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[Illustration: The Lady Elaine the Fair.]

[Illustration]


    The Story of
    Sir
    LAUNCELOT
    and his
    Companions

    _by_
    HOWARD PYLE.


    NEW YORK:
    Dover Publications, Inc.


Published in Canada by General Publishing Company, Ltd., 30 Lesmill
Road, Don Mills, Toronto, Ontario.

Published in the United Kingdom by Constable and Company, Ltd., 3 The
Lanchesters, 162-164 Fulham Palace Road, London W6 9ER.

This Dover edition, first published in 1991, is an unabridged
republication of the work originally published by Charles Scribner's
Sons, New York, in 1907.

Manufactured in the United States of America. Dover Publications, Inc.,
31 East 2nd Street, Mineola, N. Y. 11501


_Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data_

Pyle, Howard, 1853-1911.

The story of Sir Launcelot and his companions / by Howard Pyle.

p. cm.

Reprint. Originally published: New York: Scribner, 1907.

Summary: Follows Sir Launcelot of the Round Table as he rescues Queen
Guinevere, fights in the tournament at Astolat, and pursues other
adventures.

ISBN 0-486-26701-6

1. Lancelot (Legendary character)--Romances. 2. Arthurian romances. [1.
Lancelot (Legendary character) 2. Knights and knighthood--Folklore. 3.
Arthur, King. 4. Folklore--England.] 1. Title.

    PZ8.1.P994Sr 1991
    843'.1--dc20
    [398.2]        90-22326
    CIP
    AC




[Illustration]

=Foreword.=

_With this begins the third of those books which I have set myself to
write concerning the history of King Arthur of Britain and of those
puissant knights who were of his Court and of his Round Table.

In the Book which was written before this book you may there read the
Story of that very noble and worthy knight, Sir Launcelot of the Lake;
of how he dwelt within a magic lake which was the enchanted habitation
of the Lady Nymue of the Lake; of how he was there trained in all the
most excellent arts of chivalry by Sir Pellias, the Gentle
Knight--whilom a companion of the Round Table, but afterward the Lord of
the Lake; of how he came forth out of the Lake and became after that the
chiefest knight of the Round Table of King Arthur. All of this was told
in that book and many other things concerning Sir Launcelot and several
other worthies who were Companions of the Round Table and who were very
noble and excellent knights both in battle and in court.

So here followeth a further history of Sir Launcelot of the Lake and
the narrative of several of the notable adventures that he performed at
this time of his life.

Wherefore if it will please you to read that which is hereinafter set
forth, you will be told of how Sir Launcelot slew the great Worm of
Corbin; of the madness that afterward fell upon him, and of how a most
noble, gentle, and beautiful lady, hight the Lady Elaine the Fair, lent
him aid and succor at a time of utmost affliction to him, and so brought
him back to health again. And you may herein further find it told how
Sir Launcelot was afterward wedded to that fair and gentle dame, and of
how was born of that couple a child of whom it was prophesied by Merlin
(in a certain miraculous manner fully set forth in this book) that he
should become the most perfect knight that ever lived and he who should
bring back the Holy Grail to the Earth.

For that child was Galahad whom the world knoweth to be the flower of
all chivalry; a knight altogether without fear or reproach of any kind,
yet, withal, the most glorious and puissant knight-champion who ever
lived.

So if the perusal of these things may give you pleasure, I pray you to
read that which followeth, for in this book all these and several other
histories are set forth in full._

[Illustration]




[Illustration]

=Contents=


PART I

THE CHEVALIER OF THE CART


Chapter First

_How Denneys Found Sir Launcelot, and How Sir Launcelot Rode Forth for
to Rescue Queen Guinevere From the Castle of Sir Mellegrans, and of What
Befell Him Upon the Assaying of that Adventure_    11


Chapter Second

_How Sir Launcelot Rode in a Cart to Rescue Queen Guinevere and How He
Came in that Way to the Castle of Sir Mellegrans_    19


Chapter Third

_How Sir Launcelot was Rescued From the Pit and How He Overcame Sir
Mellegrans and Set Free the Queen and Her Court From the Duress They
Were in_    29


PART II

THE STORY OF SIR GARETH OF ORKNEY


Chapter First

_How Gareth of Orkney Came to the Castle of Kynkennedon Where King
Arthur was Holding Court, and How it Fared With Him at that Place_    39


Chapter Second

_How Gareth set Forth Upon an Adventure with a Young Damsel Hight
Lynette; how he Fought with Sir Kay, and How Sir Launcelot Made him a
Knight. Also in this it is Told of Several Other Happenings that Befell
Gareth, Called Beaumains, at this Time_    49


Chapter Third

_How Sir Gareth and Lynette Travelled Farther Upon Their way; how Sir
Gareth Won the Pass of the River against Two Strong Knights, and How he
Overcame the Black Knight of the Black Lands. Also How He Saved a Good
Worthy Knight From Six Thieves who Held Him in Duress_    63


Chapter Fourth

_How Sir Gareth Met Sir Percevant of Hind, and How He Came to Castle
Dangerous and Had Speech with the Lady Layonnesse. Also How the Lady
Layonnesse Accepted Him for Her Champion_    77


Chapter Fifth

_How Sir Gareth Fought with the Red Knight of the Red Lands and How it
Fared with Him in that Battle. Also How His Dwarf was Stolen, and How
His Name and Estate Became Known and Were Made Manifest_    91


PART III

THE STORY OF SIR LAUNCELOT AND ELAINE THE FAIR


Chapter First

_How Sir Launcelot Rode Errant and How He Assumed to Undertake the
Adventure of the Worm of Corbin_    107


Chapter Second

_How Sir Launcelot Slew the Worm of Corbin, and How He was Carried
Thereafter to the Castle of Corbin and to King Pelles and to the Lady
Elaine the Fair_    117


Chapter Third

_How King Arthur Proclaimed a Tournament at Astolat, and How King Pelles
of Corbin Went With His Court Thither to that Place. Also How Sir
Launcelot and Sir Lavaine had Encounter with two Knights in the Highway
Thitherward_    125


Chapter Fourth

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine Fought in the Tournament at Astolat.
How Sir Launcelot was Wounded in that Affair, and How Sir Lavaine
Brought Him Unto a Place of Safety_    137


Chapter Fifth

_How Sir Launcelot Escaped Wounded into the Forest, and How Sir Gawaine
Discovered to the Court of King Pelles who was le Chevalier Malfait_
    147


Chapter Sixth

_How the Lady Elaine Went to Seek Sir Launcelot and How Sir Launcelot
Afterwards Returned to the Court of King Arthur_    159


PART IV

THE MADNESS OF SIR LAUNCELOT


Chapter First

_How Sir Launcelot Became a Madman of the Forest and How He Was Brought
to the Castle of Sir Blyant_    171


Chapter Second

_How Sir Launcelot Saved the Life of Sir Blyant. How He Escaped From the
Castle of Sir Blyant, and How He Slew the Great Wild Boar of Lystenesse
and Saved the Life of King Arthur, His Liege Lord_    181


Chapter Third

_How Sir Launcelot Returned to Corbin Again and How the Lady Elaine the
Fair Cherished Him and Brought Him Back to Health. Also How Sir
Launcelot with the Lady Elaine Withdrew to Joyous Isle_    191


PART V

THE STORY OF SIR EWAINE AND THE LADY OF THE FOUNTAIN


Chapter First

_How Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival Departed Together in Quest of Sir
Launcelot, and How They Met Sir Sagramore, Who Had Failed in a Certain
Adventure. Also How Sir Sagramore Told His Story Concerning That
Adventure_    201


Chapter Second

_How Sir Ewaine Undertook That Adventure in Which Sir Sagramore Had
Failed, and How it Sped with Him Thereafter_    213

Chapter Third

_How a Damsel, Hight Elose, Who Was in Service With the Lady Lesolie of
the Fountain, Brought Succor to Sir Ewaine in His Captivity_    223


Chapter Fourth

_How Sir Ewaine Returned to the Court of King Arthur, and How he Forgot
the Lady Lesolie and His Duty to the Fountain_    237


Chapter Fifth

_How Sir Ewaine was Succored and Brought Back to Life by a Certain Noble
Lady, How He Brought Aid to that Lady in a Time of Great Trouble, and
How He Returned Once Again to the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain_    249


PART VI

THE RETURN OF SIR LAUNCELOT


Chapter First

_How Sir Percival Met His Brother, and How They Two Journeyed to the
Priory where their Mother Dwelt and What Befell Them Thereafter_    263


Chapter Second

_How Sir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris Came to a Very Wonderful Place
Where was a Castle in the Midst of a Lake_    279


Chapter Third

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and Sir Ector and the Lady Elaine
Progressed to the Court of King Arthur, and How a Very Good Adventure
Befell Them Upon Their Way_    293


PART VII

THE NATIVITY OF GALAHAD


Chapter First

_How Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Gawaine Went Forth in Search of Sir
Launcelot. How They Parted Company, and What Befell Sir Gawaine
Thereafter_    311


Chapter Second

_How Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine Came to a Priory in the Forest, and How
Galahad Was Born at That Place_    325

[Illustration]




[Illustration]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

    _The Lady Elaine the Fair_                          _Frontispiece_

                                                                _PAGE_

    _Head Piece--Table of Contents_                                  v

    _Tail Piece--Table of Contents_                                  x

    _Head Piece--List of Illustrations_                             xi

    _Tail Piece--List of Illustrations_                            xii

    _Sir Mellegrans interrupts the sport of the Queen_               2

    _Head Piece--Prologue_                                           3

    _Tail Piece--Prologue_                                           8

    _Denneys and the Hermit help Sir Launcelot to his Armor_        10

    _Head Piece_                                                    11

    _How Sir Launcelot rode errant in a cart_                       18

    _The Damsel Elouise the Fair rescues Sir Launcelot_             28

    _Sir Gareth of Orkney_                                          38

    _Head Piece_                                                    39

    _The Damsel Lynette_                                            48

    _Sir Gareth doeth Battle with the Knight of the River Ford_     62

    _The Lady Layonnesse_                                           76

    _The Lady Layonnesse cometh to the Pavilion of Sir Gareth_      90

    _Tail Piece_                                                   104

    _How Sir Launcelot held discourse with ye Merry Minstrels_     106

    _Head Piece_                                                   107

    _Sir Launcelot slayeth the Worm of Corbin_                     116

    _Sir Launcelot confideth his Shield to Elaine the Fair_        124

    _Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine overlook the Field of Astolat_  136

    _Sir Gawaine knoweth the shield of Sir Launcelot_              146

    _Sir Launcelot leapeth from the window_                        158

    _Tail Piece_                                                   168

    _The Madman of the Forest who was Sir Launcelot_               170

    _Head Piece_                                                   171

    _The Forest Madman saveth ye Life of King Arthur_              180

    _Tail Piece_                                                   188

    _The Lady Elaine the Fair knoweth Sir Launcelot_               190

    _Sir Gawaine, Knight of the Fountain_                          200

    _Head Piece_                                                   201

    _Sir Ewaine poureth water on the slab_                         212

    _The Damsel Elose giveth a ring to Sir Ewaine_                 222

    _The Lady of the Fountain_                                     236

    _A Damsel bringeth aid unto Sir Ewaine_                        248

    _Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival receive their Mother's Blessing_262

    _Head Piece_                                                   263

    _Sir Percival and Sir Ector look upon the Isle of Joy_         278

    _Sir Lavaine the Son of Pelles_                                292

    _Merlin Prophesieth from a Cloud of Mist_                      310

    _Head Piece_                                                   311

    _Tail Piece_                                                   322

    _Sir Bors de Ganis, the good_                                  324

    _The Barge of the Dead_                                        334

[Illustration]




_The Story of_

Sir

LAUNCELOT

and his

_Companions_


[Illustration: Sir Mellegrans interrupts the sport of the Queen.]




[Illustration]

Prologue.


It befel upon a very joyous season in the month of May that Queen
Guinevere was of a mind to take gentle sport as folk do at that time of
the year; wherefore on a day she ordained it in a court of pleasure that
on the next morning certain knights and ladies of the court at Camelot
should ride with her a-maying into the woods and fields, there to
disport themselves amid the flowers and blossoms that grew in great
multitudes beside the river.

[Sidenote: _How the Lady Guinevere rode a-maying._]

Of this May-party it stands recorded several times in the various
histories of chivalry that the knights she chose were ten in all and
that they were all Knights of the Round Table, to wit, as followeth:
there was Sir Kay the Seneschal, and Sir Agravaine, and Sir Brandiles,
and Sir Sagramour the Desirous, and Sir Dodinas, and Sir Osanna, and Sir
Ladynas of the Forest Sauvage, and Sir Persavant of India, and Sir
Ironside and Sir Percydes, who was cousin to Sir Percival of Gales.
These were the ten (so sayeth those histories aforesaid) whom the Lady
Guinevere called upon for to ride a-maying with her all bright and early
upon the morning of the day as aforesaid.

And the Queen further ordained that each of these knights should choose
him a lady for the day. And she ordained that each lady should ride
behind the knight upon the horse which he rode. And she ordained that
all those knights and ladies and all such attendants as might be of that
party should be clad entirely in green, as was fitting for that pleasant
festival.

Such were the commands that the Queen ordained, and when those who were
chosen were acquainted with their good fortune they took great joy
therein; for all they wist there would be great sport at that
maying-party.

So when the next morning was come they all rode forth in the freshness
of dewy springtide; what time the birds were singing so joyously, so
joyously, from every hedge and coppice; what time the soft wind was
blowing great white clouds, slow sailing across the canopy of heaven,
each cloud casting a soft and darkling shadow that moved across the
hills and uplands as it swam the light blue heaven above; what time all
the trees and hedgerows were abloom with fragrant and dewy blossoms, and
fields and meadow-lands, all shining bright with dew, were spread over
with a wonderful carpet of pretty flowers, gladdening the eye with their
charm and making fragrant the breeze that blew across the smooth and
grassy plain.

For in those days the world was young and gay (as it is nowadays with
little children who are abroad when the sun shines bright and things are
a-growing) and the people who dwelt therein had not yet grown aweary of
its freshness of delight. Wherefore that fair Queen and her court took
great pleasure in all the merry world that lay spread about them, as
they rode two by two, each knight with his lady, gathering the blossoms
of the May, chattering the while like merry birds and now and then
bursting into song because of the pure pleasure of living.

[Sidenote: _They feast very joyously._]

So they disported themselves among the blossoms for all that morning,
and when noontide had come they took their rest at a fair spot in a
flowery meadow that lay spread out beside the smooth-flowing river about
three miles from the town. For from where they sat they might look down
across the glassy stream and behold the distant roofs and spires of
Camelot, trembling in the thin warm air, very bright and clear, against
the blue and radiant sky beyond. And after they were all thus seated in
the grass, sundry attendants came and spread out a fair white
table-cloth and laid upon the cloth a goodly feast for their
refreshment--cold pasties of venison, roasted fowls, manchets of white
bread, and flagons of golden wine and ruby wine. And all they took great
pleasure when they gazed upon that feast, for they were anhungered with
their sporting. So they ate and drank and made them merry; and whilst
they ate certain minstrels sang songs, and certain others recited goodly
contes and tales for their entertainment. And meanwhile each fair lady
wove wreaths of herbs and flowers and therewith bedecked her knight,
until all those noble gentlemen were entirely bedight with
blossoms--whereat was much merriment and pleasant jesting.

Thus it was that Queen Guinevere went a-maying, and so have I told you
all about it so that you might know how it was.

[Sidenote: _A knight cometh forth from the forest._]

Now whilst the Queen and her party were thus sporting together like to
children in the grass, there suddenly came the sound of a bugle-horn
winded in the woodlands that there were not a very great distance away
from where they sat, and whilst they looked with some surprise to see
who blew that horn in the forest, there suddenly appeared at the edge of
the woodland an armed knight clad cap-a-pie. And the bright sunlight
smote down upon that armed knight so that he shone with wonderful
brightness at the edge of the shadows of the trees. And after that
knight there presently followed an array of men-at-arms--fourscore and
more in all--and these also were clad at all points in armor as though
prepared for battle.

This knight and those who were with him stopped for a little while at
the edge of the wood and stood regarding that May-party from a distance;
then after a little they rode forward across the meadow to where the
Queen and her court sat looking at them.

Now at first Queen Guinevere and those that were with her wist not who
that knight could be, but when he and his armed men had come nigh
enough, they were aware that he was a knight hight Sir Mellegrans, who
was the son of King Bagdemagus, and they wist that his visit was not
likely to bode any very great good to them.

For Sir Mellegrans was not like his father, who (as hath been already
told of both in the Book of King Arthur and in The Story of the
Champions of the Round Table) was a good and worthy king, and a friend
of King Arthur's. For, contrariwise, Sir Mellegrans was malcontented and
held bitter enmity toward King Arthur, and that for this reason:

A part of the estate of Sir Mellegrans marched upon the borders of
Wales, and there had at one time arisen great contention between Sir
Mellegrans and the King of North Wales concerning a certain strip of
forest land, as to the ownership thereof. This contention had been
submitted to King Arthur and he had decided against Sir Mellegrans and
in favor of the King of North Wales; wherefore from that time Sir
Mellegrans had great hatred toward King Arthur and sware that some time
he would be revenged upon him if the opportunity should offer. Wherefore
it was that when the Lady Guinevere beheld that it was Sir Mellegrans
who appeared before her thus armed in full, she was ill at ease, and
wist that that visit maybe boded no good to herself and to her gentle
May-court.

[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans affronts the May-party._]

So Sir Mellegrans and his armed party rode up pretty close to where the
Queen and her party sat in the grass. And when he had come very near he
drew rein to his horse and sat regarding that gay company both bitterly
and scornfully (albeit at the moment he knew not the Queen who she
was). Then after a little he said: "What party of jesters are ye, and
what is this foolish sport ye are at?"

Then Sir Kay the Seneschal spake up very sternly and said: "Sir Knight,
it behooves you to be more civil in your address. Do you not perceive
that this is the Queen and her court before whom you stand and unto whom
you are speaking?"

Then Sir Mellegrans knew the Queen and was filled with great triumph to
find her thus, surrounded only with a court of knights altogether
unarmed. Wherefore he cried out in a great voice: "Hah! lady, now I do
know thee! Is it thus that I find thee and thy court? Now it appears to
me that Heaven hath surely delivered you into my hands!"

To this Sir Percydes replied, speaking very fiercely: "What mean you,
Sir Knight, by those words? Do you dare to make threats to your Queen?"

Quoth Sir Mellegrans: "I make no threats, but I tell you this, I do not
mean to throw aside the good fortune that hath thus been placed in my
hands. For here I find you all undefended and in my power, wherefore I
forthwith seize upon you for to take you to my castle and hold you there
as hostages until such time as King Arthur shall make right the great
wrong which he hath done me aforetime and shall return to me those
forest lands which he hath taken from me to give unto another. So if you
go with me in peace, it shall be well for you, but if you go not in
peace it shall be ill for you."

Then all the ladies that were of the Queen's court were seized with
great terror, for Sir Mellegrans's tones and the aspect of his face were
very fierce and baleful; but Queen Guinevere, albeit her face was like
to wax for whiteness, spake with a great deal of courage and much anger,
saying: "Wilt thou be a traitor to thy King, Sir Knight? Wilt thou dare
to do violence to me and my court within the very sight of the roofs of
King Arthur's town?"

"Lady," said Sir Mellegrans, "thou hast said what I will to do."

At this Sir Percydes drew his sword and said: "Sir Knight, this shall
not be! Thou shalt not have thy will in this while I have any life in my
body!"

Then all those other gentlemen drew their swords also, and one and all
spake to the same purpose, saying: "Sir Percydes hath spoken; sooner
would we die than suffer that affront to the Queen."

"Well," said Sir Mellegrans, speaking very bitterly, "if ye will it that
ye who are naked shall do battle with us who are armed, then let it be
even as ye elect. So keep this lady from me if ye are able, for I will
herewith seize upon you all, maugre anything that you may do to stay
me."

Then those ten unarmed knights of the Queen and their attendants made
them ready for battle. And when Sir Mellegrans beheld what was their
will, he gave command that his men should make them ready for battle
upon their part, and they did so.

Then in a moment all that pleasant May-party was changed to dreadful and
bloody uproar; for men lashed fiercely at men with sword and glaive, and
the Queen and her ladies shrieked and clung in terror together in the
midst of that party of knights who were fighting for them.

[Sidenote: _Of the battle with the party of Sir Mellegrans._]

And for a long time those ten unarmed worthies fought against the armed
men as one to ten, and for a long time no one could tell how that battle
would end. For the ten men smote the others down from their horses upon
all sides, wherefore, for a while, it looked as though the victory
should be with them. But they could not shield themselves from the blows
of their enemies, being unarmed, wherefore they were soon wounded in
many places, and what with loss of blood and what with stress of
fighting a few against many without any rest, they presently began to
wax weak and faint. Then at last Sir Kay fell down to the earth and then
Sir Sagramour and then Sir Agravaine and Sir Dodinas and then Sir
Ladynas and Sir Osanna and Sir Persavant, so that all who were left
standing upon their feet were Sir Brandiles and Sir Ironside and Sir
Percydes.

But still these three set themselves back to back and thus fought on in
that woful battle. And still they lashed about them so fiercely with
their swords that the terror of this battle filled their enemies with
fear, insomuch that those who were near them fell back after a while to
escape the dreadful strokes they gave.

So came a pause in the battle and all stood at rest. Meantime all around
on the ground were men groaning dolorously, for in that battle those ten
unarmed knights of the Round Table had smitten down thirty of their
enemies.

