sir Lancelot has betrayed me?"
"Alas, madam," said Sir Bors, "I am afraid he has betrayed himself, and all of us."
"No matter," said the queen, "even if he is destroyed, for he is a false traitor of a knight."
"Madam," said Sir Bors, "I beg you, do not say so, for believe me, I cannot hear such language about him."
"Why, Sir Bors," she said, "should I not call him a traitor, when he wore the red sleeve on his head at Winchester, at the great jousts?"
"Madam," said Sir Bors, "I bitterly regret that sleeve-wearing, but I dare say he did it with no evil intent; he wore the red sleeve for this reason, so that none of his blood would know him. For before then, neither we nor any of us ever knew him to wear a token or sign of maiden, lady or gentlewoman."
"Shame on him," said the queen. "Yet for all his pride and boastfulness, there you proved yourself his better."
"No, madam, never say so again, for he beat me and my fellows, and could have killed us if he had wanted to."
"Shame on him," said the queen, "for I heard Sir Gawain say in front of my lord Arthur that it would be a marvel to tell of the great love there is between the Fair Maiden of Astolat and him."
"Madam," said Sir Bors, "I cannot stop Sir Gawain from saying what he pleases; but I dare say, as for my lord Sir Lancelot, that he loves no lady, gentlewoman or maiden, but loves them all alike. And therefore, madam," said Sir Bors, "you may say what you will, but believe me, I will hurry to look for him, and find him wherever he is, and God send me good news of him."
And so we leave them there, and speak of Sir Lancelot, who lay in great danger.
So when fair Elaine came to Winchester she searched all about there, and by good fortune Sir Lavaine had ridden out for exercise, to warm up his horse. And as soon as Elaine saw him she knew him, and then she called out loudly to him. And when he heard her he came to her at once, and then she asked her brother how my lord Sir Lancelot was.
"Who told you, sister, that my lord's name was Sir Lancelot?"
Then she told him how Sir Gawain had known him by his shield. So they rode together until they came to the hermitage, and at once she dismounted.
So Sir Lavaine brought her in to Sir Lancelot; and when she saw him lying so sick and pale in his bed she could not speak, but suddenly fell down to the ground in a faint, and there she lay a long while. And when she had recovered, she shrieked and said, "My lord Sir Lancelot, alas, why are you in this state?" And then she fainted again.
And then Sir Lancelot asked Sir Lavaine to lift her up: "And bring her to me."
And when she came to herself Sir Lancelot kissed her, and said, "Fair maiden, why do you carry on like this? You put me to pain; and so make no more such a show of grief, for if you have come to comfort me, you are very welcome; and from this little hurt that I have, I shall be well again very quickly, by the grace of God. But I wonder," said Sir Lancelot, "who told you my name?"
Then the fair maiden told him all about how Sir Gawain had lodged with her father. "And there he found out your name by your shield."
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "I regret that my name is known, for I am sure it will turn to anger."
And then Sir Lancelot turned it over in his mind that Sir Gawain would tell Queen Guinevere how he had worn the red sleeve, and for whom; and he knew well that would turn to great anger.
So this maiden Elaine never left Sir Lancelot, but watched over him day and night, and tended him so well that the French book says there was never a woman who did more kindly for a man than she. Then Sir Lancelot asked Sir Lavaine to set watchers in Winchester for Sir Bors, in case he came there, and told him the signs he would know him by: a wound in his forehead.
"For I am quite sure," said Sir Lancelot, "that Sir Bors will look for me, for he is the same good knight who wounded me."
Now we turn to Sir Bors de Ganis, who came to Winchester to look for his cousin Sir Lancelot. And so when he came to Winchester, there were men there whom Sir Lavaine had set to lie in wait for such a man, and at once Sir Lavaine had word of it; and then Sir Lavaine came to Winchester and found Sir Bors, and there he told him who he was, and whom he was with, and what that man's name was.
"Now, fair knight," said Sir Bors, "I beg you to bring me to my lord, Sir Lancelot."
"Sir," said Sir Lavaine, "take your horse, and within this hour you shall see him."
And so they set off, and came to the hermitage.
And when Sir Bors saw Sir Lancelot lying in his bed, pale and drained of colour, at once Sir Bors lost his composure, and out of the love of kin and out of pity he could not speak, but wept tenderly for a long while. And then, when he could speak, he said this: "Oh, my lord Sir Lancelot, God bless you, and send you a quick recovery. And very heavy-hearted I am at my misfortune and my ill luck, for now I may call myself ill-fated. And I fear that God is greatly displeased with me, that He would allow me such a shame as to wound you, who are the leader of us all, and all our honour; and therefore I call myself ill-fated. Alas that ever such a wretched knight as I am should have the power, by ill luck, to wound the noblest knight in the world! When I so shamefully set upon you and overpowered you, and when you might have killed me, you spared me; and I did not do the same, for I and your own blood did our uttermost against you. I marvel," said Sir Bors, "that my heart or my blood would let me do it. And so, my lord Sir Lancelot, I ask your forgiveness."
"Fair cousin," said Sir Lancelot, "you are very welcome; and believe me, you say too much in order to please me, and it does not please me, for I got just what I was asking for. For I meant in my pride to overcome you all, and there in my pride I was nearly killed, and that was through my own fault, for I might have given you warning that I was there. And then I would have had no hurt; for it is an old saying that there is hard battle where kin and friends fight against each other: there can be no mercy, only war to the death. Therefore, fair cousin," said Sir Lancelot, "let this talk pass, and all that God sends shall be welcome; and let us leave this matter and speak of something cheerful, for what is done cannot be undone; and let us find a remedy, so that I may be well as soon as possible."
Then Sir Bors leaned on his bedside, and told Sir Lancelot how the queen was exceedingly angry with him because he had worn the red sleeve at the great jousts; and there Sir Bors told him all about how Sir Gawain had found it out: "By your shield, which you left with the Fair Maiden of Astolat."
"Then the queen is angry," said Sir Lancelot, "and so I am very heavy-hearted, for I deserved no anger; all that I did was so that I would not be known."
"That is just how I excused you," said Sir Bors, "but it was all in vain, for she said a great deal more to me than I am telling you now. But is this she," said Sir Bors, "who is so busy about you, the one they call the Fair Maiden of Astolat?"
"That is she," said Sir Lancelot, "and I can find no way to put her from me."
"Why should you put her from you?" said Sir Bors. "She is an exceedingly beautiful damsel, and fine-looking, and well brought up; and I wish to God, fair cousin," said Sir Bors, "that you could love her; but as to that, I cannot and dare not advise you. But I see well," said Sir Bors, "by her care for you, that she loves you with her whole heart."
"I am sorry for that," said Sir Lancelot.
"Sir," said Sir Bors, "she is not the first who has wasted her pains on you, and that is the more pity."
And so they talked of many more things. And so within three or four days Sir Lancelot was big and strong again.
Then Sir Bors told Sir Lancelot how a great tournament and jousts had been sworn between King Arthur and the King of North Wales, to be held on All Hallows' Day, near Winchester.
"Is that true?" said Sir Lancelot. "Then you shall stay with me a little while longer, until I am well, for I feel myself very big and strong."
"God be blessed," said Sir Bors.
Then they were there together nearly a month, and all the while this maiden Elaine worked diligently for Sir Lancelot night and day, so that there was never a child or a wife more meek to her father or her husband than that Fair Maiden of Astolat was; and so Sir Bors was greatly pleased with her.
So one day, by the agreement of Sir Lancelot, Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine, they had the hermit go into the woods to look for various herbs, and so Sir Lancelot had fair Elaine gather herbs for him to make him a bath. Meanwhile Sir Lancelot had himself armed in every piece; and there he meant to test his armour and his spear, to see whether his wound would let him or not. And so when he was on his horse he spurred him fiercely, and the horse was exceedingly lively and fresh, because he had not been worked for a month before. And then Sir Lancelot levelled that spear in the rest. That warhorse leapt mightily when he felt the spurs; and the man on him (and it was the noblest horse in the world) held him in mightily and steadily, and kept the spear still in the rest; and with that Sir Lancelot strained himself so hard, with such great force, to get the horse forward, that the seal of his wound burst open both inside and out; and with that the blood came out so fiercely that he felt himself so weak that he could not sit on his horse. And then Sir Lancelot cried out to Sir Bors, "Ah, Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine, help, for I have come to my end!" And with that he fell down on one side to the earth like a dead body. And then Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine came to him, grieving beyond measure. And so by chance the maiden Elaine heard their mourning, and then she came there; and when she found Sir Lancelot there in that place in his armour, she cried and wept as if she had gone mad; and then she kissed him, and did what she could to wake him. And then she rebuked her brother and Sir Bors, and called them false traitors, and asked why they would take him out of his bed; and there she cried, and said she would accuse them of his death.
With this the holy hermit came, Sir Baudwin of Brittany, and when he found Sir Lancelot in that state he said little, but you may be sure he was angry; and then he told them, "Let us get him inside." And so they all carried him to the hermitage, and took off his armour, and laid him in his bed; and all the while his wound bled pitifully, but he did not stir a limb. Then the knight-hermit put something in his nose and a little water in his mouth. And then Sir Lancelot woke from his faint, and then the hermit stopped his bleeding. And when he could speak, the hermit asked Sir Lancelot why he had put his life in danger.
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "because I thought I was strong, and also Sir Bors told me that there would be great jousts at All Hallows between King Arthur and the King of North Wales, and so I thought I would test for myself whether I could be there or not."
"Ah, Sir Lancelot," said the hermit, "your heart and your spirit will never be done until your last day, but now you shall do as I advise. Let Sir Bors leave you, and let him do what he can at that tournament. And by the grace of God," said the knight-hermit, "by the time the tournament is over and you come back here," he said to Sir Bors, "Sir Lancelot shall be as whole as you are, provided he will be ruled by me."
Then Sir Bors made ready to leave Sir Lancelot; and then Sir Lancelot said, "Fair cousin, Sir Bors, commend me to all those I ought to be commended to. And I beg you, exert yourself at those jousts so that you may be the best, for love of me; and I shall wait for you here, at the mercy of God, until you come again."
And so Sir Bors left and came to the court of King Arthur, and told them where he had left Sir Lancelot.
"I am sorry for that," said the king, "but since he will live, we may all thank God."
And there Sir Bors told the queen what danger Sir Lancelot had been in when he tried to test his horse. "And all that he did, madam, was for love of you, because he wanted to be at this tournament."
"Shame on him, the recreant knight," said the queen, "for believe me, I am very sorry that he will live."
"He will live," said Sir Bors, "and anyone who wished otherwise, except you, madam, we who are of his blood would help to cut their lives short. But madam," said Sir Bors, "you have often been displeased with my lord Sir Lancelot, but every time, in the end, you find him a true knight." And so he left.
And then every knight of the Round Table who was there at that time made ready to be at those jousts at All Hallows, and many knights of various countries made their way there. And as All Hallows drew near, the King of North Wales came there, and the King with the Hundred Knights, and Sir Galahalt, the high prince, of Surluse; and King Anguish of Ireland came there, and the King of Scots. So these three kings came on King Arthur's side. And so that day Sir Gawain did great deeds of arms, and began first. And the heralds counted that Sir Gawain struck down twenty knights. Then Sir Bors de Ganis came in at the same time, and he was counted as striking down twenty knights; and so the prize was shared between them both, for they began first and lasted longest. Also Sir Gareth, as the book says, did great deeds of arms that day, for he struck down and pulled down thirty knights. But when he had done these deeds he did not stay, but left at once, and so he lost his prize. And Sir Palomides did great deeds of arms that day, for he struck down twenty knights, but he left suddenly, and men thought that Sir Gareth and he had ridden off together after some adventure or other.
So when this tournament was over Sir Bors left and rode until he came to Sir Lancelot, his cousin; and then he found him walking on his feet, and there each rejoiced greatly in the other; and so Sir Bors told Sir Lancelot all about the jousts, just as you have heard.
"I wonder," said Sir Lancelot, "that Sir Gareth would not stay, when he had done such deeds of arms."
"We all wondered at it," said Sir Bors, "for unless it were you, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak de Galis, I never saw a knight bear down so many in so little a while as Sir Gareth did; and at once he was gone, we did not know where."
"By my head," said Sir Lancelot, "he is a noble knight, and a mighty man, and has great staying power; and if he were well tested," said Sir Lancelot, "I would judge he was a match for any knight alive. And he is a well-bred knight, courteous, true and generous, meek and mild, and in him there is no kind of malice or deceit, but he is plain, faithful and true."
So then they made ready to leave the hermit. And so one morning they took their horses, and Elaine le Blank with them; and when they came to Astolat they were well lodged there, and had a warm welcome from Sir Bernard, the old baron, and from Sir Tirre, his son. And so in the morning, when Sir Lancelot was to leave, fair Elaine brought her father with her, and Sir Lavaine, and Sir Tirre, and this is what she said:
"My lord, Sir Lancelot," said fair Elaine, "now I see you are going to leave; now, fair knight and courteous knight, have mercy on me, and do not let me die for love of you."
"What would you have me do?" said Sir Lancelot.
"I would have you for my husband," said Elaine.
"Fair damsel, I thank you," said Sir Lancelot, "but truly," he said, "I have resolved never to be a married man."
"Then, fair knight," she said, "will you be my lover?"
"God forbid," said Sir Lancelot, "for then I would repay your father and your brother very badly for their great goodness."
"Alas," she said, "then I must die for love of you."
"You shall not," said Sir Lancelot, "for believe me, fair maiden, I could have been married if I had wished, but I have never set myself to marry yet. But because, fair damsel, you love me as you say you do, I will show you some kindness for your good will and kindness, and it is this: wherever you choose to set your heart on some good knight who will marry you, I shall give you, the two of you together, a thousand pounds a year, to you and to your heirs. This much I will give you, fair madam, for your kindness, and always, while I live, I will be your own knight."
"I will have none of all this," said the maiden, "for unless you will marry me, or else be my lover at the least, believe me, Sir Lancelot, my good days are done."
"Fair damsel," said Sir Lancelot, "you must forgive me these two things."
Then she shrieked shrilly, and fell down in a faint; and then women carried her into her room, and there she grieved beyond all bounds. And then Sir Lancelot wanted to leave, and there he asked Sir Lavaine what he would do.
"What should I do," said Sir Lavaine, "but follow you, unless you drive me away, or order me to go from you?"
Then Sir Bernard came to Sir Lancelot and said to him, "I can see nothing else but that my daughter Elaine will die for your sake."
"I cannot help it," said Sir Lancelot, "for I am deeply sorry for it, for I appeal to you yourself that my offer is fair; and I regret," said Sir Lancelot, "that she loves me as she does. I was never the cause of it, for I appeal to your son that early or late I never offered her favours or fair promises; and as for me," said Sir Lancelot, "I dare do all that a knight should do to prove that she is a pure maiden as far as I am concerned, both in deed and in will. And I am very grieved at her distress, for she is a very fair maiden, good and well-bred, and well brought up."
"Father," said Sir Lavaine, "I dare swear she is a pure maiden as far as my lord Sir Lancelot is concerned; but she is doing as I do, for since I first saw my lord Sir Lancelot I could never leave him, and I never will, if I can follow him."
Then Sir Lancelot took his leave, and so they left, and came to Winchester. And when Arthur knew that Sir Lancelot had come safe and sound, the king rejoiced greatly over him, and so did Sir Gawain and all the knights of the Round Table except Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred. But Queen Guinevere was mad with anger at Sir Lancelot, and would by no means speak with him, but kept herself away from him; and Sir Lancelot tried every way he could to speak with the queen, but it could not be.
Now we speak of the Fair Maiden of Astolat, who grieved so day and night that she never slept, ate or drank, and all the while she made her lament for Sir Lancelot. So when she had gone on like this for ten days, and grew so weak that she must surely pass out of this world, then she made a full confession, and received her Creator. And still she went on lamenting for Sir Lancelot. Then her confessor told her to leave such thoughts.
Then she said, "Why should I leave such thoughts? Am I not an earthly woman? And as long as the breath is in my body I may lament, for I believe I do no wrong though I love an earthly man; and I take God as my witness that I never loved anyone but Sir Lancelot du Lake, and never shall, and I am a pure maiden, for him and for all others. And since it is God's will that I shall die for the love of so noble a knight, I beseech the High Father of Heaven to have mercy on my soul, and that my countless pains that I suffered may be a lightening of part of my sins. For, sweet Lord Jesus," said the fair maiden, "I take You as my witness, I was never a great offender against Your laws, except that I loved this noble knight, Sir Lancelot, beyond measure, and of myself, good Lord, I could not withstand the burning love from which I have my death."
And then she called her father, Sir Bernard, and her brother, Sir Tirre, and earnestly begged her father that her brother might write a letter just as she would dictate it; and so her father granted it. And when the letter had been written word for word as she composed it, then she begged her father that she might be watched over until she was dead. "And while my body is still warm, let this letter be put in my right hand, and my hand tied fast around the letter until I am cold; and let me be put in a fine bed with all the richest clothes I have around me, and so let my bed and all my richest clothes be carried with me in a cart to the nearest place on the Thames; and there let me be put in a barge, with only one man with me, someone you trust to steer me there, and let my barge be covered all over with black samite. Father, I beg you, let this be done."
So her father faithfully promised her that everything would be done just as she had planned. Then her father and her brother grieved greatly, for when this was done she died at once. And so when she was dead, the body and the bed and all were taken the nearest way to the Thames, and there the man, and the body, and everything were put on the Thames; and so the man steered the barge to Westminster, and there he rowed to and fro a long while before anyone noticed it.
So by chance King Arthur and Queen Guinevere were talking together at a window, and so as they looked out on the Thames they saw this black barge, and wondered what it meant. Then the king called Sir Kay, and showed it to him.
"Sir," said Sir Kay, "you may be sure there is some news here."
"Go there," said the king to Sir Kay, "and take Sir Brandiles and Agravain with you, and bring me back word quickly of what is there."
Then these four knights left and came to the barge and went aboard; and there they found the fairest body lying in a rich bed, and a poor man sitting in the end of the barge, and he would not speak a word. So these four knights went back to the king, and told him what they had found.
"I will see that fair body," said the king. And so then the king took the queen by the hand, and went there.
Then the king had the barge held fast, and then the king and the queen went aboard, with certain knights with them; and there he saw the fairest woman lying in a rich bed, covered to her waist with many rich cloths, and all of them were cloth of gold, and she lay as though she were smiling. Then the queen noticed a letter in her right hand, and told the king. Then the king took it and said, "Now I am sure this letter will tell who she was, and why she has come here." So then the king and the queen left the barge, and ordered a certain man to keep watch over it.
And so when the king had come into his chamber, he called many knights around him, and said that he wanted to know openly what was written in that letter. Then the king broke the seal, and had a clerk read it, and this was what the letter said: "Most noble knight, Sir Lancelot, now death has set us two at odds over my love for you. I was your lover, the one men called the Fair Maiden of Astolat; so to all ladies I make my lament. Yet pray for my soul, and at least bury me, and make the offering at my Mass: this is my last request. And I died a pure maiden, I take God as my witness. Pray for my soul, Sir Lancelot, as you are peerless." This was all the substance of the letter. And when it had been read, the king, the queen and all the knights wept for pity at its sorrowful lament. Then Sir Lancelot was sent for; and when he had come, King Arthur had the letter read to him.
And when Sir Lancelot had heard it word for word, he said, "My lord Arthur, believe me, I am very grieved at the death of this fair damsel. God knows I was never the cause of her death by my will, and I appeal to her own brother on that: here he is, Sir Lavaine. I will not deny," said Sir Lancelot, "that she was both fair and good, and I was much beholden to her, but she loved me beyond measure."
"You might have shown her," said the queen, "some kindness and courtesy that might have saved her life."
"Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "she would take no other answer but that she would be my wife, or else my lover; and of these two I would grant her neither. But for the good love she showed me I offered her a thousand pounds a year, to her and to her heirs, and to marry whatever knight she could find that she loved best in her heart. For, madam," said Sir Lancelot, "I do not like to be forced to love; for love must rise from the heart, and not by any force."
"That is the truth," said the king, "and many a knight's love is free in itself, and will never be bound, for where he is bound he loses himself."
Then the king said to Sir Lancelot, "It will be to your honour to see that she is buried honourably."
"Sir," said Sir Lancelot, "that shall be done as best I can arrange it."
And so many knights went there to look at that fair maiden. And so in the morning she was buried richly, and Sir Lancelot made the offering at her Mass; and all the knights of the Round Table who were there at that time made their offering with Sir Lancelot. And then the poor man went away again with the barge. Then the queen sent for Sir Lancelot, and begged his pardon, because she had been angry with him without cause.
"This is not the first time," said Sir Lancelot, "that you have been displeased with me without cause. But, madam, I must always bear with you, and whatever sorrow I endure, I care nothing for it."
So this went on all that winter, with all kinds of hunting and hawking, and there were many jousts and tournaments between many great lords; and everywhere Sir Lavaine won great honour, so that he was nobly renowned among many knights of the Round Table.
So it went on until Christmas, and then every day there were jousts held for a diamond, so that whoever jousted best should have a diamond. But Sir Lancelot would not joust unless it was at great jousts that had been proclaimed. But Sir Lavaine jousted there all that Christmas exceedingly well, and was praised as the best, for there were only a few who did so well. And so knights of every kind judged that Sir Lavaine should be made a knight of the Round Table at the next feast of Pentecost. So after Christmas King Arthur called many knights to him, and there they planned together to set up sides and a great tournament and jousts. And the King of North Wales said to Arthur that he would have on his side King Anguish of Ireland, and the King with the Hundred Knights, and the King of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt, the high prince. And so these four kings and this mighty duke took sides against King Arthur and the knights of the Round Table. And it was proclaimed that the day of the jousts should be near Westminster, on Candlemas Day, and many knights were glad of it, and made ready to be at those jousts in the finest fashion.
Then Queen Guinevere sent for Sir Lancelot, and said this: "I warn you not to ride any more in any jousts or tournaments unless your kinsmen can know you. And at these jousts that are coming you shall have a sleeve of gold from me; and I beg you, for my sake, exert yourself there, so that men may speak of your honour. But I charge you, as you want my love, to warn your kinsmen that you will wear that sleeve of gold on your helmet that day."
"Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "it shall be done."
And so each rejoiced greatly in the other. And when Sir Lancelot saw his moment, he told Sir Bors that he would leave, and take no one with him but Sir Lavaine, to the good hermit who lived in that forest of Windsor; his name was Sir Brasias; and there he meant to rest, and take all the rest he could, because he wanted to be fresh on that day of the jousts.
So Sir Lancelot and Sir Lavaine left, so that no living creature knew what had become of him, except the noblemen of his blood. And when he had come to the hermitage, you may be sure he had a good welcome. And so every day Sir Lancelot would go to a spring close by the hermitage, and there he would lie down, and watch the spring well up and bubble, and sometimes he slept there. Now at that time there was a lady living in that forest, and she was a great huntress, and she hunted every day, and always carried her bow with her; and no men ever went with her, but always women, and they were archers, and could kill a deer well, both by stalking it and by lying in wait for it; and every day they carried bows and arrows, horns and hunting knives, and they had many good dogs, both for tracking on the leash and for running down the game. So it happened that this lady the huntress had loosed her dog for the bow at a barren hind, and so this barren hind took flight over hedges and woods. And all the while this lady and some of her women kept up with the hind, and followed it by the noise of the hounds, meaning to meet the hind at some water; and so it happened that the hind came to the spring where Sir Lancelot was sleeping and dozing. And so when the hind came to the spring, she went into the water because of the heat, and there she lay a long while; and the dog came after, and cast about, for she had lost the true scent of the hind. Just then the lady huntress came, who knew by the dog she had that the hind had taken to the water at that spring; and she came up boldly and found the hind, and she put a broad arrow to her bow, and shot at the hind, and overshot the hind; and so by mischance the arrow struck Sir Lancelot in the thick of the buttock, in past the barbs. When Sir Lancelot felt himself so hurt, he leapt up wildly, and saw the lady who had shot him. And when he saw she was a woman, he said this: "Lady or damsel, whatever you are, it was an evil hour you took up a bow. The devil made you an archer!"
"Now, mercy, fair sir," said the lady. "I am a gentlewoman who hunts here in this forest, and God knows I did not see you; but there was a barren hind here in the water at this spring, and I thought I was doing well, but my hand swerved."
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "you have done me harm."
And so the lady left, and Sir Lancelot pulled out the arrow as best he could, and left the head still in his buttock, and so he went weakly to the hermitage, bleeding all the way as he went. And when Sir Lavaine and the hermit saw that Sir Lancelot was hurt, you may be sure they were exceedingly downcast, but Sir Lavaine did not know how he had been hurt or by whom. And then they were angry beyond measure.
Then with great difficulty the hermit got the arrowhead out of Sir Lancelot's buttock, and he lost much of his blood, and the wound was exceedingly painful, and unluckily struck, for it was in such a place that he could not sit in any saddle.
"Jesus have mercy," said Sir Lancelot. "I may call myself the unluckiest man alive, for always, when I most want to win honour, some unlucky thing befalls me. Now, so help me Jesus," said Sir Lancelot, "even if no one but God were willing, I shall be in the field at the jousts on Candlemas Day, whatever comes of it." So everything that could be got to heal Sir Lancelot was got.
So when the day came, Sir Lancelot had himself arrayed, and Sir Lavaine, and their horses, as though they were Saracens; and so they left and came near the field. The King of North Wales came with a hundred knights, and the King of Northumberland brought a hundred good knights with him, and King Anguish of Ireland brought a hundred good knights with him ready to joust, and Sir Galahalt, the high prince, brought a hundred good knights with him, and the King with the Hundred Knights brought as many with him, and all these were proven good knights. Then King Arthur's side came in; and the King of Scots came in with a hundred knights, and King Uriens of Gore brought a hundred knights with him, and King Howell of Brittany brought a hundred knights with him, and Chaleins of Clarance brought a hundred knights with him, and King Arthur himself came into the field with two hundred knights, and most of them were knights of the Round Table, who were proven noble knights; and old knights were set in the stands with the queen, to judge who did best.
Then they sounded the trumpets for the field; and there the King of North Wales met the King of Scots, and there the King of Scots took a fall; and the King of Ireland struck down King Uriens; and the King of Northumberland struck down King Howell of Brittany; and Sir Galahalt, the high prince, struck down Chaleins of Clarance. And then King Arthur was mad with anger, and charged at the King with the Hundred Knights, and there King Arthur struck him down; and afterwards, with that same spear, King Arthur struck down three other knights. And then, when his spear was broken, King Arthur did exceedingly well; and so with that Sir Gawain and Sir Gaheris came in, and Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred, and there each of them struck down a knight, and Sir Gawain struck down four knights. And then a fierce fight began, for then the knights of Lancelot's blood came in, and Sir Gareth and Sir Palomides with them, and many knights of the Round Table, and they began to press the four kings and the mighty duke so hard that they were routed. But this Duke Galahalt, the high prince, was a noble knight, and by his mighty prowess in arms he held the knights of the Round Table hard pressed.
Sir Lancelot saw all this, and then he came into the field with Sir Lavaine like thunder. And then at once Sir Bors and the knights of his blood saw Sir Lancelot, and Sir Bors said to them all, "I warn you, beware of the man with the sleeve of gold on his head, for he is Sir Lancelot du Lake himself." And out of great goodness Sir Bors warned Sir Gareth.
"I am well pleased," said Sir Gareth, "that I know him."
"But who is he," they all said, "who rides with him in the same array?"
"That is the good and well-bred knight Sir Lavaine," said Sir Bors.
So Sir Lancelot met Sir Gawain, and there by force Sir Lancelot struck down Sir Gawain and his horse to the earth; and so he struck down Sir Agravain and Sir Gaheris, and he also struck down Sir Mordred, and all this with one spear. Then Sir Lavaine met Sir Palomides, and they met each other so hard and so fiercely that both their horses fell to the earth. And then they were horsed again, and then Sir Lancelot met Sir Palomides, and there Sir Palomides took a fall; and so Sir Lancelot, before he ever stopped, as fast as he could get spears, struck down thirty knights, and most of them were knights of the Round Table. And all the while the knights of his blood drew off, and found their fighting in other places where Sir Lancelot did not come.
And then King Arthur was angry when he saw Sir Lancelot do such deeds; and then the king called to him Sir Gawain, Sir Mordred, Sir Kay, Sir Griflet, Sir Lucan the butler, Sir Bedivere, Sir Palomides, and Sir Safere, his brother; and so the king, with these nine knights, made ready to set upon Sir Lancelot, and upon Sir Lavaine. Sir Bors and Sir Gareth saw all this.
"Now I am very much afraid," said Sir Bors, "that my lord Sir Lancelot will be hard matched."
"By my head," said Sir Gareth, "I will ride to my lord Sir Lancelot to help him, come what may to me, for he is the man who made me a knight."
"You shall not," said Sir Bors, "if you take my advice, unless you were disguised."
"You shall see me disguised," said Sir Gareth. And with that he saw a Welsh knight where he had gone to rest, and he had been badly hurt earlier by Sir Gawain; and Sir Gareth rode to him, and begged him, by his knighthood, to lend him his shield in exchange for his own.
"Gladly," said the Welsh knight.
And when Sir Gareth had his shield, the book says it was green, with a maiden painted in it. Then Sir Gareth came driving at Sir Lancelot as hard as he could, and said, "Knight, look to yourself, for there comes King Arthur with nine noble knights with him to put you to shame; and so I have come to keep you company, for the old love you have shown me."
"Many thanks," said Sir Lancelot.
"Sir," said Sir Gareth, "you take on Sir Gawain, and I shall take on Sir Palomides; and let Sir Lavaine match himself with the noble King Arthur. And when we have dealt with them, let us three hold steadfastly together."
Then King Arthur came with his nine knights, and Sir Lancelot met Sir Gawain, and gave him such a blow that the saddlebow of his saddle burst, and Sir Gawain fell to the earth. Then Sir Gareth met the good knight Sir Palomides, and he gave him such a blow that both his horse and he crashed to the earth. Then King Arthur met Sir Lavaine, and there each of them struck the other to the earth, horse and all, so that they lay there a long while. Then Sir Lancelot struck down Sir Agravain, and Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred; and Sir Gareth struck down Sir Kay, and Sir Safere, and Sir Griflet. And then Sir Lavaine was horsed again, and he struck down Sir Lucan the butler and Sir Bedivere; and then a great throng of good knights began.
Then Sir Lancelot crashed here and there, and tore off helmets and pulled them away, so that at that time no one could stand a blow from him, with spear or with sword. And Sir Gareth did such deeds of arms that all men wondered what knight he was with the green shield, for that day he struck down and pulled down more than thirty knights. And, as the French book says, Sir Lancelot wondered, when he saw Sir Gareth do such deeds, what knight he could be; and Sir Lavaine pulled down and struck down twenty knights. Sir Lancelot did not know Sir Gareth, either; for if Sir Tristram de Liones or Sir Lamorak de Galis had been alive, Sir Lancelot would have thought he was one of those two. So all the while Sir Lancelot, Sir Gareth and Sir Lavaine fought, and on the one side Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Lionel, Sir Lamorak de Galis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Pelleas, and more of King Ban's blood with them fought on another side of the field, and held the King with the Hundred Knights and the King of Northumberland hard pressed.
So this tournament and these jousts lasted a long time, until it was nearly night, for the knights of the Round Table kept rallying to King Arthur; for the king was angry beyond measure that he and his knights could not prevail that day.
Then Sir Gawain said to the king, "I wonder where Sir Bors de Ganis and his company of Sir Lancelot's blood have been all this day; I wonder that all this day they have not been around you. It is for some reason," said Sir Gawain.
"By my head," said Sir Kay, "Sir Bors has been over there on the right-hand side of this field all day, and there he and his kin are doing more honourably than we are."
"That may well be," said Sir Gawain, "but I am always afraid of trickery; for on pain of my life," said Sir Gawain, "this knight with the red sleeve of gold is Sir Lancelot himself, I can see it well by his riding and by his great strokes; and the other knight in the same colours is the good young knight Sir Lavaine. Also, that knight with the green shield is my brother Sir Gareth, and he has disguised himself, for no one will ever make him go against Sir Lancelot, because Sir Lancelot made him a knight."
"By my head," said Arthur, "nephew, I believe you; so tell me now what your best advice is."
"Sir," said Sir Gawain, "you shall have my advice: have the trumpets sound the retreat to quarters. For if he is Sir Lancelot du Lake, with my brother Sir Gareth beside him, and with the help of that good young knight Sir Lavaine, believe me truly, it will be no use to fight with them, unless we were to fall on one knight ten or twelve at a time, and that would be no honour, but shame."
"You speak the truth," said the king; "and to tell the truth," said the king, "it would be a shame to us, as many as we are, to set upon them any more. For believe me," said King Arthur, "they are three good knights, and especially that knight with the sleeve of gold."
So then they sounded the retreat to quarters; but straight away King Arthur sent word to the four kings and to the mighty duke, and asked them not to let the knight with the sleeve of gold leave them, so that the king might speak with him. Then straight away King Arthur dismounted and took off his armour, and took a little riding horse and rode after Sir Lancelot, for all the while he had kept a watch on him. And so he found him among the four kings and the duke; and there the king invited them all to supper, and they said they would come gladly. And when they had taken off their armour, then King Arthur knew Sir Lancelot, Sir Lavaine and Sir Gareth.
"Ah, Sir Lancelot," said King Arthur, "you have given me and my knights hot work today."
So they all went to Arthur's lodging together, and there was a great feast and great revelry, and the prize was given to Sir Lancelot; and the heralds declared that he had struck down fifty knights, and Sir Gareth thirty-five, and Sir Lavaine twenty-four knights. Then Sir Lancelot told the king and the queen how the lady huntress had shot him in the forest of Windsor, in the buttock, with a broad arrow, and how the wound from it had at that time been six inches deep, and as long. Also Arthur blamed Sir Gareth because he had left his company and held with Sir Lancelot.
"My lord," said Sir Gareth, "he made me a knight, and when I saw him so hard pressed, I thought it was to my honour to help him; for I saw him do so much, and so many noble knights against him. And when I understood that he was Sir Lancelot du Lake, I was ashamed to see so many knights against him alone."
"Truly," said King Arthur to Sir Gareth, "you speak well, and you have done honourably, and won great honour for yourself; and all the days of my life," said King Arthur to Sir Gareth, "you may be sure I shall love you and trust you all the better. For always," said Arthur, "it is an honourable knight's deed to help another honourable knight when he sees him in great danger; for an honourable man will always be loath to see an honourable man shamed. And the man who has no honour, and goes about with cowardice, will never show courtesy, nor any kind of goodness, where he sees a man in any danger, for a coward will never show mercy; and a good man will always do to another man as he would have done to himself."
So then there were great feasts for kings and dukes, and revelry, games and sport, and every kind of nobility was practised; and whoever was courteous, true and faithful to his friend was cherished in that time.
And so it went on from Candlemas until after Easter, until the month of May had come, when every lively heart begins to blossom and to bring forth fruit. For just as herbs and trees bring forth fruit and flourish in May, in the same way every joyful heart that is in any way a lover springs up and flourishes in vigorous deeds. For that joyful month of May gives all lovers heart, in something to drive him to some kind of thing more in that month than in any other month, for various reasons. For then all herbs and trees renew a man and woman, and in the same way lovers call back to mind old courtesy and old service, and many kind deeds that were forgotten through neglect. For just as the wasting of winter always wipes out and defaces green summer, so it goes with unstable love in man and woman. For in many people there is no steadfastness; for we may see every day that, at a little blast of winter's wasting, at once we deface and put aside true love, which cost so much, for little or nothing. This is no wisdom or steadfastness, but it is weakness of nature and great dishonour, whoever does it. And so, just as the month of May flowers and flourishes in many gardens, in the same way let every man of honour make his heart flourish in this world, first towards God, and next towards the joy of the one he promised his faith to. For there was never an honourable man or an honourable woman but they loved one better than another; and honour in arms may never be put to shame, but first keep the honour for God, and secondly the quarrel must come from your lady. And such love I call virtuous love.
But nowadays men cannot love for a week without having all their desires. That love cannot last by reason; for where they are quickly agreed, and the heat is hasty, it soon cools. Just so it goes with love nowadays, soon hot, soon cold: this is no steadfastness. But the old love was not like that. Men and women could love each other seven years, and there was no lecherous lust between them, and then there was love, truth and faithfulness. And look, in the same way love was practised in King Arthur's days. And so I liken love nowadays to summer and winter; for just as the one is hot and the other cold, so it goes with love nowadays. So all you who are lovers, call to your remembrance the month of May, like Queen Guinevere, of whom I make a little mention here, because while she lived she was a true lover, and therefore she had a good end.
Here ends the eighteenth book.
And here follows the nineteenth book.
So it happened in the month of May that Queen Guinevere called her knights of the Round Table to her, and she gave them notice that early the next morning she would ride out Maying, to gather the May greenery in the woods and fields near Westminster.
"And I warn you that there must be none of you who is not well horsed, and that you must all be dressed in green, either in silk or in cloth. And I will bring ten ladies with me, and every knight shall have a lady riding behind him, and every knight shall have a squire and two yeomen. And I want you all to be well horsed," she said.
So they made themselves ready in the brightest and freshest way. And these were the names of the knights: Sir Kay le Seneschal, Sir Agravain, Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramore le Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Ladinas of the Forest Savage, Sir Persant of Inde, Sir Ironside, who was called the Knight of the Red Launds, and Sir Pelleas, the lover. And these ten knights made themselves ready in the brightest and freshest way to ride with the queen. And so in the morning they mounted their horses with the queen, and rode Maying in the woods and meadows as it pleased them, in great joy and delight. For the queen had planned to be back with King Arthur by ten o'clock at the latest, and that was her intention at the time.
Now there was a knight called Meliagaunce, and he was the son of King Bagdemagus, and at that time this knight held a castle, the gift of King Arthur, within seven miles of Westminster. And this knight, Sir Meliagaunce, loved Queen Guinevere exceedingly well, and so he had done for many long years. And the book says he had been lying in wait to carry off the queen, but he always held back because of Sir Lancelot; for he would on no account meddle with the queen if Sir Lancelot was in her company, or anywhere near her. And at that time it was the custom that the queen never rode out without a great company of men-at-arms about her, and many of them were good knights, and most of them were young men who wanted to win honour. And they were called the Queen's Knights. And in no battle, tournament or joust did any of them ever bear any sign of their own coats of arms, but only plain white shields, and that was why they were called the Queen's Knights. And then, when any of them happened to win great honour by his noble deeds, at the next Feast of Pentecost, if any had been killed or had died (and there was never a year that passed without some dying), the man of greatest honour among those called the Queen's Knights was chosen in the dead man's place. And this was how they all first rose, before they were famous men of honour, both Sir Lancelot and all the rest of them.
But this knight, Sir Meliagaunce, had watched the queen closely and learned her plans, and that Sir Lancelot was not with her, and that she had no men-at-arms with her, only the ten noble knights all dressed in green for Maying. Then he provided himself with some twenty men-at-arms and a hundred archers to destroy the queen and her knights, for he thought that this was the best time to take the queen.
So when the queen and all her knights had gone Maying, and all of them were decked with herbs, mosses and flowers in the best and freshest way, just then Sir Meliagaunce came out of a wood with some eight score men, a hundred and sixty, well armed, as if they were going to fight a pitched battle. And he ordered the queen and her knights to stay where they were, for they would stay whether they liked it or not.
"Traitor knight," said Queen Guinevere, "what do you mean to do? Will you shame yourself? Remember that you are a king's son, and a knight of the Round Table, and here you are about to dishonour the noble king who made you a knight. You shame all knighthood and yourself. And me, let me tell you, you shall never shame, for I would rather cut my own throat in two than let you dishonour me."
"As for all this talk," said Sir Meliagaunce, "let it be as it may. For believe me, madam, I have loved you for many a year, and never before now could I get you at such an advantage as I have you now, and so I will take you as I find you."
Then all ten of the noble knights spoke at once, and said, "Sir Meliagaunce, you may be sure that you are about to put your honour in danger of disgrace, and you also mean to put our lives in danger, though we are unarmed. You have us at a great advantage, for it seems you have been lying in wait for us. But rather than let you bring shame on the queen and on us all, we would just as soon lose our lives, for if we did otherwise, we would be shamed for ever."
Then Sir Meliagaunce said, "Defend yourselves as well as you can, and keep the queen."
Then the ten knights of the Round Table drew their swords, and the others charged at them with their spears, and the ten knights stood up to them manfully, and struck their spears aside so that no spear did them any harm. Then they laid into each other with swords, and very soon Sir Kay, Sir Sagramore, Sir Agravain, Sir Dodinas, Sir Ladinas and Sir Ozanna were struck to the ground with terrible wounds. Then Sir Brandiles, and Sir Persant, Sir Ironside and Sir Pelleas fought long, and they were badly wounded. For these ten knights, before ever they were laid on the ground, killed forty men of the boldest and best of them.
So when the queen saw her knights so grievously wounded, and that they must be killed in the end, then out of pity and sorrow she cried out to Sir Meliagaunce, "Don't kill my noble knights, and I will go with you on this condition: that you spare them, and let them be hurt no more, and that they are taken with me wherever you take me. For I will kill myself rather than go with you, unless these noble knights of mine may stay in my presence."
"Madam," said Meliagaunce, "for your sake they shall be taken with you into my own castle, provided that you do as you are told, and ride with me."
Then the queen begged the four knights to stop fighting, and said that she and they would not be parted.
"Madam," said Sir Pelleas, "we will do as you do, for as for me, I care nothing for my life or death."
For, as the French book says, Sir Pelleas dealt such blows there that no armour could withstand him.
Then at the queen's command they left off fighting, and set the wounded knights on horseback, some sitting up, some slung across their horses, so that it was pitiful to see them. And then Sir Meliagaunce ordered the queen and all her knights that none of her company should leave her; for he was badly afraid of Sir Lancelot du Lake, in case he should get any word of it. The queen saw all this, and secretly she called to her a page of her chamber who had a swift horse.
"Go," she said to him, "when you see your chance, and take this ring to Sir Lancelot du Lake, and beg him, as he loves me, to come to me and rescue me, if he ever wants to have joy of me. And don't spare your horse," said the queen, "for water or for land."
So the boy watched for his chance, and swiftly he put the spurs to his horse, and rode away as fast as he could. And when Sir Meliagaunce saw him flee like that, he understood that it was by the queen's command, to warn Sir Lancelot. Then the best mounted of them chased him and shot at him, but the boy got clear of them all in no time.
And then Sir Meliagaunce said to the queen, "Madam, you mean to betray me, but I will make arrangements for Sir Lancelot, so that he shall not get to you easily."
And then he rode with her, and all of them, to his castle, in all the haste they could. And on the way Sir Meliagaunce set the best archers he could find in his country in an ambush, thirty of them, to lie in wait for Sir Lancelot, ordering them that if they saw a knight of that kind come along the road on a white horse, they must on no account fail to kill his horse, but on no account fight him hand to hand, "for he is too bold to be overcome."
So this was done, and they came to his castle. But the queen would on no account let any of the ten knights or her ladies out of her sight, but they were always in her presence. For the book says that Sir Meliagaunce did not dare to use force, for fear of Sir Lancelot, since he believed that Lancelot had been warned.
So when the boy had got away from Sir Meliagaunce's company, within a while he came to Westminster, and at once he found Sir Lancelot. And when he had given his message, and handed him the queen's ring, "Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "now I am shamed for ever, unless I can rescue that noble lady from dishonour."
Then he eagerly called for his armour. And all the while the boy told Sir Lancelot how the ten knights had fought marvellously, and how Sir Pelleas, and Sir Ironside, and Sir Brandiles, and Sir Persant of Inde had fought strongly, but above all Sir Pelleas, whom no one could withstand; and how they had all fought until at last they were laid on the ground; and how then the queen had made terms to save their lives, and had gone with Sir Meliagaunce.
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "that most noble lady, that she should be so ruined! I would rather," said Sir Lancelot, "than have all France, that I had been there well armed."
So when Sir Lancelot was armed and on his horse, he asked the page of the queen's chamber to tell Sir Lavaine how suddenly he had left, and for what reason. "And beg him, as he loves me, to hurry after me, and not to stop until he comes to the castle where Sir Meliagaunce stays, or lives. For there," said Sir Lancelot, "he shall hear of me, if I am a living man, and I will rescue the queen and the ten knights whom he has treacherously taken, and I will prove that on his head, and on all who side with him."
Then Sir Lancelot rode as fast as he could, and the book says he took to the water at Westminster Bridge, and made his horse swim over the Thames to Lambeth. And then within a while he came to the very place where the ten noble knights had fought with Sir Meliagaunce. And then Sir Lancelot followed the track until he came to a wood, and there was a narrow way, and there the thirty archers ordered Sir Lancelot to turn back, and follow that track no further.
"What authority do you have," said Sir Lancelot, "to make me, a knight of the Round Table, leave my rightful way?"
"You'll leave this way, or else you'll go it on foot, for be sure of this, your horse will be killed."
"That's no great feat," said Sir Lancelot, "to kill my horse. But as for myself, when my horse is killed, I don't give a straw for you, not if you were five hundred more."
So then they shot Sir Lancelot's horse, and struck him with many arrows. And then Sir Lancelot got clear of his horse, and went on foot. But there were so many ditches and hedges between them and him that he could not get at any of them.
"Alas, for shame," said Lancelot, "that ever one knight should betray another knight! But it is an old saying: a good man is never in danger except when he is in the power of a coward."
Then Sir Lancelot walked a while, and then he was badly weighed down by his armour, his shield, and his spear, and all that belonged to him. Believe me, he was sorely troubled, and he was very unwilling to leave behind anything that belonged to him, for he greatly feared the treachery of Sir Meliagaunce.
Then by chance a cart came by him, which had come there to fetch wood.
"Tell me, carter," said Sir Lancelot, "what shall I give you to let me jump into your cart, and for you to take me to a castle two miles from here?"
"You're not getting into my cart," said the carter, "for I've been sent to fetch wood for my lord, Sir Meliagaunce."
"He is the one I want to speak with," said Sir Lancelot.
"You're not coming with me," said the carter.
Then Sir Lancelot leapt at him, and gave him such a blow that he fell to the ground stone dead. Then the other carter, his companion, was afraid, and expected to go the same way. And then he cried, "Fair lord, save my life, and I will take you wherever you like."
"Then I order you," said Sir Lancelot, "to drive me and this cart straight to Sir Meliagaunce's gate."
"Jump up into the cart," said the carter, "and you'll be there in no time."
So the carter drove on at a great gallop, and Sir Lancelot's horse followed the cart, with more than forty arrows in him, broad-headed and rough.
And for more than an hour and a half Dame Guinevere had been waiting in a bay window with her ladies, and she saw an armed knight standing in a cart.
"Look, madam," said a lady, "there's a fine armed knight riding in a cart. I suppose he's riding to his hanging."
"Where?" said the queen.
Then she saw by his shield that it was he himself, Sir Lancelot du Lake. And then she saw his horse coming along behind that cart, all the way, and all the way it trod its own guts and its belly under its feet.
"Alas," said the queen, "now I see and know well that happy is the man who has a trusty friend. Ah, most noble knight," said Queen Guinevere, "I see you are in a hard spot, when you ride in a cart."
Then she rebuked the lady who had likened Sir Lancelot riding in a cart to riding to his hanging. "It was foul-mouthed," said the queen, "and an evil comparison, to liken the most noble knight in the world to such a shameful death. O Jesus defend him and keep him," said the queen, "from any harmful end."
By this time Sir Lancelot had come to the gates of that castle, and there he got down, and shouted, so that the whole castle rang with it, "Where are you, false traitor, Sir Meliagaunce, and knight of the Round Table? Come out here now, you traitor knight, you and your company with you; for here I am, Sir Lancelot du Lake, who will fight with you."
And with that he flung the gate wide open on the porter, and struck him under the ear with his gauntlet, so that his neck broke in two.
When Sir Meliagaunce heard that Sir Lancelot was there, he ran to Queen Guinevere, and fell on his knee, and said, "Mercy, madam! Now I put myself wholly at your mercy."
"What's the matter with you now?" said Queen Guinevere. "Truly, I might well have known that some good knight would avenge me, even if my lord Arthur knew nothing of this work of yours."
"Madam," said Sir Meliagaunce, "all that is amiss on my part shall be put right exactly as you yourself decide, and I put myself wholly at your mercy."