So for a while those three stood back to back resting from their battle
and panting for breath. As for their gay attire of green, lo! it was all
ensanguined with the red that streamed from many sore and grimly wounds.
And as for those gay blossoms that had bedecked them, lo! they were all
gone, and instead there hung about them the dread and terror of a deadly
battle.

Then when Queen Guinevere beheld her knights how they stood bleeding
from many wounds and panting for breath, her heart was filled with pity,
and she cried out in a great shrill voice: "Sir Mellegrans, have pity!
Slay not my noble knights! but spare them and I will go with thee as
thou wouldst have me do. Only this covenant I make with thee: suffer
these lords and ladies of my court and all of those attendant upon us,
to go with me into captivity."

Then Sir Mellegrans said: "Well, lady, it shall be as you wish, for
these men of yours fight not like men but like devils, wherefore I am
glad to end this battle for the sake of all. So bid your knights put
away their swords, and I will do likewise with my men, and so there
shall be peace between us."

[Sidenote: _The Queen putteth an end to the battle._]

Then, in obedience to the request of Sir Mellegrans, the Lady Guinevere
gave command that those three knights should put away their swords, and
though they all three besought her that she should suffer them to fight
still a little longer for her, she would not; so they were obliged to
sheath their swords as she ordered. After that these three knights went
to their fallen companions, and found that they were all alive, though
sorely hurt. And they searched their wounds as they lay upon the ground,
and they dressed them in such ways as might be. After that they helped
lift the wounded knights up to their horses, supporting them there in
such wise that they should not fall because of faintness from their
wounds. So they all departed, a doleful company, from that place, which
was now no longer a meadow of pleasure, but a field of bloody battle and
of death.

       *       *       *       *       *

Thus beginneth this history.

And now you shall hear that part of this story which is called in many
books of chivalry, "The Story of the Knight of the Cart."

For the further history hath now to do with Sir Launcelot of the Lake,
and of how he came to achieve the rescue of Queen Guinevere, brought
thither in a cart.

[Illustration]




PART I

The Chevalier of the Cart


_Here followeth the story of Sir Launcelot of the Lake, how he went
forth to rescue Queen Guinevere from that peril in which she lay at the
castle of Sir Mellegrans. Likewise it is told how he met with a very
untoward adventure, so that he was obliged to ride to his undertaking in
a cart as aforesaid._

[Illustration: Denneys and the Hermit help Sir Launcelot to his armor.]




[Illustration]

Chapter First

_How Denneys Found Sir Launcelot, and How Sir Launcelot Rode Forth for
to Rescue Queen Guinevere from the Castle of Sir Mellegrans, and of What
Befell him upon the Assaying of that Adventure._


Now after that sad and sorrowful company of the Queen had thus been led
away captive by Sir Mellegrans as aforetold of, they rode forward upon
their way for all that day. And they continued to ride after the night
had fallen, and at that time they were passing through a deep dark
forest. From this forest, about midnight, they came out into an open
stony place whence before them they beheld where was built high up upon
a steep hill a grim and forbidding castle, standing very dark against
the star-lit sky. And behind the castle there was a town with a number
of lights and a bell was tolling for midnight in the town. And this town
and castle were the town and the castle of Sir Mellegrans.

[Sidenote: _How Denneys escaped._]

Now the Queen had riding near to her throughout that doleful journey a
young page named Denneys, and as they had ridden upon their way, she had
taken occasion at one place to whisper to him: "Denneys, if thou canst
find a chance of escape, do so, and take news of our plight to some one
who may rescue us." So it befel that just as they came out thus into
that stony place, and in the confusion that arose when they reached the
steep road that led up to the castle, Denneys drew rein a little to one
side. Then, seeing that he was unobserved, he suddenly set spurs to his
horse and rode away with might and main down the stony path and into the
forest whence they had all come, and so was gone before anybody had
gathered thought to stay him.

Then Sir Mellegrans was very angry, and he rode up to the Queen and he
said: "Lady, thou hast sought to betray me! But it matters not, for thy
page shall not escape from these parts with his life, for I shall send a
party after him with command to slay him with arrows."

So Sir Mellegrans did as he said; he sent several parties of armed men
to hunt the forest for the page Denneys; but Denneys escaped them all
and got safe away into the cover of the night.

And after that he wandered through the dark and gloomy woodland, not
knowing whither he went, for there was no ray of light. Moreover, the
gloom was full of strange terrors, for on every side of him he heard the
movement of night creatures stirring in the darkness, and he wist not
whether they were great or little or whether they were of a sort to harm
him or not to harm him.

[Sidenote: _How Denneys rideth through the forest._]

Yet ever he went onward until, at last, the dawn of the day came shining
very faint and dim through the tops of the trees. And then, by and by,
and after a little, he began to see the things about him, very faint, as
though they were ghosts growing out of the darkness. Then the small fowl
awoke, and first one began to chirp and then another, until a multitude
of the little feathered creatures fell to singing upon all sides so that
the silence of the forest was filled full of their multitudinous
chanting. And all the while the light grew stronger and stronger and
more clear and sharp until, by and by, the great and splendid sun leaped
up into the sky and shot his shafts of gold aslant through the trembling
leaves of the trees; and so all the joyous world was awake once more to
the fresh and dewy miracle of a new-born day.

So cometh the breaking of the day in the woodlands as I have told you,
and all this Denneys saw, albeit he thought but little of what he
beheld. For all he cared for at that time was to escape out of the thick
mazes of the forest in which he knew himself to be entangled. Moreover,
he was faint with weariness and hunger, and wist not where he might
break his fast or where he could find a place to tarry and to repose
himself for a little.

But God had care of little Denneys and found him food, for by and by he
came to an open space in the forest, where there was a neatherd's hut,
and that was a very pleasant place. For here a brook as clear as crystal
came brawling out of the forest and ran smoothly across an open lawn of
bright green grass; and there was a hedgerow and several apple-trees,
and both the hedge and the apple-trees were abloom with fragrant
blossoms. And the thatched hut of the neatherd stood back under two
great oak-trees at the edge of the forest, where the sunlight played in
spots of gold all over the face of the dwelling.

[Sidenote: _How Denneys findeth food._]

So the Queen's page beheld the hut and he rode forward with intent to
beg for bread, and at his coming there appeared a comely woman of the
forest at the door and asked him what he would have. To her Denneys told
how he was lost in the forest and how he was anhungered. And whilst he
talked there came a slim brown girl, also of the woodland, and very
wild, and she stood behind the woman and listened to what he said. This
woman and this girl pitied Denneys, and the woman gave command that the
girl should give him a draught of fresh milk, and the maiden did so,
bringing it to him in a great wooden bowl. Meanwhile, the woman herself
fetched sweet brown bread spread with butter as yellow as gold, and
Denneys took it and gave them both thanks beyond measure. So he ate and
drank with great appetite, the whiles those two outland folk stood
gazing at him, wondering at his fair young face and his yellow hair.

After that, Denneys journeyed on for the entire day, until the light
began to wane once more. The sun set; the day faded into the silence of
the gloaming and then the gloaming darkened, deeper and more deep, until
Denneys was engulfed once more in the blackness of the night-time.

Then lo! God succored him again, for as the darkness fell, he heard the
sound of a little bell ringing through the gathering night. Thitherward
he turned his horse whence he heard the sound to come, and so in a
little he perceived a light shining from afar, and when he had come nigh
enough to that light he was aware that he had come to the chapel of a
hermit of the forest and that the light that he beheld came from within
the hermit's dwelling-place.

As Denneys drew nigh to the chapel and the hut a great horse neighed
from a cabin close by, and therewith he was aware that some other
wayfarer was there, and that he should have comradeship--and at that his
heart was elated with gladness.

[Sidenote: _Denneys cometh to the chapel of the hermit._]

So he rode up to the door of the hut and knocked, and in answer to his
knocking there came one and opened to him, and that one was a most
reverend hermit with a long beard as white as snow and a face very calm
and gentle and covered all over with a great multitude of wrinkles.

(And this was the hermit of the forest several times spoken of aforetime
in these histories.)

When the hermit beheld before him that young lad, all haggard and worn
and faint and sick with weariness and travel and hunger, he took great
pity and ran to him and catched him in his arms and lifted him down from
his horse and bare him into the hermitage, and sat him down upon a bench
that was there.

Denneys said: "Give me to eat and to drink, for I am faint to death."
And the hermit said, "You shall have food upon the moment," and he went
to fetch it.

Then Denneys gazed about him with heavy eyes, and was aware that there
was another in the hut besides himself. And then he heard a voice speak
his name with great wonderment, saying: "Denneys, is it then thou who
hast come here at this time? What ails thee? Lo! I knew thee not when I
first beheld thee enter."

Then Denneys lifted up his eyes, and he beheld that it was Sir Launcelot
of the Lake who spoke to him thus in the hut of the hermit.

[Sidenote: _Denneys findeth Sir Launcelot._]

At that, and seeing who it was who spake to him, Denneys leaped up and
ran to Sir Launcelot and fell down upon his knees before him. And he
embraced Sir Launcelot about the knees, weeping beyond measure because
of the many troubles through which he had passed.

Sir Launcelot said: "Denneys, what is it ails thee? Where is the Queen,
and how came you here at this place and at this hour? Why look you so
distraught, and why are you so stained with blood?"

Then Denneys, still weeping, told Sir Launcelot all that had befallen,
and how that the Lady Guinevere was prisoner in the castle of Sir
Mellegrans somewhere in the midst of that forest.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot rides forth to save the Queen._]

But when Sir Launcelot heard what Denneys said, he arose very hastily
and he cried out, "How is this! How is this!" and he cried out again
very vehemently: "Help me to mine armor and let me go hence!" (for Sir
Launcelot had laid aside his armor whilst he rested in the hut of the
hermit).

At that moment the hermit came in, bringing food for Denneys to eat, and
hearing what Sir Launcelot said, he would have persuaded him to abide
there until the morrow and until he could see his way. But Sir Launcelot
would listen to nothing that might stay him. So Denneys and the hermit
helped him don his armor, and after that Sir Launcelot mounted his
war-horse and rode away into the blackness of the night.

       *       *       *       *       *

So Sir Launcelot rode as best he might through the darkness of the
forest, and he rode all night, and shortly after the dawning of the day
he heard the sound of rushing water.

So he followed a path that led to this water and by and by he came to
an open space very stony and rough. And he saw that here was a great
torrent of water that came roaring down from the hills very violent and
turbid and covered all over with foam like to cream. And he beheld that
there was a bridge of stone that spanned the torrent and that upon the
farther side of the bridge was a considerable body of men-at-arms all in
full armor. And he beheld that there were at least five-and-twenty of
these men, and that chief among them was a man clad in green armor.

Then Sir Launcelot rode out upon the bridge and he called to those armed
men: "Can you tell me whether this way leads to the castle of Sir
Mellegrans?"

They say to him: "Who are you, Sir Knight?"

"I am one," quoth Sir Launcelot, "who seeks the castle of Sir
Mellegrans. For that knight hath violently seized upon the person of the
Lady Guinevere and of certain of her court, and he now holds her and
them captive and in duress. I am one who hath come to rescue that lady
and her court from their distress and anxiety."

Upon this the Green Knight, who was the chief of that party, came a
little nearer to Sir Launcelot, and said: "Messire, are you Sir
Launcelot of the Lake?" Sir Launcelot said: "Yea, I am he." "Then," said
the Green Knight, "you can go no farther upon this pass, for you are to
know that we are the people of Sir Mellegrans, and that we are here to
stay you or any of your fellows from going forward upon this way."

Then Sir Launcelot laughed, and he said: "Messire, how will you stay me
against my will?" The Green Knight said: "We will stay you by force of
our numbers." "Well," quoth Sir Launcelot, "for the matter of that, I
have made my way against greater odds than those I now see before me. So
your peril will be of your own devising, if you seek to stay me."

[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot assailed his enemies._ ]

Therewith he cast aside his spear and drew his sword, and set spurs to
his horse and rode forward against them. And he rode straight in amongst
them with great violence, lashing right and left with his sword, so that
at every stroke a man fell down from out of his saddle. So fierce and
direful were the blows that Sir Launcelot delivered that the terror of
his rage fell upon them, wherefore, after a while, they fell away from
before him, and left him standing alone in the centre of the way.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot, his horse is slain._]

Now there were a number of the archers of Sir Mellegrans lying hidden in
the rocks at the sides of that pass. These, seeing how that battle was
going and that Sir Launcelot had driven back their companions,
straightway fitted arrows to their bows and began shooting at the horse
of Sir Launcelot. Against these archers Sir Launcelot could in no wise
defend his horse, wherefore the steed was presently sorely wounded and
began plunging and snorting in pain so that Sir Launcelot could hardly
hold him in check. And still the archers shot arrow after arrow until by
and by the life began to go out of the horse. Then after a while the
good steed fell down upon his knees and rolled over into the dust; for
he was so sorely wounded that he could no longer stand.

But Sir Launcelot did not fall, but voided his saddle with great skill
and address, so that he kept his feet, wherefore his enemies were not
able to take him at such disadvantage as they would have over a fallen
knight who lay upon the ground.

So Sir Launcelot stood there in the midst of the way at the end of the
bridge, and he waved his sword this way and that way before him so that
not one of those, his enemies, dared to come nigh to him. For the terror
of him still lay upon them all and they dreaded those buffets he had
given them in the battle they had just fought with him.

Wherefore they stood at a considerable distance regarding Sir Launcelot
and not daring to come nigh to him; and they stood so for a long time.
And although the Green Knight commanded them to fight, they would not
fight any more against Sir Launcelot, so the Green Knight had to give
orders for them to cease that battle and to depart from that place. This
they did, leaving Sir Launcelot standing where he was.

Thus Sir Launcelot with his single arm won a battle against all that
multitude of enemies as I have told.

But though Sir Launcelot had thus won that pass with great credit and
honor to himself, fighting as a single man against so many, yet he was
still in a very sorry plight. For there he stood, a full-armed man with
such a great weight of armor upon him that he could hardly hope to walk
a league, far less to reach the castle of Sir Mellegrans afoot. Nor knew
he what to do in this extremity, for where could he hope to find a horse
in that thick forest, where was hardly a man or a beast of any sort?
Wherefore, although he had won his battle, he was yet in no ease or
satisfaction of spirit.

       *       *       *       *       *

Thus it was that Sir Launcelot went upon that adventure; and now you
shall hear how it sped with him further, if so be you are pleased to
read that which followeth.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: How Sir Launcelot rode errant in a cart.]




[Illustration]

Chapter Second

_How Sir Launcelot rode in a cart to rescue Queen Guinevere and how he
came in that way to the castle of Sir Mellegrans._


Now after Sir Launcelot was thus left by his enemies standing alone in
the road as aforetold of, he knew not for a while what to do, nor how he
should be able to get him away from that place.

As he stood there adoubt as to what to do in this sorry case, he by and
by heard upon one side from out of the forest the sound of an axe at a
distance away, and thereat he was very glad, for he wist that help was
nigh. So he took up his shield on his shoulder and his spear in his hand
and thereupon directed his steps toward where he heard that sound of the
axe, in hopes that there he might find some one who could aid in his
extremity. So after a while, he came forth into a little open glade of
the forest where he beheld a fagotmaker chopping fagots. And he beheld
the fagotmaker had there a cart and a horse for to fetch his fagots from
the forest.

But when the fagotmaker saw an armed knight come thus like a shining
vision out of the forest, walking afoot, bearing his shield upon his
shoulder, and his spear in his hand, he knew not what to think of such a
sight, but stood staring with his mouth agape for wonders.

Sir Launcelot said to him, "Good fellow, is that thy cart?" The
fagotmaker said, "Yea, Messire." "I would," quoth Sir Launcelot, "have
thee do me a service with that cart," and the fagotmaker asked, "What is
the service that thou wouldst have of me, Messire?" Sir Launcelot said:
"This is the service I would have: it is that you take me into yonder
cart and hale me to somewhere I may get a horse for to ride; for mine
own horse hath just now been slain in battle, and I know not how I may
go forward upon the adventure I have undertaken unless I get me another
horse."

Now you must know that in those days it was not thought worthy of any
one of degree to ride in a cart in that wise as Sir Launcelot said, for
they would take law-breakers to the gallows in just such carts as that
one in which Sir Launcelot made demand to ride. Wherefore it was that
that poor fagotmaker knew not what to think when he heard Sir Launcelot
give command that he should be taken to ride in that cart. "Messire,"
quoth he, "this cart is no fit thing for one of your quality to ride in.
Now I beseech you let me serve you in some other way than that."

But Sir Launcelot made reply as follows: "Sirrah, I would have thee know
that there is no shame in riding in a cart for a worthy purpose, but
there is great shame if one rides therein unworthily. And contrariwise,
a man doth not gain credit merely for riding on horseback, for his
credit appertains to his conduct, and not to what manner he rideth. So
as my purpose is worthy, I shall, certes, be unworthy if I go not to
fulfil that purpose, even if in so going I travel in thy poor cart. So
do as I bid thee and make thy cart ready, and if thou wilt bring me in
it to where I may get a fresh horse, I will give thee five pieces of
gold money for thy service."

Now when the fagotmaker heard what Sir Launcelot said about the five
pieces of gold money, he was very joyful, wherefore he ran to make ready
his cart with all speed. And when the cart was made ready, Sir Launcelot
entered into it with his shield and his spear.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot rideth in a cart._]

So it was that Sir Launcelot of the Lake came to ride errant in a cart,
wherefore, for a long time after, he was called the Chevalier of the
Cart. And many ballads and songs were made concerning that matter, which
same were sung in several courts of chivalry by minstrels and jongleurs,
and these same stories and ballads have come down from afar to us of
this very day.

Meantime Sir Launcelot rode forward at a slow pass and in that way for a
great distance. So, at last, still riding in the cart, they came of a
sudden out of the forest and into a little fertile valley in the midst
of which lay a small town and a fair castle with seven towers that
overlooked the town. And this was a very fair pretty valley, for on all
sides of the town and of the castle were fields of growing corn, all
green and lush, and there were many hedgerows and orchards of
fruit-trees all abloom with fragrant blossoms. And the sound of cocks
crowing came to Sir Launcelot upon a soft breeze that blew up the
valley, and on the same breeze came the fragrance of apple blossoms,
wherefore it seemed to Sir Launcelot that this valley was like a fair
jewel of heaven set in the rough perlieus of the forest that lay round
about.

So the fagotmaker drove Sir Launcelot in the cart down into that valley
toward the castle, and as they drew near thereunto Sir Launcelot was
aware of a party of lords and ladies who were disporting themselves in a
smooth meadow of green grass that lay spread out beneath the castle
walls. And some of these lords and ladies tossed a ball from one to
another, and others lay in the grass in the shade of a lime-tree and
watched those that played at ball. Then Sir Launcelot was glad to see
those gentle folk, for he thought that here he might get him a fresh
horse to take him upon his way. So he gave command to the fagotmaker to
drive to where those people were.

But as Sir Launcelot, riding in the fagotmaker's cart, drew near to
those castle-folk, they ceased their play and stood and looked at him
with great astonishment, for they had never beheld an armed knight
riding in a cart in that wise. Then, in a little, they all fell to
laughing beyond measure, and at that Sir Launcelot was greatly abashed
with shame.

Then the lord of that castle came forward to meet Sir Launcelot. He was
a man of great dignity of demeanor--gray-haired, and clad in velvet
trimmed with fur. When he came nigh to where Sir Launcelot was, he said,
speaking as with great indignation: "Sir knight, why do you ride in this
wise in a cart, like to a law-breaker going to the gallows?"

"Sir," quoth Sir Launcelot, "I ride thus because my horse was slain by
treachery. For I have an adventure which I have undertaken to perform,
and I have no other way to go forward upon that quest than this."

[Sidenote: _The lord of a castle chideth Sir Launcelot._]

Then all those who heard what Sir Launcelot said laughed again with
great mirth. Only the old lord of the castle did not laugh, but said,
still speaking as with indignation: "Sir Knight, it is altogether
unworthy of one of your degree to ride thus in a cart to be made a mock
of. Wherefore come down, and if you prove yourself worthy I myself will
purvey you a horse."

But by this time Sir Launcelot had become greatly affronted at the
laughter of those who jeered at him, and he was furthermore affronted
that the lord of the castle should deem him to be unworthy because he
came thither in a cart; wherefore he said: "Sir, without boasting,
methinks I may say that I am altogether as worthy as any one hereabouts.
Nor do I think that any one of you all has done more worthily in his
degree than I have done in my degree. As for any lack of worship that
may befall me for riding thus, I may say that the adventure which I have
undertaken just now to perform is in itself so worthy that it will make
worthy any man who may undertake it, no matter how he may ride to that
adventure. Now I had thought to ask of you a fresh horse, but since your
people mock at me and since you rebuke me so discourteously, I will ask
you for nothing. Wherefore, to show you that knightly worthiness does
not depend upon the way a knight may ride, I herewith make my vow that I
will not mount upon horseback until my quest is achieved; nor will I
ride to that adventure in any other way than in this poor cart wherein I
now stand."

So Sir Launcelot rode away in his cart from those castle-folk. And he
rode thus down into the valley and through the town that was in the
valley in the fagotmaker's cart, and all who beheld him laughed at him
and mocked him. For, as he passed along the way, many came and looked
down upon him from out of the windows of the houses; and others ran
along beside the cart and all laughed and jeered at him to see him thus
riding in a cart as though to a hanging. But all this Sir Launcelot bore
with great calmness of demeanor, both because of his pride and because
of the vow that he had made. Wherefore he continued to ride in that cart
although he might easily have got him a fresh horse from the lord of the
castle.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now turn we to the castle of Sir Mellegrans, where Queen Guinevere and
her court were held prisoners.

First of all you are to know that that part of the castle wherein she
and her court were held overlooked the road which led up to the gate of
the castle. Wherefore it came about that one of the damsels of the
Queen, looking out of the window of the chamber wherein the Queen was
held prisoner, beheld a knight armed at all points, coming riding
thitherward in a cart. Beholding this sight, she fell to laughing,
whereat the Queen said, "What is it you laugh at?" That damsel cried
out: "Lady, Lady, look, see! What a strange sight! Yonder is a knight
riding in a cart as though he were upon his way to a hanging!"

[Sidenote: _The Queen beholds Sir Launcelot riding in a cart._]

Then Queen Guinevere came to the window and looked out, and several came
and looked out also. At first none of them wist who it was that rode in
that cart. But when the cart had come a little nearer to where they
were, the Queen knew who he was, for she beheld the device upon the
shield, even from afar, and she knew that the knight was Sir Launcelot.
Then the Queen turned to the damsel and said to her: "You laugh without
knowing what it is you laugh at. Yonder gentleman is no subject for a
jest, for he is without any doubt the worthiest knight of any who ever
wore golden spurs."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percydes is offended with Sir Launcelot._]

Now amongst those who stood there looking out of the window were Sir
Percydes and Sir Brandiles and Sir Ironside, and in a little Sir
Percydes also saw the device of Sir Launcelot and therewith knew who it
was who rode in the cart. But when Sir Percydes knew that that knight
was Sir Launcelot, he was greatly offended that he, who was the chiefest
knight of the Round Table, should ride in a cart in that wise. So Sir
Percydes said to the Queen: "Lady, I believe yonder knight is none other
than Sir Launcelot of the Lake." And Queen Guinevere said, "It is
assuredly he." Sir Percydes said: "Then I take it to be a great shame
that the chiefest knight of the Round Table should ride so in a cart as
though he were a felon law-breaker. For the world will assuredly hear
of this and it will be made a jest in every court of chivalry. And all
we who are his companions in arms and who are his brethren of the Round
Table will be made a jest and a laughing-stock along with him."

Thus spake Sir Percydes, and the other knights who were there and all
the ladies who were there agreed with him that it was great shame for
Sir Launcelot to come thus to save the Queen, riding in a cart.

But the Queen said: "Messires and ladies, I take no care for the manner
in which Sir Launcelot cometh, for I believe he cometh for to rescue us
from this captivity, and if so be he is successful in that undertaking,
then it will not matter how he cometh to perform so worthy a deed of
knighthood as that."

Thus all they were put to silence by the Queen's words; but nevertheless
and afterward those knights who were there still held amongst themselves
that it was great shame for Sir Launcelot to come thus in a cart to
rescue the Queen, instead of first getting for himself a horse whereon
to ride as became a knight-errant of worthiness and respect.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now you are to know that the Green Knight, who was the head of that
party that tried to stand against Sir Launcelot at the bridge as
aforesaid, when he beheld that the horse of Sir Launcelot was shot, rode
away from the place of battle with his men, and that he never stopped
nor stayed until he had reached the castle of Sir Mellegrans. There
coming, he went straightway to where Sir Mellegrans was and told Sir
Mellegrans all that had befallen, and how that Sir Launcelot had
overcome them all with his single hand at the bridge of the torrent. And
he told Sir Mellegrans that haply Sir Launcelot would be coming to that
place before a very great while had passed, although he had been delayed
because his horse had been slain.

[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans feareth Sir Launcelot._]

At that Sir Mellegrans was put to great anxiety, for he also knew that
Sir Launcelot would be likely to be at that place before a very great
while, and he wist that there would be great trouble for him when that
should come to pass. So he began to cast about very busily in his mind
for some scheme whereby he might destroy Sir Launcelot. And at last he
hit upon a scheme; and that scheme was unworthy of him both as a knight
and as a gentleman.

So when news was brought to Sir Mellegrans that Sir Launcelot was there
in front of the castle in a cart, Sir Mellegrans went down to the
barbican of the castle and looked out of a window of the barbican and
beheld Sir Launcelot where he stood in the cart before the gate of the
castle. And Sir Mellegrans said, "Sir Launcelot, is it thou who art
there in the cart?"

Sir Launcelot replied: "Yea, thou traitor knight, it is I, and I come to
tell thee thou shalt not escape my vengeance either now or at some
other time unless thou set free the Queen and all her court and make due
reparation to her and to them and to me for all the harm you have
wrought upon us."

[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans speaketh to Sir Launcelot._]

To this Sir Mellegrans spake in a very soft and humble tone of voice,
saying: "Messire, I have taken much thought, and I now much repent me of
all that I have done. For though my provocation hath been great, yet I
have done extremely ill in all this that hath happened, so I am of a
mind to make reparation for what I have done. Yet I know not how to make
such reparation without bringing ruin upon myself. If thou wilt
intercede with me before the Queen in this matter, I will let thee into
this castle and I myself will take thee to her where she is. And after I
have been forgiven what I have done, then ye shall all go free, and I
will undertake to deliver myself unto the mercy of King Arthur and will
render all duty unto him."

At this repentance of Sir Mellegrans Sir Launcelot was very greatly
astonished. But yet he was much adoubt as to the true faith of that
knight; wherefore he said: "Sir Knight, how may I know that that which
thou art telling me is the truth?"

"Well," said Sir Mellegrans, "it is small wonder, I dare say, that thou
hast doubt of my word. But I will prove my faith to thee in this: I will
come to thee unarmed as I am at this present, and I will admit thee into
my castle, and I will lead thee to the Queen. And as thou art armed and
I am unarmed, thou mayest easily slay me if so be thou seest that I make
any sign of betraying thee."

But still Sir Launcelot was greatly adoubt, and wist not what to think
of that which Sir Mellegrans said. But after a while, and after he had
considered the matter for a space, he said: "If all this that thou
tellest me is true, Sir Knight, then come down and let me into this
castle as thou hast promised to do, for I will venture that much upon
thy faith. But if I see that thou hast a mind to deal falsely by me,
then I will indeed slay thee as thou hast given me leave to do." And Sir
Mellegrans said, "I am content."

[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans kneels to Sir Launcelot._]

So Sir Mellegrans went down from where he was and he gave command that
the gates of the castle should be opened. And when the gates were opened
he went forth to where Sir Launcelot was. And Sir Launcelot descended
from the fagotmaker's cart, and Sir Mellegrans kneeled down before him,
and he set his palms together and he said, "Sir Launcelot, I crave thy
pardon for what I have done."

Sir Launcelot said: "Sir Knight, if indeed thou meanest no further
treachery, thou hast my pardon and I will also intercede with the Queen
to pardon thee as well. So take me straightway to her, for until I
behold her with mine own eyes I cannot believe altogether in thy
repentance." Then Sir Mellegrans arose and said, "Come, and I will take
thee to her."

So Sir Mellegrans led the way into the castle and Sir Launcelot followed
after him with his naked sword in his hand. And Sir Mellegrans led the
way deep into the castle and along several passageways and still Sir
Launcelot followed after him with his drawn sword, ready for to slay him
if he should show sign of treason.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot falleth into the pit._]

Now there was in a certain part of that castle and in the midst of a
long passageway a trap-door that opened through the floor of the
passageway and so into a deep and gloomy pit beneath. And this trap-door
was controlled by a cunning latch of which Sir Mellegrans alone knew the
secret; for when Sir Mellegrans would touch the latch with his finger,
the trap-door would immediately fall open into the pit beneath. So
thitherward to that place Sir Mellegrans led the way and Sir Launcelot
followed. And Sir Mellegrans passed over that trap-door in safety, but
when Sir Launcelot had stepped upon the trap-door, Sir Mellegrans
touched the spring that controlled the latch with his finger, and the
trap-door immediately opened beneath Sir Launcelot and Sir Launcelot
fell down into the pit beneath. And the pit was very deep indeed and the
floor thereof was of stone, so that when Sir Launcelot fell he smote the
stone floor so violently that he was altogether bereft of his senses and
lay there in the pit like to one who was dead.

Then Sir Mellegrans came back to the open space of the trap-door and he
looked down into the pit beneath and beheld Sir Launcelot where he lay.
Thereupon Sir Mellegrans laughed and he cried out, "Sir Launcelot, what
cheer have you now?" But Sir Launcelot answered not.

Then Sir Mellegrans laughed again, and he closed the trap-door and went
away, and he said to himself: "Now indeed have I such hostages in my
keeping that King Arthur must needs set right this wrong he hath
aforetime done me. For I now have in my keeping not only his Queen, but
also the foremost knight of his Round Table; wherefore King Arthur must
needs come to me to make such terms with me as I shall determine."

       *       *       *       *       *

As for Queen Guinevere, she waited with her court for a long time for
news of Sir Launcelot, for she wist that now Sir Launcelot was there at
that place she must needs have news of him sooner or later. But no news
came to her; wherefore, as time passed by, she took great trouble
because she had no news, and she said: "Alas, if ill should have
befallen that good worthy knight at the hands of the treacherous lord of
this castle!"

But she knew not how great at that very time was the ill into which Sir
Launcelot had fallen, nor of how he was even then lying like as one dead
in the pit beneath the floor of the passageway.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: The Damsel Elouise the Fair rescues Sir Launcelot]




[Illustration]

Chapter Third

_How Sir Launcelot was rescued from the pit and how he overcame Sir
Mellegrans and set free the Queen and her court from the duress they
were in._


Now when Sir Launcelot awoke from that swoon into which he was cast by
falling so violently into the pit, he found himself to be in a very sad,
miserable case. For he lay there upon the hard stones of the floor and
all about him there was a darkness so great that there was not a single
ray of light that penetrated into it.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot lyeth in the pit._]

So for a while Sir Launcelot knew not where he was; but by and by he
remembered that he was in the castle of Sir Mellegrans, and he
remembered all that had befallen him, and therewith, when he knew
himself to be a prisoner in so miserable a condition, he groaned with
dolor and distress, for he was at that time in great pain both of mind
and body. Then he cried out in a very mournful voice: "Woe is me that I
should have placed any faith in a traitor such as this knight hath from
the very beginning shown himself to be! For here am I now cast into this
dismal prison, and know not how I shall escape from it to bring succor
to those who so greatly need my aid at this moment."

So Sir Launcelot bemoaned and lamented himself, but no one heard him,
for he was there all alone in that miserable dungeon and in a darkness
into which no ray of light could penetrate.

Then Sir Launcelot bent his mind to think of how he might escape from
that place, but though he thought much, yet he could not devise any way
in which he might mend the evil case in which he found himself;
wherefore he was altogether overwhelmed with despair. And by that time
it had grown to be about the dead of the night.

Now as Sir Launcelot lay there in such despair of spirit as aforetold
of, he was suddenly aware that there came a gleam of light shining in a
certain place, and he was aware the light grew ever brighter and
brighter and he beheld that it came through the cracks of a door. And by
and by he heard the sound of keys from without and immediately afterward
the door opened and there entered into that place a damsel bearing a
lighted lamp in her hand.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elouise findeth Sir Launcelot._]

At first Sir Launcelot knew not who she was, and then he knew her and
lo! that damsel was the Lady Elouise the Fair, the daughter of King
Bagdemagus and sister unto Sir Mellegrans; and she was the same who had
aforetime rescued him when he had been prisoner to Queen Morgana le Fay,
as hath been told you in a former book of this history.

So Elouise the Fair came into that dismal place, bringing with her the
lighted lamp, and Sir Launcelot beheld that her eyes were red with
weeping. Then Sir Launcelot, beholding that she had been thus weeping,
said: "Lady, what is it that ails you? Is there aught that I can do for
to comfort you?" To this she said naught, but came to where Sir
Launcelot was and looked at him for a long while. By and by she said:
"Woe is me to find thee thus, Sir Launcelot! And woe is me that it
should have been mine own brother that should have brought thee to this
pass!"

Sir Launcelot was much moved to see her so mournful and he said: "Lady,
take comfort to thyself, for whatever evil thing Sir Mellegrans may have
done to me, naught of reproach or blame can fall thereby upon thee, for
I shall never cease to remember how thou didst one time save me from a
very grievous captivity."

The Lady Elouise said: "Launcelot, I cannot bear to see so noble a
knight as thou art lying thus in duress. So it is that I come hither to
aid thee. Now if I set thee free wilt thou upon thy part show mercy unto
my brother for my sake?"

"Lady," said Sir Launcelot, "this is a hard case thou puttest to me, for
I would do much for thy sake. But I would have thee wist that it is my
endeavor to help in my small way to punish evil-doers so that the world
may be made better by that punishment. Wherefore because this knight
hath dealt so treacherously with my lady the Queen, so it must needs be
that I must seek to punish him if ever I can escape from this place. But
if it so befalls that I do escape, this much mercy will I show to Sir
Mellegrans for thy sake: I will meet him in fair field, as one knight
may meet another knight in that wise. And I will show him such courtesy
as one knight may show another in time of battle. Such mercy will I show
thy brother and meseems that is all that may rightly be asked of me."

Then Elouise the Fair began weeping afresh, and she said: "Alas,
Launcelot! I fear me that my brother will perish at thy hands if so be
that it cometh to a battle betwixt you twain. And how could I bear it to
have my brother perish in that way and at thy hands?"

"Lady," said Sir Launcelot, "the fate of battle lyeth ever in God His
hands and not in the hands of men. It may befall any man to die who
doeth battle, and such a fate may be mine as well as thy brother's. So
do thou take courage, for whilst I may not pledge myself to avoid an
ordeal of battle with Sir Mellegrans, yet it may be his good hap that he
may live and that I may die."

"Alas, Launcelot," quoth the Fair Elouise, "and dost thou think that it
would be any comfort to me to have thee die at the hands of mine own
brother? That is but poor comfort to me who am the sister of this
miserable man. Yet let it be as it may hap, I cannot find it in my heart
to let thee lie here in this place, for thou wilt assuredly die in this
dark and miserable dungeon if I do not aid thee. So once more will I set
thee free as I did aforetime when thou wast captive to Queen Morgana le
Fay, and I will do my duty by thee as the daughter of a king and the
daughter of a true knight may do. As to that which shall afterward
befall, that will I trust to the mercy of God to see that it shall all
happen as He shall deem best."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elouise bringeth Sir Launcelot out of a pit._]

So saying, the damsel Elouise the Fair bade Sir Launcelot to arise and
to follow her, and he did so. And she led him out from that place and up
a long flight of steps and so to a fair large chamber that was high up
in a tower of the castle and under the eaves of the roof. And Sir
Launcelot beheld that everything was here prepared for his coming; for
there was a table at that place set with bread and meat and with several
flagons of wine for his refreshment. And there was in that place a
silver ewer full of cold, clear water, and that there was a basin of
silver, and that there were several napkins of fine linen such as are
prepared for knights to dry their hands upon. All these had been
prepared for him against his coming, and at that sight he was greatly
uplifted with satisfaction.

So Sir Launcelot bathed his face and his hands in the water and he dried
them upon the napkins. And he sat him down at the table and he ate and
drank with great appetite and the Lady Elouise the Fair served him. And
so Sir Launcelot was greatly comforted in body and in spirit by that
refreshment which she had prepared for him.

Then after Sir Launcelot had thus satisfied the needs of his hunger, the
Lady Elouise led him to another room and there showed him where was a
soft couch spread with flame-colored linen and she said, "Here shalt
thou rest at ease to-night, and in the morning I shall bring thy sword
and thy shield to thee." Therewith she left Sir Launcelot to his repose
and he laid him down upon the couch and slept with great content.

So he slept very soundly all that night and until the next morning,
what time, the Lady Elouise came to him as she promised and fetched
unto him his sword and his shield. These she gave unto him, saying: "Sir
Knight, I know not whether I be doing evil or good in the sight of
Heaven in thus purveying thee with thy weapons; ne'theless, I cannot
find it in my heart to leave thee unprotected in this place without the
wherewithal for to defend thyself against thine enemies; for that would
be indeed to compass thy death for certain."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot hath his weapons again._]

Then Sir Launcelot was altogether filled with joy to have his weapons
again, and he gave thanks to the Lady Elouise without measure. And after
that he hung his sword at his side and set his shield upon his shoulder
and thereupon felt fear of no man in all of that world, whomsoever that
one might be.

After that, and after he had broken his fast, Sir Launcelot went forth
from out of the chamber where he had abided that night, and he went down
into the castle and into the courtyard of the castle, and every one was
greatly astonished at his coming, for they deemed him to be still a
prisoner in that dungeon into which he had fallen.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot challenges the castle._]

So all these, when they beheld him coming, full armed and with his sword
in his hand, fled away from before the face of Sir Launcelot, and no one
undertook to stay him in his going. So Sir Launcelot reached the
courtyard of the castle, and when he was come there he set his horn to
his lips, and blew a blast that sounded terribly loud and shrill
throughout the entire place.

Meantime, there was great hurrying hither and thither in the castle and
a loud outcry of many voices, and many came to the windows and looked
down into the courtyard and there beheld Sir Launcelot standing clad in
full armor, glistening very bright in the morning light of the sun.

Meantime several messengers had run to where Sir Mellegrans was and told
him that Sir Launcelot had escaped out of that pit wherein he had fallen
and that he was there in the courtyard of the castle in full armor.

At that Sir Mellegrans was overwhelmed with amazement, and a great fear
seized upon him and gripped at his vitals. And after a while he too went
by, to a certain place whence he could look down into the courtyard, and
there he also beheld Sir Launcelot where he stood shining in the
sunlight.

Now at that moment Sir Launcelot lifted up his eyes and espied Sir
Mellegrans where he was at the window of that place, and immediately he
knew Sir Mellegrans. Thereupon he cried out in a loud voice: "Sir
Mellegrans, thou traitor knight! Come down and do battle, for here I
await thee to come and meet me."

But when Sir Mellegrans heard those words he withdrew very hastily from
the window where he was, and he went away in great terror to a certain
room where he might be alone. For beholding Sir Launcelot thus free of
that dungeon from which he had escaped he knew not what to do to flee
from his wrath. Wherefore he said to himself: "Fool that I was, to bring
this knight into my castle, when I might have kept him outside as long
as I chose to do so! What now shall I do to escape from his vengeance?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Mellegrans taketh counsel._]

So after a while Sir Mellegrans sent for several of his knights and he
took counsel of them as to what he should do in this pass. These say to
him: "Messire, you yourself to fulfil your schemes have brought yonder
knight into this place, when God knows he could not have come in of his
own free will. So now that he is here, it behooves you to go and arm
yourself at all points and to go down to the courtyard, there to meet
him and to do battle with him. For only by overcoming him can you hope
to escape his vengeance."

But Sir Mellegrans feared Sir Launcelot with all his heart, wherefore he
said: "Nay, I will not go down to yonder knight. For wit ye he is the
greatest knight alive, and if I go to do battle with him, it will be of
a surety that I go to my death. Wherefore, I will not go."

Then Sir Mellegrans called a messenger to him and he said: "Go down to
yonder knight in the courtyard and tell him that I will not do battle
with him."

So the messenger went to Sir Launcelot and delivered that message to
him. But when Sir Launcelot heard what it was that the messenger said to
him from Sir Mellegrans, he laughed with great scorn. Then he said to
the messenger, "Doth the knight of this castle fear to meet me?" The
messenger said, "Yea, Messire." Sir Launcelot said: "Then take thou this
message to him: that I will lay aside my shield and my helm and that I
will unarm all the left side of my body, and thus, half naked, will I
fight him if only he will come down and do battle with me."

So saying, the messenger departed as Sir Launcelot bade, and came to Sir
Mellegrans and delivered that message to him as Sir Launcelot had said.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot offers to fight Sir Mellegrans in
half-armor._]

Then Sir Mellegrans said to those who were with him: "Now I will go down
and do battle with this knight, for never will I have a better chance of
overcoming him than this." Therewith he turned to that messenger, and he
said: "Go! Hasten back to yonder knight, and tell him that I will do
battle with him upon those conditions he offers, to wit: that he shall
unarm his left side, and that he shall lay aside his shield and his
helm. And tell him that by the time he hath made him ready in that
wise, I will be down to give him what satisfaction I am able."

So the messenger departed upon that command, and Sir Mellegrans departed
to arm himself for battle.

Then, after the messenger had delivered the message that Sir Mellegrans
had given him, Sir Launcelot laid aside his shield and his helm as he
had agreed to do, and he removed his armor from his left side so that he
was altogether unarmed upon that side.

After a while Sir Mellegrans appeared, clad all in armor from top to
toe, and baring himself with great confidence, for he felt well assured
of victory in that encounter. Thus he came very proudly nigh to where
Sir Launcelot was, and he said: "Here am I, Sir Knight, come to do you
service since you will have it so."

Sir Launcelot said: "I am ready to meet thee thus or in any other way,
so that I may come at thee at all."

After that each knight dressed himself for combat, and all those who
were in the castle gathered at the windows and the galleries above, and
looked down upon the two knights.

Then they two came slowly together, and when they were pretty nigh to
one another Sir Launcelot offered his left side so as to allow Sir
Mellegrans to strike at him. And when Sir Mellegrans perceived this
chance, he straightway lashed a great blow at Sir Launcelot's unarmed
side with all his might and main, and with full intent to put an end to
the battle with that one blow.