"What would you have me do?" said the queen.
"I would ask no more," said Meliagaunce, "than that you take it all into your own hands, and that you govern my lord Sir Lancelot. And whatever welcome can be given him in this poor castle, you and he shall have until tomorrow, and then you and all of them may go back to Westminster. And my body and all that I have I will put at your command."
"You speak well," said the queen, "and peace is always better than war, and the less talk there is, the greater my honour."
Then the queen and her ladies went down to the knight, Sir Lancelot, who stood in the inner court, angry beyond measure, waiting for battle. And all the while he kept calling, "You traitor knight, come out!"
Then the queen came to him and said, "Sir Lancelot, why are you so worked up?"
"Ah, madam," said Sir Lancelot, "why do you ask me that? It seems to me," said Sir Lancelot, "that you ought to be angrier than I am, for you have suffered the harm and the dishonour. For believe me, madam, my harm is only small, the killing of a mare's son, a mere horse; but the insult grieves me far more than all my harm."
"Truly," said the queen, "you speak the truth. But I thank you with all my heart," said the queen, "but you must come in with me peaceably, for everything has been put in my hands, and all that is evil shall turn out for the best. For the knight bitterly repents of the misdeed that he has fallen into."
"Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "since it is so that you have come to terms with him, as for me I cannot go against it, even though Sir Meliagaunce has acted very shamefully towards me, and like a coward. Ah, madam," said Sir Lancelot, "if I had known you would come to terms with him so soon, I would not have made such haste to you."
"Why do you say that?" said the queen. "Do you regret your good deeds? Believe me," said the queen, "I never came to terms with him for any favour or love I had for him, but to put a stop to every shameful rumour."
"Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "you know very well that I was never willing or glad to have shameful slander or rumour. And there is neither king, queen nor knight alive, except my lord King Arthur, and you, madam, who could stop me from making Sir Meliagaunce's heart go very cold before ever I left this place."
"That I know well," said the queen, "but what more do you want? You shall have everything arranged just as you wish to have it."
"Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "so long as you are pleased, I don't mind. As for me, you will soon please me."
Just then the queen took Sir Lancelot by his bare hand, for he had taken off his gauntlet, and so she went with him to her chamber; and then she ordered him to be unarmed. And then Sir Lancelot asked where the ten knights were who had been badly wounded. So she showed them to Sir Lancelot, and there they rejoiced greatly at his coming, and Sir Lancelot grieved greatly over their wounds, and lamented them deeply. And there Sir Lancelot told them how in his cowardice and treachery Meliagaunce had set archers to kill his horse, and how he had been forced to put himself in a cart. So they all complained to each other; and they would very gladly have been avenged, but they held their peace because of the queen. Then, as the French book says, Sir Lancelot was called for many a day afterwards le Chevaler du Chariot, the Knight of the Cart, and did many deeds, and had great adventures. And so we leave this tale of le Chevaler du Chariot, and turn to this tale.
So Sir Lancelot had a warm welcome from the queen, and then Sir Lancelot made a promise with the queen that the same night Sir Lancelot would come to a window that faced out onto a garden. And that window was barred with iron, and there Sir Lancelot promised to meet her when everyone was asleep.
So then Sir Lavaine came riding hard to the gates, shouting, "Where is my lord, Sir Lancelot du Lake?"
Then he was sent for, and when Sir Lavaine saw Sir Lancelot, he said, "My lord, I could see well you were in a hard spot, for I found your horse that was killed with arrows."
"As for that," said Sir Lancelot, "I beg you, Sir Lavaine, speak of other things, and let this pass, and we will put it right another time when we best can."
Then the knights who were hurt had their wounds probed, and soft salves were laid on their wounds. And so the time passed until supper, and all the welcome that could be given them there was given to the queen and all her knights. Then, when it was time, they went to their rooms. But the queen would on no account allow the wounded knights to be away from her, so they were laid in alcoves beside her chamber, on beds and pillows, so that she could see to them herself, and see that they lacked nothing.
So when Sir Lancelot was in the room that had been assigned to him, he called Sir Lavaine to him, and told him that he must go that night to speak with his lady, Dame Guinevere.
"Sir," said Sir Lavaine, "let me go with you, if you please, for I am badly afraid of the treachery of Sir Meliagaunce."
"No," said Sir Lancelot, "I thank you, but I will have nobody with me."
Then Sir Lancelot took his sword in his hand, and went secretly to a place where he had noticed a ladder beforehand, and he took it under his arm, and carried it through the garden, and set it up against the window. And there the queen was ready at once to meet him. And then they made their complaints to each other about many different things, and then Sir Lancelot wished that he could come in to her.
"Believe me," said the queen, "I would like it as much as you, that you could come in to me."
"Would you, madam," said Sir Lancelot, "with all your heart, that I were with you?"
"Yes, truly," said the queen.
"Now I will prove my strength," said Sir Lancelot, "for your love."
And then he set his hands on the bars of iron, and he pulled at them with such strength that he burst them clean out of the stone walls, and with that one of the iron bars cut through the flesh of his hand to the bone. And then he leapt into the chamber to the queen.
"Make no noise," said the queen, "for my wounded knights are lying here close by me."
So, to pass on with this tale, Sir Lancelot went to bed with the queen, and he paid no attention to his hurt hand, but took his pleasure and his delight until the dawning of the day. And believe me, he did not sleep but kept watch, and when he saw that the time had come when he could stay no longer, he took his leave and left by the window, and put it back together as well as he could, and so went off to his own room. And there he told Sir Lavaine how he was hurt. Then Sir Lavaine dressed his hand and stopped the bleeding, and put a glove on it, so that it would not be noticed. And so the queen lay long in her bed, until nine o'clock.
Then Sir Meliagaunce went to the queen's chamber, and found her ladies there already dressed.
"Jesus have mercy," said Sir Meliagaunce, "what is the matter with you, madam, that you sleep so long?"
And with that he opened the bed-curtain to look at her. And then he saw where she lay, and all the sheet and pillow were bloodied with the blood of Sir Lancelot and his hurt hand. When Sir Meliagaunce saw that blood, he judged that she had been false to the king, and that one of the wounded knights had lain with her all that night.
"Ah, madam," said Sir Meliagaunce, "now I have found you a false traitress to my lord Arthur. For now I can prove well that it was not for nothing that you had these wounded knights laid within the bounds of your chamber. And so I will accuse you of treason before my lord, King Arthur. And now I have caught you, madam, in a shameful deed; and that they are all false, or some of them, I will make good by combat, for a wounded knight has lain with you this night."
"That is false," said the queen, "and I appeal to them all as witnesses."
Then, when the ten knights heard Sir Meliagaunce's words, they all spoke with one voice and said to Sir Meliagaunce, "You lie, and you wrongly accuse us of such a deed, and any one of us will make that good by combat. Choose whichever of us you like, when we are healed of our wounds."
"You will not," said Sir Meliagaunce. "Away with your proud talk, for here you can all see," said Sir Meliagaunce, "that a wounded knight has lain with the queen this night."
Then they were all ashamed when they saw that blood. And believe me, Sir Meliagaunce was exceedingly glad that he had the queen at such an advantage, for he thought that by this he could cover up his own treason. So, in the middle of this uproar, Sir Lancelot came in, and found them all in a great commotion.
"What is all this?" said Sir Lancelot.
Then Sir Meliagaunce told them what he had found, and showed them the queen's bed.
"Truly," said Sir Lancelot, "you did not act rightly, or like a knight, in touching a queen's bed while its curtains were drawn and she was lying in it. For I dare say my lord Arthur himself would not have drawn back her curtains while she was in her bed, unless it had pleased him to lie down beside her. And so you have acted dishonourably and shamefully, to your own disgrace."
"I don't know what you mean," said Sir Meliagaunce, "but I am quite sure that one of her wounded knights has lain with her this night, and so I will prove with my hands that she is a traitress to my lord Arthur."
"Be careful what you do," said Lancelot, "for if you say so, and will prove it, your challenge will be taken up."
"My lord, Sir Lancelot," said Sir Meliagaunce, "I advise you to be careful what you do. For though you are as good a knight as any, and you know well that you are renowned as the best knight in the world, still you should think twice before doing battle in a wrong quarrel, for God will have a stroke in every battle."
"As for that," said Sir Lancelot, "God is to be feared. But to that I say no, plainly: that this night none of these ten wounded knights lay with my lady Queen Guinevere, and I will prove with my hands that what you say is untrue."
"Take it," said Sir Meliagaunce, "here is my glove, as pledge that she is a traitress to my lord, King Arthur, and that this night one of the wounded knights lay with her."
"And I accept your glove," said Sir Lancelot.
And so the pledges were sealed with their seal rings, and handed over to the ten knights.
"On what day shall we do battle together?" said Sir Lancelot.
"A week from today," said Sir Meliagaunce, "in the field beside Westminster."
"I agree," said Sir Lancelot.
"But now," said Sir Meliagaunce, "since it is so that we must fight together, I beg you, as you are a noble knight, to plan no treachery against me, and no foul play, in the meantime, and to let no one do so on your behalf."
"So help me God," said Sir Lancelot, "you shall know very well that I was never a man of that character. For I appeal to all knights who have ever known me: I never dealt in treachery, nor did I ever love the company of any man who dealt in treachery."
"Then let us go to dinner," said Meliagaunce, "and after dinner you and the queen and all of you may ride to Westminster."
"Gladly," said Sir Lancelot.
Then Sir Meliagaunce said to Sir Lancelot, "Would you like to see the passages of this castle?"
"With pleasure," said Sir Lancelot.
And then they went together from room to room, for Sir Lancelot feared no dangers. For a man of honour and of prowess always fears dangers least, because he thinks every man is as he is himself; but the man who deals in treachery often puts another man in great danger. So it happened to Sir Lancelot, who feared no danger, that as he went with Sir Meliagaunce he stepped on a trapdoor and the board tipped over, and Sir Lancelot fell down more than ten fathoms into a cave full of straw. And then Sir Meliagaunce went away, and made no fuss, as if he did not know where he was.
And when Sir Lancelot was missed like this, they wondered what had become of him. And then the queen and many of them thought that he had left, as he often used to do, suddenly. For Sir Meliagaunce quickly had Sir Lavaine's horse taken away and put aside, so that they would all believe Sir Lancelot had left suddenly. So the time passed until after dinner. And then Sir Lavaine would not rest until he had arranged litters for the wounded knights, so that they could be laid in them; and so, with the queen and all of them, both ladies and gentlewomen and others, they went to Westminster. And there the knights told King Arthur how Meliagaunce had accused the queen of high treason, and how Sir Lancelot had accepted his glove, "and a week from today they will do battle before you."
"By my head," said King Arthur, "I fear Sir Meliagaunce has taken a heavy task upon himself. But where is Sir Lancelot?" said the king.
"Sir," they all said, "we don't know where he is, but we think he has ridden off to some adventure, as he very often does, for he has Sir Lavaine's horse."
"Let him be," said the king. "He will turn up, unless he has been trapped by some treachery."
So we leave Sir Lancelot lying in that cave in great pain. And every day a lady came and brought him his food and his drink, and wooed him, wanting to lie with him; and always the noble knight, Sir Lancelot, told her no.
"Sir Lancelot," she said, "you are not wise, for you can never get out of this prison unless you have my help. And besides, your lady, Queen Guinevere, will be burned through your failing, unless you are there on the day of the battle."
"God forbid," said Sir Lancelot, "that she should be burned through my failing. And if it turns out," said Sir Lancelot, "that I cannot be there, it will be well understood, by the king and by the queen and by all men of honour, that I am dead, sick, or in prison. For all men who know me will say for me that I am in some bad trouble if I am not there that day. And I know well there is some good knight, either of my blood or some other who loves me, who will take up my quarrel. And therefore," said Sir Lancelot, "you may be sure you will not frighten me; and if there were no other woman in all this land but you, I would not lie with you."
"Then you're shamed," said the lady, "and ruined for ever."
"As for the world's shame, Jesus defend me from it; and as for my distress, it is welcome, whatever it is that God sends me."
So she came to him on the same day that the battle was to be, and said, "Sir Lancelot, I think you are too hard-hearted. But if you would only kiss me once, I would set you free, and give you your armour, and the best horse in Sir Meliagaunce's stable."
"As for kissing you," said Sir Lancelot, "I may do that and lose no honour. And believe me, if I thought there were any dishonour in kissing you, I would not do it."
Then he kissed her, and then she got him out, and brought him to his armour. And when he was armed, she took him to a stable where twelve good warhorses stood, and told him to choose the best. Then Sir Lancelot looked at a white warhorse that pleased him best; and at once he ordered the grooms to saddle him quickly with the best war saddle there was; and it was done as he ordered. Then he took his spear in his hand, and his sword by his side, and commended the lady to God, and said, "Lady, for this good deed I will do you service, if it is ever in my power."
Now we leave Sir Lancelot galloping as fast as he could, and speak of Queen Guinevere, who was brought to a fire to be burned. For Sir Meliagaunce was sure, so he thought, that Sir Lancelot would not be at that battle; and so he kept crying out to King Arthur to do him justice, or else bring out Sir Lancelot du Lake. Then the king and all the court were sorely dismayed and ashamed that the queen should be burned through Sir Lancelot's failing.
"My lord Arthur," said Sir Lavaine, "you may understand that all is not well with my lord Sir Lancelot. For if he were alive, and not sick or in prison, believe me, he would be here; for you never heard that he ever failed in his part for anyone he was to do battle for. And therefore," said Sir Lavaine, "my lord King Arthur, I beg you to give me leave to do battle here this day for my lord and master, and to save my lady the queen."
"Many thanks, noble Sir Lavaine," said King Arthur, "for I dare say that everything Sir Meliagaunce charges against my lady the queen is false. For I have spoken with all ten of the wounded knights, and there is not one of them, if he were whole and able to do battle, who would not prove on Sir Meliagaunce's body that what he charges against my queen is false."
"So will I," said Sir Lavaine, "in the defence of my lord Sir Lancelot, if you will give me leave."
"Now I give you leave," said King Arthur, "and do your best, for I dare well say there has been some treason done to Sir Lancelot."
Then Sir Lavaine was armed and horsed, and quickly he rode to the end of the lists to carry out this battle. And just as the heralds were about to cry, "Lesses les aler!", which is to say, "Let them go!", at that very moment in came Sir Lancelot, driving with all the force of his horse. And then Arthur cried, "Ho!" and "Hold!" Then Sir Lancelot was called on horseback before King Arthur, and there he told openly before the king and everyone how Sir Meliagaunce had treated him from first to last. And when the king and the queen and all the lords knew of the treason of Sir Meliagaunce, they were all ashamed on his behalf. Then Queen Guinevere was sent for, and set beside the king, in great trust in her champion. And then there was nothing more to say, but Sir Lancelot and Sir Meliagaunce squared up to each other for battle, and took their spears. And so they came together like thunder, and there Sir Lancelot bore him down clean over his horse's rump. And then Sir Lancelot dismounted and set his shield on his shoulder, with his sword in his hand, and Sir Meliagaunce in the same way squared up to him. And there they struck many great strokes at each other; and at last Sir Lancelot struck him such a blow on the helmet that he fell sideways to the ground. And then he cried out to him aloud, "Most noble knight, Sir Lancelot du Lake, save my life, for I yield myself to you. And I beg you, as you are a knight and a fellow of the Round Table, do not kill me, for I yield myself as beaten; and whether I live or die, I put myself in the king's hands and yours."
Then Sir Lancelot did not know what to do, for he would rather have had his revenge on Sir Meliagaunce than all the riches of the world. And Sir Lancelot looked up at Queen Guinevere, to see if he could tell by any sign or look what she would have done. And then the queen nodded at Sir Lancelot, as though she would say, "Kill him." Sir Lancelot knew full well by the nod of her head that she wanted him dead. Then Sir Lancelot told him to get up, for shame, and fight that battle to the uttermost.
"No," said Sir Meliagaunce, "I will never get up until you accept me as yielded and recreant."
"I will make you a generous offer," said Sir Lancelot. "That is to say, I will take the armour off my head and off the left quarter of my body, all that can be unarmed, and have my left hand tied behind me, so that it cannot help me; and just so I will do battle with you."
Then Sir Meliagaunce sprang to his feet, and said aloud, "My lord Arthur, take note of this offer, for I will take it. And let him be unarmed and bound according to his offer."
"What do you say?" said King Arthur to Sir Lancelot. "Will you stand by your offer?"
"Yes, my lord," said Sir Lancelot, "I will never go back on what I have once said."
Then the marshals of the field took the armour off Sir Lancelot, first from his head, and then from his left arm and his left side, and they bound his left arm behind his back, without a shield or anything, and then they were set against each other. Believe me, many a lady and knight marvelled that Sir Lancelot would put himself in danger like that. Then Sir Meliagaunce came with his sword raised high, and Sir Lancelot showed him openly his bare head and his bare left side. And when he thought he would strike him on the bare head, then swiftly Sir Lancelot drew back his left leg and his left side, and put his right hand and his sword to meet that stroke, and so turned it aside with great skill. And then, with great force, Sir Lancelot struck him such a blow on the helmet that the stroke split the head in two. Then there was no more to do, but he was dragged out of the field. And at the earnest request of the knights of the Round Table, the king allowed him to be buried, with an inscription over him telling who killed him and for what cause he was killed. And then the king and the queen made more of Sir Lancelot du Lake, and he was more cherished, than ever he had been before.
Then, as the French book tells, there was a good knight in the land of Hungary, and his name was Sir Urre. And he was a knight-errant, and wherever he could hear of any deeds of honour, there he would be. So it happened that in Spain there was an earl's son whose name was Alphegus; and at a great tournament in Spain this Sir Urre, the knight of Hungary, and Sir Alphegus of Spain met each other out of sheer envy, and each took on the other to the uttermost. And by chance Sir Urre killed Sir Alphegus, the earl's son of Spain. But this knight who was killed had given Sir Urre, before ever he was killed, seven great wounds, three on the head, and four on his body and on his left hand. And this Sir Alphegus had a mother, who was a great sorceress; and she, in spite for her son's death, worked by her subtle arts so that Sir Urre should never be whole, but his wounds should always fester at one time and bleed at another, so that he should never be whole until the best knight in the world had probed his wounds. And so she boasted of it, and through that it became known that Sir Urre would never be whole.
Then his mother had a horse-litter made, and put him in it between two palfreys. And then she took Sir Urre's sister with him, a very beautiful damsel, whose name was Felelolie; and then she took a page with them to look after their horses; and so they led Sir Urre through many countries. For, as the French book says, she led him like this for seven years through all the Christian lands, and she could never find a knight who could ease her son. So she came into Scotland and into the lands of England, and by chance she came, near the feast of Pentecost, to King Arthur's court, which at that time was held at Carlisle. And when she came there, she made it openly known that she had come into that land to heal her son.
Then King Arthur had that lady called, and asked her the reason why she had brought that wounded knight into that land.
"My most noble king," said that lady, "believe me, I brought him here to be healed of his wounds, which for all these seven years could not be made whole."
And then she told the king where he was wounded, and by whom, and how the dead knight's mother had revealed in her pride how she had brought it about by enchantment, so that he should never be whole until the best knight in the world had probed his wounds. "And so I have passed through all the Christian lands to have him healed, except this land. And if I fail to heal him here in this land, I will never take any more trouble over it; and that is a pity, for he was a good knight, and of great nobility."
"What is his name?" said Arthur.
"My good and gracious lord," she said, "his name is Sir Urre of the Mount."
"In good time," said the king, "and since you have come into this land, you are very welcome. And believe me, here your son shall be healed, if ever any Christian man can heal him. And to give all other men of honour heart, I myself will try to handle your son, and so shall all the kings, dukes and earls who are here with me at this time. I will command them to it, and I know well they will obey and do as I command. And believe me," said King Arthur to Urre's sister, "I will begin to handle him, and probe his wounds as well as I can, not presuming that I am worthy enough to heal your son by my deeds; but I will encourage other men of honour to do as I do."
And then the king commanded all the kings, dukes and earls, and all the noble knights of the Round Table who were there at that time, to come into the meadow of Carlisle. And at that time there were only a hundred and ten of the Round Table there, for forty knights were away. And so here we must begin with King Arthur, as it is natural to begin with him who was the man of greatest honour of any christened man at that time.
Then King Arthur looked at Sir Urre, and the king thought he would be a very fine man when he was whole. And then King Arthur had him taken down off the litter and laid him on the ground, and a cushion of gold was laid there for him to kneel on.
And then noble Arthur said, "Fair knight, I am sorry for your hurt, and to encourage all the other noble knights I will ask you gently to allow me to handle your wounds."
"Most noble Christian king," said Urre, "do as you wish, for I am at the mercy of God, and at your command."
So then Arthur gently handled him, and then some of his wounds began to bleed again. Then King Clarence of Northumberland probed them, and it would not be. And then Sir Barant le Apres, who was called the King with the Hundred Knights, tried and failed; and so did King Uriens of the land of Gore; so did King Anguish of Ireland; so did King Nentres of Garlot; so did King Carados of Scotland; so did the Duke Galahalt, the high prince; so did Constantine, who was Sir Cador's son of Cornwall; so did Duke Chaleins of Clarance; so did the Earl Ulbause; so did the Earl Lambaile; so did the Earl Aristause.
Then in came Sir Gawain with his three sons, Sir Gingalin, Sir Florence and Sir Lovel (these two were begotten on Sir Brandiles' sister); and they all failed. Then in came Sir Agravain, Sir Gaheris, Sir Mordred, and the good knight Sir Gareth, who in true knighthood was worth all his brothers. So came the knights of Lancelot's kin; but Sir Lancelot was not at court at that time, for he was away then on his adventures. Then came Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Blamore de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Gahalantine, Sir Galihodin, Sir Menaduke, Sir Villiers the Valiant, Sir Hebes le Renoumes. All these were of Sir Lancelot's kin, and they all failed. Then in came Sir Sagramore le Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Dinadan, Sir Bruin le Noire, whom Sir Kay named La Cote Male Taile, and Sir Kay the seneschal, Sir Kay de Stranges, Sir Meliot de Logres, Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir Galleron of Galway, Sir Melion of the Mountain, Sir Cardok, Sir Uwain les Avoutres, and Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy.
Then in came Sir Astamor, and Sir Gromere, Grummor's son, Sir Crosselm, and Sir Servause le Breuse, who was said to be an exceedingly strong knight. For, as the book says, the chief Lady of the Lake feasted Sir Lancelot and Servause le Breuse, and when she had feasted them both, at different times, she asked each of them to grant her a favour. And they granted it her. And then she asked Sir Servause to promise her never to do battle against Sir Lancelot du Lake, and in the same way she asked Sir Lancelot never to do battle against Sir Servause; and so each of them promised her. For the French book says that Sir Servause never had the heart or the desire to do battle against any man, except against giants, and against dragons and wild beasts. So we pass on to those who, at the king's request, all made ready, all who were there at that high feast of the knights of the Round Table, to probe Sir Urre's wounds; and the king did it with this intent, to learn which was the noblest knight among them.
Then came Sir Aglovale, Sir Durnore, and Sir Tor, who was begotten on the wife of Aries the cowherd, though he was begotten before Aries married her; and King Pellinore fathered them all: first Sir Tor, Sir Aglovale, Sir Durnore, Sir Lamorak, one of the noblest knights that ever was in Arthur's days as a knight of this world, and Sir Percival, who was peerless, except for Sir Galahad, in holy deeds; but they died in the quest of the Holy Grail. Then came Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Sir Lucan the butler, Sir Bedivere his brother, Sir Brandiles, Sir Constantine, Sir Cador's son of Cornwall, who was king after Arthur's days, and Sir Clegis, Sir Sadok, Sir Dinas the seneschal of Cornwall, Sir Fergus, Sir Driant, Sir Lambegus, Sir Clarrus of Clermont, Sir Cloddrus, Sir Hectimere, Sir Edward of Caernarvon, Sir Dinas, Sir Priamus, who was christened by Sir Tristram, the noble knight, and these three were brothers; Sir Helin le Blank, who was Sir Bors's son, whom he fathered on King Brandegore's daughter, and Sir Brian de Listinoise; Sir Gaunter, Sir Raynold and Sir Gilmere, three brothers whom Sir Lancelot overcame on a bridge when he wore Sir Kay's armour. Sir Guyart le Petite, Sir Bellangere le Beuse, who was the son of the good knight Sir Alisander le Orphelin, who was killed by the treason of King Mark. That same traitor king also killed the noble knight Sir Tristram, with a sharp sword, as he sat harping before his lady Isolde the Fair; and his death was mourned by every knight there ever was in Arthur's days. There were never any so mourned as Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak, for they were treacherously killed, Sir Tristram by King Mark, and Sir Lamorak by Sir Gawain and his brothers. And this Sir Bellangere avenged the death of his father Alisander, and of Sir Tristram, for he killed King Mark; and Isolde the Fair died swooning on the body of Sir Tristram, and that was a great pity. And all who were with King Mark and had agreed to the death of Sir Tristram were killed, such as Sir Andred and many others.