But Sir Launcelot was well prepared for that stroke, wherefore he very
dexterously and quickly turned himself to one side so that he received
the blow upon the side which was armed, and at the same time he put
aside a part of the blow with his sword. So that blow came to naught.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot slayeth Sir Mellegrans._]

But so violent was the stroke that Sir Mellegrans had lashed that he
overreached himself, and ere he could recover himself, Sir Launcelot
lashed at him a great buffet that struck him fairly upon the helm. And
then again he lashed at him ere he fell and both this stroke of the
sword and the other cut deep through the helm and into the brain pan of
Sir Mellegrans, so that he fell down upon the ground and lay there
without motion of any sort. Then Sir Launcelot stood over him, and
called to those who were near to come and look to their lord, and
thereat there came several running. These lifted Sir Mellegrans up and
removed his helmet so as to give him air to breathe. And they looked
upon his face, and lo! even then the spirit was passing from him, for he
never opened his eyes to look upon the splendor of the sun again.

Then when those of the castle saw how it was with Sir Mellegrans and
that even then he was dead, they lifted up their voices with great
lamentation so that the entire castle rang presently with their outcries
and wailings.

But Sir Launcelot cried out: "This knight hath brought this upon himself
because of the treason he hath done; wherefore the blame is his own."
And then he said: "Where is the porter of this castle? Go, fetch him
hither!"

So in a little while the porter came, and Sir Launcelot made demand of
him: "Where is it that the Queen and her court are held prisoners? Bring
me to them, Sirrah?"

Then the porter of the castle bowed down before Sir Launcelot and he
said, "Messire, I will do whatever you command me to do," for he was
overwhelmed with the terror of Sir Launcelot's wrath as he had displayed
it that day. And the porter said, "Messire, have mercy on us all and I
will take you to the Queen."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot rescueth the Queen._]

So the porter brought Sir Launcelot to where the Queen was, and where
were those others with her. Then all these gave great joy and loud
acclaim that Sir Launcelot had rescued them out of their captivity. And
Queen Guinevere said: "What said I to you awhile since? Did I not say
that it mattered not how Sir Launcelot came hither even if it were in a
cart? For lo! though he came thus humbly and in lowly wise, yet he hath
done marvellous deeds of knightly prowess, and hath liberated us all
from our captivity."

After that Sir Launcelot commanded them that they should make ready such
horses as might be needed. And he commanded that they should fetch
litters for those knights of the Queen's court who had been wounded, and
all that was done as he commanded. After that they all departed from
that place and turned their way toward Camelot and the court of the
King.

But Sir Launcelot did not again see that damsel Elouise the Fair, for
she kept herself close shut in her own bower and would see naught of any
one because of the grief and the shame of all that had passed. At that
Sir Launcelot took much sorrow, for he was greatly grieved that he
should have brought any trouble upon one who had been so friendly with
him as she had been. Yet he wist not how he could otherwise have done
than as he did do, and he could think of naught to comfort her.

       *       *       *       *       *

So ends this adventure of the Knight of the Cart with only this to say:
that after that time there was much offence taken that Sir Launcelot had
gone upon that adventure riding in a cart. For many jests were made of
it as I have said, and many of the King's court were greatly grieved
that so unworthy a thing should have happened.

[Sidenote: _His kinsmen chide Sir Launcelot._]

More especially were the kinsmen of Sir Launcelot offended at what he
had done. Wherefore Sir Lionel and Sir Ector came to Sir Launcelot and
Sir Ector said to him: "That was a very ill thing you did to ride to
that adventure in a cart. Now prythee tell us why you did such a thing
as that when you might easily have got a fresh horse for to ride upon if
you had chosen to do so."

To this Sir Launcelot made reply with much heat: "I know not why you
should take it upon you to meddle in this affair. For that which I did,
I did of mine own free will, and it matters not to any other man.
Moreover, I deem that it matters not how I went upon that quest so that
I achieved my purpose in a knightly fashion. For I have yet to hear any
one say that I behaved in any way such as a true knight should not
behave."

"For the matter of that," said Sir Ector, "thy knighthood is
sufficiently attested, not only in this, but in many other affairs. But
that which shames us who are of thy blood, and they who are thy
companions at arms, is that thou shouldst have achieved thy quest in so
unknightly a fashion instead of with that dignity befitting a very
worthy undertaking. For dost thou not know that thou art now called
everywhere 'The Chevalier of the Cart' and that songs are made of this
adventure and that jests are made concerning it?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot covereth his shield._]

Then Sir Launcelot was filled with great anger, and he went to his inn
and took his shield and laced a sheet of leather over the face thereof.
Thereafter he painted the leather covering of the shield a pure white so
that it might not be known what was the device thereon, nor who was the
knight who bare that shield. Then after he had done this he armed
himself and took horse and rode forth errant and alone, betaking his way
he knew not whither but suffering his horse to wander upon whatsoever
path it choose.

Thus Sir Launcelot departed in anger from the court of King Arthur, and
after that, excepting one time, he was not seen in the court of the King
again for the space of two years, during which time there was much
sorrow at the court, because he was no longer there.




PART II

The Story of Sir Gareth of Orkney


_And now followeth the history of Sir Gareth of Orkney, who came unknown
to the court of his uncle, King Arthur; who was there treated with great
indignity by Sir Kay the Seneschal; who was befriended by his brother,
Sir Gawaine, and who afterward went errant with a damsel hight Lynette,
meeting whilst with her several bel-adventures which shall hereinafter
be duly told of.

So if you would know how it fared with that young knight, you must cease
to consider the further adventures of Sir Launcelot at this place, and
must now read of those other adventures of this youth, who was the
youngest son of King Lot and Queen Margaise of Orkney. But after they
are ended, then shall the further history of the adventures of Sir
Launcelot be considered once more._

[Illustration: Sir Gareth of Orkney]




[Illustration]

Chapter First

_How Sir Gareth of Orkney came to the Castle of Kynkennedon where King
Arthur was holding court, and how it fared with him at that place._


[Sidenote: _Of Gareth of Orkney._]

The youngest son of King Lot of Orkney and of his Queen, who was the
Lady Margaise, sister of King Arthur, was a youth hight Gareth of
Orkney. This young, noble, high-born prince was the most beautiful of
all his royal race, for not only was he exceedingly tall and stalwart of
frame--standing a full head bigger than the biggest of any at his
father's court--and not only was he the strongest and the most agile and
the most skilful at all knightly sports, and not only was he gentle in
speech and exceedingly courteous in demeanor to all with whom he held
discourse, but he was so beautiful of countenance that I do not believe
that an angel of Paradise could be more fair to look upon than he. For
his hair was bright and ruddy, shining like to pure gold, his cheeks
were red and they and his chin were covered over with a soft and budding
bloom of beard like to a dust of gold upon his face; his eyes were blue
and shining and his neck and throat were round and white like to a
pillar of alabaster.

[Sidenote: _How they of the court praise Gareth._]

Now King Lot and Queen Margaise loved Gareth above any of their other
children, and so it befell that all those who dwelt at the King's court
took every occasion to praise young Gareth, both to his face and before
the faces of the King and Queen, his father and mother. For these would
sometimes say: "Lo! this youth sendeth forth such a glory of royal
beauty and grace and dignity from him that even were he clad in fustian
instead of cloth of gold yet would all the world know him to be of royal
strain as plainly as though he were clothed in royal attire fitting for
such a princely youth to wear. For, behold! the splendor of his royalty
lieth in his spirit and not in his raiment, and so it is that it shineth
forth from his countenance."

[Sidenote: _Queen Margaise bespeaketh Gareth._]

Now it came to pass that when Gareth was twenty years of age, his
mother, Queen Margaise, called him to her in her bower where she was
with her maidens, and she bade him to sit down beside her and he did as
she commanded, taking his place upon a couch spread with purple cloth
embroidered with silver lions whereon the Queen was sitting at that
time. Then Queen Margaise gazed long upon her beautiful son, and her
heart yearned over him with pride and glory because of his strength and
grace. And by and by she said: "My son, now that thou hast reached to
the fulness of thy stature and girth and art come to the threshold of
thy manhood, it is time for thee to win for thyself the glory of
knighthood such as shall become thee, earning it by such deeds as shall
be worthy of the royal race from which thou hast sprung. Accordingly, I
would now have it that thou shouldst go to the court of my brother, King
Arthur, and that thou shouldst there take thy stand with that noble and
worthy companionship of the Champions of the Round Table, of whom thy
brothers shine forth like bright planets in the midst of a galaxy of
stars. So I would have it that thou shouldst go to the court of the
great King, my brother, a week from to-day, and to that end I would have
it that thou shouldst go in charge of three of the noblest lords of this
court and in such a state of pomp and circumstance as may befit one who
is, as thou art, the son of a royal father and mother and the nephew of
that great King who is the overlord of this entire realm."

[Sidenote: _Gareth departeth for the court of King Arthur._]

Thus spake Queen Margaise, and in accordance with that saying Gareth set
forth a sennight from that time for the court of King Arthur. With him
there rode three very noble haughty lords of the court as the Queen had
ordained, and with these went esquires and attendants to the number of
threescore ten and four. In the midst of that company young Gareth rode
upon a cream white horse, and all the harness and furnishings of the
horse upon which he rode were of gold, and the saddle upon which he sat
was stamped with gold and riveted with rivets of gold, and Gareth
himself was clad all in cloth of gold, so, what with all of these and
his fair beautiful face in the bright sunlight (the day being
wonderfully clear and fair) the royal youth appeared to shine with such
a glistering splendor that it was as though a star of remarkable glory
had fallen from the heavens and had found lodgment in his person upon
the earth.

So it was that the young Gareth rode forth upon his way to the court of
his uncle, the King.

That evening, he and his company rested for the night in a glade of the
forest and there the attendants set up a pavilion of purple silk for
him. Around about this pavilion were other pavilions for those three
lords who accompanied him as his companions in the journey and for their
esquires and attendants.

Now that night Gareth lodged alone in his pavilion saving only that his
dwarf, Axatalese, lay within the tent nigh to the door thereof. And it
came to pass that Gareth could not sleep that night but lay awake,
looking into the darkness and thinking of many things. And he said to
himself: "Why is it that I should go thus in state to the court of the
King and in that wise to win his especial favor? Lo! It were better that
I should go as any other youth of birth and breeding rather than in this
royal estate. For, if I am worthy, as men say of me, then my worth shall
be made manifest by my deeds and not because of the state in which I
travel."

Thus Gareth communed within himself and he said: "I will go to the court
of mine uncle the King as a simple traveller and not as a prince
travelling in state."

So somewhat before the dawning of the day, he arose very softly and went
to where the dwarf lay, and he touched Axatalese upon the shoulder, and
he said, "Axatalese, awake." Thereupon the dwarf awoke and sat up and
looked about him in the darkness of the dawning, bewildered by the sleep
that still beclouded his brain.

Then Gareth said, still speaking in a whisper: "Listen to what I say,
but make no noise lest you arouse those who lay around about us." And
Axatalese said, "Lord, I listen, and I will be silent."

Then Gareth said: "Axatalese, arise and fetch me hither some garments of
plain green cloth, and aid me to clothe myself in those garments. Then
thou and I will go forward alone and without attendants to King Arthur's
court. For so I would come before the King in that guise and not
travelling in the estate of a prince who may claim his favor because of
the chance of birth. For I would have it that whatsoever good fortune I
win, that fortune should come to me by mine own endeavor, and not
because of the accident of birth."

Then Axatalese was greatly troubled, and he said: "Lord, think well of
what you do, for, lo! your mother, the Queen, hath provided this escort
for you; wherefore, haply, she will be very angry if you should do as
you say, and should depart from those whom she appointed to accompany
you."

"No matter," quoth Gareth; "let that be as it may, but do you as I tell
you and go you straightway, very quietly, and carry out my commands. And
see to it that no one shall be disturbed in your going or coming, for it
is my purpose that we two shall go privily away from this place and that
no one shall be aware of our going."

[Sidenote: _Gareth escapeth from his companions._]

So spake Gareth, and Axatalese was aware that his command must be
obeyed. So the dwarf went very quietly to do Gareth's bidding, and anon
he returned with the clothes of a certain one of the attendants, and the
clothes were of plain green cloth, and Gareth clad himself in that
simple raiment. Then he and the dwarf went forth from the pavilion and
they went to where the horses were, and they chose two of the horses and
saddled them and bridled them with saddles and harness and trappings of
plain leather, such as the least of the attendants might use--and in all
of that time no one of those in attendance upon Gareth was aware of what
he had done. Then Gareth and the dwarf rode away from that place and
still all the others slept, and they slept for a long while after.

And be it here said that when those three lords who were in charge of
Gareth awoke and found that he and Axatalese were gone, they were filled
with terror and dismay, for they wist not why he was gone nor whither,
and they dreaded the anger of the Queen, Gareth's mother. Then the chief
of those lords said: "Lo! here are we betrayed by this young prince and
his dwarf. For he hath left us and taken himself away, we know not
whither, and so we dare not return to the court of Orkney again. For
should we return without him they will assuredly punish us for suffering
him to depart, and that punishment may come even to the taking of our
lives."

Then another of those lords said: "Messire, those words are very true,
so let us not return unto the court of Orkney, but let us escape unto
some other part of the realm where the wrath of the King and Queen may
not reach us."

So it was as that lord said, for straightway they departed from that
place and went to a part of the realm where neither the King and Queen
of Orkney nor King Arthur might hear of them, and there they abode for
that time and for some time afterward.

[Sidenote: _How King Arthur sat at feast._]

Now at this time King Arthur was celebrating the Feast of Pentecost at
the Castle of Kynkennedon. With him sat all the great lords of his court
and all the Knights-companion of the Round Table who were not upon
adventure in some other part of the realm. As they so sat at high feast,
filling the hall with a great sound of merriment and good cheer,
commingled with the chanting of minstrels and the music of harps and
viols, there came one to where the King sat, and he said to him: "Lord,
there is a fellow without who demandeth to have speech with you, face to
face. Nor know we what to do in this case, for he will not be gainsaid,
but ever maketh that demand aforesaid."

Then King Arthur said: "Hah! say you so? Now what manner of man is he?
Is he a king or a duke or a high prince that he maketh such a demand as
that?" "Lord," said the messenger, "he is none of these, but only a
youth of twenty years, tall and very large of frame and beautiful of
face, and very proud and haughty in bearing. And he is clad like to a
yeoman in cloth of plain green, wherefore we know not what to think of
that demand he maketh to have speech with you." King Arthur said, "What
attendants hath he with him?" And the messenger said, "He hath no
attendants of any kind, saving only a dwarf who followeth after him."

Quoth the King: "Well, at this Feast of Pentecost far be it from me to
deny any man speech with me. So fetch this one hither that we may see
what manner of man he is."

[Sidenote: _Gareth cometh before the King._]

Therewith in obedience to the King's command, that attendant went forth
and anon he returned, bringing Gareth and the dwarf Axatalese with him.
And Gareth walked very proudly and haughtily up the hall and all who
looked upon him marvelled at his height and his girth and at the beauty
of his countenance. And many said: "Certes, that is a very
noble-appearing man to be clad in such plain raiment of green, for, from
his manner and his bearing, he would otherwise appear to be some
nobleman's son, or some one of other high degree."

So Gareth walked up the length of the hall with all gazing upon him, and
so he came and stood before the King and looked the King in the face,
regarding him very steadfastly and without any fear or awe--and few
there were who could so regard King Arthur.

Now Sir Kay the Seneschal stood behind the King's seat and when he
beheld how young Gareth fronted the King, look for look, he was very
wroth at the demeanor of that youth who stood thus before that royal
majesty. So he spoke aloud before all those who sat there in hall,
saying, to Gareth: "Sirrah, who are you who darest thus to stand with
such assurance in the presence of the Great King? Wit you it is not for
such as you to stand before such majesty, and have speech with it.
Rather you should veil your face and hang your head in that awful
presence."

Then Gareth looked at Sir Kay very calmly and he said, "Who are you who
speak such words to me?" and all were amazed at the haughtiness of his
tones and voice.

And King Arthur was also much astonished that a youth, clad thus like a
yeoman, should thus speak to a great lord of the court such as Sir Kay.
Wherefore the King wist not what to think of such a bearing. Then anon
he said: "Fair youth, whence come you and who are you who speaketh thus
so boldly to a great lord of our court and before our very face?" And
Gareth said: "Lord, I am one who hath come hither from a great distance
to crave two boons of you."

Quoth the King: "At this time, and at this Feast of Pentecost I may not
refuse any one a boon who asketh it of me. So, if these two boons are
fit for one of your condition to have, they shall be granted unto you."

[Sidenote: _Gareth asketh his boon._]

Then Gareth said: "Lord, this is the first boon that I would ask of
thee. I ask not for knighthood nor for courtly favor. All that I ask is
that thou wilt permit me to dwell here at court for a year and that thou
wilt provide me with lodging and with clothing and with meat and with
drink for that time. Then at the end of a year, if I have proved myself
patient to wait, I shall crave a second boon of thee."

Now many who were there heard what it was that strange youth asked as a
boon, and that he besought not knighthood or honor at the King's hands,
but bread and meat and drink and lodging, wherefore several of them
laughed a great deal at the nature of that boon. As for the King, he
smiled not, but he inclined his head very calmly and said: "Fair youth
if that is all the boon thou hast to ask of us at this time, then thou
shalt have thy will with all welcome." And he said: "Kay, see to it that
this youth hath his desires in these things, and that he hath lodging
and clothing and food and drink for an entire year from this time."

Then Sir Kay looked very scornfully upon Gareth and said: "It shall be
as you will. As for thee, fellow, I will see to it that thou art fed
until thou art as fat as any porker."

So spake Sir Kay, and when young Gareth heard the words his face flamed
red with wrath and the veins stood out upon his forehead like cords. But
he controlled his anger to calmness and anon he said: "Messire, you do
but hear my words, knowing nothing of the purpose that lyeth within my
mind. Wherefore then do you scorn me since you know naught of my
purpose?"

Then Sir Kay looked upon the youth with anger and he said: "Sirrah,
thou speaketh very saucily to those who are thy betters. Learn to bridle
thy tongue or otherwise it may be very ill with thee."

So spake Sir Kay, but Gareth answered him not. Otherwise he turned to
the King and bowed low, as though he had not heard the speech that Sir
Kay had uttered.

Then he turned and went away from the King's presence with the dwarf
Axatalese following close after him.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine loveth Gareth._]

Now Sir Gawaine sat not far distant from the King and so he had heard
all that had passed. And he beheld the indignation of Gareth against Sir
Kay, and the heart of Sir Gawaine went out very strongly toward this
haughty and beautiful youth--albeit he wist not why it was that he felt
love for him, nor that Gareth was his own brother. So it befell that
after Gareth had departed from the King's presence in that wise, Sir
Gawaine arose and followed after him; and when he had come up with
Gareth he touched him upon the arm and said, "Come with me, fair youth."
And Gareth did so. So after that Sir Gawaine led Gareth to another
place, and when they were come thither he said to him: "Fair youth, I
prythee tell me who you are and whence you come, and why it is that you
asked such a boon as that from the King's Majesty."

Then Gareth looked upon Sir Gawaine and knowing that it was his brother
whom he gazed upon he loved him a very great deal. Ne'theless he
contained his love and said: "Messire, why ask you me that? See you not
from the raiment I wear who I am and what is my degree? As for the boon
which I asked, wit you that I asked it because I needed a roof to
shelter me and meat and drink to sustain my life."

Then Sir Gawaine was astonished at the pride and haughtiness of the
youth's reply, wherefore he said: "Fair youth, I know not what to think;
yet I well believe it was not for the sake of the food and drink and
lodging that thou didst so beseech that boon of the King, for methinks
that thou art very different from what thou appearest to be. Now I find
that my heart goeth out to thee with a very singular degree of love,
wherefore I am of a mind to take thee into my favor and to have thee
dwell near me at mine inn." And Gareth said to his brother, "Sir, thou
art very good to me."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine traineth Gareth in knightly skill._]

So it was that after that time Sir Gawaine took Gareth into his favor
and did many acts of kindness unto the youth. And so Gareth dwelt nigh
to Sir Gawaine, and Sir Gawaine instructed him in the use of arms. And
ever Sir Gawaine was astonished that the youth should learn so quickly
and so well the arts of chivalry and of knighthood. For Sir Gawaine wist
not that Gareth had been taught many of these things, and that others
came easily to him by nature, because of the royal and knightly blood
from which he had sprung.

[Sidenote: _Sir Kay scorneth Gareth._]

And ever in the same measure that Sir Gawaine bestowed his favor upon
Gareth, in that degree Sir Kay scorned him. So it came to pass that when
Sir Kay would meet Gareth he would say to whomsoever was present at that
time, some such words as these: "Lo! you! this is our kitchen knave who
had no spirit to ask of the King's Majesty any higher boon than this,
that he be allowed to sup fat broth in the kitchen." So Sir Kay ever
called Gareth a kitchen knave, and so calling him he would maybe say,
"Sirrah, get thee upon the other side of me, for the wind bloweth toward
me and thou smellest vilely of the kitchen." And because Sir Kay
perceived that the hands of Gareth were soft and very white he named the
youth "Beaumains," saying, "Look you at this kitchen knave, how fat and
white are his hands from dwelling in lazy idleness." So Gareth was known
as "Beaumains" by all those who were of the King's court.