Then came Sir Hebes, Sir Morganore, Sir Sentraile, Sir Suppinabilis, Sir Bellangere le Orgulous, whom the good knight Sir Lamorak overcame in open battle; Sir Neroveus and Sir Plenorius, two good knights whom Sir Lancelot overcame; Sir Darras, Sir Harry le Fise Lake, Sir Erminide, brother to King Hermaunce, for whom Sir Palomides fought at the Red City against two brothers; and Sir Selises of the Dolorous Tower, Sir Edward of Orkney, Sir Ironside, who was called the noble Knight of the Red Launds, whom Sir Gareth overcame for the love of Dame Lionesse, Sir Arrok de Grevaunt, Sir Degrane Saunce Velany, who fought with the giant of the Black Hill, and Sir Epinogris, who was the son of the King of Northumberland. Sir Pelleas, who loved the lady Ettard, and he would have died for love of her had it not been for one of the Ladies of the Lake, whose name was Dame Nimue; and she married Sir Pelleas, and she kept him safe so that he was never killed; and he was a very noble knight. And Sir Lamiel of Cardiff, who was a great lover. Sir Plaine de Fors, Sir Melias de Lile, Sir Bohart le Cure Hardy, who was King Arthur's son, Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Colgrevance, Sir Hervise de la Forest Savage, Sir Marrok, the good knight who was betrayed by his wife, for she made him a werewolf, a man turned into a wolf by magic, for seven years; Sir Persant, Sir Pertolepe, his brother, who was called the Green Knight, and Sir Perimones, brother to them both, who was called the Red Knight, whom Sir Gareth overcame when he was called Beaumains. All these hundred and ten knights probed Sir Urre's wounds by the command of King Arthur.
"Jesus have mercy," said King Arthur, "where is Sir Lancelot du Lake, that he is not here at this time?"
And as they stood and talked of many things, someone spotted Sir Lancelot riding towards them, and told the king.
"Quiet," said the king. "Let nothing at all be said until he has come to us."
So when Sir Lancelot saw King Arthur, he dismounted from his horse and came to the king, and greeted him and all of them. As soon as the maiden, Sir Urre's sister, saw Sir Lancelot, she ran to her brother where he lay in his litter, and said, "Brother, a knight has come here to whom my heart goes out greatly."
"Fair sister," said Sir Urre, "my heart too grows light towards him, and I truly hope now to be healed; for my heart goes out to him more than to all these who have probed my wounds."
Then Arthur said to Sir Lancelot, "You must do as we have done," and told Sir Lancelot what they had done, and showed him all of them who had probed his wounds.
"Jesus defend me," said Sir Lancelot, "that I should presume, when so many kings and knights have tried and failed, to achieve what all of you, my lords, could not achieve."
"You have no choice," said King Arthur, "for I will command you to do as we have all done."
"My most renowned lord," said Sir Lancelot, "you know well I dare not, and cannot, disobey your command. But if I could or dared, believe me, I would not take it upon myself to touch that wounded knight with the intent of surpassing all other knights. Jesus defend me from that shame."
"You take it wrongly," said King Arthur. "You shall not do it out of any presumption, but to keep us company, since you are a fellow of the Round Table. And believe me," said King Arthur, "if you do not prevail and heal him, I dare say there is no knight in this land who can heal him. And therefore I beg you, do as we have done."
And then all the kings and knights, for the most part, begged Sir Lancelot to probe his wounds. And then the wounded knight, Sir Urre, sat himself up weakly, and begged Sir Lancelot with all his heart, saying, "Courteous knight, I beg you for God's sake heal my wounds; for it seems to me that ever since you came here my wounds do not pain me."
"Ah, my fair lord," said Sir Lancelot, "would to Jesus that I could help you. I am sorely ashamed that I should be put to this, for I was never worthy enough to do so high a thing."
Then Sir Lancelot knelt down by the wounded knight, saying, "My lord Arthur, I must do your command, which is much against my heart."
And then he held up his hands, and looked to the east, saying secretly to himself, "Blessed Father, Son and Holy Ghost, I beseech You of Your mercy that my simple honour and good name be kept safe; and You, blessed Trinity, may give power to heal this sick knight by Your great power and grace, but, good Lord, never of myself."
And then Sir Lancelot asked Sir Urre to let him see his head. And then, kneeling devoutly, he probed the three wounds, so that they bled a little; and at once all the wounds healed cleanly, and looked as if they had been whole for seven years. And in the same way he probed the other three wounds on his body, and they healed in the same way. And then, last of all, he probed the one that was in his hand, and at once it healed cleanly.
Then King Arthur and all the kings and knights knelt down and gave thanks and praise to God and to His Blessed Mother. And all the while Sir Lancelot wept like a child that has been beaten. Then King Arthur had priests and clergy arrayed in the most devout manner, to bring Sir Urre into Carlisle with singing and praise to God. And when this was done, the king had him dressed in the richest clothes that could be imagined; and then there were few better built knights in all the court, for he was exceedingly well made and strongly built. And Arthur asked Sir Urre how he felt.
"My good lord," he said, "I never felt so vigorous."
"Will you joust and do deeds of arms?" said King Arthur.
"Sir," said Urre, "if I had all that belongs to jousting, I would soon be ready."
Then Arthur set up a side of a hundred knights to be against another hundred knights. And so the next morning they jousted for a diamond; but none of the haughty knights jousted there. And so, to cut the tale short, Sir Urre and Sir Lavaine jousted best that day, for there was not one of them who did not overthrow and pull down thirty knights. And then, by the assent of all the kings and lords, Sir Urre and Sir Lavaine were made knights of the Round Table. And Sir Lavaine set his love on Dame Felelolie, Sir Urre's sister, and then they were married with great joy, and King Arthur gave each of them a barony of lands. And this Sir Urre would never leave Sir Lancelot, but he and Sir Lavaine always attended on him; and in all the court they were counted good knights, and very eager in arms; and they did many noble deeds, for they would have no rest, but always sought adventures.
So they lived at that court in great nobility and joy for a long time. But every night and day Sir Agravain, Sir Gawain's brother, kept watch on Queen Guinevere and Sir Lancelot du Lake, to bring them to rebuke and shame. And so I leave this tale here, and pass over great books of Sir Lancelot du Lake, of the great adventures he did when he was called Le Chevaler du Chariot. For, as the French book says, because of the scorn of knights and ladies who called him the knight who rode in the cart, as if he were being taken to the gallows, he rode in a cart for a twelvemonth, in scorn of all those who called him so; for, a little after he had killed Sir Meliagaunce in the queen's quarrel, he never came on horseback for a twelvemonth. And, as the French book says, in that twelvemonth he fought more than forty battles. And because I have lost the true story of Le Chevaler du Chariot, I depart from the tale of Sir Lancelot, and here I go on to the death of King Arthur; and Sir Agravain was the cause of that.
Here ends the nineteenth book.
And here follows the most piteous history of the death of King Arthur, which is the twentieth book.
In May, when every vigorous heart flourishes and buds (for as the season is joyful to look on, and comforting, so men and women rejoice and are glad that summer is coming with its fresh flowers, while winter, with its rough winds and blasts, makes a vigorous man and woman cower and sit close by the fire), so in this season, in the month of May, there came about a great anger and misfortune that did not stop until the flower of chivalry of all the world was destroyed and slain. And it was all because of two ill-fated knights, who were called Agravain and Sir Mordred, and who were brothers of Sir Gawain. For this Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred had always had a secret hatred of the queen, Dame Guinevere, and of Sir Lancelot, and day and night they were always watching Sir Lancelot.
So it happened, by ill luck, that Sir Gawain and all his brothers were in King Arthur's chamber. And then Sir Agravain said this openly, and not in any private counsel, so that many knights might hear it: "I wonder that we are not all ashamed both to see and to know how Sir Lancelot lies with the queen day and night, and we all know it is so; and it is shameful of us all that we allow so noble a king as King Arthur is to be shamed like this."
Then Sir Gawain spoke, and said, "Brother Sir Agravain, I beg you and order you, raise no such matters in front of me any more, for believe me," said Sir Gawain, "I will have no part in your plans."
"God help me," said Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, "we will have nothing to do with your doings, brother Agravain."
"Then I will," said Sir Mordred.
"I can well believe that," said Sir Gawain, "for you will always agree to any mischief, brother Sir Mordred. And I wish you would leave all this, and not make yourself so busy, for I know," said Sir Gawain, "what will come of it."
"Let come of it what may," said Sir Agravain, "I will reveal it to the king."
"Not with my consent," said Sir Gawain, "for if war and ruin rise between Sir Lancelot and us, believe me, brother, many kings and great lords will hold with Sir Lancelot. Also, brother Sir Agravain," said Sir Gawain, "you must remember how many times Sir Lancelot has rescued the king and the queen; and the best of us all would have been stone cold at the heart's root if Sir Lancelot had not been a better man than we are, and he has proved that many a time. And as for my part," said Sir Gawain, "I will never be against Sir Lancelot, for one day's deed: when he rescued me from King Carados of the Dolorous Tower, and killed him, and saved my life. Also, brother Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred, in the same way Sir Lancelot rescued you both, and sixty-two others, from Sir Turquine. It seems to me, brother, that such kind deeds and kindness should be remembered."
"Do as you please," said Sir Agravain, "for I will hide it no longer."
With these words King Arthur came up to them.
"Now, brother, stop your noise," said Sir Gawain.
"We will not," said Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred.
"Is that so?" said Sir Gawain. "Then God speed you, for I will not listen to your tales or have any part in your plans."
"Nor will I," said Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, "for we will never speak evil of that man. Because," said Sir Gareth, "Sir Lancelot made me a knight, I ought in no way to speak ill of him."
And with that the three of them left, grieving greatly.
"Alas," said Sir Gawain and Sir Gareth, "now this realm is wholly brought to ruin, and the noble fellowship of the Round Table will be scattered."
And so they left.
And then Sir Arthur asked them what the noise was about.
"My lord," said Agravain, "I will tell you what I can keep in no longer. Here I am, and my brother Sir Mordred, and we told my brothers Sir Gawain, Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth this, which we all know: that Sir Lancelot is keeping your queen, and has done for a long time. And we are your sister's sons, and we can put up with it no longer. And we all know that you ought to be above Sir Lancelot, and you are the king who made him a knight; and so we will prove it, that he is a traitor to your person."
"If it is so," said Sir Arthur, "believe me, he is nothing else. But I would be loath to begin such a thing unless I had proof of it. For Sir Lancelot is a bold knight, and you all know he is the best knight among us all; and unless he is taken in the act, he will fight with whoever brings up the accusation, and I know no knight who is able to match him. So if it is true, as you say, I would want him taken in the act."
For, as the French book says, the king was very loath that any rumour should touch Sir Lancelot and his queen. For the king had a suspicion, but he would not hear of it, for Sir Lancelot had done so much for him and for the queen so many times that, believe me, the king loved him exceedingly.
"My lord," said Sir Agravain, "tomorrow you will ride out hunting, and you need not doubt that Sir Lancelot will not go with you. Then, when it draws towards night, you can send the queen word that you will stay out all that night, and so you can send for your cooks. And then, on pain of death, we will take him that night with the queen, and either we will bring him to you dead or alive."
"Very well," said the king. "Then I advise you," said the king, "to take a trusty company with you."
"Sir," said Agravain, "my brother Sir Mordred and I will take twelve knights of the Round Table with us."
"Be careful," said King Arthur, "for I warn you, you will find him strong."
"Leave it to us," said Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred.
So in the morning King Arthur rode out hunting, and sent word to the queen that he would be out all that night. Then Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred got twelve knights together, and hid themselves in a chamber in the Castle of Carlisle, and these were their names: Sir Colgrevance, Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Gingaline, Sir Meliot de Logres, Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir Galleron of Galway, Sir Melion of the Mountain, Sir Astamore, Sir Gromore Somir Joure, Sir Curselaine, Sir Florence, Sir Lovel. So these twelve knights were with Sir Mordred and Sir Agravain, and all of them were from Scotland, either of Sir Gawain's kin or well-wishers to his brothers.
So when the night came, Sir Lancelot told Sir Bors that he was going that night to speak with the queen.
"Sir," said Sir Bors, "if you take my advice, you will not go tonight."
"Why?" said Sir Lancelot.
"Sir," said Sir Bors, "I am always afraid of Sir Agravain, who watches you day by day to bring shame on you and on all of us. And never yet has my heart been set against any going of yours, any time you went to the queen, as much as now. For I suspect that the king is away from the queen tonight because perhaps he has set some watch for you and the queen, and so I badly fear treason."
"Have no fear," said Sir Lancelot, "for I will go and come back, and make no delay."
"Sir," said Sir Bors, "I am sorry for it, for I badly fear that your going out tonight will bring grief on us all."
"Fair nephew," said Sir Lancelot, "I wonder very much why you say this, since the queen has sent for me. And believe me, I will not be such a coward that she should not know I will come to her at her good pleasure."
"God speed you well," said Sir Bors, "and send you back safe and sound."
So Sir Lancelot left, and took his sword under his arm, and so, in his cloak, that noble knight put himself in great danger. And so he went on until he came to the queen's chamber, and then Sir Lancelot was quickly let into the chamber. And then, as the French book says, the queen and Lancelot were together. And whether they were in bed or at other kinds of pastime, I don't care to make any mention of it here, for love in those days was not as it is nowadays. But as they were together like this, Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred came, with twelve knights of the Round Table with them, and they shouted, "Traitor knight, Sir Lancelot du Lake, now you're caught!"
And they shouted this so loudly that all the court might hear it; and all fourteen of them were armed at every point as if they were to fight in a battle.
"Alas," said Queen Guinevere, "now we are both ruined."
"Madam," said Sir Lancelot, "is there any armour here in your chamber that I could cover my poor body with? If there is any, give it to me, and I will soon put a stop to their malice, by the grace of God."
"Truly," said the queen, "I have no armour, shield, sword or spear. And so I badly fear our long love has come to a disastrous end, for I can hear by their noise that there are many noble knights, and I know very well they are fully armed, and against them you can put up no resistance. So you are likely to be killed, and then I shall be burned. For if you could escape them," said the queen, "I would have no doubt that you would rescue me from whatever danger I stood in."
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "never in all my life was I in such a hard spot as this, that I should be killed so shamefully for lack of my armour."
But all the while Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred kept shouting, "Traitor knight, come out of the queen's chamber! For you can be sure you're so surrounded that you will not escape."
"Oh, Jesus have mercy," said Sir Lancelot, "I cannot bear this shameful cry and noise, for death at once would be better than to endure this pain."
Then he took the queen in his arms, and kissed her, and said, "Most noble Christian queen, I beg you, as you have always been my special good lady, and I at all times your true poor knight as far as I was able, and as I never failed you in right or in wrong since the first day King Arthur made me a knight, that you will pray for my soul if I am killed here. For I am quite sure that Sir Bors, my nephew, and all the rest of my kin, with Sir Lavaine and Sir Urre, will not fail to rescue you from the fire. And so, my own lady, take comfort, whatever becomes of me, and go with Sir Bors, my nephew, and Sir Urre, and they will all do everything they can or may to please you, so that you shall live like a queen upon my lands."
"No, Lancelot," said the queen, "believe me, I will never live after your days. But if you are killed I will take my death as meekly, for Jesus Christ's sake, as ever any Christian queen did."
"Well, madam," said Lancelot, "since the day has come that our love must part, believe me, I will sell my life as dearly as I can. And I am a thousand times more grieved," said Sir Lancelot, "for you than for myself. And now I would rather have good armour on me, so that men might speak of my deeds before ever I am killed, than be lord of all Christendom."
"Truly," said the queen, "I wish it might please God that they would take me and kill me, and let you escape."
"That shall never be," said Sir Lancelot. "God keep me from such a shame! But Jesus, be You my shield and my armour!"
And with that Sir Lancelot wrapped his cloak around his arm well and securely. And by then they had brought a great bench out of the hall, and with it they battered at the door.
"Fair lords," said Sir Lancelot, "stop your noise and your battering, and I will open this door, and then you can do with me whatever you please."
"Come on, then," they all said, "and do it, for it does you no good to fight against us all. So let us into this chamber, and we will spare your life until you come to King Arthur."
Then Lancelot unbarred the door, and with his left hand he held it open a little, so that only one man could come in at a time. And so there came striding in a good knight, a big man and a large one, and his name was Colgrevance of Gore, and he struck at Sir Lancelot mightily with a sword. And Sir Lancelot turned the stroke aside, and gave him such a blow on the helmet that he fell flat on his face, dead, inside the chamber door. And then Sir Lancelot with great strength dragged that dead knight inside the chamber door; and with the help of the queen and her ladies Sir Lancelot was quickly armed in Sir Colgrevance's armour.
And all the while Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred stood there shouting, "Traitor knight, come out of the queen's chamber!"
"Stop your noise," said Sir Lancelot to Sir Agravain, "for believe me, Sir Agravain, you will not take me prisoner tonight. And so, if you take my advice, all of you go away from this chamber door, and stop making such shouting and such slander as you are doing. For I promise you on my knighthood, if you will go away and make no more noise, I will appear before you all tomorrow in front of the king, and then let it be seen which of you, or all of you together, will accuse me of treason. And there I will answer you as a knight should: that I came here to the queen with no kind of evil intent, and I will prove that and make it good on you with my own hands."
"Shame on you, traitor," said Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred. "We'll have you whether you like it or not, and kill you if we please. For we'll have you know we have King Arthur's leave to spare you or to kill you."
"Ah, sirs," said Sir Lancelot, "is there no other mercy to be had from you? Then look to yourselves."
So then Sir Lancelot threw the chamber door wide open, and mightily and knightly he strode in among them; and at once, at the first blow, he killed Sir Agravain. And twelve of his companions after him, within a little while, he laid cold on the ground, for there was none of the twelve who could withstand one blow from Sir Lancelot. Sir Lancelot also wounded Sir Mordred, and he fled with all his might.
And then Sir Lancelot went back to the queen, and said, "Madam, now you may be sure all our true love is brought to an end, for from now on King Arthur will always be my enemy. And so, madam, if it pleases you to let me take you with me, I will save you from every kind of danger."
"That is not the best course," said the queen. "It seems to me that now you have done so much harm, it will be best for you to hold still for now. And if you see that tomorrow they mean to put me to death, then you can rescue me as you think best."
"Gladly," said Sir Lancelot, "for have no doubt, while I am alive I will rescue you."
And then he kissed her, and each gave the other a ring; and so he left the queen there, and went to his lodging.
When Sir Bors saw Sir Lancelot, he was never so glad of his homecoming as he was then.
"Jesus have mercy," said Sir Lancelot, "why are you all armed? What does this mean?"
"Sir," said Sir Bors, "after you had left us, all of us who are of your blood and who wish you well were so troubled that some of us leapt out of our beds naked, and some in their dreams caught naked swords in their hands. So," said Sir Bors, "we judge there is some great strife at hand. And then we all judged that you had been trapped by some treason, and so we made ourselves ready like this, whatever need you might be in."
"My fair nephew," said Sir Lancelot to Sir Bors, "now you shall know everything: that tonight I was in a harder spot than ever I was in my life, and yet I escaped."
And so he told them all how, and in what manner, as you have heard before.
"And so, my companions," said Sir Lancelot, "I beg you all to be of good heart in whatever need I stand, for now war has come to us all."
"Sir," said Bors, "all is welcome that God sends us. We have had much good fortune with you, and much honour, and so we will take the bad with you as we have taken the good."
"And so," they all said (there were many good knights there), "see that you take no discouragement, for there are no bands of knights under heaven but we shall be able to hurt them as much as they can hurt us. And so don't lose heart in any way, and we will gather together those we love and who love us, and whatever you want done shall be done. And so, Sir Lancelot," they said, "we will take the bad with the good."
"Many thanks," said Sir Lancelot, "for your good comfort, for in my great distress, my fair nephew, you comfort me greatly, and I am much beholden to you. But this, my fair nephew, I would like you to do, in all the haste you can, before it is broad day: look in the lodgings of those who are lodged here near the king, and see which will hold with me and which will not. For now I want to know my friends from my foes."
"Sir," said Sir Bors, "I will do my best, and before seven o'clock I will know, of those you have spoken of, who will hold with you."
Then Sir Bors called to him Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Blamore de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Gahalantine, Sir Galihodin, Sir Galihud, Sir Menadeuke, Sir Villiers the Valiant, Sir Hebes le Renoumes, Sir Lavaine, Sir Urre of Hungary, Sir Nerounes, Sir Plenorius. These two knights Sir Lancelot had made, and one of them he had won on a bridge, and so they would never be against him. And Harry le Fise du Lake, and Sir Selises of the Dolorous Tower, and Sir Melias de Lile, and Sir Bellangere le Beuse, who was the son of Sir Alisander le Orphelin; and because his mother, Alice la Beale Pilgrim, was kin to Sir Lancelot, he held with him. So there came Sir Palomides and Sir Safere, his brother, to hold with Sir Lancelot, and Sir Clegis of Sadok, and Sir Dinas, and Sir Clarrus of Clermont. So these twenty-two knights drew together, and by then they were armed and on horseback, and promised Sir Lancelot to do whatever he wanted. Then there joined them, from North Wales and from Cornwall together, for Sir Lamorak's sake and for Sir Tristram's sake, as many as eighty knights.
"My lords," said Sir Lancelot, "believe me, ever since I came into this country I have wished my lord King Arthur well, and my lady Queen Guinevere, as far as I was able. And tonight, because my lady the queen sent for me to speak with her, I think it was arranged by treason (though I dare fully clear her of it herself), for I was there nearly killed by a plot laid beforehand. But as Jesus provided for me, I escaped all their malice and treason."
And then that noble knight Sir Lancelot told them all how he had been in a hard spot in the queen's chamber, and how and in what manner he escaped from them.
"And so," said Sir Lancelot, "believe me, my fair lords, I am sure there is nothing but war for me and mine. And because I have killed these knights tonight, I know very well (Sir Agravain, Sir Gawain's brother, among them, and at least twelve of his companions), for this reason I am now sure of mortal war, for these knights were sent and appointed by King Arthur to betray me. And so the king, in his heat and malice, will condemn the queen to the fire, and I cannot allow that, that she should be burned for my sake. For if I may be heard and allowed and taken at my word, I will fight for the queen, that she is a true lady to her lord. But I fear the king, in his heat, will not take me as I ought to be taken."
"My lord Sir Lancelot," said Sir Bors, "my advice is that you take the bad with the good, and take it with patience, and thank God for it. And since it has turned out as it has, I advise you to look after yourself, for if you will stand up for yourself, there is no company of Christian knights that shall do you wrong. Also I will advise you, my lord Sir Lancelot, that if my lady Queen Guinevere is in distress, seeing that she is in trouble for your sake, you rescue her like a knight. If you did otherwise, all the world would speak shame of you to the world's end. Since you were taken with her, whether you did right or wrong, it is now your part to hold with the queen, so that she is not killed and put to a disastrous death; for if she dies like that, the shame will be yours."
"Jesus keep me from shame," said Sir Lancelot, "and keep and save my lady the queen from dishonour and a shameful death, and may she never be destroyed through my failing. So, my fair lords, my kin and my friends," said Sir Lancelot, "what will you do?"
Then they all said, "We will do as you do."
"I put this to you," said Sir Lancelot, "that if my lord Arthur, through evil counsel, tomorrow in his heat puts my lady the queen to the fire, to be burned there, now I beg you, advise me what is best to do."
Then they all said at once, with one voice, "Sir, we think it best that you rescue the queen like a knight, seeing that if she is burned it is for your sake. And it is to be supposed that if you could be laid hands on, you would have the same death, or a more shameful one. And, sir, we all say that you have many times rescued her from death in other men's quarrels; it seems to us all the more to your honour that you rescue the queen from this peril, since she has it for your sake."