But when Sir Gawaine heard this talk of Sir Kay he remembered him of how
Sir Percival had been one time scorned by Sir Kay in such a manner as
this. And Sir Gawaine said: "Messire, let be, and torment not this
youth, lest evil befall thee. Remember how thou didst hold Sir Percival
in scorn when he was a youth, and how he struck thee such a buffet that
he nigh broke thy neck."

Then Sir Kay looked very sourly upon Sir Gawaine, and said, "This
Beaumains is not such as Sir Percival was when he was young." And Sir
Gawaine laughed and said, "Nevertheless, be thou warned in season."

       *       *       *       *       *

So it was that Gareth dwelt for a year at the King's court, eating the
meat of idleness. And many laughed at him and made sport of him who
would have paid him court and honor had they known who he was and what
was his estate. Yet ever Gareth contained himself in patience, biding
his time until it should have come, and making no complaint of the
manner in which he was treated.

And now if you would hear how young Gareth won him honor and knighthood,
I pray you read that which followeth, for therein are those things told
of at some length.

[Illustration: The Damsel Lynette]




[Illustration]

Chapter Second

_How Gareth set forth upon an adventure with a young damsel hight
Lynette; how he fought with Sir Kay, and how Sir Launcelot made him a
knight. Also in this it is told of several other happenings that befell
Gareth, called Beaumains, at this time._


So passed a year as aforetold, and Gareth lodged with the household of
King Arthur and had food and drink as much as he desired. And in all
that time Gareth ate his food and drank his drink at a side table, for
Sir Kay would not permit him to sit at the same table with the lords and
knights and ladies of the King's court. For Sir Kay would say, "This
kitchen knave shall not eat at table with gentle folk but at a side
table by himself," and so Gareth fed at a table by himself. And ever Sir
Kay called Gareth "Beaumains" in scornful jest and all the court called
him "Beaumains" because Sir Kay did so.

[Sidenote: _King Arthur sitteth again at feast._]

Now at the end of that year when the Feast of Pentecost had come again,
King Arthur was holding his court at Caerleon-upon-Usk, and at the high
Feast of Pentecost there sat, as usual at the King's table, the lords
and the ladies of the court and all the Knights of the Round Table who
were not upon adventure that took them elsewhither.

[Sidenote: _A damsel appeareth before the King._]

As they so sat eating and drinking there came into the hall a slender
maiden of not more than sixteen years old. And the maiden was
exceedingly beautiful, for her hair was as black as ebony and was like
to threads of fine black silk for softness and brightness. And her eyes
were as black as jet and very bright and shining, and her face was like
ivory for clearness and whiteness and her lips were red like to coral
for redness. She was clad all in flame-colored satin, embroidered with
threads of gold and she wore a bright shining chaplet of gold about her
brows so that what with her raiment of flame-color and with her
embroidery and ornaments of shining gold, the maiden came up the hall
like to a fiery vision of beauty, insomuch that all turned to behold her
in passing, and many stood in their places that they might see her the
better.

[Sidenote: _The damsel asketh for a champion._]

Thus the damsel came up the hall until she had reached to that place
where King Arthur sat at the head of the feast, and when she had come
there she kneeled down and set her hands together as in prayer, palm to
palm. And King Arthur looked upon her and was pleased with her beauty,
and he said, "Damsel, what is it thou wouldst have of us?" The damsel
said: "Lord, I would have the aid of some good worthy knight of thy
court who should act as champion in behalf of my sister." And the King
said, "What ails thy sister?"

Quoth the damsel: "Lord, my sister is tormented by a very evil disposed
knight who maketh demand of her for wife. But my sister hateth this
knight and will have naught to do with him, wherefore he sitteth ever
before her castle and challengeth whomsoever cometh thitherward, and
will not suffer any one to go in to the castle or come out thence
without his permission. Now I come hither upon my sister's behalf to
seek a champion who shall liberate her from this duress."

Then said the King, "Who is thy sister and who is this knight who
tormenteth her?" To the which the damsel made reply: "I may not tell you
my sister's name, for she is very proud and haughty, and is very much
ashamed that she should be held in duress by that knight against her
will. But as for the knight who tormenteth her, I may tell you that he
is hight the Red Knight of the Red Lands."

Then King Arthur said: "I know not any such knight as that. Is there any
one of you hereabouts who knoweth him?" And Sir Gawaine said: "Lord, I
know him very well, for I met him one time in battle and it was such
hard ado for me to hold mine own against him that even to this day I
know not rightly whether he was better than I or whether I was better
than he." Then King Arthur said: "Fair damsel, that must be a very
strong and powerful knight, since Sir Gawaine speaketh of him in this
wise. But touching this affair of thy sister, know you not that it is
not likely that any knight of renown will be found to champion a lady of
whose name or degree he knoweth naught? If thou wilt tell the name of
thy sister and wilt declare her degree I doubt not there are many good
worthy knights of this court any one of whom would gladly champion her
cause."

So spake the King, but the damsel only shook her head and said, "Lord, I
may not tell my sister's name, for I am forbidden to do so."

Then the King said: "That is a pity for I fear me thou wilt not easily
find thee a champion in that case." And he said, "Damsel, what is thy
name?" And she said, "Sir, it is Lynette." The King said, "That is a
fair name and thou art very fair of face."

Then the King looked about him and he said: "Is there any knight in this
court who will undertake this adventure in behalf of that fair lady,
even though she will not declare her name and degree? If such there be,
he hath my free will and consent for to do so."

So spake the King, but no one immediately answered, for no one cared to
take up such a quarrel against so strong a knight, not knowing for whom
it was that that quarrel was to be taken up.

Now he whom all called Beaumains was at that time sitting at his side
table a little distance away, and he heard all that passed. Likewise he
observed how that no one arose to assume that adventure and at that he
was very indignant. For he said to himself: "This damsel is very fair,
and the case of her sister is a very hard case, and I wonder that no
good and well-approved knight will take that adventure upon him."

But still no one appeared to assume that quarrel of the unknown lady and
so, at last, Beaumains himself arose from where he sat, and came forward
before them all to where the King was and at that time the damsel was
still kneeling before the King.

[Sidenote: _Gareth asketh his second boon._]

Then the King beholding Beaumains standing there said, "Beaumains, what
is it thou wouldst have?" and Beaumains said: "Lord, I have now dwelt in
this court for a year from the time that I first came hither. That time
when I first stood before thee I besought two boons of thee and one of
them thou didst grant me and the other thou didst promise to grant me.
According to that first boon, I had since that time had lodging beneath
thy roof and food and drink from thy table, as much as ever I desired.
But now hath come the time when I would fain ask that other boon of
thee."

Then King Arthur wondered a very great deal, and he said, "Speak,
Beaumains, and ask what thou wilt and the boon is thine."

"Lord," said Beaumains, "this is the boon I would ask. I beseech thee
that thou wilt suffer me to assume this adventure upon behalf of that
lady who will not tell her name."

Now when they of the court who sat near to the King heard what boon it
was that the kitchen knave, Beaumains, besought of the King, a great
deal of laughter arose upon all sides, for it seemed to all to be a very
good jest that Beaumains should assume such an undertaking as that,
which no knight of the court chose to undertake. Only King Arthur did
not laugh. Otherwise he spake with great dignity saying: "Beaumains,
methinks thou knowest not what boon it is thou hast asked. Ne'theless,
be the peril thine. For since thou hast asked that boon, and since I
have passed my promise, I cannot refrain from granting that which thou
hast besought of me."

Then Sir Kay came forward and he spake to the damsel, saying, "Fair
damsel, know you who this fellow is who asketh to be appointed champion
for to defend your lady sister?" and Lynette said, "Nay, I know not; but
I pray you tell me who he is."

"I will do so," quoth Sir Kay. "Wit you that this fellow is a kitchen
knave who came hither a year ago and besought as a royal boon from the
King that he should have meat and drink and lodging. Since then he hath
been well fed every day at a table I have set aside for him. So he hath
grown fat and proud and high of spirit and thinketh himself haply to be
a champion worthy to undertake such an adventure as that which he hath
besought leave to assume."

[Sidenote: _The damsel Lynette is angry._]

So said Sir Kay, and when the damsel Lynette heard his words her face
flamed all as red as fire and she turned to King Arthur and said: "My
Lord King, what shame and indignity is this that you would put upon me
and my sister? I came hither beseeching you for a champion to defend my
sister against her oppressor and instead of a champion you give me a
kitchen knave for that service."

"Lady," quoth King Arthur very calmly, "this Beaumains hath besought a
boon of me and I have promised him that favor. Accordingly, I must needs
fulfil my promise to him. But this I tell thee, that I believe him to be
very different from what he appeareth to be; and I tell thee that if he
faileth in this adventure which he hath assumed, then will I give thee
another champion that shall haply be more to thy liking than he."

But Lynette was very exceedingly wroth and she would not be appeased by
the King's words; yet she dared say no word of her indignation to the
King's Majesty. Accordingly she turned and went away from that place
very haughtily, looking neither to the one side nor to the other, but
gazing straight before her as she went out from that hall.

Then after she was gone Sir Gawaine came and stood before the King and
said: "Messire and Lord, I have faith that greater things shall come of
this adventure than any one hereabouts supposeth it possible to happen.
For Beaumains is no such kitchen knave as Sir Kay proclaimeth him to be,
but something very different from that, as Sir Kay himself shall mayhap
discover some day. For a year this Beaumains hath dwelt nigh me and I
have seen him do much that ye know not of. Now I pray you, Lord, to
suffer me to purvey him with armor fit for this undertaking and I
believe he will some time bring honor both to you and to me--to you
because you granted him this boon, to me because I provided him with
armor." Then King Arthur said to Sir Gawaine, "Messire, let it be as you
say."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine armeth Beaumains._]

So Sir Gawaine took Beaumains away with him to his own lodging-place
and here he provided the youth with armor. And he provided him with a
shield and a sword and a good stout spear. And he provided him with a
fine horse, such as a knight who was to go errant might well care to
ride upon. Then when Beaumains was provided in all this way, Sir Gawaine
wished him God-speed and Beaumains took horse and departed after the
maiden Lynette. And Axatalese the dwarf rode with Beaumains upon a gray
mule, as his esquire.

Now by the time all this had been accomplished--to wit, the arming and
horsing of Beaumains--Lynette had gone so far upon her way that
Beaumains and Axatalese were compelled to ride for two leagues and more
at a very fast pace ere they could overtake her.

[Sidenote: _Lynette scorneth Beaumains._]

And when they did overtake her she was more angry than ever to behold
that misshapen dwarf accompanying the kitchen knave who was her
appointed champion. Wherefore when Beaumains had come nigh to her, she
cried out, "Sirrah, art thou Beaumains, the kitchen knave?" And Gareth
said, "Aye, I am he whom they call Beaumains." Then she cried out upon
him, "Return thee whence thou hast come for I will have none of thee!"

To this angry address Beaumains replied, speaking very mildly and with
great dignity: "Lady, the King hath appointed me to ride with you upon
this adventure, wherefore, with you, I must now do as I have been
commanded. For having embarked in this affair, I must needs give my
service to you, even if you should order me to do otherwise." "Well,"
quoth she, "if you will not do as I bid you, then I tell you this; that
I will straightway take a path that will lead you into such dangers as
you have no thought of, and from which you will be not at all likely to
escape with your life."

To this Beaumains replied, speaking still very calmly and with great
courtesy: "Lady, that shall be altogether as you ordain. And I venture
to say to you that no matter into what dangers you may bring me, still I
have great hope that I shall bring you out thence with safety and so be
of service to you and your lady sister. Wherefore, whithersoever you
lead, thither will I follow you."

Then Lynette was still more angry that Beaumains should be so calm and
courteous to her who was so angry and uncourteous to him, wherefore she
hardened her heart toward him and said: "Sirrah, since I cannot rid me
of you, I bid you ride upon the other side of the way, for methinks you
smell very strongly of the kitchen in which you have dwelt."

To these words Beaumains bowed his head with great dignity and said,
"Lady, it shall be as you command." And therewith he drew rein to the
other side of the highway to that upon which she rode. Then Lynette
laughed, and she said: "Ride a little farther behind me, for still
methinks I smell the savor of the kitchen." And Beaumains did as she
commanded and withdrew him still farther away from her.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Sir Kay followeth Beaumains._]

Now some while after Beaumains had ridden after Lynette as aforetold,
Sir Kay said to certain of those who were nigh him: "I am of a mind to
ride after our kitchen knave and to have a fall of him, for it would be
a very good thing to teach him such a lesson as he needs." So according
to that saying, Sir Kay went to his inn and donned his armor. And he
chose him a good stout spear and he took horse and rode away after
Beaumains with intent to do as he had said. So he rode at a good pace
and for a long time and by and by he beheld Lynette and Beaumains and
the dwarf where they rode along the highway at some distance before him.
Then Sir Kay called out in a great voice, saying: "Stay, Beaumains, turn
thou thitherward. For I am come to overthrow thee and to take that
damsel away from thee."

Then Lynette turned her head and beheld Sir Kay where he came, and with
that she pointed and said: "Look, thou kitchen knave, yonder cometh a
right knight in pursuit of thee. Now haply thou hadst best flee away ere
harm befall thee."

But to this address Beaumains paid no heed, otherwise he turned about
his horse and straightway put himself into array for defence. And as Sir
Kay drew nigh, Beaumains beheld the device upon his shield and knew who
was the knight who came thitherward and that it was Sir Kay who followed
after him and called upon him to stay.

Then Beaumains remembered him of all the many affronts that Sir Kay had
put upon him for all that year past and with that his anger grew very
hot within him. And he said to himself: "This is well met; for now my
time hath come. For either this is the day of satisfaction for me or
else it is the day in which I shall lay my dead body down beside the
highroad."

Meantime Sir Kay had come nigh, and finding that Beaumains had prepared
himself, he also made himself straightway ready for battle. Then Lynette
drew her palfrey to one side of the way and to a place whence she might
behold all that befell.

[Sidenote: _Sir Kay doeth battle with Beaumains._]

So when Beaumains and Sir Kay were in all ways prepared, each gave shout
and drave forward very violently to the assault. And they met in the
midst of that course and in that encounter the spear of Sir Kay held and
the spear of Beaumains, because it was not very well directed, was
broken into several pieces, so that he would have fallen only for the
address of horsemanship that Sir Gawaine had taught him in the year that
had passed.

But when Lynette beheld how that the spear of Beaumains was broken in
that wise, and how that he was nearly cast out of the saddle in that
encounter, she laughed very high and shrill. And she cried out in a loud
voice: "Hah! thou kitchen knave, if thou showest not better address than
that, thou wilt not be likely to succeed in this adventure that thou
hast undertaken."

Now Beaumains heard the high laughter of Lynette and the words that she
called out to him and with that he was more angry than ever. So
therewith he ground his teeth together, and, casting aside the stump of
his spear which he still held in his hand, he drew his sword and made at
Sir Kay with all his might and main. And he put aside Sir Kay's defence
with great violence, and having done so he rose up in his stirrups and
lashed a blow at Sir Kay that fell upon his helm like to a bolt of
lightning. For in that one blow Beaumains lashed forth all his rage and
the indignation of a whole year of the scorn of Sir Kay. And he launched
forth all the anger that he felt against the damsel Lynette who had also
scorned him.

[Sidenote: _Beaumains smiteth down Sir Kay._]

So fierce and terrible was that blow he struck that I misdoubt that any
knight in all the world could have stood against it, far less could Sir
Kay stand against it. For straightway upon receiving that stroke the
senses of Sir Kay scattered all abroad and darkness fell roaring upon
his sight and he fell down from off his horse and lay there upon the
ground as though he was dead. Then Beaumains stood above him smiling
very grimly. And he said, "Well, Sir Kay, how like you that blow from
the hands of the kitchen knave?" but Sir Kay answered him not one word
as you may suppose.

Therewith, having so spoken, Beaumains dismounted from his horse and he
called the dwarf Axatalese to him and he said: "Axatalese, dismount from
thy mule and tie it to yonder bush and take thou the horse of this
knight and mount upon it instead." And Axatalese did as his master
commanded. And Beaumains said to Sir Kay when he still lay in his swoon,
"Sir Knight, I will borrow of you your spear, since I now have none of
mine own," and therewith he took the spear of Sir Kay into his hand. And
he took the shield of Sir Kay and hung it upon the pommel of the saddle
of the horse of Sir Kay that he had given to Axatalese, and after that
he mounted his own horse and rode away from that place, leaving Sir Kay
lying where he was in the middle of the way.

And Lynette also rode away and ever Beaumains followed her in silence.
So they rode for a while and then at last and by and by the damsel fell
alaughing in great measure. And she turned her to Beaumains, and said,
"Sirrah, thou kitchen knave, dost thou take pride to thyself?" and
Beaumains said, "Nay, Lady." She said: "See that thou takest no pride,
for thou didst but overcome that knight by the force of thy youth and
strength, whilst he broke thy spear and wellnigh cast thee out of thy
saddle because of his greater skill."

Then Beaumains bowed his head and said, "Lady, that may very well be."
At that Lynette laughed again, and she said, "Sirrah, thou art
forgetting thyself and thou ridest too near to me. Now I bid thee ride
farther away so that I may not smell the savor of the kitchen," and
Beaumains said, "As you command, so it shall be," and therewith he drew
rein to a little greater distance.

       *       *       *       *       *

And here it may be told of Sir Kay that some while after Beaumains had
gone he bestirred himself and arose and looked about him, and for some
while he knew not what had befallen him nor where he was. Then anon he
remembered and he wist that he had suffered great shame and humiliation
at the hands of Beaumains the kitchen knave. And he saw that in that
encounter he had lost his shield and his spear and his horse and that
naught was left for him to ride upon saving only that poor gray mule
upon which the dwarf of Beaumains had been riding.

[Sidenote: _Sir Kay returneth to court, ashamed._]

Then Sir Kay wist not what to do, but there was naught else left for him
but to mount that mule and ride back again whence he had come. So he did
and when he reached the King's court there was such laughing and jesting
concerning his adventure that he scarce dared to lift his voice in
speech or to raise his face in the court for a week from that time. But
Sir Gawaine made no speech nor jest of the mishap that Sir Kay had
suffered, only he smiled very grimly and said, "Sir, you would have done
well to have hearkened to what I said to you," and Sir Kay, though at
most times he had bitter speech enough and to spare, had naught whatever
to say to Sir Gawaine in reply.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now we turn again to Beaumains and Lynette as they rode onward upon
their way as aforetold.

[Sidenote: _They behold a white knight._]

For after that last speech of Lynette's, they went onward in silence,
and ever Lynette looked this way and that as though she wist not that
any such man as Beaumains was within the space of a league of that
place. So travelling they came, toward the sloping of the afternoon, to
a place nigh to the edge of a woodland where was a smooth and level
space of grass surrounded on all sides but one by the trees of the
forest. Here they beheld a knight who was just come out of the forest,
and he was clad all in white armor and he rode upon a white horse. And
the sun was shining so far aslant at that time that the light thereof
was very red, like to pure gold. And the beams of the sun fell upon the
skirts of the forest so that all the thick foliage of the woodland was
entirely bathed in that golden light. And the same light flashed upon
the polished armor of the knight and shone here and there very
gloriously as though several stars of singular radiance had fallen from
heaven and had catched upon that lonely knight-rider, who drew rein at
their approach and so sat watching their coming.

Then Lynette turned to Beaumains and she said: "Sir kitchen knave, look
you! yonder is a right knight with whom you may hardly hope to have ado.
Now turn you about and get you gone while there is yet time, otherwise
you may suffer harm at his hands."

To this Beaumains made no reply; otherwise, he rode forward very calmly
and when he had come pretty nigh he bespoke that single knight in a loud
clear voice, saying, "Sir Knight, I pray you do me battle."

At this address that knight aforesaid was very much astonished, and he
said: "Sir, what offence have I done to you that you should claim battle
of me in so curt a fashion? Gladly will I give you your will, but wit
you not that all courtesy is due from one knight to another upon such an
occasion?"

To this Beaumains made no reply, but turning his horse about he rode to
a little distance and there made him ready for the encounter that was
about to befall. For at that time his heart was so full of anger at the
scorn of Lynette that he could not trust himself with speech, and indeed
I verily believe that he knew not very well where he was or what he did.

Meantime the White Knight had also put himself into array for battle and
when all was prepared they immediately launched the one against the
other with such violence that the ground trembled and shook beneath
their charge.

So they met with great crashing and uproar in the midst of the course
and in that meeting the spear of Beaumains was broken into a great many
pieces and he himself was cast out of his saddle and down to the ground
with such violence that he was for a little while altogether stunned by
the force of his fall.

Then Lynette laughed so high and so shrill that Beaumains heard her even
in the midst of his swoon, and with that his spirit came back to him
again and straightway he leaped up to his feet and drew his sword. And
he cried out to the White Knight: "Sir Knight, come down from off thy
horse and do battle with me afoot, for never will I be satisfied with
this mischance that I have suffered."

Then the White Knight said: "Messire, how is this? I have no such cause
of battle with you as that." But all the more Beaumains cried out with
great vehemence, "Descend, Sir Knight, descend and fight me afoot."

"Well," quoth the White Knight, "since you will have it so, so it shall
be."

[Sidenote: _Beaumains doeth battle with the White Knight._]

Thereupon he voided his horse and drew his sword and straightway setting
his shield before him, he came forward to the assault of Beaumains. Then
immediately they met together, each lashing very fiercely at the other,
and so that battle began. And so it continued, each foining and tracing
this way and that like two wild bulls at battle, but ever lashing stroke
upon stroke at one another. Soon the armor of each was stained in places
with red, for each had suffered some wound or hurt at this place or at
that. Yet ever Beaumains fought with might and main, for he was so
strengthened by his passion of rage that rather would he have died than
yield in that battle.

So they fought with astounding fierceness for a considerable while, and
then, at last, the White Knight called out, "Sir, I pray you stay this
battle for a little," and with that Beaumains ceased his lashing and
stood leaning upon his sword, panting for breath.

And the White Champion also leaned upon his sword and panted, and anon
he said, "Sir, I pray you tell me your name. For I make my vow to you
that never have I met any knight who hath fought a greater battle than
you have fought this day--and yet I may tell you that I have fought with
a great many of the very best knights of this realm."

"Messire," quoth Beaumains, "I may not declare my name at this present,
for there are several good reasons why I will not do so. But though I
may not do as you demand of me, nevertheless I beseech you that you will
extend that favor unto me and will declare to me your name and your
degree."

"Well," said the White Knight, "never yet have I refused that courtesy
to any one who hath asked it of me. Wit ye then that I am called Sir
Launcelot of the Lake."

[Sidenote: _Beaumains knoweth Sir Launcelot._]

Now when Beaumains heard this that the White Knight said and when he
wist that it was none other than Sir Launcelot against whom he had been
fighting for that while, he was filled with great wonder and
astonishment and a sort of fear. So straightway he flung aside his sword
and he kneeled down before Sir Launcelot and set his palms together. And
he said: "Messire, what have I done, to do battle against you? Rather
would I have done battle against mine own brother than against you. Know
you that you are the man of all others whom I most revere and admire.
Now I pray you, Messire, if I have done well in your sight in this
battle which I have fought, that you grant me a boon that I have to ask
of you and of no other man."

Quoth Sir Launcelot: "What boon is it thou wouldst have? Ask it and if
it is meet that I grant it to thee, then assuredly it shall be thine. As
for that battle which thou hast done, let me tell thee of a truth that I
believe that I have never before met a stronger or a more worthy
champion than thou art. So now I prithee ask thy boon that I may have
the pleasure of granting it to thee."

Then Beaumains said: "Sir, it is this. Wit you that I am not yet made
knight, but am no more than a bachelor at arms. So if you think that I
am not unworthy of that honor, I pray you make me a knight at this
present and with your own hand."

"Sir," said Sir Launcelot, "that may not be until I know thy name and of
what degree and worthiness thou art. For it is not allowed for a knight
to make a knight of another man until first he is well assured of that
other's degree and estate, no matter what deed of arms that other may
have done. But if thou wilt tell me thy name and thy degree, then I
doubt not that I shall be rejoiced to make a knight of thee."

Unto this Beaumains said, "Sir, I will tell you my name and degree if so
be I may whisper it in your ear." And Sir Launcelot said, "Tell it to me
as you list and in such manner as may be pleasing to you." So Beaumains
set his lips to Sir Launcelot's ear and he told him his name and his
degree. And he told Sir Launcelot many things that had befallen him of
late, and Sir Launcelot was astonished beyond measure at all that he
heard. Then when Beaumains had told all these several things, Sir
Launcelot said: "Messire, I wonder no more that you should have done so
great battle as you did against me, seeing what blood you have in your
veins and of what royal race you are sprung. Gladly will I make you
knight, for I believe in time you will surpass even your own brothers in
glory of knighthood, wherefore I shall have great credit in having made
you a knight."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot maketh Sir Gareth a knight._]

Therewith Sir Launcelot took his sword in his hand, and Beaumains
kneeled. And Sir Launcelot laid the blade thereof upon the shoulder of
Beaumains and so made him knight by accolade. And he said, "Rise, Sir
Gareth!" and Sir Gareth arose and stood upon his feet, and his heart was
so expanded with joy that it appeared to him that he had the strength of
ten men rather than one man in his single body.

Now the damsel Lynette had been observing all this from afar, and from
that distance she could hear naught of what one champion said to the
other, and she beheld what they did with very great wonderment and
perplexity. Anon came Sir Launcelot and Sir Gareth to where she was, and
when they were come near she said to Sir Launcelot, "Know you, Messire,
who is this with whom you walk?" And Sir Launcelot said, "Yea, damsel,
methinks I should know him." Lynette said: "I believe that you do not
know him, for I am well assured that he is a kitchen knave of King
Arthur's court. He hath followed me hither against my will, clad in
armor which I believe he hath no entitlement to wear, and I cannot drive
him from me."

Then Sir Launcelot laughed and he said: "Damsel, you know not what you
say. Peace! Be still, or else you will bring shame upon yourself."

Then Lynette regarded Sir Launcelot for a while very seriously and anon
she said, "Messire, I pray you tell me who you are who take me thus to
task." And at that Sir Launcelot laughed again and said: "Damsel, I will
not tell you my name, but mayhap if you ask my name of this worthy
gentleman who is with you, he will tell you what it is."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot leaveth Sir Gareth._]

Then Sir Launcelot turned him to Sir Gareth and he said: "Friend, here I
must leave you, for I have business that taketh me in another direction.
So God save you and fare you well until we shall meet again. And if you
will keep upon yonder path and follow it, it will bring you by and by to
a fair priory of the forest, and there you and your damsel may have
lodging for the night."

Thereupon Sir Launcelot bowed in courtesy both to Sir Gareth and to the
damsel Lynette and so took his departure, wending his way whither he was
minded to go and so in a little was lost to sight.

Then Lynette and Sir Gareth and the dwarf also went their way, taking
that path that led to the priory of which Sir Launcelot had spoken; and
there they found lodgment for the night--the damsel at one place, Sir
Gareth at another.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now if you would hear more concerning Sir Gareth and Lynette and of
what befell them, I pray you read further, for these things shall there
be duly set forth for your entertainment.

[Illustration: Sir Gareth doeth Battle with the Knight of the River
Ford.]




[Illustration]

Chapter Third

_How Sir Gareth and Lynette travelled farther upon their way; how Sir
Gareth won the pass of the river against two strong knights, and how he
overcame the Black Knight of the Black Lands. Also how he saved a good
worthy knight from six thieves who held him in duress._


Now when the next morning had come, all bright and dewy and very clear
like to crystal, Lynette arose and departed from that forest priory
where she had lodged over-night, giving no news to Sir Gareth of her
going. And at that time the birds were singing everywhere with might and
main. Everywhere the May was abloom, the apple orchards were fragrant
with blossoms, and field and meadow-land were spread thick with a
variegated carpet of pretty wild flowers of divers colors, very fair to
see.

So Lynette rode alone, all through the dewy morn, amid these fair
meadow-lands and orchards belonging to the priory, making her way toward
the dark and shady belt of forest that surrounded those smooth and
verdant fields upon all sides. And ever she gazed behind her very slyly,
but beheld no one immediately following after her.

For it was some while ere Sir Gareth arose from his couch to find the
damsel gone. And when he did arise he was vexed beyond measure that she
had departed. So he donned his armor in all haste and as soon as might
be he followed hard after her, galloping his horse very violently
through those fair and blooming meadows aforesaid, with the dwarf
Axatalese following fast after him upon Sir Kay's war-horse.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth followeth Lynette again._]

So Sir Gareth made all speed, and by and by he perceived the damsel
where she was, and at that time she was just entering into the forest
shades. So he drove forward still more rapidly and anon he came up with
her and thereupon he saluted and said, "Save you, Lady!" Upon that
salutation Lynette looked about, as though in surprise, and said, "Hah,
thou kitchen knave, art thou there?" And Sir Gareth said, "Yea, Lady."
And Lynette said: "Methought thou hadst enough of adventure yestereve
when that same White Knight rolled thee down into the dust and beat thee
in a fair fight afterward." Sir Gareth said, "Lady, thou speakest bitter
words to me!" and Lynette laughed, and she said: "Well, Sir Knave, it
seems that I cannot speak words that are so bitter as to prevent thee
from following after me for I see that I am not to be free from thee in
spite of my will to that end." And then she said: "Now I bid thee to
ride a little farther away from me, for even yet thou savorest very
strongly of the kitchen, and the savor thereof spoileth the fair savor
of the morning."

So spake Lynette, and thereupon Sir Gareth drew rein a little farther,
and so followed after her some distance away as he had done the day
before.

[Sidenote: _Lynette telleth Sir Gareth of the robber knights._]

After that they went a considerable ways in silence, and then by and by
Lynette turned her head toward Sir Gareth and spake, saying: "Sirrah,
knowest thou whither this path upon which we travel will lead us?" And
Sir Gareth said, "Nay, Lady, I know not." "Alas for thee," quoth
Lynette, "for I am to tell thee that this path leadeth toward a certain
ford of a river, which same ford is guarded by two strong and powerful
knights who are brothers. Of these two knights I heard yesternight at
the priory that they are very savage robbers, and that, of those who
would pass the ford of the river, some they slay and others they rob or
else make captive for the sake of ransom. Now I am making my way toward
that place where are these two knights in the belief that they may rid
me of thee. So be thou advised whilst there is yet time; withdraw thee
from this adventure and return whither thou hast come, or else, mayhap,
a very great deal of harm may befall thee."

"Lady," quoth Sir Gareth, "were there twenty knights instead of two at
that ford and were each of those twenty ten times as strong as either of
the two are likely to be, yet would I follow after thee to the end of
this adventure. Mayhap it may be my good fortune to rid the world of
these two evil knights."

Then Lynette lifted up her eyes toward Heaven. "Alas," quoth she, "I see
that never will I be rid of this kitchen knave until all the pride is
beaten out of his body." And after that they rode their way without
saying anything more at that time.

Anon, and when the sun had risen pretty high toward the middle of the
morning, they came out of the forest and into a fair open plain of
considerable extent. Here Sir Gareth perceived that there was a smooth
wide river that flowed down through the midst of the plain. And he
perceived that the road ran toward the river and crossed it by a
shallow gravelly ford. And he perceived that upon the other side of the
river was a tall, grim, and very forbidding castle that stood on high
and overlooked the ford, and so he wist that this must be the ford
guarded by those two knights of whom Lynette had spoken.

So as they drew nearer to the ford, Sir Gareth beheld a pillar of stone
beside the way, and he saw that a great bugle horn of brass was chained
fast to this pillar. Then Lynette pointed to the bugle horn and she
said: "Sir Kitchen Knave, seest thou yon bugle horn? Thou had best not
blow upon that horn for if thou dost thou will arouse those two knights
who guard this ford and they will come forth from the castle and it will
certes fare very ill with thee."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth challengeth the robber knights._]

Then Sir Gareth said, "Say you so, Lady?" Therewith he went straight to
where the horn hung by its chain, and he seized it in both hands and
blew upon it so violently that it was as though the brazen horn would be
burst with his blowing. For the sound thereof flew far and wide, and
came echoing back from the distant walls of the castle as though the
trump of doom had been sounded in those parts.

Therewith, and after a little while, the portcullis of the castle was
uplifted and the drawbridge let fall and there issued forth two knights
very large and stout of frame and very forbidding of appearance. These
two knights rode down toward the ford and when they had come nigh to it
he who was the bigger of the two drave down to the edge of the water and
called across to Sir Gareth, "Who are you who dareth to blow so loudly
upon our bugle horn?" And to him Sir Gareth replied: "Sir, I blew upon
that horn to let you know that I was here and that I come with intent to
rid the world of you, if so be God shall be with me in mine endeavor."

At that the knight upon the other bank was so enraged that he cast aside
his spear and drew his sword and drave straightway into the waters of
the ford, splashing with a noise like to thunder. And Sir Gareth also
cast aside his spear and drew his sword and drave into the ford with
great violence.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth overthroweth the knight of the ford._]

So they met in the midst of the river and the knight of the ford lashed
at Sir Gareth a most terrible and vehement blow, which stroke Sir Gareth
put aside with great skill so that it harmed him not. Then Sir Gareth
upon his part lifted himself on high and lashed at the knight so woful
and terrible a blow that his horse tottered under the stroke and the
knight himself catched at the pommel of his saddle to save himself from
falling. Then Sir Gareth lashed at him another stroke and with that the
knight swooned away into darkness and fell out of his saddle and into
the water. And the river where he fell was very deep so that when he
sank beneath the water he did not rise again, although Sir Gareth waited
some while for him to do so.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth overthroweth the second knight._]

Then Sir Gareth, perceiving how that he had finished this enemy, drave
his horse very violently across the ford, and to the farther bank, and
the knight who was there upon that side of the river drave down against
Sir Gareth with his spear in rest with intent to thrust him through the
body. But Sir Gareth was aware of his coming and so when the knight of
the river was immediately upon him, he put aside the point of the spear
with his shield with great skill and address. Then he rode up the length
of the spear and when he had come nigh enough he rose up in his stirrup
and lashed at the knight of the river so dreadful deadly a blow that nor
shield nor helm could withstand that stroke. For the sword of Sir Gareth
clave through the shield of the knight, and it clave through the helm
and deep into his brain-pan. And with that the knight of the river fell
headlong from his saddle and lay upon the ground without life or motion
wherewith to rise again. Then Sir Gareth leaped very nimbly out of his
saddle and ran to him to finish the work that he had begun. And Sir
Gareth plucked away the helm of the knight and looked into his face and
therewith beheld that his work was very well done, for already that
fallen knight was in the act of yielding up the ghost.

Then Sir Gareth wiped his sword and drave it back again into its sheath;
and he remounted his horse and rode very quietly back to where the
damsel waited for him upon the farther bank. And the damsel looked at
Sir Gareth very strangely but Sir Gareth regarded her not at all.

So Sir Gareth brought Lynette safely across the ford and afterward they
rode on their way as they had aforetime done--the damsel in the lead and
Sir Gareth and Axatalese following after at a distance.

[Sidenote: _Lynette mocketh at Sir Gareth._]

So after they had ridden a long while the damsel turned her about in the
saddle and looked at Sir Gareth and she said, "Hah, Beaumains, dost thou
take pride in what thou hast done?" And Sir Gareth said, "Nay, Lady; God
forbid that I should take pride in any such thing as that." Quoth
Lynette: "I am glad that thou dost not take pride in it; for I beheld
thy battle from afar and I saw how fortune favored thee. For the first
of those two knights, his horse stumbled in the river and so he fell
into the water and was drowned; and thou didst strike the second knight
with thy sword ere he was well prepared for his defence and so thou wert
able to slay him."

"Lady," quoth Sir Gareth very calmly, "that which thou sayest doth not
in anywise change the circumstances of what I did. For now my work is
done and so I leave it to God His mercy to judge whether I did that
thing well or whether I did it ill." "Hah," said Lynette, "meseemeth
you speak very saucily for a kitchen knave." And Sir Gareth said, still
speaking very calmly, "Think you so, Lady?" And Lynette said, "Yea," and
she said, "I see that thou still ever forgettest my commands, for thou
art riding so nigh to me that methinks I smell the kitchen. Now I
prythee draw a little farther away." And Sir Gareth said, "Damsel, it
shall be as you command." And therewith he drew rein so as to ride at a
little greater distance, and Lynette laughed to see him do so.

Now some little while about the prime of the day they came to a certain
grassy place of considerable extent, and at that place was a black
hawthorn bush, very aged and gnarled and full of thorns that stood alone
beside the highroad, and as they drew nigh to it they perceived that
there was hung upon the thorn bush a great black shield bearing the
device of the red gryphon, and they saw that a great black spear,
bearing a black pennon with the device of a red gryphon leaned beside
the shield. And they beheld that near by the bush was a noble black
horse with trappings and housings all of black, and the horse cropped
the grass that grew at that place.

[Sidenote: _They behold the black knight at his meal._]

All this they beheld, and as they came still nearer they perceived that
upon the other side of the hawthorn bush there was a knight clad all in
black armor, and they saw that the knight sat beside a great flat stone
and ate his midday meal that lay spread out upon the stone. And the
knight was unaware of their coming but ever ate with great appetite of
the food that was spread before him.

Then Lynette drew rein while they were yet at some distance and she
laughed and pointed toward the hawthorn bush, behind which sat the
knight, and she said: "Sir Kitchen Knave, look you yonder and behold
that knight. Seest thou the device upon his shield? I know that device
very well and so I may tell thee that that knight is hight Sir Perard
and that he is brother of Sir Percevant of Hind, and that he is a very
strong, worthy, noble knight and one of great renown in deeds of arms.
This is a very different sort of knight from those thou didst overcome
at the ford of the river, wherefore be thou advised by me and turn thee
about and get thee gone ere yonder knight seest thee, or else harm will
certainly befall thee."

Quoth Sir Gareth: "Damsel, having followed you so far and through
several dangers it is not very likely that I shall turn back at this,
even if there be as much peril in it as you say."

"Very well," said Lynette, "then if ill befall thee thou art to blame
thyself therefor and not blame me." Therewith speaking, she tightened
the rein of her palfrey and so rode forward toward that hawthorn bush
aforesaid.

Now when they had come a little more close to that place, the Black
Knight, Sir Perard, was aware of their coming and looked up and beheld
them. Then, seeing that it was an armed knight and a damsel that were
coming thitherward, Sir Perard arose very slowly and with great dignity
and set his helm upon his head, and so he made him ready for whatsoever
might befall. Then when he had so prepared himself he came out into the
road for to meet them. Then when Sir Gareth and the damsel were come
pretty nigh, Sir Perard bespake Sir Gareth, saying: "Sir Knight, I pray
you of your courtesy for to tell me who you are and whither you go?"

Quoth Sir Gareth: "I may not tell you who I am, but ask you this damsel
and she will tell you."

Then Sir Perard was greatly surprised at that reply and he said, "Is
this a jest?" And he said: "Damsel, since I am directed to you, I pray
of you tell to me the name and the degree of this knight."

Upon this Lynette fell alaughing in great measure and she said:
"Messire, since you ask me that thing, I have to tell you that this
fellow is a certain kitchen knave, hight Beaumains, who hath followed me
hither from the court of King Arthur, and I have to tell you further
that many times I have bid him begone and leave me, but he will not do
so, but continually followeth after me."

"Fair damsel," quoth the Black Knight, speaking with great dignity, "you
are pleased to jest with me, for this is no kitchen knave I trow but a
very good worshipful knight of whom you are pleased to say such things."

Then Sir Gareth spake very sternly, saying, "Messire, I will not have
you or any man gainsay what this lady sayeth." And the Black Knight,
still speaking with great dignity, said: "How may I do otherwise than
gainsay her, seeing that you wear armor that is indented with the marks
of battle? For who ever heard of a kitchen knave wearing such armor?"
"Ne'theless," quoth Sir Gareth, "either you must acknowledge what this
lady sayeth of me, or else you must do battle with me so that I may
defend what she sayeth."

"Sir," said the Black Knight, "in that case I will do battle with you,
for I cannot accept the saying of this lady."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth doeth battle with the Black Knight._]

So therewith Sir Perard took down his shield from off the blackthorn
bush and he took his spear into his hand and whistled his horse to him.
And he mounted his horse and made him in all ways ready for battle.
Meanwhile Sir Gareth waited very composedly and with great calmness of
bearing until the other was in all wise prepared. Then Sir Perard said,
"I am ready, Messire." And therewith each knight drew rein and withdrew
to such a distance as was fitting for a course to an assault. Then when
this was accomplished, each knight shouted to his steed and each charged
forward against the other with a terrible speed and violence. So they
met in the midst of the course with a crash that might have been heard
for two furlongs. In that meeting the spear of each knight was broken
into many pieces, even to the hand that held it, and the horse of each
staggered back and would haply have fallen had not the knight rider
brought him to foot again with shout and prick of spur and with great
address of horsemanship. Then each knight voided his horse and each drew
his sword and therewith rushed to an assault at arms. And each smote the
other again and again and yet again, lashing such blows that it sounded
as though several blacksmiths were smiting amain upon their anvils, and
for a while neither knight had any advantage over the other, but each
fought for that time a well-matched battle. Then of a sudden Lynette
cried out very shrilly: "Sir Perard! Sir Perard! Noble, worthy knight!
Wilt thou suffer a kitchen knave to have his will of thee?"

So she cried out very loud and shrill and Sir Gareth heard the words she
uttered. Then a great anger came upon him so that he was uplifted by it,
as though the strength of several had entered into his body. So
straightway he redoubled his battle to twice what it had been before,
giving stroke upon stroke, so that the Black Knight was forced to bear
back before the fierceness and violence of his assault. Then Sir Gareth
perceived that Sir Perard began to weary a very great deal in that fight
and to bear his defences full low, and therewith he redoubled his blows
and smote Sir Perard upon the helm so fiercely that his brains swam like
water and his head hung low upon his breast.

Then, perceiving how that Sir Perard fainted, Sir Gareth ran to him and
catched him by the helm and dragged him down upon his knees, and he
rushed off the helm of Sir Perard, and catched him by the hair and
dragged down his neck so that he might have slain him had he chosen to
do so.

Then Sir Perard, perceiving how near death was to him, catched Sir
Gareth about the knees, and cried out on high, "Messire, spare my life,
for so thou hast it at thy mercy." Quoth Sir Gareth, "Sir Knight, I will
not spare thy life unless this lady beseech it of me."

Then Lynette cried out: "Fie upon thee, thou saucy varlet! Who art thou
that I should ask a favor of thee?"

[Sidenote: _Lynette asketh the life of the Black Knight._]

Then Sir Perard cried out, "Fair Lady, I beseech thee that thou beg my
life at the hands of this knight," and thereupon Lynette said: "Fie upon
it that it must needs be so. But indeed I cannot suffer so worshipful a
knight as thou art, Sir Perard, to be slain by the hand of a kitchen
knave. So, Sirrah Beaumains, I bid thee stay thy hand and spare this
knight his life."