Then Sir Lancelot stood still, and said, "My fair lords, believe me, I would be loath to do anything that would dishonour you or my blood; and believe me, I would be loath that my lady the queen should die a shameful death. But if it is so that you advise me to rescue her, I must do a great deal of harm before I rescue her. And perhaps I shall destroy some of my best friends there, which I would much regret. And perhaps there are some who, if they could well bring it about, or dared disobey my lord King Arthur, would soon come over to me, and I would be loath to hurt them. And if it turns out that I rescue her, where shall I keep her?"
"That will be the least of our cares," said Sir Bors. "How did the noble knight Sir Tristram manage, with your good will? Did he not keep Isolde the Fair with him for nearly three years in Joyous Gard? That was done by the advice of you all, and that same place is your own. And in the same way you can do so, if you please, and carry the queen off quickly, if it turns out that the king condemns her to be burned. And in Joyous Gard you can keep her long enough until the king's heat is past. And then you shall bring the queen back to the king with great honour; and then perhaps you will have thanks for bringing her home, and love and thanks where others will have ill will."
"That is hard to do," said Sir Lancelot, "for I can take a warning from Sir Tristram. For when, by means of negotiations, Sir Tristram brought Isolde the Fair back from Joyous Gard to King Mark, look what happened in the end: how shamefully that false traitor King Mark killed him as he sat harping before his lady Isolde the Fair. With a sharpened blade he thrust him from behind, to the heart. It grieves me," said Sir Lancelot, "to speak of his death, for all the world cannot find such a knight."
"All this is true," said Sir Bors, "but there is one thing that ought to hearten you and all of us. You know well that King Arthur and King Mark were never alike in character, for there was never yet a man who could prove King Arthur false to his promise."
So, to cut a long story short, they all agreed that, for better or for worse, if it turned out that the queen was brought to the fire that morning, they would all rescue her at once. And so, on Sir Lancelot's advice, they all set themselves in ambush in a wood, as near Carlisle as they could, and there they waited quietly, to learn what the king would do.
Now we turn back to Sir Mordred, who, when he had escaped from the noble knight Sir Lancelot, at once got his horse and mounted it, and rode to King Arthur, badly wounded and beaten, and bled all over; and there he told the king everything, how it had gone, and how they had all been killed except himself alone.
"Jesus have mercy, how can this be?" said the king. "Did you take him in the queen's chamber?"
"Yes, God help me," said Sir Mordred. "There we found him unarmed, and there he killed Colgrevance, and armed himself in his armour."
And he told the king all this from the beginning to the end.
"Jesus have mercy," said the king, "he is a marvellous knight of prowess. Alas, I bitterly regret," said the king, "that Sir Lancelot should ever be against me. Now I am sure the noble fellowship of the Round Table is broken for ever, for many a noble knight will hold with him. And now it has turned out so," said the king, "that I cannot, with my honour, do otherwise: the queen must suffer death."
So then, in this heat, great preparation was made for the queen to be condemned to death. And the law was such in those days that whoever they were, of whatever rank or degree, if they were found guilty of treason there should be no other remedy but death; and either witnesses or being taken in the act was to be the cause of their swift judgment. And just so was it ordained for Queen Guinevere, because Sir Mordred had escaped badly wounded, and because of the death of thirteen knights of the Round Table. These proofs and evidences caused King Arthur to command the queen to the fire, to be burned there.
Then Sir Gawain spoke, and said, "My lord Arthur, I would advise you not to be over-hasty, but to put off this judgment of my lady the queen, for many reasons. One is that, though it is true that Sir Lancelot was found in the queen's chamber, yet it may be that he came there for no evil. For you know, my lord," said Sir Gawain, "that the queen is much beholden to Sir Lancelot, more than to any other knight, for many times he has saved her life, and fought for her when all the court refused the queen. And perhaps she sent for him for good, and for no evil, to reward him for the good deeds he had done for her in times past. And perhaps my lady the queen sent for him with the intention that Sir Lancelot should come to her privately and secretly, thinking it was best to do so in order to avoid and guard against slander. For often we do many things that we think are for the best, and yet perhaps they turn out for the worst. For I dare say," said Sir Gawain, "my lady your queen is both good and true to you. And as for Sir Lancelot," said Sir Gawain, "I dare say he will make it good on any knight living who will lay dishonour or shame on him, and in the same way he will make it good for my lady Dame Guinevere."
"That I well believe," said King Arthur, "but I will not go that way with Sir Lancelot, for he trusts so much in his hands and his strength that he fears no man. And so he shall never fight for my queen again, for she shall have the law. And if I can get Sir Lancelot, believe me, he shall have a shameful death."
"Jesus forbid," said Sir Gawain, "that I should ever see it."
"Why do you say that?" said King Arthur. "Truly, you have no reason to love Sir Lancelot, for this very night just past he killed your brother Sir Agravain, a very good knight, and he almost killed your other brother Sir Mordred, and he also killed thirteen noble knights there. And also, Sir Gawain, remember he killed two sons of yours, Sir Florence and Sir Lovel."
"My lord," said Sir Gawain, "I know of all this, and I bitterly regret their deaths. But since I gave them warning, and told my brothers and my sons beforehand what would come of it in the end, and since they would not take my advice, I will not meddle in it, nor take any revenge for their deaths; for I told them it was no use fighting with Sir Lancelot. All the same, I am sorry for the death of my brothers and of my sons, for they are the cause of their own deaths. For many times I warned my brother Sir Agravain, and I told him of the perils that have now come about."
Then the noble King Arthur said to Sir Gawain, "Dear nephew, I ask you to make yourself ready in your best armour, with your brothers Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, to bring my queen to the fire, there to have her judgment and receive her death."
"No, my most noble lord," said Sir Gawain, "that I will never do. For believe me, I will never be in that place where so noble a queen as my lady Dame Guinevere comes to a shameful end. For believe me," said Sir Gawain, "my heart will never let me see her die; and it shall never be said that I was ever of your counsel in her death."
Then the king said to Sir Gawain, "Allow your brothers Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth to be there."
"My lord," said Sir Gawain, "believe me, they will be unwilling to be there, because of the many things that are likely to happen there; but they are young, and hardly able to say no to you."
Then Sir Gaheris and the good knight Sir Gareth spoke to Arthur. "Sir, you may well command us to be there, but believe me, it will be sorely against our will. But if we are there by your strict command, you must plainly hold us excused: we will be there peaceably, and wear no armour of war."
"In the name of God," said the king, "then make yourselves ready, for she shall have her judgment very soon."
"Alas," said Sir Gawain, "that I should ever live to see this woeful day."
So Sir Gawain turned away and wept bitterly, and so he went into his room. And then the queen was led out of Carlisle, and there she was stripped to her shift. And so then her confessor was brought to her, so that she could confess her misdeeds and be absolved. Then there was weeping and wailing and wringing of hands among many lords and ladies; but there were only a few, by comparison, who would wear any armour to uphold the queen's death.
Then there was a man whom Sir Lancelot had sent to that place to watch for the time when the queen should go to her death. And as soon as he saw the queen stripped to her shift, and confessed, he gave Sir Lancelot warning. Then there was nothing but spurring and snatching up of horses, and at once they came to the fire. And whoever stood against them was killed there; no one could withstand Sir Lancelot, and so all who bore arms and stood against them were killed there, a great many noble knights. For there were killed Sir Belliance le Orgulous, Sir Segwarides, Sir Griflet, Sir Brandiles, Sir Aglovale, Sir Tor; Sir Gaunter, Sir Gilmere and Sir Raynold, three brothers; Sir Damas, Sir Priamus, Sir Kay the Stranger, Sir Driant, Sir Lambegus, Sir Herminde; Sir Pertolepe and Sir Perimones, two brothers who were called the Green Knight and the Red Knight. And so in this rushing and crashing, as Sir Lancelot pushed his way here and there, it was his misfortune to kill Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, the noble knight, for they were unarmed and off their guard. For, as the French book says, Sir Lancelot struck Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris on the skull, so that they were killed in the field; though in very truth Sir Lancelot did not see them, and so they were found dead in the thickest of the press.
Then, when Sir Lancelot had done this, and had killed or put to flight all who would stand against him, he rode straight to Dame Guinevere, and had a coat and a gown thrown over her; and then he had her set up behind him, and begged her to take heart. Believe me, the queen was glad that she had escaped death. And then she thanked God and Sir Lancelot; and so he rode away with the queen, as the French book says, to Joyous Gard, and there he kept her as a noble knight should. And many great lords and some kings sent Sir Lancelot many good knights, and many noble knights came over to Sir Lancelot. When it was known openly that King Arthur and Sir Lancelot were at strife, many knights were glad of their strife, and many were very sorrowful at it.
So we turn back to King Arthur. When he was told how, and in what manner, the queen had been taken away from the fire, and when he heard of the death of his noble knights, and above all of the deaths of Sir Gaheris and Sir Gareth, the king fainted from pure sorrow. And when he came out of his faint, he said, "Alas that I ever wore a crown upon my head! For now I have lost the fairest fellowship of noble knights that ever a Christian king held together. Alas, my good knights are killed and taken from me: within these two days I have lost forty knights, and also the noble fellowship of Sir Lancelot and his kin, for now I can never hold them together again with my honour. Alas that this war ever began!"
"Now, good companions," said the king, "I order you that no man tell Sir Gawain of the death of his two brothers. For I am sure," said the king, "when Sir Gawain hears that Sir Gareth is dead, he will go nearly out of his mind. Jesus have mercy," said the king, "why did he kill Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris? For I dare say that Sir Gareth loved Sir Lancelot above all men on earth."
"That is true," said some knights, "but they were killed in the crush, as Sir Lancelot pushed his way into the thick of the press; and since they were unarmed, he struck them and did not know whom he struck, and so they were killed by ill luck."
"Their deaths," said Arthur, "will cause the greatest deadly war there ever was. I am sure that if Sir Gawain knew Sir Gareth had been killed, I would never have any peace from him until I had destroyed Sir Lancelot's kin and himself too, or else he destroyed me. And therefore," said the king, "believe me, my heart was never so heavy as it is now. And I am much sorrier for the loss of my good knights than for the loss of my fair queen; for I could have queens enough, but such a fellowship of good knights will never be together in any company again. And now I dare say," said King Arthur, "there was never a Christian king who held such a fellowship together. And alas that Sir Lancelot and I should ever be at strife. Ah, Agravain, Agravain," said the king, "Jesus forgive your soul for it, for the ill will that you and your brother Sir Mordred had towards Sir Lancelot has caused all this sorrow."
And all the while, among these laments, the king wept and fainted.
Then a man came to Sir Gawain and told him how the queen had been led away by Sir Lancelot, and nearly twenty-four knights killed.
"Jesus protect my brothers!" said Sir Gawain. "For I knew very well that Sir Lancelot would rescue her, or else die in that field. And to tell the truth, he would not have been a man of honour if he had not rescued the queen that day, since she was to have been burned for his sake. And in that," said Sir Gawain, "he has done only what a knight should, and what I would have done myself if I had stood in his place. But where are my brothers?" said Sir Gawain. "I am surprised I hear nothing of them."
"Truly," said the man, "Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris are killed."
"Jesus forbid!" said Sir Gawain. "Not for the whole world would I want them killed, and above all my good brother Sir Gareth."
"Sir," said the man, "he is killed, and that is a great pity."
"Who killed him?" said Sir Gawain.
"Sir," said the man, "Lancelot killed them both."
"That I cannot believe," said Sir Gawain, "that he ever killed my brother Sir Gareth. For I dare say my brother Gareth loved him better than me, and all his brothers, and the king too. And I dare say too that if Sir Lancelot had asked my brother Sir Gareth, he would have been on his side against the king and all of us. And so I can never believe that Sir Lancelot killed my brother."
"Sir," said the man, "it is reported that he killed him."
"Alas," said Sir Gawain, "now my joy is gone."
And then he fell down in a faint, and he lay there a long time as if he were dead. And then, when he came out of his faint, he cried out sorrowfully, "Alas!" And at once Sir Gawain ran to the king, crying and weeping. "O King Arthur, my uncle, my good brother Sir Gareth is killed, and so is my brother Sir Gaheris, who were two noble knights."
Then the king wept, and Gawain too; and so they fainted. And when they had revived, Sir Gawain spoke. "Sir, I will go and see my brother Sir Gareth."
"You may not see him," said the king, "for I had him buried, and Sir Gaheris too. For I well understood that you would grieve beyond all bounds, and the sight of Sir Gareth would have doubled your sorrow."
"Alas, my lord," said Sir Gawain, "how did he kill my brother Sir Gareth? My own good lord, I beg you, tell me."
"Truly," said the king, "I will tell you as it was told to me. Sir Lancelot killed him, and Sir Gaheris too."
"Alas," said Sir Gawain, "neither of them bore any arms against him, not either of them."
"I do not know how it was," said the king, "but as it is said, Sir Lancelot killed them both in the thickest of the press and did not know them. And therefore let us work out a remedy to avenge their deaths."
"My king, my lord, and my uncle," said Sir Gawain, "believe me, now I will make you a promise that I will keep by my knighthood: from this day on I will never let Sir Lancelot be, until one of us has killed the other. And therefore I ask you, my lord and king, prepare yourself for war, for believe me, I will be avenged on Sir Lancelot. And therefore, as you want my service and my love, hurry to it now, and call on your friends. For I promise to God," said Sir Gawain, "that for the death of my brother Sir Gareth I will seek Sir Lancelot through seven kings' realms, until I kill him or else he kills me."
"You will not need to seek him so far," said the king, "for, as I hear, Sir Lancelot will wait for me and you in Joyous Gard; and many people are flocking to him, as I hear."
"That I can believe," said Sir Gawain. "But, my lord," he said, "call on your friends, and I will call on mine."
"It shall be done," said the king, "and I expect I shall be strong enough to drag him out of the biggest tower of his castle."
So then the king sent letters and writs throughout all England, through its length and its breadth, to summon all his knights. And so many knights, dukes and earls came to Arthur, so that he had a great army. And when they were assembled, the king told them how Sir Lancelot had robbed him of his queen. Then the king and all his army made ready to lay siege to Sir Lancelot, where he lay inside Joyous Gard. Sir Lancelot heard of it, and provided himself with many good knights, for many knights held with him, some for his own sake and some for the queen's sake. So both sides were well stocked and armed with every kind of thing that belonged to war. But King Arthur's army was so big that Sir Lancelot would not wait for him in the open field, for he was very unwilling to do battle against the king. But Sir Lancelot withdrew to his strong castle with every kind of provision, and as many noble men as he could keep within the town and the castle. Then King Arthur came with Sir Gawain and a huge army, and laid siege all around Joyous Gard, both to the town and to the castle, and there they made fierce war on both sides. But for a long time Sir Lancelot would on no account ride out or go out of his castle; nor would he let any of his good knights sally out, nor any of the town or of the castle, until fifteen weeks had passed.
Then it happened one day at harvest time that Sir Lancelot looked over the walls, and called down aloud to King Arthur and Sir Gawain. "My lords both, believe me, all that you do at this siege is in vain, for here you win no honour, only blame and dishonour. For if I cared to come out myself, with my good knights, I would very soon make an end of this war."
"Come out," said Arthur to Lancelot, "if you dare, and I promise you I will meet you in the middle of the field."
"God forbid," said Sir Lancelot, "that I should ever fight with the most noble king who made me a knight."
"To hell with your fair talk," said the king. "For believe me, and trust it, I am your mortal enemy, and always will be until the day I die. For you have killed my good knights, and very noble men of my blood, whom I can never get back again. And you have lain with my queen, and kept her for many winters, and then, like a traitor, taken her from me by force."
"My most noble lord and king," said Sir Lancelot, "you may say what you like, for you know well that I will not quarrel with you yourself. But where you say I have killed your good knights, I know well that I have done so, and I bitterly regret it; but I was forced to fight them to save my life, or else I would have had to let them kill me. And as for my lady Queen Guinevere: except for your own royal person, and my lord Sir Gawain, there is no knight under heaven who dares to prove on my body that I was ever a traitor to your person. And where it pleases you to say that I have kept my lady your queen for years and winters, to that I will always give a full answer, and prove it on any knight alive, except your person and Sir Gawain, that my lady Queen Guinevere is as true a lady to your person as any lady living is to her lord; and that I will make good with my hands. And yet it has pleased her good grace to hold me in affection, and to cherish me more than any other knight. And to the best of my power I have deserved her love in return. For many times, my lord, you have agreed in your anger that she should be burned and destroyed, and then it was my fortune to fight for her; and before I left her adversary, they confessed their falsehood, and she was cleared with all honour. And at such times, my lord Arthur," said Sir Lancelot, "you loved me, and thanked me when I saved your queen from the fire; and then you promised to be my good lord for ever; and now I think you reward me very badly for my good service. And, my good lord, it seems to me I would have lost a great part of my honour as a knight if I had let my lady your queen be burned, and all the more since she was to have been burned for my sake. For since I have fought battles for your queen in other quarrels than my own, it seems to me I had all the more right to fight for her now in a rightful quarrel. And therefore, my good and gracious lord," said Sir Lancelot, "take your queen back into your good grace, for she is fair, and true, and good."
"Shame on you, false recreant knight!" said Sir Gawain. "I tell you, my lord my uncle King Arthur shall have his queen, and you too, whether you like it or not, and kill you both if it pleases him."
"That may well be," said Sir Lancelot. "But believe me, my lord Sir Gawain, if I cared to come out of this castle, you would find me and the queen harder to win than any hard battle you ever won."
"Shame on your proud words!" said Sir Gawain. "As for my lady the queen, I will never speak shame of her. But you, false recreant knight," said Sir Gawain, "what cause did you have to kill my good brother Sir Gareth, who loved you more than all my kin? Alas, you made him a knight with your own hands. Why did you kill him, when he loved you so well?"
"Making excuses does me no good," said Sir Lancelot, "but by Jesus, and by the faith that I owe to the high order of knighthood, I would as willingly have killed my nephew Sir Bors de Ganis at that moment. But alas that I was so unlucky," said Lancelot, "that I did not see Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris."
"You lie, recreant knight!" said Sir Gawain. "You killed him to spite me. And therefore, know this: I will make war on you, all the while that I live."
"I am sorry for that," said Sir Lancelot, "for I well understand it does no good to look for any agreement while you, Sir Gawain, are so bitterly set against me. And if you were not, I would have no doubt of winning back the good grace of my lord Arthur."
"I can well believe it, false recreant knight," said Sir Gawain, "for you have domineered over me and all of us for many long days, and destroyed many of our good knights."
"You say what pleases you," said Sir Lancelot. "And yet it can never be said of me, and openly proved, that I ever killed any good knight by treason planned beforehand, as you have done, my lord Sir Gawain. And I never did, except in my own defence, when I was driven to it to save my life."
"Ah, false knight," said Sir Gawain, "you mean Sir Lamorak. Know this, I killed him."
"You did not kill him yourself," said Sir Lancelot. "It would have been too much for you to have killed him, for he was one of the best knights of his time in all Christendom, and his death was a great pity."
"Well, well," said Sir Gawain to Lancelot, "since you reproach me with Sir Lamorak, know this: I will never leave you alone until I have you at such a disadvantage that you cannot escape my hands."
"I can well believe it," said Sir Lancelot. "If you can get hold of me, I will get little mercy."
But, as the French book says, the noble King Arthur would have taken his queen back, and been reconciled with Sir Lancelot, but Sir Gawain would not allow him to by any means. And then Sir Gawain had many men cry out against Sir Lancelot; and all together they called him a false recreant knight.
Then, when Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Lionel heard this outcry, they called to them Sir Palomides, Sir Safere's brother, and Sir Lavaine, with many more of their kin, and they all went to Sir Lancelot and said this: "My lord Sir Lancelot, believe me, we are filled with scorn at the great insults we heard Gawain say to you. And so we beg you, and charge you, as you want our service, keep us no longer within these walls. For believe us plainly, we will ride out into the field and do battle with them. For you behave like a man who is afraid, and for all your fair speech it will do you no good. For believe us, Sir Gawain will not let you be reconciled with King Arthur; and therefore fight for your life and your right, if you dare."
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "I am very unwilling to ride out of this castle and do battle."
Then Sir Lancelot called down aloud to Arthur and Sir Gawain. "My lords, I ask you and beg you, since I am pressed and called upon like this to ride out into the field, that neither you, my lord King Arthur, nor you, Sir Gawain, come into the field."
"What shall we do then?" said Sir Gawain. "Is this not the king's quarrel with you, to fight it out? And it is my quarrel to fight with you, Sir Lancelot, because of the death of my brother Sir Gareth."
"Then I must go to battle," said Sir Lancelot. "Now believe me, my lord Arthur and Sir Gawain, you will regret it whenever I do battle with you."
And so then they parted from each other; and then each side made ready to do battle in the morning, and great preparations were made on both sides. And Sir Gawain had many knights set to lie in wait for Sir Lancelot, to overthrow him and kill him. And in the morning, at mid-morning, Arthur was ready in the field with three great armies. And then Sir Lancelot's fellowship came out at three gates, in very good order; and Sir Lionel came in the front division, and Sir Lancelot came in the middle, and Sir Bors came out at the third gate. So they came out in order and discipline, like the very noble knights they were. And all the while Sir Lancelot ordered all his knights, whatever happened, to spare King Arthur and Sir Gawain.
Then Sir Gawain came out from the king's army, and he rode out in front and offered to joust. And Sir Lionel was a fierce knight, and he quickly rode against Sir Gawain; and there Sir Gawain struck Sir Lionel right through the body, so that he crashed to the ground as if he were dead. And then Sir Ector de Maris and others carried him into the castle. Then a great fight began, and many people were killed. And all the while Sir Lancelot did what he could to save the people on King Arthur's side; for Sir Palomides, and Sir Bors, and Sir Safere overthrew many knights, for they were deadly knights. And Sir Blamore de Ganis, and Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, with Sir Bellangere le Beuse, these six knights did much harm. And all the while King Arthur kept close to Sir Lancelot, to kill him, and Sir Lancelot let him be, and would not strike back.
So Sir Bors rode against King Arthur, and there Sir Bors struck him down with a spear. And so he dismounted and drew his sword, and said to Sir Lancelot, "Shall I make an end of this war?" And he meant that he would kill King Arthur.
"Don't you dare," said Sir Lancelot, "on pain of your head, touch him again. For I will never see that most noble king who made me a knight either killed or shamed."
And with that Sir Lancelot got down from his horse, and took up the king and put him back on his horse, and said this: "My lord Arthur, for the love of God, stop this strife, for you win no honour here. I could do my uttermost, but all the time I hold back from you, and neither you nor any of yours holds back from me. My lord, remember what I have done in many places, and now I am badly rewarded."
Then, when King Arthur was on horseback, he looked at Sir Lancelot, and then the tears burst from his eyes, as he thought of the great courtesy that was in Sir Lancelot, more than in any other man. And with that the king rode away, and could look at him no longer, and said, "Alas that this war ever began!"
And then both sides drew back from the battle to rest, and buried the dead, and laid soothing salves on the wounded men; and so they held out that night until the morning. And in the morning, by mid-morning, they made ready to do battle. And then Sir Bors led the vanguard.
So in the morning Sir Gawain came, as fierce as any boar, with a great spear in his hand. And when Sir Bors saw him, he meant to avenge his brother Sir Lionel for the injury that Sir Gawain had done him the day before. And so, as they knew each other, they set their spears in rest, and with all the might of their horses and of themselves they met together so fiercely that each ran the other through, and so they both fell to the ground. And then the armies joined, and there was great slaughter on both sides. Then Sir Lancelot rescued Sir Bors, and sent him into the castle; but neither Sir Gawain nor Sir Bors died of their wounds, for they were all healed.
Then Sir Lavaine and Sir Urre begged Sir Lancelot to exert himself, and fight as they had done. "For we see you hold back and spare them, and that does much harm. So we beg you, spare your enemies no more than they spare you."
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "I have no heart to fight against my lord Arthur, for it always seems to me that I am not doing as I ought."
"My lord," said Sir Palomides, "though you spare them all this day, they will never thank you for it; and if they can get you at a disadvantage, you are as good as dead."