Upon this speech, Sir Gareth released his hold upon Sir Perard and said,
"Arise, Sir Knight, for I will spare thy life upon this lady's behest."
And therewith Sir Perard arose and stood upon his feet. And Sir Perard
said: "Sir, thou hast conquered me in fair battle and for that reason I
have yielded me to thee. Now, I prythee tell me, hast thou any commands
that thou wouldst lay upon me?" Quoth Sir Gareth: "Yea, Messire, I have
a command to lay upon you and this is that command: It is that you
straightway go to the court of King Arthur and pay your duty unto him.
And you are to say unto King Arthur that Beaumains, the kitchen knave,
hath sent you unto him. And I pray you give him news of me and tell him
it fareth well with me." And Sir Perard said, "Messire, it shall be done
according to your bidding." And Sir Gareth said, "See that it is so."

Now in all these things that Sir Gareth did and said he ever bore
himself with such dignity and haughtiness that a knight of ten years'
standing would not have acted with more dignity than he. And after he
had settled those affairs in that wise, he turned to Lynette and
addressed himself to her, saying, "Lady, if so be thou art now ready to
depart I am ready to accompany thee," and with that the damsel took her
departure and Sir Gareth and Axatalese followed after her. So they left
that place of battle and soon after they had gone Sir Perard departed
upon his way to the court of King Arthur as he had been commanded to do
by Sir Gareth as aforesaid.

Now after Lynette and Sir Gareth had ridden some while in silence,
Lynette turned her face and looked upon Sir Gareth. And she said, "Sir
Kitchen Knave, I would I knew who thou really art." To the which Sir
Gareth answered very calmly, "Thou hast declared several times who I am
and that I am a kitchen knave from King Arthur's court." Then Lynette
laughed and she said, "True, I had nigh forgot." And she said, "Ride not
so near to me for still, I believe, thou savorest of the kitchen." And
thereupon Sir Gareth withdrew to that same distance he had assumed
before.

[Sidenote: _They behold one fleeing from the forest._]

Now somewhile toward the approach of eventide, Sir Gareth and Lynette
and Axatalese came away from that part of the country and to where the
forest began again. And it befell that as they approached the forest
they beheld of a sudden one who came spurring out of the woodlands
riding upon a white horse, driving very furiously and at full speed.
This rider when he was come nigh suddenly drew rein, and flinging
himself from the saddle he ran to Sir Gareth and catched him by the
stirrup, crying out: "Sir Knight! Sir Knight! I crave you of your
worship that you will lend your aid in a case of woful need!" Then Sir
Gareth beheld that this one who had come to him in this wise was an
esquire, clad in green and yellow and that he was one of good appearance
and of quality. And Sir Gareth said: "Fair Friend, I prythee tell me
what service it is that thou wouldst have of me?"

"Sir," cried that esquire, "my master, who is a knight of these marches,
is beset within the forest yonder by several thieves and I fear they
will slay him unless help cometh to him in short order." Sir Gareth
said, "Where is your master?" And the esquire said, "Follow me and I
will bring you to him."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth driveth to rescue the wounded knight._]

So the esquire mounted his horse again and drave away with all speed and
Sir Gareth set spurs to his horse and also drave away at speed, and
Lynette and the dwarf followed with speed after Sir Gareth. So anon they
entered the forest and coursed therethrough for a little ways and then
Sir Gareth perceived where at a short distance there was a knight set
with his back against a tree defending himself against six great and
brawny villains clad in full armor. And Sir Gareth beheld that there
were three other villains who lay dead upon the ground, but that the
knight was in a sorry case, bleeding from several wounds and very weary
with his battle. Thereupon, beholding this, Sir Gareth drew his sword
and cried out in a very loud voice: "Have at ye, villains! Have at ye!"
and therewith drave into the midst of that contest. And the thieves were
astonished at the violence of his coming so that they knew not what to
do, for Sir Gareth drave into their midst without let or pause of any
sort. And ere they recovered from their astonishment, Sir Gareth struck
one of the villains to the earth at a single blow and then he smote down
another. And a third would have defended himself, but Sir Gareth rose up
in his stirrups and he smote him so full and terrible a buffet that he
clave through his morion and through his head to the very teeth of his
head.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth slayeth the thieves._]

Then beholding that dreadful terrible blow that Sir Gareth had struck
their companion, the other three villains were adread for their lives,
and fled shrieking away into the forest. But Sir Gareth would not let
them escape but charged after them with great fury. And the three
thieves found that they could not escape, and that there was naught else
for them to do but to turn and stand at bay and so they did. But Sir
Gareth would not be stayed by this, but he drave straightway into their
midst and struck upon this side and upon that, so that maugre their
defence all three of those villains were presently stretched, all bathed
in their blood, upon the ground. Then Sir Gareth rode back again, wiping
his sword very calmly ere he put it back into its sheath.

So anon he came to where was that knight whom he had saved and at that
time Lynette and Axatalese and the esquire were lending such aid to the
wounded man as his case demanded.

But when that knight beheld Sir Gareth returning from his battle, he
broke away from the others and came to Sir Gareth and embraced him about
the knee and said, "Messire, you have certes saved my life." And he
said: "I pray you tell me what great and worshipful knight you are who
doeth such wonderful battle as I beheld. Never would I have supposed it
possible that any single knight could have overthrown six armed men with
such ease as I have beheld you do this day."

[Sidenote: _Lynette mocketh Sir Gareth._]

Now Lynette was standing by at that time and her eyes were wonderfully
bright and shining and she looked very strangely upon Sir Gareth. Then
hearing what that knight said whom Sir Gareth had rescued she burst out
laughing very shrilly and piercingly and she cried out, "Sir Knight, wit
you who this is who hath saved your life?" The knight said, "Nay,
damsel, I know not." She said: "Wit you then that this is a kitchen
knave of King Arthur's court hight Beaumains, so hight because of the
whiteness of his hands. He hath followed me hither against my will, and
I cannot drive him from me."

Then that knight was very much astonished and he said: "Fair damsel,
certes you jest with me, for indeed this is some very noble and
well-approved knight of great worship. For no one but such a knight as
that could have done such deeds of arms as I beheld this day."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth rebuketh the knight._]

Now at that time Sir Gareth was very weary with the battles he had
fought during the day, and his body was sore with several wounds that he
had suffered, and his spirit was very greatly vexed with the scorn with
which Lynette had ever treated him for all this while, wherefore he had
but little patience to deal to any man. So straightway he turned him
toward that knight and he spake very sternly to him, saying: "Messire,
do you intend to gainsay that which this lady sayeth to you concerning
me? Wit you that I will not suffer her word to be put in question in any
wise. Wherefore, if she is pleased to say that I am a scullion lad, so
for her sake you must believe it to be."

At this that knight was more astonished than before, and he wist not
what to think. So anon he said: "Messire, certes I meant no offence to
you, for how should I mean offence to one who hath done me such service
as you have rendered to me this day?"

"Well," quoth Sir Gareth, "in this I am greatly offended that you should
gainsay that which this lady is pleased to say. Wit you that for this
while I am this lady's champion, and so I will suffer no one to gainsay
her." So said Sir Gareth, and when he had ended that saying, Lynette
laughed and laughed again with all her might and main. And she cried
out, "Well said, thou kitchen knave!" unto the which speech Sir Gareth
made no reply.

Then that knight said to Sir Gareth and to Lynette: "Messire, and thou,
fair damsel, I know not what all this meaneth but haply you know. But I
see, Sir Knight, that thou art wounded in several places, and I doubt
not that you are both aweary with your travels, wherefore I pray you
that you will come with me to my castle which is not a very great
distance away from this, and I beseech you there to lodge and to refresh
you for this night."

To this Lynette said: "That which thou sayest pleases me very greatly,
Messire, for indeed I am aweary and would fain rest me a little. So let
us go forward to your castle. But this Beaumains must ride not so close
to us for indeed I cannot abide the odor of the kitchen."

So after that they all departed from that place, and ever Sir Gareth
rode at a distance as the damsel had commanded him to do.

[Sidenote: _They come to the castle of the knight._]

Now after they had gone a considerable way they came out of the forest
and into a valley wherein stood the castle of that knight. And it was a
very fair and noble castle and the valley was exceedingly fertile with
many rich fields and meadows and with several plantations of trees, both
of fruit trees and otherwise. Through this fruitful valley they came to
the castle and they rode into the castle courtyard with a great noise of
horses' hoofs upon the cobblestones, and at that coming many of the
attendants of the castle came running for to take their horses and to
serve them.

Then Lynette gazed about her and she said to the knight of the castle,
"Messire, who are these?" He said: "Fair damsel, these are they who
would take your horse and the horse of that noble knight your companion,
and others are they who would wait upon you and upon him to serve you
both." Then Lynette said: "Not so, Sir Knight, my horse they may take
and me they may serve, but it is not meet that a kitchen knave such as
Beaumains should be waited upon in that wise, wherefore I bid you to
suffer him to wait upon himself."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth serveth himself._]

Upon this speech Sir Gareth turned him to the knight of the castle and
his face was very calm, albeit his eyes shone like sparks of fire and he
said, speaking very haughtily: "Messire, whitherward is the stable? I
pray you to tell me so that I may house my good horse and wait upon
myself as this lady, whom I have undertaken to serve, hath commanded me
to do." Then the knight of the castle was much troubled and knew not
what to reply; yet anon he said, "Messire, I know not what to say in
this case but an you ask me I must say the stable lieth yonderways."

So spake the knight, and thereupon Sir Gareth turned him without another
word and rode away, still very calmly, leaving them alone.

So after that the knight and Lynette entered the castle. But the knight,
when he was alone, called to him the steward of the castle and he said
to him: "Go you and search out that noble and worthy knight, for
assuredly he is some great and famous champion. See you that he is
served in all wise that such an one should be served, and spare naught
to comfort him and put him at his ease, for this day he hath certes
saved my life." So the steward did as he was bidden and that evening Sir
Gareth was served in all wise befitting for a knight royal such as he
really was.

Now when the next day was come, and when it was time for Lynette and Sir
Gareth and Axatalese the dwarf to depart from that place, the knight of
the castle came to Sir Gareth where he sat upon his horse. And he laid
his hand upon the stirrup of Sir Gareth and he said: "Messire, I pray
you tell me, is there any service that I may do you that you would have
of me?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth biddeth the knight to do service._]

Then Sir Gareth looked down upon that knight and he said: "Sir, there is
a service you could render me an you chose to do so, and this is that
service: it is that you should go to the court of King Arthur with all
the estate that is befitting for one of your degree. And when you have
come to the court I would fain have you tell King Arthur that Beaumains,
the kitchen knave, hath sent you to him for to pay your court unto him.
And I would have you tell the King and Sir Gawaine how it hath fared
with me so far as you are aware of." Thus said Sir Gareth, and to him
the knight of the castle made reply: "Sir, it shall be done as you
ordain; for all those things I will do exactly as you commanded me."

So after that they three departed upon their way, the damsel Lynette
riding ahead and Sir Gareth and the dwarf riding some distance behind.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now if you would hear what other adventures befell Sir Gareth and
Lynette at this time I pray you to read further, for there these several
things are told of in due order.

[Illustration: The Lady Layonnesse.]




[Illustration]

Chapter Fourth

_How Sir Gareth met Sir Percevant of Hind, and how he came to Castle
Dangerous and had speech with the Lady Layonnesse. Also how the Lady
Layonnesse accepted him for her champion._


So the damsel Lynette followed by Sir Gareth and the dwarf travelled for
all that morning and a part of the afternoon without let or stay of any
sort and without meeting with any adventure whatsoever, and in all that
time the damsel said no word to Sir Gareth whether of good or ill, but
ever kept her eyes fixed straight before her as though very much
occupied with thought.

[Sidenote: _They behold a fair pavilion in a valley._]

So about two hours or three after the prime of the day they came to the
top of a very long steep hill, and there beneath them in the valley that
lay below the hill, Sir Gareth perceived that a considerable company and
one that appeared to be of great estate were foregathered. For at that
place there were a number of pavilions of divers colored silk and above
each pavilion there flew a silken banner bearing the device of the owner
of that pavilion. And in the midst of all those other pavilions there
was one that was manifestly the pavilion of the knight-champion or of
the overlord of all the others. For that pavilion was of crimson silk
embroidered with figures in threads of silver and black, and above the
pavilion there flew a banner of very great size, which same was also of
crimson silk embroidered in silver and black with the figure of a
leopard couchant.

And from where he stood upon the heights, Sir Gareth saw that all these
pavilions were spread in a fair level meadow with grass well mown, as
smooth as a cloth of green velvet, and all bright with gay and pretty
flowers. And this meadow and other meadows beyond it stretched away to a
great distance and at the extremity of the distance was a fair tall
castle and a goodly town of many towers, all shining very bright in the
clear transparent daylight.

All this Sir Gareth beheld very plain, as it were upon the palm of his
hand, and he beheld how above all that level, fruitful valley the sky
arched like to a roof of crystal--warm and perfectly blue, and filled
full of a very great many clouds.

Then Lynette said: "Hah, Beaumains, see you yonder pavilions and see you
that pavilion which is in their midst?" And Sir Gareth said, "Yea,
damsel, I behold them all."

[Sidenote: _Lynette telleth Sir Gareth of Sir Percevant._]

Quoth Lynette: "Wit you that that central pavilion belongeth to Sir
Percevant of Hind, for well do I know the device embroidered upon his
banner. And I have to tell you that Sir Percevant is one of the very
greatest of the knights champion of this realm and that he hath fought
many battles with some of the chiefest Knights of the Round Table and
hath come forth with great credit in all those encounters. Now,
Beaumains, this is a very different sort of knight from any of those
with whom you have hitherto had to do, wherefore be you advised that it
is not meet for a kitchen knave to have to do in such an adventure as
this. So turn you about and get you gone or else of a surety some great
ill will befall you in this affair."

Then Sir Gareth looked very calmly upon Lynette and he said: "Lady, it
may well be that a man who assumeth to have credit and honor may fail in
an undertaking of this sort, but when have you ever heard that such a
man of credit or of honor hath withdrawn him from an adventure because
there is great danger in it?"

Then Lynette laughed and she said: "Hah, Beaumains, thou speakest with a
very high spirit for one who is but a kitchen knave. Now if harm
befalleth thee because of this undertaking, blame thyself therefor." And
Sir Gareth said: "So will I do, and rest you well assured, fair damsel,
that never shall I blame you for that or for anything else that may
befall me." And at that Lynette laughed again.

Then Sir Gareth drew rein and turned downhill to where were those
pavilions aforesaid, and so they all three descended from the height
into the valley and so came toward that fair meadow wherein the silken
tents had been erected.

Now as they drew near to the pavilions, they beheld several esquires who
were sitting at a bench playing at dice. These, beholding Sir Gareth
coming in that wise with the fair damsel and the dwarf, they all arose,
and he that was chief among them said: "Sir, what knight are you, and
what is your degree, and why come you hitherward?" Him answered Sir
Gareth, saying: "Friend, it matters not who I am saving only that I am
of sufficient worth. As for my business, it is to have speech with Sir
Percevant of Hind, the lord of this company."

Quoth the esquire: "Sir, you cannot come past this way nor may you have
speech with Sir Percevant of Hind without first making known your name
and your degree, for otherwise you come upon him at your peril." Then
Sir Gareth laughed, and said, "Say you so?" and therewith he drave past
all those esquires and Lynette and the dwarf went with him and no one
dared to stay him. So they came to the pavilion of Sir Percevant and Sir
Percevant was within his pavilion at that time.

Now before the pavilion there was a tall painted post set into the
ground, and upon the post there hung a great shield, bearing upon it the
device of a leopard couchant in black and white, and so Sir Gareth
perceived that this was the shield of Sir Percevant.

Then Sir Gareth drew his sword and he went forward and smote the shield
such a blow that it rang like thunder beneath the stroke that he gave
it.

Therewith came Sir Percevant of Hind out of his pavilion and his
countenance was all aflame with anger and he cried out very fiercely:
"Messire, who are you who dare to smite my shield in that wise?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth challengeth Sir Percevant._]

But Sir Gareth sat his horse very calmly, and he said: "Messire, I
struck your shield for to call you forth so that I might have speech
with you. As for my name, I will not tell you that nor my degree. But if
you would know these things, I bid you for to ask them of this lady who
is my companion."

Then Sir Percevant turned him to Lynette, and he said, "Damsel, who is
this knight?" And Lynette said: "Sir, I know not otherwise than that he
is a kitchen knave of King Arthur's court who hath clothed himself in
armor. He is called Beaumains, and fain would I have been rid of him
several times, but could not; for ever he followeth me, and, maugre my
wishes, will ever serve as my champion."

Then Sir Percevant turned unto Sir Gareth with great anger and he said:
"Sir, I know not what is this jest that you and your damsel seek to put
upon me, but this I do know, that since you have appointed her to speak
for you, and since she declareth you to be a kitchen knave, so must I
believe you to be. Wherefore, unless you straightway declare your name
and your degree to me upon your own account, and unless you prove to me
that you are otherwise than this damsel sayeth, I shall straightway have
you stripped of your armor and shall have you bound and beaten with
cords for this affront that you have put upon my shield."

Then Sir Gareth spake very calmly, saying: "Sir, that would be a pity
for you to do, for I have to tell you that, whether I be a kitchen knave
or no, nevertheless I have had to do with several good and worthy
knights of fair repute. For I have to tell you that one of these knights
was Sir Launcelot of the Lake and that he made me knight. And I have to
tell you that another one of these was your own brother, Sir Perard,
whom I overcame yesterday in battle and whom I would have slain only
that this damsel besought his life at my hands. And I have to tell you
that Sir Perard is even now upon his way to the court of King Arthur,
there to pay his duty to the King upon my demand upon him to that end."

Then Sir Percevant cleared his brow of its anger, and he said: "Sir, I
perceive from all that you tell me that you are some knight of very good
quality and merit. Wherefore I will withdraw that which I said and will
do you battle because you have struck my shield. And it will go hard
with me but I shall serve you in such a way as shall well wipe out that
affront in your warm red blood. For I promise you that I shall not let
or stay in the battle against you."

So spake Sir Percevant and straightway he withdrew him into his tent and
several of the knights who were his companions and several esquires who
had gathered about in this while of talk, went into his pavilion with
him and there aided him to don his armor and to fit himself for battle.

[Sidenote: _Of the meadow of battle._]

So anon Sir Percevant came forth again in all wise prepared for that
battle. And his esquires brought to him a noble horse as white as milk
and they assisted him to mount thereon. And Sir Percevant took a great
spear into his hand and so turned and led the way toward a fair smooth
level lawn of grass whereon two knights might well run atilt against one
another. And all they who were of that company followed Sir Percevant
and Sir Gareth to that lawn of grass, and the damsel Lynette and the
dwarf Axatalese went thither along with the others.

So coming to that place a marshal of the lists was appointed, and
thereafter each knight was assigned a certain station by that marshal.
Then, everything being duly prepared, the word for the assault was
given, and each knight launched forth against the other with all the
speed with which he was able to drive. So they met in the midst of the
course with a great roar and crashing of wood and metal and in that
encounter the spear of each knight was broken into small pieces and the
horse of each staggered back from beneath the blow and would have fallen
had not the knight rider recovered him with rein and spur and voice.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth doeth battle with Sir Percevant._]

Then each knight leaped down from his horse and drew his sword and
rushed to the assault afoot with all the fierceness of two wild boars
engaged in battle. And thereupon they fell to lashing such blows at one
another that even they who looked on from a distance were affrighted at
the violence and the uproar of that assault. For the two champions
fought very fiercely, and the longer they fought the more fiercely they
did battle. And in a little while the armor of each was all stained red,
and the ground upon which they fought was all besprinkled with red, yet
neither knight had any thought of yielding to the other in any whit or
degree, but still each fought on with ever-increasing fury against the
other.

Now at this time neither knight had aught of advantage against the
other, and no man might have told how that battle would have gone, but
at the moment of the greatest doubt, Lynette uplifted her voice aloud,
as it were in terror, crying out very shrilly and vehemently: "Good
worthy knight Sir Percevant, will you then let a kitchen knave and a
scullion stay you thus in your battle?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth overcometh Sir Percevant._]

Then it befell as it had befallen before when Sir Gareth fought with the
Black Knight, Sir Percevant's brother, for Sir Gareth heard the words
that Lynette cried out, and straightway it was as though the new
strength of several men had entered into his body because of his anger
at those words. And that anger consumed all else that was before it,
whether that other were of prudence or of temper. For straightway Sir
Gareth flung aside his shield and seized his sword in both hands and
rushed upon Sir Percevant and struck blow upon blow so fiercely and so
violently that nor skill nor strength might withstand his assault. Then
Sir Percevant fell back before that assault and could not do otherwise,
and he bore his shield full low; but ever Sir Gareth followed him and
smote him more and more violently so that Sir Percevant could no longer
hold up his shield against the assault of his enemy. And Sir Gareth
perceived that Sir Percevant waxed feeble in his defence and with that
he rushed in and smote Sir Percevant upon the helm so woeful a blow that
Sir Percevant could no longer stand upon his feet but sank slowly down
upon his knees before Sir Gareth. Then Sir Gareth ran to Sir Percevant
and catched him by the helm and rushed the helm off from his head and
with that Sir Percevant wist that death overshadowed him. Then Sir
Percevant catched Sir Gareth about the thighs and, embracing him, cried
out: "Messire, spare my life and do not slay me!" And all those knights
and esquires who were in attendance upon Sir Percevant pressed about Sir
Gareth where he stood, and lifted up their voices, also crying out: "Sir
Knight, do not slay that good worthy knight our champion, but spare his
life to him."