So then Sir Lancelot understood that they told him the truth; and then he exerted himself more than he had done before, and all the more because his nephew Sir Bors was badly wounded. And then within a little while, by the time of evensong, Sir Lancelot and his side had the upper hand, for their horses waded in blood above the fetlocks, so many people were killed. And then, out of pity, Sir Lancelot held back his knights, and let King Arthur's side draw off to one side. And then Sir Lancelot's side withdrew into his castle, and both sides buried the dead and put salve on the wounded men.
So when Sir Gawain was hurt, those on King Arthur's side were not so proud to do battle as they had been before. This war was talked of through all Christendom, and at last it was reported before the Pope. And he, considering the great goodness of King Arthur and of Sir Lancelot, who were called the noblest knights in the world, called to him a noble churchman who was there at that time (the French book says it was the Bishop of Rochester). And the Pope gave him papal bulls sealed with lead to take to King Arthur of England, charging him, on pain of laying all England under interdict, with every church in it shut, to take his queen Dame Guinevere back to him again, and be reconciled with Sir Lancelot.
So when this Bishop had come to Carlisle, he showed the king these bulls. And when the king understood these bulls, he did not know what to do. He would very gladly have been reconciled with Sir Lancelot, but Sir Gawain would not allow him; but as for having the queen back, to that he agreed. But on no account would Sir Gawain allow the king to be reconciled with Sir Lancelot; but as for the queen, he consented. And then the Bishop had from the king his great seal, and his guarantee, as he was a true anointed king, that Sir Lancelot should come safely and go safely, and that the queen should not be reproached by the king, nor by anyone else, for anything done in times past. And of all these terms the Bishop brought with him sure guarantees and writings, to show Sir Lancelot.
So when the Bishop had come to Joyous Gard, he showed Sir Lancelot there how the Pope had written to Arthur and to him, and there he told him the dangers if he kept the queen from the king.
"It was never in my thoughts," said Lancelot, "to keep the queen from my lord Arthur. But since she was to have died for my sake, it seemed to me it was my part to save her life, and put her out of that danger until a better remedy might come. And now I thank God," said Sir Lancelot, "that the Pope has made her peace. For God knows," said Sir Lancelot, "I will be a thousand times gladder to bring her back than I ever was to take her away; provided that I can be sure to come safely and go safely, and that the queen shall have her freedom as she had before, and that never, for anything that has been alleged before this time, shall she stand in any danger from this day on. For otherwise," said Sir Lancelot, "I dare risk myself to keep her from a harder attack than any I ever kept her from."
"You will not need to fear so much," said the Bishop. "For believe me, the Pope must be obeyed, and it would not be to the Pope's honour, nor to my poor good name, to let you be wronged, nor the queen either, neither put in danger nor shamed."
And then he showed Sir Lancelot all his writings, both from the Pope and from King Arthur.
"This is sure enough," said Sir Lancelot, "for I dare trust my lord's own writing and his seal completely, for he was never shamed in his promise. Therefore," said Sir Lancelot to the Bishop, "you shall ride ahead to the king, and commend me to his good grace, and let him know that eight days from today, by the grace of God, I myself will bring my lady Queen Guinevere to him. And then say to my most dread king that I will speak out boldly for the queen, and that I will make no exception, for dread or fear, except the king himself and my lord Sir Gawain; and that is more for the king's love than for Gawain's own."
So the Bishop left, and came to the king at Carlisle, and told him everything, how Sir Lancelot had answered him; and then the tears burst from the king's eyes. Then Sir Lancelot provided himself with a hundred knights, and all were dressed in green velvet, and their horses were draped in trappings to their heels; and every knight held an olive branch in his hand, as a token of peace. And the queen had twenty-four gentlewomen following her in the same way; and Sir Lancelot had twelve warhorses following him, and on every warhorse sat a young man of good birth, and they were all dressed in green velvet, with girdles of gold about their waists, and the horses draped in the same way down to the heels, with many jewelled clasps, set with stones and pearls in gold, a thousand of them. And the queen and Sir Lancelot were dressed in white cloth of gold tissue. And just as you have heard, as the French book tells, he rode with the queen from Joyous Gard to Carlisle. And so Sir Lancelot rode through Carlisle, and so into the castle, so that everyone could see; and believe me, there was many a weeping eye. And then Sir Lancelot himself dismounted and got clear of his horse, and took the queen, and so led her to where King Arthur sat on his throne; and Sir Gawain sat in front of him, and many other great lords. So when Sir Lancelot saw the king and Sir Gawain, he led the queen by the arm, and then he knelt down, and the queen too. Believe me, there were many bold knights there with King Arthur who wept as tenderly as if they had seen all their kin before them. So the king sat still and said no word. And when Sir Lancelot saw his face, he rose and raised the queen with him, and then he spoke, like a true knight.
"My most revered king," said Sir Lancelot, "you are to understand that, by the Pope's command and yours, I have brought my lady the queen to you, as right requires. And if there is any knight, of whatever rank he may be, except your own person, who will say or dares say that she is anything but true and pure to you, I, Sir Lancelot du Lake, here and now will make it good upon his body that she is a true lady to you. But you have listened to liars, and that has caused the strife between you and me. For there was a time, my lord Arthur, when you were greatly pleased with me when I did battle for my lady, your queen. And you know full well, my most noble king, that she has been put to great wrong before this time. And since it pleased you many times that I should fight for her, it seems to me, my good lord, that I had all the more cause to rescue her from the fire, seeing that she was to have been burned for my sake. For those who told you those tales were liars, and so it fell out against them. For in all likelihood, if the might of God had not been with me, I could never have held out against fourteen knights, and they armed and ready by plan, and I unarmed and with no plan at all. For I was sent for to come to my lady your queen, I do not know for what reason; but I was no sooner inside the chamber door than at once Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred called me traitor and recreant knight."
"They called you right," said Sir Gawain.
"My lord Sir Gawain," said Sir Lancelot, "in their quarrel they did not prove themselves in the right."
"Well, well, Sir Lancelot," said the king, "I have given you no cause to do to me as you have done, for I have honoured you and yours more than any of all my knights."
"My good lord," said Sir Lancelot, "if you will not be displeased, you are to understand that I and mine have often done you better service than any other knights have done, in many different places. And where you have been in a very hard spot at various times, I have myself rescued you from many dangers. And always, to the best of my power, I was glad to please you, and my lord Sir Gawain. Both in jousts and tournaments, and in pitched battles, both on horseback and on foot, I have often rescued you, and my lord Sir Gawain, and many more of your knights, in many different places. For now I will boast," said Sir Lancelot. "I want you all to know that I never yet found any kind of knight but that I was too hard for him, if I did my uttermost, thanks be to God. Though I have been matched with good knights, such as Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak, I always had a goodwill toward them and a judgement of what they were. And I take God to witness," said Sir Lancelot, "I was never angry, nor greatly downcast, with any good knight if I saw him busy about winning honour. And I was always glad when I found any knight who could stand against me on horseback and on foot. Yet Sir Carados of the Dolorous Tower was a very noble knight and an exceedingly strong man, and you know that, my lord Sir Gawain. For he might well be called a noble knight when by sheer force he pulled you out of your saddle and bound you across his saddlebow in front of him; and there, my lord Sir Gawain, I rescued you, and killed him before your eyes. Also I found his brother, Sir Turquine, in the same way leading Sir Gaheris, your brother, bound in front of him; and there I rescued your brother and killed that Turquine, and freed sixty-four of my lord Arthur's knights from his prison. And now I dare say," said Sir Lancelot, "I never met with knights so strong, nor so good at fighting, as Sir Carados and Sir Turquine were, for I fought with them to the uttermost. And therefore," said Sir Lancelot to Sir Gawain, "it seems to me that you ought by rights to remember this. For if I could have your goodwill, I would trust to God to have my lord Arthur's good grace."
"The king may do as he likes," said Sir Gawain, "but you may be sure, Sir Lancelot, you and I will never be reconciled while we live, for you have killed three of my brothers. And two of them you killed treacherously and pitilessly, for they wore no armour against you, nor would they wear any."
"I wish to God they had been armed," said Sir Lancelot, "for then they would be alive. And believe me, Sir Gawain, as for Sir Gareth, I love none of my own kinsmen as much as I loved him. And as long as I live," said Sir Lancelot, "I will mourn Sir Gareth's death, and not only for the great fear I have of you, but many causes make me sorrowful. One is that I made him a knight. Another is that I know well he loved me above all other knights. And the third is that he was exceedingly noble, true, courteous and well-bred, and of good character. The fourth is that I knew well, as soon as I heard that Sir Gareth was dead, I would never again have your love, but everlasting war between us; and I knew well too that you would make my noble lord Arthur my mortal enemy for ever. And as Jesus is my help," said Sir Lancelot, "I never killed Sir Gareth or Sir Gaheris by my will; but alas that they were ever unarmed on that ill-fated day. But this much I will offer," said Sir Lancelot, "if it may please the king's good grace, and you, my lord Sir Gawain. I will begin first at Sandwich, and there I will go in my shirt, barefoot; and at the end of every ten miles I will found and have built a house of religion, of whatever order you will assign me, with a whole community of monks, to sing and read day and night, especially for the sake of Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris. And this I will carry out from Sandwich to Carlisle, and every house shall have enough income to live on. And this I will carry out while I have any income in Christendom; and there shall not be one of all these religious houses but it shall be completed, furnished and fitted out in everything as a holy place ought to be, I promise you faithfully. And this, Sir Gawain, seems to me fairer and holier, and far better for their souls, than that you, my most noble king, and you, Sir Gawain, should make war on me, for you will gain nothing by it."
Then all the knights and ladies who were there wept as if they were mad, and the tears fell on King Arthur's cheeks.
"Sir Lancelot," said Sir Gawain, "I have heard your speech very well, and your great offers. But you may be sure, let the king do as he pleases, I will never forgive my brothers' deaths, and above all the death of my brother Sir Gareth. And if my uncle, King Arthur, makes peace with you, he will lose my service. For you may be sure you are false both to the king and to me."
"Sir," said Lancelot, "there is no man alive who can prove that. And if you, Sir Gawain, will charge me with so grave a thing, you must pardon me, for then I have no choice but to answer you."
"No," said Sir Gawain, "we are past that for now, and the Pope is the cause of it. For he has charged my uncle the king that he must take his queen back and make peace with you, Sir Lancelot, for this time; and therefore you shall go safe as you came. But you shall not stay in this land more than fifteen days; that is the summons I give you. So the king and we had agreed and settled it before you came. Otherwise," said Sir Gawain, "you may be sure you would not have come here, except against your will. And if it were not for the Pope's command," said Sir Gawain, "I would do battle with my own body against your body, and prove it upon you, that you have been false both to my uncle King Arthur and to me; and that I will prove upon your body once you have gone from here, wherever I find you."
Then Sir Lancelot sighed, and with that the tears fell on his cheeks, and then he said this: "Alas, most noble Christian realm, which I have loved above all other realms, and in you I have won a great part of my honour, and now I must leave in this way. Truly I regret that I ever came into this realm, to be so shamefully banished, undeserved and without cause. But fortune is so changeable, and her wheel so moveable, that there is no constant staying, and that may be proved by many old chronicles, of noble Hector, and Troilus, and Alexander the mighty conqueror, and many more besides: when they were highest in their royalty, they came down lowest. And so it goes with me," said Sir Lancelot, "for in this realm I had honour, and through me and mine the whole Round Table has been increased in honour, through me and my blood, more than through any other. And therefore you may be sure, Sir Gawain, I can live on my own lands as well as any knight who is here. And if you, my most revered king, come upon my lands with Sir Gawain to make war on me, I must bear with you as well as I can. But as for you, Sir Gawain, if you come there, I beg you not to charge me with treason or felony, for if you do, I must answer you."
"Do your best," said Sir Gawain, "and so hurry up and be gone. And you may be sure we will soon come after you, and break the strongest castle you have upon your head."
"There will be no need for that," said Sir Lancelot, "for if I were as proud as you are, believe me, I would meet you in the middle of the field."
"Make no more talk," said Sir Gawain, "but hand over the queen, and take yourself quickly out of this court."
"Well," said Sir Lancelot, "if I had known of this short welcome, I would have thought twice before I came here. For if the queen were as dear to me as you make out, I would have dared to keep her from the fellowship of the best knights under heaven."
And then Sir Lancelot said to Guinevere, in the hearing of the king and all of them, "Madam, now I must leave you and this noble fellowship for ever. And since it is so, I beg you to pray for me, and speak well of me. And if you are in a hard spot because of any false tongues, my lady, send me word quickly; and if any knight's hands can free you by battle, I will free you."
And with that Sir Lancelot kissed the queen; and then he said openly before them all, "Now let us see who in this place dares say the queen is not true to my lord Arthur. Let us see who will speak, if he dares to speak."
And with that he brought the queen to the king, and then Sir Lancelot took his leave and left. And there was neither king, duke nor earl, baron nor knight, lady nor gentlewoman, but they all wept like people out of their minds, except Sir Gawain. And when the noble Sir Lancelot mounted his horse to ride out of Carlisle, there was sobbing and weeping out of pure grief at his leaving. And so he took his way to Joyous Gard, and from then on he called it the Dolorous Gard. And so Sir Lancelot left the court for ever.
And so when he came to Joyous Gard he called his company to him, and asked them what they would do. Then they all answered together with one voice that they would do as he would do.
"My fair companions," said Sir Lancelot, "I must leave this most noble realm, and now that I must leave it, it grieves me badly, for I shall leave with no honour. For a man driven out never left a realm with any honour; and that is my sorrow, for I fear always that after my days men will write in their chronicles of me that I was driven out of this land. And otherwise, my fair lords, be sure of this: if I had not feared shame, my lady Queen Guinevere and I would never have parted."
Then many noble knights spoke, such as Sir Palomides, Sir Safere his brother, and Sir Bellangere le Beuse, and Sir Urre, with Sir Lavaine, and many others: "Sir, if you are minded to stay in this land, we will never fail you. And if you do not care to stay in this land, there is not one of the good knights here who will fail you, for many reasons. One is that all of us who are not of your blood will never be welcome at the court. And since it pleased us to take your part in your distress and sorrow in this realm, believe me, it will please us just as well to go into other countries with you, and to take whatever part you take there."
"My fair lords," said Sir Lancelot, "I understand you well, and I thank you as best I can. And you are to understand that I will share out with you, in this manner, such inheritance as I was born to: that is to say, I will divide all my income and all my lands freely among you, and I myself will have as little as any of you. For if I have enough for my own person, I will ask for no other rich array. And I trust to God to maintain you on my lands as well as any knights were ever maintained."
Then all the knights spoke at once: "Shame on any man who leaves you! For we all understand that in this realm there will be no peace now, but always strife and quarrelling, now that the fellowship of the Round Table is broken. For by the noble fellowship of the Round Table King Arthur was held up, and by their nobility the king and all his realm were at peace and rest; and a great part of that," they said, "was all because of your nobility."
"Truly," said Sir Lancelot, "I thank you all for your kind words. And yet I know well that the whole stability of this realm did not lie in me; but as far as I could, I did my duty. And I am quite sure I knew of many rebellions in my day that were put down by me, and I believe we shall all hear of them in a short while, and that I deeply regret. For I always fear," said Sir Lancelot, "that Sir Mordred will make trouble, for he is exceedingly envious and sets himself to make trouble."
So they agreed to go with Sir Lancelot to his lands. And to cut a long story short, they packed up, and paid everyone who asked for payment; and a full hundred knights left with Sir Lancelot at once, and made their vows that they would never leave him, for better or for worse.
And so they took ship at Cardiff, and sailed to Benwick. Some men call it Bayonne, and some men call it Beaune, where the wine of Beaune comes from. But to tell the truth, Sir Lancelot and his nephews were lords of all France, and of all the lands that belonged to France; he and his kindred enjoyed it all through Sir Lancelot's noble prowess. And then Sir Lancelot stocked and furnished and armed all his noble towns and castles. Then all the people of those lands came to Sir Lancelot on foot and did him homage. And so when he had settled all these countries, he called a parliament without delay; and there he crowned Sir Lionel King of France; and Sir Bors he crowned king of all King Claudas's lands; and Sir Ector de Maris, who was Sir Lancelot's youngest brother, he crowned King of Benwick, and king of all Guienne, which was Sir Lancelot's own land. And he made Sir Ector prince over them all, and so he shared it out.
Then Sir Lancelot raised up all his noble knights, and first he raised up those of his own blood. That was Sir Blamore: he made him Duke of the Limousin in Guienne. And Sir Bleoberis he made Duke of Poitiers, and Sir Gahalantine he made Duke of Querne, and Sir Galihodin he made Duke of Saintonge, and Sir Galihud he made Earl of Perigord, and Sir Menadeuke he made Earl of Rouergue, and Sir Villiers the Valiant he made Earl of Bearn, and Sir Hebes le Renoumes he made Earl of Comminges, and Sir Lavaine he made Earl of Armagnac, and Sir Urre he made Earl of Astarac, and Sir Neroneus he made Earl of Pardiac, and Sir Plenorius he made Earl of Foix, and Sir Selises of the Dolorous Tower he made Earl of Masauke, and Sir Melias de Lile he made Earl of Tursauk, and Sir Bellangere le Beuse he made Earl of the Landes, and Sir Palomides he made Duke of Provence, and Sir Safere he made Duke of Languedoc, and to Sir Clegis he gave the Earldom of Agen, and to Sir Sadok he gave the Earldom of Sarlat, and Sir Dinas the Seneschal he made Duke of Anjou, and Sir Clarrus he made Duke of Normandy. So Sir Lancelot rewarded his noble knights, and many more, whom it would take too long, it seems to me, to list.
So we leave Sir Lancelot in his lands, and his noble knights with him, and return again to King Arthur and to Sir Gawain, who made a great army ready, to the number of sixty thousand. And everything was made ready for their shipping to cross the sea, and so they took ship at Cardiff. And there King Arthur made Sir Mordred chief ruler of all England, and he also put Queen Guinevere in his keeping. Because Sir Mordred was King Arthur's son, he gave him the rule of his land and of his wife. And so the king crossed the sea and landed on Sir Lancelot's lands, and there, through the vengeance of Sir Gawain, he burned and laid waste all that they could overrun.
When word of this came to Sir Lancelot, that King Arthur and Sir Gawain had landed on his lands and were making a very great destruction and waste, then Sir Bors spoke, and said, "My lord Sir Lancelot, it is a shame that we allow them to ride over our lands like this. For believe me, put up with them as long as you like, they will show you no favour if they can get their hands on you."
Then Sir Lionel, who was wary and wise, said, "My lord Sir Lancelot, I will give this advice. Let us hold our strong walled towns until they suffer hunger and cold and blow on their nails; and then let us set on them fresh, and cut them down like sheep in a field, so that foreigners may take warning for ever how they land on our lands."
Then King Bagdemagus spoke to Sir Lancelot: "Sir, your courtesy will be the ruin of us all, and your courtesy has woken all this sorrow. For if they ride over our lands like this, they will in time bring us all to nothing while we hide in holes like this."
Then Sir Galihud said to Sir Lancelot, "Sir, here are knights come of kings' blood, who will not hang their heads for long, and they are within these walls. So give us leave, as we are knights, to meet them in the field, and we will kill them, so that they will curse the time they ever came into this country."
Then seven brothers of North Wales spoke, and they were seven noble knights; a man might search seven kings' lands before he could find seven such knights. Then they all said at once, "Sir Lancelot, for Christ's sake let us ride out with Sir Galihud, for we were never used to cowering in castles or in noble towns."
Then Sir Lancelot, who was master and governor of them all, spoke: "My fair lords, believe me, I am very unwilling to ride out with my knights and shed Christian blood. And besides, I understand that my lands are very bare for supporting any army for long, because of the mighty wars that King Claudas once made upon this country, upon my father King Ban, and on my uncle King Bors. However, for this time we will keep to our strong walls, and I will send a messenger to my lord Arthur to make a treaty; for peace is better than war for ever."
So Sir Lancelot sent out a damsel, and a dwarf with her, asking King Arthur to leave off his warring on his lands. And so she leapt onto a palfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side. And when she came to King Arthur's tent, she dismounted there; and there a well-bred knight met her, Sir Lucan the butler, and said, "Fair damsel, do you come from Sir Lancelot du Lake?"
"Yes, sir," she said, "and that is why I have come here, to speak with my lord the king."
"Alas," said Sir Lucan, "my lord Arthur would love Lancelot, but Sir Gawain will not let him." And then he said, "I pray to God, damsel, that you may succeed, for all of us who are about the king wish that Sir Lancelot fared the best of any knight living."
And so with this Lucan led the damsel to the king where he sat with Sir Gawain, to hear what she would say. So when she had told her tale, the tears ran out of the king's eyes, and all the lords were very glad to advise the king to make peace with Sir Lancelot, all except Sir Gawain. And he said, "My lord my uncle, what will you do? Will you turn back now, now that you have come this far on this campaign? All the world will speak of your disgrace."
"No," said Arthur, "believe me, Sir Gawain, I will do as you advise me. And yet it seems to me," said Arthur, "his fair offers were not to be refused. But since I have come so far on this campaign, I want you to give the damsel her answer, for I cannot speak to her for pity, her offers are so generous."
Then Sir Gawain said this to the damsel: "Damsel, tell Sir Lancelot that it is wasted effort now to plead with my uncle. For tell him that if he had wanted to make any effort for peace, he should have made it before this; for tell him now it is too late. And say that I, Sir Gawain, send him this word: that I promise him, by the faith I owe to God and to knighthood, I will never leave him until he has killed me or I him."
So the damsel wept and left, and there were many weeping eyes. And so Sir Lucan brought the damsel to her palfrey, and so she came to Sir Lancelot where he was among all his knights. And when Sir Lancelot had heard this answer, the tears ran down his cheeks. And then his noble knights strode up around him, and said, "Sir Lancelot, why do you look like this? Think what you are, and what men we are, and let us noble knights match them in the middle of the field."
"That could easily be done," said Sir Lancelot, "but I was never so unwilling to do battle. And therefore I beg you, fair sirs, as you love me, be ruled as I would have you. For I will always flee from that noble king who made me a knight. And when I can go no further, I must defend myself, and that will be more honour for me and for us all than to set ourselves against that noble king whom we have all served."
Then they held their tongues, and that night they took their rest.
And in the morning early, at the dawning of the day, as knights looked out, they saw the city of Benwick besieged all round. And quickly the besiegers began to set up ladders, and then those in the town fought them off and beat them from the walls stoutly. Then Sir Gawain came out, well armed, on a strong steed, and he came before the main gate with his spear in his hand, crying, "Sir Lancelot, where are you? Is there not one of you proud knights who dares break a spear with me?"
Then Sir Bors made himself ready, and came out of the town, and there Sir Gawain met Sir Bors. And at that time he struck Sir Bors down from his horse, and almost killed him; and so Sir Bors was rescued and carried into the town. Then Sir Lionel came out, Sir Bors's brother, and meant to avenge him; and each set his spear in rest, and they charged together. And there they met fiercely, but Sir Gawain had such grace that he struck Sir Lionel down, and wounded him there exceedingly badly; and then Sir Lionel was rescued and carried into the town. And this Sir Gawain came every day, and he never failed to strike down one knight or another.
So they went on like this for half a year, and there was much slaughter of people on both sides. Then it happened one day that Sir Gawain came before the gates, armed at all points, on a noble horse, with a great spear in his hand; and then he cried in a loud voice, "Where are you now, you false traitor, Sir Lancelot? Why do you hide inside holes and walls like a coward? Look out now, you false traitor knight, and here I will take revenge on your body for the death of my three brothers!"
Sir Lancelot heard every bit of all this talk; and his kin and his knights drew around him, and they all said at once to Sir Lancelot, "Sir Lancelot, now you must defend yourself like a knight, or else you will be shamed for ever. For now that you are accused of treason, it is time for you to stir, for you have slept too long and put up with too much."
"So God help me," said Sir Lancelot, "I am very downcast at Sir Gawain's words, for now he has charged me with a grave charge. And therefore I know as well as you do that I must defend myself, or else be shamed as a recreant."
Then Sir Lancelot ordered his strongest horse to be saddled, and had his arms fetched, and all brought to the gate of the tower. And then Sir Lancelot spoke out from on high to King Arthur, and said, "My lord Arthur, noble king who made me a knight, believe me, I am very sorrowful for your sake that you pursue me like this. And I always held back from you; for if I had wanted to be vengeful, I might have met you in the middle of the field, and there made your boldest knights very tame. And now I have held back for half a year, and allowed you and Sir Gawain to do whatever you would do; and now I can bear it no longer, for now I must defend myself, since Sir Gawain has accused me of treason. And that is greatly against my will, that I should ever fight against any of your blood; but now I cannot refuse it, for I am driven to it like a beast brought to bay."
Then Sir Gawain said, "Sir Lancelot, if you dare do battle, stop your babbling and come out, and let us ease our hearts."
Then Sir Lancelot armed himself swiftly, and mounted his horse, and each of the knights took great spears in their hands. And the army outside stood still, all apart, and the noble knights came out of the city in great numbers, so many that when Arthur saw the number of men and knights, he marvelled, and said to himself, "Alas that Sir Lancelot was ever against me, for now I see he has held back from me."
And so the agreement was made that no man should come near them, or have anything to do with them, until the one was dead or had yielded.
Then Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot drew a great way apart, and then they came together with all their horses' might, as fast as they could run, and each struck the other in the middle of his shield. But the knights were so strong, and their spears so big, that their horses could not withstand their blows, and so their horses fell to the earth. And then they got clear of their horses, and set their shields in front of them. Then they stood together and gave many heavy blows on various places of their bodies, so that the blood burst out on many sides and places.
Then Sir Gawain had a grace and gift that a holy man had given him: every day of the year, from mid-morning until high noon, his might increased threefold in those three hours, and that made Sir Gawain win great honour. And for his sake King Arthur made an ordinance that all battles, for whatever quarrel, that were to be fought before King Arthur should begin at mid-morning. And all this was done out of love for Sir Gawain, so that in all likelihood, if Sir Gawain were on the one side, he would have the better of the battle while his strength lasted those three hours. But there were very few knights living at that time who knew of this advantage that Sir Gawain had, except King Arthur alone.
So Sir Lancelot fought with Sir Gawain, and when Sir Lancelot felt his might increase more and more, Sir Lancelot wondered, and greatly feared to be shamed. For, as the French book says, when Sir Lancelot felt Sir Gawain double his strength, he thought he was a fiend and no earthly man. And so Sir Lancelot circled and sidestepped, and covered himself with his shield, and saved his strength and his quickness for three hours. And all that while Sir Gawain gave him many heavy charges and many heavy blows, so that all the knights who watched Sir Lancelot marvelled how he could hold out against him; but they little understood the labour Sir Lancelot had to hold out against him. And then, when it was past noon, Sir Gawain had nothing more than his own might. When Sir Lancelot felt him come down like this, then he drew himself up and stood close to Sir Gawain, and said this: "My lord Sir Gawain, now I feel that you are done. Now, my lord Sir Gawain, I must do my part, for I have borne many great and grievous blows from you this day with great pain."
Then Sir Lancelot doubled his blows, and gave Sir Gawain such a blow on the helmet that he fell down on his side, and Sir Lancelot drew back from him.
"Why are you drawing back?" said Sir Gawain. "Now turn back, false traitor knight, and kill me! For if you leave me like this, when I am healed I will do battle with you again."
"I will stand up to you, sir, by God's grace," said Sir Lancelot, "but you may be sure, Sir Gawain, I will never strike a fallen knight."
And so Sir Lancelot went into the city; and Sir Gawain was carried into King Arthur's tent, and doctors were brought to him, and they probed his wounds and dressed them with soft ointments.
And then Sir Lancelot said, "Now good day to you, my lord the king, for believe me, you will win no honour at these walls. And if I were to bring my knights out, many a man would die. Therefore, my lord Arthur, remember old kindness; and however it goes with me, may Jesus be your guide in all places."
"Alas," said the king, "that this ill-fated war was ever begun! For Sir Lancelot always holds back from me everywhere, and from my kin in the same way, and that was plain to see this day with my nephew Sir Gawain."
Then King Arthur fell sick with sorrow for Sir Gawain, because he was so badly hurt, and because of the war between him and Sir Lancelot. So then those on King Arthur's side kept up the siege, with little fighting on the outside; and those inside kept to their walls, and defended them when there was need. So Sir Gawain lay sick three weeks in his tents, with every kind of doctoring that could be had. And as soon as Sir Gawain could walk and ride, he armed himself at all points, and leapt onto a warhorse, and took a spear in his hand, and so he came riding before the main gate of Benwick. And there he cried aloud, "Where are you, Sir Lancelot? Come out, you false traitor knight and recreant, for I am here, Sir Gawain, who will prove what I say on you!"
Sir Lancelot heard all this talk, and then he said this: "Sir Gawain, I am sorry for your foul words, that you will not stop your talk. For you know well, Sir Gawain, I know your might and all that you can do; and you know well, Sir Gawain, you cannot do me much harm."
"Come down, traitor knight," said he, "and prove the contrary with your hands! For it was my bad luck in the last battle to be hurt by your hands; so you may be sure I have come this day to make up for it, for I mean this day to lay you as low as you laid me."
"Jesus forbid," said Sir Lancelot, "that I should ever be so far in your power as you have been in mine, for then my days would be done. But Sir Gawain," said Sir Lancelot, "you shall not think that I will hang back long; but since you call me a traitor so unknightly, you shall have both your hands full of me."
And then Sir Lancelot armed himself at all points, and mounted his horse, and took a great spear in his hand, and rode out at the gate. And both the armies were assembled, those outside and those inside, and stood in array very manfully. And both sides were ordered to hold themselves still, to see and watch the battle of these two noble knights. And then they laid their spears in their rests, and they came together like thunder, and Sir Gawain broke his spear upon Sir Lancelot into a hundred pieces right up to his hand. And Sir Lancelot struck him with a greater might, so that the feet of Sir Gawain's horse rose up, and so the horse and he fell to the earth. Then Sir Gawain nimbly got clear of his horse, and put his shield in front of him, and eagerly drew his sword, and said to Sir Lancelot, "Get down, traitor knight! For if this mare's son has failed me, you may be sure a king's son and a queen's son will not fail you."
Then Sir Lancelot got clear of his horse, and set his shield in front of him, and drew his sword; and so they stood together and gave many heavy blows, so that all men on both sides were exceedingly amazed at it. But when Sir Lancelot felt Sir Gawain's might increase so marvellously, he held back his courage and his breath, and kept his might wonderfully hidden; and under his shield he circled and sidestepped here and there, to break Sir Gawain's blows and his spirit. And Sir Gawain strained himself with all his might and power to destroy Sir Lancelot; for, as the French book says, always as Sir Gawain's might increased, just so increased his breath and his ill will. So Sir Gawain gave Sir Lancelot great trouble for three hours, so that he had very great pains to defend himself.
And when the three hours were past, and Sir Lancelot felt that Sir Gawain had come back to his own proper strength, then Sir Lancelot said to Sir Gawain, "Now I have tested you twice, and found that you are a very dangerous knight and a wonderful man for your might. And you have done many wonderful deeds in your day, for by your increasing might you have deceived many a very noble and valiant knight. And now that I feel you have done your mighty deeds, now believe me, I must do my deeds."
And then Sir Lancelot stood close to Sir Gawain, and then Sir Lancelot doubled his blows. And Sir Gawain defended himself mightily, but nevertheless Sir Lancelot struck such a blow on Sir Gawain's helmet, and on the old wound, that Sir Gawain sank down on one side in a faint. And as soon as he came to, he waved and thrust at Sir Lancelot as he lay, and said, "Traitor knight, you may be sure I am not dead yet. Come near me and finish this battle to the uttermost!"
"I will do no more than I have done," said Sir Lancelot. "For when I see you on your feet, I will do battle with you all the while I see you stand on your feet; but as for striking a wounded man who cannot stand, God keep me from such a shame!"
And then he turned and went his way toward the city. And Sir Gawain kept calling him traitor knight all the while, and said, "You may be sure, Sir Lancelot, when I am healed I will do battle with you again, for I will never leave you until one of us is killed."
So the siege went on, and Sir Gawain lay sick for nearly a month; and when he was well recovered, and would have been ready within three days to do battle again with Sir Lancelot, just then news came to Arthur from England that made King Arthur and all his army move.
Here follows the twenty-first book.
While Sir Mordred was ruler of all England, he had letters made as though they came from over the sea, and the letters said that King Arthur had been killed in battle with Sir Lancelot. So Sir Mordred called a parliament, and summoned the lords together, and there he made them choose him king; and so he was crowned at Canterbury, and held a feast there for fifteen days. And afterwards he went to Winchester, and there he took Queen Guinevere, and said plainly that he would marry her, who was his uncle's wife and his father's wife. And so he made ready for the feast, and a day was set for them to be married; at which Queen Guinevere was exceedingly downcast. But she did not dare show what was in her heart, but spoke him fair, and agreed to Sir Mordred's will. Then she asked Sir Mordred's leave to go to London, to buy all the things that belonged to the wedding. And because of her fair words Sir Mordred trusted her well enough, and gave her leave to go. And so when she came to London she took the Tower of London, and suddenly, in all the haste she could, she stocked it with all kinds of provisions, and manned it well, and so held it.
Then when Sir Mordred knew and understood how he had been tricked, he was angry beyond measure. And to cut a long story short, he went and laid a mighty siege around the Tower of London, and made many great assaults on it, and hurled many great stones at them from his siege engines, and fired great guns. But none of it could do Sir Mordred any good, for Queen Guinevere would never, for fair words or foul, trust herself to come into his hands again.
Then came the Bishop of Canterbury, who was a noble scholar and a holy man, and this is what he said to Sir Mordred: "Sir, what are you going to do? Will you first offend God and then shame yourself, and all knighthood? Is King Arthur not your uncle, no further off than your mother's brother? And on her, his own sister, King Arthur himself fathered you. So how can you marry your father's wife? Sir," said the noble scholar, "give up this idea, or I will curse you with book and bell and candle."
"Do your worst," said Sir Mordred. "And you can be sure I'll defy you."
"Sir," said the Bishop, "and you may be sure I will not be afraid to do what I ought to do. And you spread it about that my lord Arthur is killed, and that is not so, and so you will make foul work in this land."
"Quiet, you lying priest," said Sir Mordred, "for if you provoke me any more I'll have your head struck off."
So the Bishop left and pronounced the curse in the haughtiest way that it could be done. And then Sir Mordred went looking for the Bishop of Canterbury, to have him killed. Then the Bishop fled, and took part of his goods with him, and went to a place near Glastonbury; and there he lived as a priest and hermit in a chapel, in poverty and in holy prayer, for he understood well that a disastrous war was at hand.
Then Sir Mordred pressed Queen Guinevere with letters and messengers, and by fair means and foul, to make her come out of the Tower of London; but none of it did any good, for she answered him curtly, openly and in private, that she would rather kill herself than be married to him. Then word came to Sir Mordred that King Arthur had raised the siege against Sir Lancelot and was coming home with a great army, to take vengeance on Sir Mordred. So Sir Mordred had writs written and sent to all the barons of this land, and many people flocked to him. For the common talk among them then was that with Arthur there was no other life but war and strife, and with Sir Mordred there was great joy and happiness. So Sir Arthur was slandered and spoken ill of. And there were many whom King Arthur had raised up from nothing, and given lands, who could not then say a good word for him. Look, all you Englishmen, do you not see what a wretched thing this was? For he who was the greatest king and knight in the world, and loved the fellowship of noble knights the most, and by whom they were all upheld, even with him these Englishmen could not be content. Look, this was the old custom and habit of this land; and men say too that we of this land have not yet lost or forgotten that custom and habit. Alas, this is a great failing of ours, we Englishmen, for nothing pleases us for long. And that was how the people behaved at that time: they were better pleased with Sir Mordred than they were with King Arthur. And many people flocked to Sir Mordred, and said they would stand by him for better and for worse. And so Sir Mordred went with a great army to Dover, for he had heard that Sir Arthur would land there, and so he meant to drive his own father from his lands; and most of England held with Sir Mordred, the people were so fickle and so fond of anything new.
And so, while Sir Mordred was at Dover with his army, King Arthur came with a great navy of ships, and galleys, and carracks. And there was Sir Mordred, ready and waiting for his landing, to stop his own father from landing on the land that he was king over. Then there was launching of boats great and small, full of noble men-at-arms; and there was great slaughter of well-born knights, and many a bold baron was laid low, on both sides. But King Arthur was so courageous that no knights of any kind could stop him landing, and his knights followed him fiercely; and so they landed in spite of Sir Mordred and all his army, and drove Sir Mordred back, so that he fled, and all his people.
So when this battle was over, King Arthur had his people who were dead buried. And then the noble Sir Gawain was found in a great boat, lying more than half dead. When Sir Arthur knew that Sir Gawain was laid so low, he went to him; and there the king grieved beyond measure, and took Sir Gawain in his arms, and three times he fainted there. And then when he came to himself, he said, "Alas, Sir Gawain, my sister's son, here you lie now, the man in the world that I loved most; and now my joy is gone. For now, my nephew Sir Gawain, I will open my heart to you: in Sir Lancelot and you I had my greatest joy, and my trust, and now I have lost my joy in you both; and so all my earthly joy is gone from me."
"My uncle King Arthur," said Sir Gawain, "believe me, my death-day has come, and all through my own rashness and wilfulness; for I have been struck on the old wound that Sir Lancelot gave me, and I feel well that I must die of it. And if Sir Lancelot had been with you as he used to be, this ill-fated war would never have begun; and I am the cause of all of it, for Sir Lancelot and his kin, through their prowess, held all your inveterate enemies in subjection and in their power. And now," said Sir Gawain, "you will miss Sir Lancelot. But alas, I would not make peace with him. And so," said Sir Gawain, "I beg you, fair uncle, let me have paper, pen and ink, so that I may write a letter to Sir Lancelot with my own hands."
And then when paper and ink were brought, Gawain was propped up, weakly, by King Arthur, for he had made his confession a little before; and then he wrote this, as the French book tells: "To Sir Lancelot, flower of all the noble knights that ever I heard of or saw in my days, I, Sir Gawain, King Lot's son of Orkney, sister's son to the noble King Arthur, send you greeting, and let you know that on the tenth day of May I was struck on the old wound that you gave me before the city of Benwick, and through that same wound that you gave me I have come to my death-day. And I want all the world to know that I, Sir Gawain, knight of the Round Table, sought my own death, and not through any fault of yours, but it was my own seeking; and so I beg you, Sir Lancelot, to come back to this realm, and see my tomb, and say some prayer, more or less, for my soul. And this same day that I wrote this letter, I was hurt to the death in the same wound that I had from your hand, Sir Lancelot; for by no nobler man could I have been killed. Also, Sir Lancelot, for all the love that ever was between us, make no delay, but come over the sea in all haste, so that you and your noble knights may rescue that noble king who made you knight, that is my lord Arthur; for he is hard beset by a false traitor, who is my half-brother, Sir Mordred. And he has had himself crowned king, and would have married my lady Queen Guinevere, and so he would have done if she had not shut herself in the Tower of London. And so on the tenth day of May just past, my lord Arthur and all of us landed against them at Dover; and there we put that false traitor, Sir Mordred, to flight, and there it was my misfortune to be struck on the wound of your stroke. And at the date of this letter, it was written only two and a half hours before my death, written with my own hand, and so signed with part of my heart's blood. And I beg you, most famous knight in the world, to come and see my tomb."
And then Sir Gawain wept, and King Arthur wept; and then they both fainted. And when they both came to themselves, the king had Sir Gawain receive his Saviour in communion. And then Sir Gawain begged the king to send for Sir Lancelot, and to cherish him above all other knights.
And so at the hour of noon Sir Gawain gave up the ghost; and then the king had him buried in a chapel inside Dover Castle; and there all men may still see his skull, and the same wound can be seen that Sir Lancelot gave him in battle. Then the king was told that Sir Mordred had pitched a new camp on Barham Down. And in the morning the king rode there to meet him, and there was a great battle between them, and many people were killed on both sides; but in the end Sir Arthur's side came off best, and Sir Mordred and his side fled to Canterbury.
And then the king had all the towns searched for his knights who had been killed, and buried them; and those who were badly wounded he had treated with soothing salves. Then many people flocked to King Arthur. And then they said that Sir Mordred was making war on King Arthur wrongfully. And then King Arthur moved with his army down by the seaside, westward towards Salisbury; and a day was appointed between King Arthur and Sir Mordred, that they should meet on a down beside Salisbury, not far from the seaside. And this day was appointed for the Monday after Trinity Sunday, at which King Arthur was exceedingly glad, that he might be avenged on Sir Mordred. Then Sir Mordred raised many people around London, for the men of Kent, Sussex and Surrey, Essex, and Suffolk and Norfolk held for the most part with Sir Mordred; and many a noble knight went over to Sir Mordred and to the king: but those who loved Sir Lancelot went over to Sir Mordred.
So on the night of Trinity Sunday, King Arthur dreamed a marvellous dream, and it was this: it seemed to him that he sat on a platform in a chair, and the chair was fastened to a wheel, and King Arthur sat on it in the richest cloth of gold that could be made. And the king thought there was beneath him, far below him, a hideous deep black water, and in it were all kinds of serpents, and dragons, and wild beasts, foul and horrible. And suddenly the king thought the wheel turned upside down, and he fell among the serpents, and every beast took him by a limb. And then the king cried out as he lay asleep in his bed, "Help!"
And then knights, squires and yeomen woke the king; and then he was so bewildered that he did not know where he was. And then he fell into a doze again, neither sleeping nor fully awake. And it truly seemed to the king that Sir Gawain came to him, with a number of fair ladies with him. And when King Arthur saw him, he said, "Welcome, my sister's son. I thought you were dead, and now I see you alive, and I owe great thanks to Almighty Jesus. O fair nephew and my sister's son, who are these ladies who have come here with you?"
"Sir," said Sir Gawain, "these are all ladies for whom I fought when I was a living man, and these are all the ones I did battle for in a righteous quarrel; and at their great prayer God has given them the grace, because I did battle for them, to bring me here to you. God has given me leave to do this much, to warn you of your death. For if you fight tomorrow with Sir Mordred, as you have both agreed, have no doubt that you will be killed, and most of your people on both sides. And for the great grace and goodness that Almighty Jesus has for you, and out of pity for you and for many other good men who would be killed there, God has sent me to you by His special grace, to warn you that on no account are you to do battle tomorrow, but to make a truce for a month; and offer generous terms, so that tomorrow is put off. For within a month Sir Lancelot will come with all his noble knights, and rescue you with honour, and kill Sir Mordred, and every one who will hold with him."
Then Sir Gawain and all the ladies vanished.
And at once the king called for his knights, squires and yeomen, and ordered them to fetch his noble lords and wise bishops to him quickly. And when they had come, the king told them his vision, what Sir Gawain had told him, and how he had warned him that if he fought in the morning he would be killed. Then the king commanded Sir Lucan the butler, and his brother Sir Bedivere, with two bishops with them, and charged them by any means they could to "make a truce for a month with Sir Mordred, and do not hold back: offer him lands and goods, as much as you think best."
So then they left, and came to Sir Mordred, where he had a grim army of a hundred thousand men. And there they pleaded with Sir Mordred for a long time; and at last Sir Mordred agreed to have Cornwall and Kent in Arthur's lifetime, and after that all England, after the days of King Arthur.
Then they agreed that King Arthur and Sir Mordred should meet between their two armies, and each of them should bring fourteen men; and they came back to Arthur with this word. Then he said, "I am glad that this is done." And so he went into the field. And when Arthur was about to set out, he warned all his army that if they saw any sword drawn, "see that you come on fiercely, and kill that traitor, Sir Mordred, for I do not trust him in any way."
In the same way Sir Mordred warned his army: "If you see any sword drawn, see that you come on fiercely, and so kill everyone who stands before you; for I will not trust this treaty in any way, for I know well my father will be avenged on me."
And so they met as they had arranged, and so they were agreed and fully reconciled; and wine was fetched, and they drank. Very soon an adder came out of a little heath bush, and it stung a knight on the foot. And when the knight felt himself stung, he looked down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to kill the adder, and thought of no other harm. And when the armies on both sides saw that sword drawn, they blew bugles, trumpets and horns, and shouted grimly. And so both armies made for each other. And King Arthur mounted his horse, and said, "Alas, this unlucky day!" and so rode to his side. And Sir Mordred did the same. And never was there seen a more sorrowful battle in any Christian land; for there was nothing but rushing and riding, thrusting and striking, and many a grim word was spoken by each to the other, and many a deadly stroke struck. But all the while King Arthur rode through Sir Mordred's ranks many times, and did very nobly, as a noble king should, and never at any time did he flag; and Sir Mordred that day did his duty, and put himself in great peril. And so they fought all the long day, and never stopped until the noble knights were laid on the cold earth; and still they fought on till it was near night, and by that time a hundred thousand lay dead on the down. Then Arthur was mad with rage beyond measure, when he saw his people killed around him like that.
Then the king looked about him, and then he saw that of all his army and all his good knights, no more were left alive but two knights: one was Sir Lucan the butler, and the other his brother Sir Bedivere, and they were very badly wounded.
"Jesus have mercy," said the king, "what has become of all my noble knights? Alas, that ever I should see this sorrowful day, for now," said Arthur, "I have come to my end. But I wish to God I knew where that traitor Sir Mordred is, who has caused all this misery."
Then King Arthur saw where Sir Mordred was leaning on his sword among a great heap of dead men.
"Now give me my spear," said Arthur to Sir Lucan, "for over there I have spotted the traitor who has brought about all this woe."
"Sir, let him be," said Sir Lucan, "for he is ill-fated; and if you live through this ill-fated day you will be very well revenged on him. Good lord, remember your dream last night, and what the spirit of Sir Gawain told you this night; and still God in His great goodness has kept you safe till now. So, for God's sake, my lord, leave it at this. For, blessed be God, you have won the field: here there are three of us alive, and with Sir Mordred there is no one alive. And if you leave off now, this wicked day of destiny is past."
"Come death to me, come life," said the king, "now that I see him over there alone he shall never escape my hands, for I shall never have him at a better advantage."
"God speed you well," said Sir Bedivere.
Then the king took his spear in both his hands, and ran towards Sir Mordred, crying, "Traitor, now your death-day has come!"
And when Sir Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran at him with his sword drawn in his hand. And there King Arthur struck Sir Mordred under the shield, with a thrust of his spear, right through the body, more than a fathom. And when Sir Mordred felt that he had his death wound, he thrust himself with all the strength he had up to the hand-guard of King Arthur's spear. And even so he struck his father Arthur, with his sword held in both his hands, on the side of the head, so that the sword pierced the helmet and the skull; and with that Sir Mordred fell stark dead to the earth. And the noble Arthur fell to the earth in a faint, and there he fainted again and again. And Sir Lucan the butler and Sir Bedivere lifted him up again and again. And so, weakly, the two of them led him between them to a little chapel not far from the seaside. And when the king was there he felt himself somewhat eased.
Then they heard people crying out in the field.
"Now go, Sir Lucan," said the king, "and let me know what that noise in the field means."
So Sir Lucan left, though he was grievously wounded in many places. And as he went, he saw and heard by the moonlight how plunderers and robbers had come into the field, to plunder and to rob many a noble knight of brooches and rosaries, of many a good ring, and of many a rich jewel; and any who were not quite dead, they killed there for their armour and their riches. When Sir Lucan understood what was going on, he came back to the king as soon as he could, and told him all that he had heard and seen.
"So, by my advice," said Sir Lucan, "it is best that we bring you to some town."
"I wish it could be so," said the king.
"But I cannot stand, my head is reeling so," the king went on.
"Ah, Sir Lancelot," said King Arthur, "this day I have sorely missed you. Alas, that ever I was against you, for now I have my death, as Sir Gawain warned me in my dream."
Then Sir Lucan lifted the king on one side, and Sir Bedivere on the other, and in the lifting the king fainted; and with the lift Sir Lucan fell in a faint, so that part of his guts fell out of his body, and with that the noble knight's heart burst. And when the king came to, he saw Sir Lucan, how he lay foaming at the mouth, and part of his guts lay at his feet.
"Alas," said the king, "this is a very heavy sight to me, to see this noble duke die like this for my sake, for he wanted to help me, when he had more need of help than I did. Alas, he would not complain, his heart was so set on helping me. Now Jesus have mercy on his soul!"
Then Sir Bedivere wept for the death of his brother.
"Stop this mourning and weeping," said the king, "for none of it will do me any good. For believe me, if I could live myself, the death of Sir Lucan would grieve me for ever; but my time is running out fast," said the king. "So," said Arthur to Sir Bedivere, "take Excalibur, my good sword, and go with it to the water's edge over there, and when you get there I charge you to throw my sword into that water, and come back and tell me what you see there."
"My lord," said Bedivere, "your command will be done, and I will quickly bring you word again."
So Sir Bedivere left, and on the way he looked at that noble sword, and saw that the pommel and the hilt were all of precious stones; and then he said to himself, "If I throw this rich sword into the water, no good will ever come of it, only harm and loss."
And then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree. And so, as soon as he could, he came back to the king, and said he had been to the water and had thrown the sword into the water.
"What did you see there?" said the king.
"Sir," he said, "I saw nothing but waves and winds."
"That is not the truth," said the king. "So go back quickly, and do my command; as you are dear and beloved to me, do not spare it, but throw it in."
Then Sir Bedivere went back again, and took the sword in his hand; and then it seemed to him a sin and a shame to throw away that noble sword, and so he hid the sword a second time, and went back again, and told the king that he had been to the water and done his command.
"What did you see there?" said the king.
"Sir," he said, "I saw nothing but the water rippling and the waves running dark."
"Ah, traitor, faithless," said King Arthur, "now you have betrayed me twice. Who would have thought it, of you, who have been so dear and beloved to me? And you are called a noble knight, and you would betray me for the richness of the sword. But now go again quickly, for your long delay is putting my life in great danger, for I have taken cold. And unless you do as I tell you now, if ever I set eyes on you again I will kill you with my own hands; for you would see me dead for the sake of my rich sword."
Then Sir Bedivere left, and went to the sword, and quickly took it up, and went to the water's edge; and there he wound the belt around the hilt, and then he threw the sword as far into the water as he could; and there came an arm and a hand above the water, and met it, and caught it, and so shook it three times and brandished it, and then the hand vanished with the sword into the water. So Sir Bedivere came back to the king, and told him what he had seen.
"Alas," said the king, "help me away from here, for I am afraid I have waited too long."
Then Sir Bedivere took the king on his back, and so went with him to that water's edge. And when they were at the water's edge, close by the bank a little barge was floating with many fair ladies in it, and among them all was a queen, and they all had black hoods, and they all wept and shrieked when they saw King Arthur.
"Now put me into the barge," said the king.
And so he did, gently; and there three queens received him with great mourning; and so they sat down, and King Arthur laid his head in the lap of one of them. And then that queen said, "Ah, dear brother, why have you stayed away from me so long? Alas, this wound on your head has caught too much cold."
And so then they rowed away from the land, and Sir Bedivere watched all those ladies go from him. Then Sir Bedivere cried out, "Ah, my lord Arthur, what will become of me, now that you go from me and leave me here alone among my enemies?"
"Comfort yourself," said the king, "and do as well as you can, for there is no trust left in me to trust in. For I will go into the vale of Avalon to be healed of my grievous wound. And if you never hear of me again, pray for my soul."
But all the while the queens and ladies wept and shrieked, so that it was pitiful to hear. And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost sight of the barge, he wept and wailed, and so he took to the forest; and so he walked all that night, and in the morning he saw, between two grey old woods, a chapel and a hermitage.
Then Sir Bedivere was glad, and went there; and when he came into the chapel, he saw a hermit lying face down, stretched out on the ground, close beside a tomb that was newly dug. When the hermit saw Sir Bedivere he knew him well, for only a little before he had been the Bishop of Canterbury whom Sir Mordred had driven out.
"Sir," said Bedivere, "what man is buried there, that you pray so hard for?"
"Fair son," said the hermit, "I do not know for certain, only by guessing. But this night, at midnight, a number of ladies came here, and brought a dead body here, and begged me to bury him; and here they offered a hundred tapers, and they gave me a hundred gold coins."
"Alas," said Sir Bedivere, "that was my lord King Arthur, who lies buried here in this chapel."
Then Sir Bedivere fainted; and when he came to, he begged the hermit to let him stay there with him from then on, to live with fasting and prayer. "For I will never go from here of my own will," said Sir Bedivere, "but stay here all the days of my life to pray for my lord Arthur."
"You are welcome to me," said the hermit, "for I know you better than you think I do. You are the bold Bedivere, and the very noble duke, Sir Lucan the butler, was your brother."
Then Sir Bedivere told the hermit everything, as you have heard it before. So Sir Bedivere stayed there with the hermit who had once been Bishop of Canterbury, and there Sir Bedivere put on poor clothes, and served the hermit very humbly in fasting and in prayer.
So of Arthur I never find anything more written in books that are authoritative, nor did I ever hear or read anything more of the real certainty of his death, except that he was led away in a ship in which there were three queens: one was King Arthur's sister, Queen Morgan le Fay; the second was the Queen of North Wales; the third was the Queen of the Waste Lands. Also there was Nimue, the chief Lady of the Lake, who had married Pelleas the good knight; and this lady had done much for King Arthur, for she would never let Sir Pelleas be in any place where he would be in danger of his life; and so he lived out his days to the very end with her, in great peace. More of the death of King Arthur I could never find, except that ladies brought him to his burial; and such a one was buried there, as the hermit bore witness, who had once been Bishop of Canterbury. But even so the hermit did not know for certain that it was truly the body of King Arthur: for Sir Bedivere, knight of the Round Table, had this tale written down.
Yet some men say in many parts of England that King Arthur is not dead, but was taken by the will of our Lord Jesus into another place; and men say that he will come again, and he will win the Holy Cross. I will not say that it shall be so, but rather I will say: here in this world he changed his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb this verse: Hic jacet Arthurus, rex quondam, rexque futurus. Here lies Arthur, the once and future king.
So I leave Sir Bedivere here with the hermit, who lived at that time in a chapel beside Glastonbury, and there was his hermitage. And so they lived in their prayers, and fastings, and great abstinence. And when Queen Guinevere understood that King Arthur was killed, and all the noble knights, Sir Mordred and all the rest, then the queen stole away, with five ladies, and so she went to Almesbury; and there she had herself made a nun, and wore white clothes and black, and she took on as great a penance as ever any sinful lady did in this land, and no one could ever make her merry; but she lived in fasting, prayer and works of charity, so that all kinds of people marvelled at how virtuously she was changed. Now we leave Queen Guinevere in Almesbury, a nun in white clothes and black, and there she was abbess and ruler, as was only right; and we turn from her, and speak of Sir Lancelot du Lake.
And when he heard in his own country that Sir Mordred was crowned king in England, and had made war against King Arthur, his own father, and would hinder him from landing in his own land; and when it was also told Sir Lancelot how Sir Mordred had laid siege to the Tower of London, because the queen would not marry him; then Sir Lancelot was angry beyond measure, and said to his kinsmen, "Alas, that double traitor Sir Mordred! Now I regret that he ever escaped my hands, for he has done great shame to my lord Arthur. For I can tell from the sorrowful letter that my lord Sir Gawain sent me, on whose soul Jesus have mercy, that my lord Arthur is in a very hard spot. Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "that I should ever live to hear that the most noble king, who made me a knight, is overthrown like this by his own subject in his own kingdom! And this sorrowful letter that my lord Sir Gawain sent me before his death, begging me to come and see his tomb: believe me, his sorrowful words shall never leave my heart, for he was as noble a knight as ever was born. And in an ill-fated hour was I born, that I should ever have the ill luck to kill, first Sir Gawain, Sir Gaheris the good knight, and my own friend Sir Gareth, that most noble knight. Alas, I may well say I am ill-fated," said Sir Lancelot, "that I should ever do things so ill-fatedly. And alas, and yet I never had the luck to kill that traitor, Sir Mordred!"
"Leave your laments," said Sir Bors, "and first avenge the death of Sir Gawain. And it will be well done for you to see Sir Gawain's tomb; and secondly, avenge my lord Arthur, and my lady Queen Guinevere."
"I thank you," said Sir Lancelot, "for you always look to my honour."
Then they made themselves ready with all the haste they could, with ships and galleys, for Sir Lancelot and his army to cross into England. And so he crossed the sea until he came to Dover, and there he landed with seven kings, and their numbers were fearsome to behold. Then Sir Lancelot asked the men of Dover what had become of King Arthur. Then the people told him how he was killed, and Sir Mordred, and a hundred thousand died in one day; and how Sir Mordred had given King Arthur the first battle there at his landing, and there the good Sir Gawain was killed; and how the next morning Sir Mordred fought with the king on Barham Down, and there the king got the better of Sir Mordred.
"Alas," said Sir Lancelot, "this is the heaviest news that ever came to me. Now, fair sirs," said Sir Lancelot, "show me the tomb of Sir Gawain."
And then certain people of the town brought him into the castle of Dover, and showed him the tomb. Then Sir Lancelot knelt down and wept, and prayed with all his heart for his soul. And that night he gave out alms, and all who would come had as much meat, fish, wine and ale as they wanted, and every man and woman had twelve pence, whoever came. He dealt out this money with his own hand, in a mourning gown; and all the while he wept, and begged them to pray for the soul of Sir Gawain. And the next morning all the priests and clerks who could be found in the country were there, and sang the Requiem mass. And there Sir Lancelot made the first offering, and he offered a hundred pounds; and then the seven kings offered forty pounds apiece; and there were also a thousand knights, and each of them offered a pound; and the offering lasted from morning till night. And Sir Lancelot lay two nights on his tomb, praying and weeping.
Then on the third day Sir Lancelot called the kings, dukes, earls, barons and knights together, and spoke like this: "My fair lords, I thank you all for coming into this country with me. But we came too late, and I shall regret it as long as I live; but against death no man may rebel. But since it is so," said Sir Lancelot, "I will ride myself and look for my lady Queen Guinevere, for I hear she has had great pain and much distress; and I have heard that she has fled into the west. Therefore you shall all wait for me here, and unless I come back within fifteen days, then take your ships and your company, and go home to your own country, for I will do as I tell you."
Then Sir Bors de Ganis came, and said, "My lord Sir Lancelot, what do you mean to do, riding now through this kingdom? Believe me, you will find few friends."
"Be that as it may," said Sir Lancelot, "you stay here, for I will go on my journey, and no man or boy shall go with me."
So it was no use arguing, and he left and rode westward, and there he searched for seven or eight days. And at last he came to a nunnery, and then Queen Guinevere caught sight of Sir Lancelot as he walked in the cloister. And when she saw him there she fainted three times, so that all the ladies and gentlewomen had their hands full holding the queen up. So when she could speak, she called ladies and gentlewomen to her, and said, "You wonder, fair ladies, why I carry on like this. Truly," she said, "it is at the sight of that knight who is standing over there. So I beg you all, call him to me."
When Sir Lancelot was brought to her, she said to all the ladies, "Through this man and me all this war has been brought about, and the death of the noblest knights in the world; for through the love that we have loved together my most noble lord is killed. Therefore, Sir Lancelot, know this: I have set myself on this course to win the salvation of my soul. And yet I trust, through God's grace, that after my death I shall have a sight of the blessed face of Christ, and at Doomsday sit on His right side; for there are saints in heaven as sinful as ever I was. Therefore, Sir Lancelot, I ask you and beg you with all my heart, for all the love that ever was between us, never to look me in the face again. And I command you, in God's name, to leave my company, and go back to your kingdom, and keep your realm well from war and ruin. For as much as I have loved you, my heart will not let me see you, for through you and me the flower of kings and knights is destroyed. Therefore, Sir Lancelot, go to your kingdom, and there take a wife, and live with her in joy and happiness. And I beg you with all my heart, pray for me to our Lord, that I may make amends for my sinful life."
"Now, sweet madam," said Sir Lancelot, "do you want me to go back now to my own country, and marry a lady there? No, madam, believe me, that I will never do, for I will never be so false to you in what I have promised. But the same life that you have taken up, I will take up too, to please Jesus, and above all I mean to pray for you."
"If you will do that," said the queen, "keep your promise. But I can never believe that you will not turn back to the world again."
"Well, madam," he said, "you may say what you please, but you never yet knew me to break my promise; and God forbid that I should not forsake the world as you have done. For in the quest of the Holy Grail I would have forsaken the vanities of the world, had it not been for your love. And if I had done so at that time, with my heart, will and thought, I would have surpassed all the knights who were on the quest of the Grail, except Sir Galahad, my son. And therefore, lady, since you have given yourself to the perfect life, I must by right give myself to it too. For I call God to witness, in you I have had all my earthly joy; and if I had found you of another mind now, I had meant to take you away to my own kingdom."
"But since I find you of this mind," Sir Lancelot went on, "I assure you faithfully, I will give myself to penance for ever, and pray while my life lasts, if I can find any hermit, of the grey order or the white, who will take me in. And so, madam, I beg you, kiss me, and never again."
"No," said the queen, "that I will never do. Keep yourself from such things now."
And they parted. But there was never a man so hard-hearted that he would not have wept to see the grief they made; for they lamented as if they had been stung with spears, and many times they fainted, and the ladies carried the queen to her room.
And Sir Lancelot came to himself, and went and took his horse, and rode all that day and all night in a forest, weeping. And at last he saw a hermitage, and a chapel standing between two cliffs; and then he heard a little bell ringing for mass, and he rode there and dismounted, and tied his horse to the gate, and heard mass. And the one who sang the mass was the Bishop of Canterbury. Both the Bishop and Sir Bedivere knew Sir Lancelot, and they talked together after mass. But when Sir Bedivere had told his whole tale, Sir Lancelot's heart almost burst for sorrow, and Sir Lancelot threw his arms wide, and said, "Alas, who can trust this world?" And then he knelt down on his knee, and begged the Bishop to hear his confession and absolve him. And then he begged the Bishop to let him be his brother. Then the Bishop said, "Gladly." And there he put a habit on Sir Lancelot, and there he served God day and night with prayers and fasting.
So the great army waited at Dover. And then Sir Lionel took fifteen lords with him, and rode to London to look for Sir Lancelot; and there Sir Lionel was killed, and many of his lords. Then Sir Bors de Ganis had the great army go home again; and Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Blamore, Sir Bleoberis, with others of Sir Lancelot's kin, took it on themselves to ride all over England, across and lengthwise, to look for Sir Lancelot. So Sir Bors by chance rode on until he came to the same chapel where Sir Lancelot was; and so Sir Bors heard a little bell tolling, ringing for mass; and there he dismounted and heard mass. And when mass was done, the Bishop, Sir Lancelot and Sir Bedivere came to Sir Bors. And when Sir Bors saw Sir Lancelot dressed in that manner, he begged the Bishop that he might wear the same. And so a habit was put on him, and there he lived in prayer and fasting. And within half a year there had come Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Blamore, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Villiars, Sir Clarrus and Sir Gahalantine. So all these seven noble knights stayed on there. And when they saw that Sir Lancelot had given himself to such a perfect life, they had no wish to leave, but took the same habit as he had.
So they lived in great penance for six years; and then Sir Lancelot was ordained a priest by the Bishop, and for a year he sang mass. And there was not one of these other knights who did not read in books, and help to sing mass, and ring bells, and do all kinds of service with their own hands. And so their horses went wherever they liked, for they paid no attention to any worldly riches. For when they saw Sir Lancelot endure such penance, in prayers and fasting, they cared nothing what hardship they endured, seeing the noblest knight in the world keep such abstinence that he grew very thin. And so one night a vision came to Sir Lancelot, and charged him, in remission of his sins, to hurry to Almesbury: "And by the time you get there, you will find Queen Guinevere dead. And therefore take your companions with you, and get them a horse bier, and fetch her body, and bury her by her husband, the noble King Arthur." So this vision came to Sir Lancelot three times in one night.
Then Sir Lancelot got up before daybreak, and told the hermit.
"It would be well done," said the hermit, "for you to make yourself ready, and not disobey the vision."
Then Sir Lancelot took his eight companions with him, and they went on foot from Glastonbury to Almesbury, which is little more than thirty miles. And they got there within two days, for they were weak and feeble at walking. And when Sir Lancelot had come into the nunnery at Almesbury, Queen Guinevere had died only half an hour before. And the ladies told Sir Lancelot that Queen Guinevere had told them all, before she died, that Sir Lancelot had been a priest for nearly a year: "And he is coming here as fast as he can to fetch my body; and he shall bury me beside my lord, King Arthur." And so the queen said in the hearing of them all, "I beseech Almighty God that I may never have the power to see Sir Lancelot with my worldly eyes." "And this," said all the ladies, "was her prayer all the time for these two days, until she was dead."
Then Sir Lancelot looked on her face, but he did not weep much, but sighed. And so he performed all the rites of the service himself, both the dirge and, the next morning, the mass he sang. And a horse bier was made ready; and so, with a hundred torches always burning around the queen's body, and with Sir Lancelot and his eight companions always walking around the horse bier, singing and reading many a holy prayer, and burning frankincense over the body, Sir Lancelot and his eight companions went on foot from Almesbury to Glastonbury.
And when they had come to the chapel and the hermitage, she had a dirge there, with great devotion. And the next morning the hermit who had once been Bishop of Canterbury sang the Requiem mass with great devotion. And Sir Lancelot was the first to make an offering, and then his eight companions too. And then she was wrapped in waxed cloth of Rennes, from head to toe, thirty times over, and after that she was put in a sheet of lead, and then in a coffin of marble. And when she was put in the earth, Sir Lancelot fainted, and lay still a long time, until the hermit came and woke him, and said, "You are to blame, for you displease God with such a show of grief."
"Truly," said Sir Lancelot, "I trust I do not displease God, for He knows what is in my heart. For my sorrow was not, and is not, for any delight in sin; but my sorrow can never have an end. For when I remember her beauty, and her nobility, that was in her king as well as in her, then when I saw his body and her body lying together like this, truly my heart would not hold up my sorrowful body. And also when I remember how, through my failing, my arrogance and my pride, they were both laid so low, who were the peerless of all Christian people who ever lived, believe me," said Sir Lancelot, "this remembrance of their kindness and my unkindness sank so deep into my heart that I could not hold myself up."
So the French book tells it.
Then Sir Lancelot never afterwards ate more than a little food, nor drank, until he was dead. For then he sickened more and more, and dried up, and wasted away. For neither the Bishop nor any of his companions could make him eat, and he drank little, so that he had become a cubit shorter than he had been, and people could not recognise him. For always, day and night, he prayed, though sometimes he slept a broken sleep; and he was always lying face down on the tomb of King Arthur and Queen Guinevere. And there was no comfort that the Bishop, or Sir Bors, or any of his companions could give him that did any good. So within six weeks after, Sir Lancelot fell sick, and lay in his bed; and then he sent for the Bishop who was a hermit there, and all his true companions. Then Sir Lancelot said in a sorrowful voice, "Sir Bishop, I beg you, give me all the rites that belong to a Christian man."
"You won't need them," said the hermit and all his companions. "It is only melancholy in your blood. You will be well mended by the grace of God tomorrow."
"My fair lords," said Sir Lancelot, "believe me, my sorrowful body is bound for the earth. I have had warning of it, more than I will tell you now. Therefore give me my rites."
So when he had been given communion and anointed, and had all that a Christian man ought to have, he begged the Bishop that his companions might carry his body to Joyous Gard. (Some men say it was Alnwick, and some men say it was Bamburgh.)
"Even so," said Sir Lancelot, "I am deeply sorry for it, but I once made a vow that I would be buried in Joyous Gard. And so as not to break my vow, I beg you all, take me there."
Then there was weeping and wringing of hands among his companions.
So at a certain hour of the night they all went to their beds, for they all lay in one room. And so after midnight, towards day, the Bishop who was then a hermit, as he lay asleep in his bed, burst into great laughter. And with that the whole company woke up, and came to the Bishop, and asked him what was the matter.
"Ah, Jesus have mercy," said the Bishop, "why did you wake me? I was never in all my life so happy and so much at ease."
"Why is that?" said Sir Bors.
"Truly," said the Bishop, "Sir Lancelot was here with me, with more angels than I ever saw men in one day. And I saw the angels lift Sir Lancelot up to heaven, and the gates of heaven opened to receive him."
"That is only the troubling of dreams," said Sir Bors, "for I don't doubt that there is nothing wrong with Sir Lancelot but good."
"That may well be," said the Bishop. "Go to his bed, and then you will find out the truth."
So when Sir Bors and his companions came to his bed they found him stone dead, and he lay as if he had smiled, and the sweetest scent around him that they had ever smelled.
Then there was weeping and wringing of hands, and the greatest grief that ever men made. And in the morning the Bishop said his Requiem mass, and afterwards the Bishop and all the nine knights put Sir Lancelot in the same horse bier that Queen Guinevere had been laid in before she was buried. And so the Bishop and all of them together went with the body of Sir Lancelot day after day, until they came to Joyous Gard; and all the way they had a hundred torches burning around him. And so within fifteen days they came to Joyous Gard. And there they laid his body in the middle of the choir, and sang and read many psalms and prayers over him and around him.
And all the while his face was left uncovered and bare, so that all people might look on him. For such was the custom in those days, that all men of honour should lie like that with their faces uncovered until they were buried. And just as they were at their service, there came Sir Ector de Maris, who for seven years had searched all England, Scotland and Wales, looking for his brother, Sir Lancelot.
And when Sir Ector heard such sound and saw such light in the choir of Joyous Gard, he dismounted and let his horse go, and came into the choir, and there he saw men singing and weeping. And they all knew Sir Ector, but he did not know them. Then Sir Bors went to Sir Ector, and told him how his brother, Sir Lancelot, lay there dead; and then Sir Ector threw his shield, sword and helmet from him. And when he looked on Sir Lancelot's face, he fell down in a faint. And when he came to, it would be hard for any tongue to tell the sorrowful laments he made for his brother.
"Ah, Lancelot," he said, "you were the head of all Christian knights! And now I dare say," said Sir Ector, "you, Sir Lancelot, lying there, that you were never matched by any earthly knight's hand. And you were the most courteous knight that ever bore shield. And you were the truest friend to your lover that ever bestrode horse. And you were the truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever loved woman. And you were the kindest man that ever struck with sword. And you were the goodliest person that ever came among the press of knights. And you were the meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies. And you were the sternest knight to your mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest."
Then there was weeping and grief beyond measure.
So they kept Sir Lancelot's body above ground for fifteen days, and then they buried it with great devotion. And then, at their leisure, they all went with the Bishop of Canterbury to his hermitage, and there they were together for more than a month. Then Sir Constantine, who was the son of Sir Cador of Cornwall, was chosen king of England. And he was a most noble knight, and he ruled this realm with honour. And then this King Constantine sent for the Bishop of Canterbury, for he had heard where he was. And so he was restored to his bishopric, and left that hermitage. And Sir Bedivere stayed on there as a hermit to the end of his life. Then Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Gahalantine, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Blamore, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Villiers the Valiant and Sir Clarrus of Clermont, all these knights went back to their own countries. King Constantine would have kept them with him, but they would not stay in this realm. And there they all lived in their countries as holy men. And some English books say that they never went out of England after the death of Sir Lancelot, but that was only the partiality of the authors. For the French book says, and it is a book of authority, that Sir Bors, Sir Ector, Sir Blamore and Sir Bleoberis went into the Holy Land, where Jesus Christ lived and died, as soon as they had settled their lands. For the book says that Sir Lancelot commanded them to do so before he passed out of this world. And these four knights fought many battles against the unbelievers, the Turks. And there they died upon a Good Friday, for God's sake.
Here is the end of the book of King Arthur and of his noble knights of the Round Table, who, when they were all together, were always a hundred and forty. And here is the end of the death of Arthur. I pray you all, gentlemen and gentlewomen who read this book of Arthur and his knights from the beginning to the end, pray for me while I am alive, that God send me good deliverance, and when I am dead, I pray you all, pray for my soul. For this book was finished in the ninth year of the reign of King Edward the Fourth, by Sir Thomas Malory, knight, as Jesus help him by his great might, as he is the servant of Jesus both day and night.
Thus ends this noble and joyous book entitled Le Morte d'Arthur, which, for all its title, tells of the birth, life and deeds of the said King Arthur, and of his noble knights of the Round Table, their marvellous quests and adventures, the achieving of the Holy Grail, and in the end the sorrowful death and departing out of this world of them all. This book was translated into English by Sir Thomas Malory, knight, as is said before, and by me divided into twenty-one books, set into chapters and printed, and finished in the abbey at Westminster, the last day of July, in the year of our Lord 1485.