Then Sir Gareth, all wet with the blood and sweat of battle and panting
for breath said in a very hoarse voice: "Ask ye not for this knight's
life for I will not spare his life to him except upon one condition, and
that condition is that the damsel whose champion I am shall ask his life
at my hands."

Now at that time Lynette was weeping amain, though whether with dread of
that fierce battle or because of something else, who may tell? Yet ever
she wept, and ever she laughed and wept again. And she cried out: "Thou
saucy knave, Beaumains, who art thou to make such a demand as that?"

But Sir Gareth said: "If I be saucy, let it pass, yet so it is as I have
said, and I will not spare this knight his life unless thou ask it of
me," and therewith he catched Sir Percevant by the hair and lifted his
sword on high as though to separate the head of Sir Percevant from off
his body.

[Sidenote: _Lynette beseecheth Sir Percevant's life._]

Then all those knights and esquires crowded around Lynette and besought
her that she would ask for the life of Sir Percevant. And Lynette said:
"Stay thy hand, Beaumains, and slay him not, for it would be a pity for
so good and worthy a knight as Sir Percevant of Hind to lose his life at
the hands of a kitchen knave such as thou art."

Then Sir Gareth said: "Arise, Sir Knight, and stand up, for the word of
this lady hath saved thy life." And therewith Sir Gareth released his
hold of Sir Percevant and Sir Percevant arose and stood up.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth commandeth service of Sir Percevant._]

Then Sir Percevant said: "Sir, thou hast beaten me in a very fair and
bitter battle and so I yield myself to thee. Now I pray thee tell me
what are thy commands upon me?" And Sir Gareth said: "Sir, thou sayest
well, and these are my commands: that thou, together with all this thy
company of knights and esquires, do take your departure from this field
and that ye all go to the court of King Arthur. And it is my desire that
when thou hast come to the court of the King thou shalt pay thy duty to
him and say to him that Beaumains, the kitchen knave, hath sent thee to
pay that duty."

Then Sir Percevant bowed his head before Sir Gareth and said: "Sir, it
shall be as you command." And after that he said, "Sir, I pray you that
you will do me this favor; I pray you that you will come with me to
yonder castle at that town which you see afar off. For that is my castle
and my town and I am fain that you should rest you ere you go farther
upon your way, and that you should refresh yourself at my castle. I
perceive that you are wounded in several places, and I would fain that
you should have your wounds searched and dressed and that you should
have rest and ease ere you go forward, so that your wounds may be healed
and that you may be made hale when you undertake your further
adventures."

To this Sir Gareth said: "Sir, I thank you well for your courtesy and it
will pleasure me greatly to go to your castle with you and there to rest
me awhile. For indeed it hath been a sore battle that I have fought with
you this day and I suffer a very great deal of pain. Moreover I have
fought other battles of late and am aweary and in no fit case to go
farther at this present."

So after Sir Gareth and Sir Percevant had rested them a little, they
and all of their companies departed thence and betook their way to the
castle of Sir Percevant. There Sir Gareth was bathed and his wounds were
searched and dressed and he was put in all ease that was possible.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth rests him in the castle of Sir Percevant._]

And Sir Percevant gave command that ever a company of knights should
stand guard over Sir Gareth where he lay so that no harm should befall
him, and it was done according to that command. So Sir Gareth abided at
the castle of Sir Percevant for five days and in all that time he saw
nothing whatsoever of the damsel Lynette; for he lay in one part of the
castle and she dwelt in another part. Then at the end of five days, Sir
Gareth was well healed of his wounds and was in all ways hale and strong
to carry out his further adventures.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Lynette maketh peace with Sir Gareth._]

Now when those five days aforesaid were past, Sir Gareth made him ready
to depart, and Lynette also made herself ready to depart, and so they
took their leave of the castle of Sir Percevant. And they rode out
through the gateway of the castle and into the sunlight that lay beyond,
and it was a wonderfully bright cheerful pleasant day with all the
little birds singing amain and the blossoms falling like snow whensoever
that the wind blew through the branches of the apple-trees. Thus they
departed and after that they rode for a long while. So they came two or
three leagues upon their way, and in that time neither said anything to
the other but both rode in silence. Then at last Lynette turned her
about and Sir Gareth perceived that her eyes shone very bright. And
Lynette said, "Sir, have you anger against me?" Then Sir Gareth, who was
riding some little distance away, as he had aforetime done upon her
bidding, came nearer to her and said: "Nay, fair damsel; why think you
that I should anger have against you? Have I shown you any anger, that
you should say those words to me?" She said: "Nay, Messire, never at any
time have you shown anger toward me, but you have ever been to me all
that it was possible for any noble and worthy knight to be to a lady who
had treated him with all consideration and regard, and this you have
done in spite of the scornful way in which I have treated you. And also
I have very well perceived the manner in which you have borne yourself
in these several contests at arms which you have fought, and I have
beheld you to be as brave and haughty toward those knights who were
strong and valiant, as you have been gentle and kind to me who am a
woman."

Then Sir Gareth smiled and he said: "Lady, you make much of that which
is very little. Know you not that it behooves all true knights to be
gentle and patient with all such as are not so strong as they? So it is
that in being courteous to you I have done naught except that which I
have been taught to do in such a case. As for those bitter words you
spake to me, I may tell you that any anger which I might have felt
therefor I visited upon those knights against whom I fought. For when
you gave me those bitter words, then I gave them bitter blows therefor,
and the more you scorned me the more strongly and vehemently did I
fight."

Then Lynette said: "Sir, you are certes a very high, noble, and worthy
knight, and she unto whom you vouchsafe to give your belle regard that
lady will be as fortunate as any of whom I ever heard tell. For I
believe that it is not possible for any knight ever to have been so
tried as I have tried you for all this while that we have journeyed
together; wherefore, if you have proved yourself so worthy in this
thing, how much more will you prove yourself worthy in those greater
things that shall in time come unto you?"

So spake Lynette and thereat Sir Gareth laughed a little and said: "Fair
damsel, have I now leave to ride beside you, and is there now peace
betwixt us?" And Lynette said, "Yea, Messire." So therewith Sir Gareth
rode forward until he was come beside Lynette, and from that time
forward there was peace and concord betwixt them; for Lynette was now as
kind and humble to him as she had been saucy and uncivil before.

[Sidenote: _They journey together in concord._]

And so as they journeyed together Lynette told Sir Gareth many things
concerning the adventure which he was entered upon that he had not known
before. For she told him that this lady who was her sister was hight the
Lady Layonnesse and that she was but eighteen years of age. And she told
him that the Lady Layonnesse was one of the most beautiful ladies in the
world, and she told him that the lady was the countess of a very great
and rich town, hight Granderegard, and of a noble castle appertaining to
the town, which same was called the Castle Dangerous. And she told him
that the marches over which the Lady Layonnesse was countess extended
for several leagues upon this side and upon that side of the town and
the castle, and she told him that the Knight of the Red Lands, who
opposed her sister, was so strong and so doughty a knight that she
believed it would be hard to find in any part of the realm so powerful a
knight as he. And she said to Sir Gareth: "In good sooth, Messire, I
have great fear that you will have sad ado to hold your own against this
Red Knight of the Red Lands, for as Sir Perard was greater and bigger
than those two knights at the ford whom you overthrew so easily, and as
Sir Percevant of Hind was greater and bigger than Sir Perard, so I
believe is this Red Knight of the Red Lands greater and bigger than Sir
Percevant."

"Well, Lynette," quoth Sir Gareth, "so far it hath been that I have had
success in all my battles but one, and in that one I suffered no
dishonor. So I believe I may hope to have a fair fortune with this
knight also, for wit you that the fortunes of any knight lie in the
hands of God and not in man's hands, wherefore if it is His will that I
fare well in this undertaking, then shall I assuredly do so."

Thus they talked in great amity of many things, and so they travelled
for all that day and the next day and for a part of the day after that.
And somewhat early in the morning of the third day they came to the
summit of a certain highland whence Sir Gareth beheld a great plain,
well tilled and very fertile, spread out beneath that high place where
he stood. And he beheld that the plain was very broad and very long and
that in the midst thereof there was a hill and that upon the hill there
stood a castle and that behind the castle was a town of many fair and
well-built houses.

[Sidenote: _They behold the pavilions of the Red Knight._]

Then Lynette pointed, and she said to Sir Gareth: "See you that castle
and that town? That castle is my sister's castle and that town is her
town. And, yonder, beneath the walls of the town and of the castle, you
may see a number of pavilions spread upon a considerable meadow. Those
are the pavilions of the Red Knight of the Red Lands and of the knights
and esquires attendant upon him. For there he keepeth continual watch
and ward over the castle of my sister, so that no one may either come
out thereof or enter thereinto without his leave for to do so." And Sir
Gareth said, "Let us go down unto yonder place."

So straightway they descended from the highland into the plain, and so
went forward upon their way toward the town and the castle of the Lady
Layonnesse.

Now as they drew more nigh to that place where the pavilions of the Red
Knight of the Red Lands and of his companions at arms had been spread,
they went past a great many pollard willow-trees standing all in a row.
And Sir Gareth beheld that upon each tree there hung either one shield
or two or three shields and that each shield bore some device of
knighthood. At that sight he was greatly astonished, and he said: "Fair
damsel, I prythee tell me what is the meaning of this sight and why
those shields are hung to yonder pollard willow-trees?" Quoth Lynette:
"Sir, each one of those shields is the shield of some knight whom the
Red Knight of the Red Lands hath overthrown. And some of these knights
have been slain in battle by the Knight of the Red Lands, and some have
not been slain, but all those who were not slain have been disgraced in
the encounter which they have fought. For from each knight which he hath
overthrown the Red Knight of the Red Lands hath taken his shield and his
horse and hath sent him away afoot, unarmed and horseless, wherefore it
is thought by some that it were better to have been slain in battle than
to have suffered such disgrace as that."

Then Sir Gareth said: "Certes, Lynette, that must have been a very
doughty champion to have overcome so many knights as these. Now, if it
is my fortune to overthrow him in that battle which I am come to fight
with him, then do I believe I shall win for myself more honor and credit
than ever fell to any young knight of my age since first Sir Percival of
Gales assumed his knighthood."

So said Sir Gareth, and after that he and Lynette rode onward a little
farther until they had come to that meadow where were the pavilions of
the Red Knight of the Red Lands and of his knights companion.

And Sir Gareth and the damsel rode straight through the midst of those
pavilions and many knights and esquires came out thence to see who they
were who came thitherward. But ever Sir Gareth and Lynette and the dwarf
rode onward until they had come to the center pavilion of all and that
was the pavilion of the Red Knight aforesaid.

Here at this place were several pages and of one of them Sir Gareth
demanded where was that Red Knight. They say, "Sir, he is within his
pavilion resting after his midday meal." Sir Gareth said, "Go ye and
tell him that there is one come who would have speech with him."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth beholdeth the Red Knight._]

So those esquires departed, and anon there came forth the Red Knight
from his pavilion, and he was clad all in a loose robe of scarlet silk
trimmed with miniver. And Sir Gareth looked upon him and beheld that he
was very big of bone and thew and that the hair of his head and his
beard was exceedingly red and that his countenance was terribly lowering
and forbidding.

Then the Red Knight when he saw Sir Gareth, said, "Who art thou, Sir
Knight, and what is thy business here?" And Sir Gareth said: "Messire, I
am one come from King Arthur's court to take up the quarrel of the Lady
Layonnesse of this place and to serve as her champion therein."

Then the Knight of the Red Lands said: "Who are you? Are you a knight of
repute and fame at arms?" and Sir Gareth said: "Nay, Sir, not so; for I
have only been made knight fortnight, and I have but little service at
arms."

Then the Red Knight laughed very boisterously and said: "How is this,
and what sort of a green knight are you, who dares to come against me!
Know that I have laid more than twoscore better knights than you very
low in the dust."

Quoth Sir Gareth: "That may very well be, Sir Knight. Yet is the fate
of every one in the hands of God and so mayhap He will cause me to
overthrow you upon this occasion." And Sir Gareth said: "Now, I pray you
that you will let me go up to yonder castle and have speech with the
lady thereof and if so be she will accept me for her champion, then will
I return hitherward immediately to do battle with you." And the Red
Knight said, "Go and speak with her."

So Sir Gareth went up toward the Castle Dangerous and Lynette went with
him. And when they had come pretty nigh to the castle, the lady thereof
appeared at an upper window and called down to Sir Gareth, saying, "Sir,
who are you and whence come you?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth beholdeth the Lady Layonnesse._]

Then Sir Gareth looked up and beheld the lady where she stood at the
window, and he beheld her face that it was very exceedingly beautiful.
For, though she had dark hair like to Lynette's, and though she had
cheeks resembling in their clear whiteness the cheeks of Lynette, and
though her lips were red as coral like to Lynette's, yet was she ten
times more beautiful than ever was Lynette. So, beholding how beautiful
she was, the heart of Sir Gareth leaped straightway up to her, even as a
bird flyeth upward, and there it rested within her bosom.

Then Sir Gareth said to her: "Lady, you ask me who I am, and I am to
tell you that I am one come from King Arthur's court to serve you as
your champion if so be you will accept me as such."

Then the Lady Layonnesse said, "Sir, are you a knight of good fame and
service?" And Sir Gareth said, "Nay, Lady, but only a green knight very
little used to arms. For I have but been a knight for these few days and
though I have fought several battles with good fortune in that time, yet
I know not as yet what may be my fate when I meet such a knight as the
Red Knight of the Red Lands. Yet this is true, Lady, that though I be
but very young and untried at arms, yet is my spirit very great for this
undertaking."

Then the Lady Layonnesse said: "Sir, what is your name and what is your
degree?" And Sir Gareth said: "I may not tell you that at this present,
for I will not declare my name until that my kindred (who yet do not
know me) shall have acknowledged me." To this the Lady Layonnesse said:
"This is very strange, and I am much affronted that King Arthur should
have sent to me from his court a knight without a name and without any
credit at arms for to serve as my champion." And Sir Gareth said, "Lady,
there was reason for it."

Then the Lady Layonnesse said, "Is not that my sister Lynette whom I
behold with thee?" and Sir Gareth said, "Yea, Lady." The Lady said,
"Who is this knight, Lynette?" and Lynette replied, "I know not, my
sister, saving only that I have good reason to believe that he is the
noblest and the haughtiest and the most worthy of all knights whom I
have ever beheld." "Well," quoth the Lady Layonnesse, "if thou dost thus
vouch for him, then upon thee be the peril of my choosing." And Lynette
said, "Let it be so."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Layonnesse giveth Sir Gareth her scarf._]

Then the Lady Layonnesse said, "Sir Knight, I take thee for my
champion." And therewith she let fall from the window where she stood a
fair scarf of green samite embroidered with threads of gold. And Sir
Gareth catched the scarf with such joy that it was as though his heart
would burst for happiness. And he wrapped the scarf about his arm, and
immediately it was as though the virtue of his strength had been
increased threefold.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now if so be you would know how Sir Gareth sped in his business with the
Red Knight of the Red Lands, I beg of you for to read that which
followeth, for therein withal it shall be immediately declared.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: The Lady Layonnesse cometh to the Pavilion of Sir
Gareth]




[Illustration]

Chapter Fifth

_How Sir Gareth fought with the Red Knight of the Red Lands and how it
fared with him in that battle. Also how his dwarf was stolen, and how
his name and estate became known and were made manifest._


Now after Sir Gareth had received the scarf of the Lady Layonnesse as
aforetold, he and Lynette and the dwarf returned to a certain meadow
nigh to the pavilions where it had been ordained that the battle should
be held. There they found that the Red Knight of the Red Lands had made
himself in all ways ready for that battle. For he was now clad all in
armor as red as blood, and in his hand he bore a great spear that was
also altogether red; and on the tip of the spear was a red banneret that
was likewise as red as blood.

At that field that had been prepared for battle, there was a great
concourse of people assembled and there also the damsel Lynette took her
stand at a place that had been assigned unto her; and the dwarf
Axatalese was near by in attendance upon her. And there had been a
marshal of the field appointed to judge of the battle that was to be
fought, and as each knight came to the field, the marshal led him to
where he was to take his stand--which stand was in such a place as
should offer a fair course and so that the sun should not shine into the
eyes of either of the knights contestant.

So when everything was duly prepared for battle and when the knights had
taken each his place and when each knight was in all ways ready for the
course to be run, the marshal cried out the call to the assault.
Thereupon each knight immediately leaped his horse away from where it
stood and hurtled the one against the other like a whirlwind with a
great thunder of galloping hoofs. So they came together in a cloud of
dust and with a terrible crashing of splintered wood. For in that
encounter each knight shattered his lance into pieces, even to the hand
that held it, and so violent was the blow that each gave the other that
both horses staggered back as though they had struck each against a
solid rock instead of against an armed rider.

Then each knight voided his tottering horse, and each drew his sword,
and immediately they rushed together with such eagerness that it was as
though the lust of battle was the greatest joy that the world could have
for them. So they fell to fighting with the utmost and most terrible
fury, lashing such blows that the sound of the strokes of iron upon iron
resembled the continual roaring of thunder.

[Sidenote: _Of the battle of Sir Gareth with the Red Knight._]

So they fought for so long a while that it was a wonder that any man of
flesh and blood could withstand the blows that each gave and received.
For ever and anon the sword would find its place and upon such a blow
some cantel of armor would maybe be hewn from the body of that knight
who received the stroke. And the book that telleth of this battle sayeth
that the side of each knight was in a while made naked in places because
that the armor had been hewn away from it. And it sayeth the armor of
Sir Gareth was wellnigh as red as was the armor of his enemy because of
the blood that dyed it that ensanguine color. And the same history says
that they were somewhile so bemazed by the blows that they endured that
either would at times seize the sword of the other for his own, for it
is recorded in that history that they fought in that wise for more than
two hours at a stretch without taking any rest from battle.

But although the battle continued for that long time, yet by and by
their blows waxed somewhat faint and feeble compared to what they had at
first been, and each knight tottered upon his feet at times because of
his weakness and loss of blood. So at last the Red Knight of the Red
Lands cried out to Sir Gareth: "Sir Knight, stay thy hand and let us
rest, for I see that neither of us can fight this battle to its end as
we are now fighting." So said the Red Knight, and at that saying Sir
Gareth held his hand and said, "So be it, Sir Knight, as you ordain."

So they stinted their fighting for that while and they sat them down to
rest, each upon a bank of earth. And a page came to the Red Knight of
the Red Lands and unlaced his helm and the dwarf Axatalese did the same
for Sir Gareth, and the page and the dwarf took each the helm from off
the head of his master, and so they two sat where the wind might blow
cold upon their faces.

Then anon Sir Gareth lifted up his eyes and he beheld where that the
Lady Layonnesse stood at the high window of the castle aforesaid, and
several of the chief folk of the castle stood with her at that time.
Then Sir Gareth saluted the Lady Layonnesse and when she beheld him
salute her she cried out, in a very shrill and piercing voice: "Alas,
Sir Knight! Fail me not! For whom have I to depend upon but thee?" So
she cried out in that very shrill voice, and Sir Gareth heard her words
even from that distance. Then when he heard those words his heart grew
big within him once more and his spirit waxed light and he called out,
"Sir Red Knight, let us at our battle again!"

Therewith each knight resumed his helm and when each helm was laced into
place, Axatalese and the page of the Red Knight leaped aside, and the
two came together once more, greatly refreshed by that rest which they
had enjoyed.

So they fought for a great while longer, and then they had pause again
for a little. Then Sir Gareth perceived that the Red Knight was panting
as though his bosom would burst and therewith he rushed at his enemy
with intent for to smite him one last blow and so to end the battle. But
the Red Knight was very wary and he was expecting that assault,
wherefore he quickly avoided Sir Gareth's stroke, and thereupon he
himself launched an overthwart blow that smote Sir Gareth upon the hand,
and upon that blow the sword of Sir Gareth fell down out of his hand
into the grass of the field.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth falleth and is in great danger._]

Then the Red Knight leaped upon Sir Gareth and he struck him again and
yet again and he struck him a third time a blow upon the helm and at
that third blow the brains of Sir Gareth melted within him and he fell
down upon his knees and then down to the ground for he had not power to
stand. Then the Red Knight leaped upon Sir Gareth and fell upon him with
intent to hold him down so that he might finish with him and Sir Gareth
could not put him away.

But when the damsel Lynette beheld how that Sir Gareth was beneath his
enemy and was in danger of being slain, she shrieked out aloud in a very
shrill penetrating voice, crying, "Alas, Beaumains! Do you fail your
lady, and are you but a kitchen knave after all?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth overcometh the Red Knight._]

Now Sir Gareth heard those words, even through the swooning of his
senses, and therewith it was with him as it had been twice before; for
as he heard the words there came new strength into his body, and with
that he heaved himself up and cast the Red Knight from him. And he
leaped to his feet and rushed to where his sword lay in the grass. And
he catched up his sword and sprang upon the Red Knight and smote him a
very terrible blow. And Sir Gareth so smote him again and yet again. And
he smote him a fourth time so woeful a blow upon the helm that the Red
Knight fell down to the earth and could not rise again. Then Sir Gareth
fell upon the Red Knight and held him where he was upon the ground. And
he drew his miseracordia and cut the thongs of the helm of the Red
Knight and plucked the helm from off the Red Knight's head. And he set
his miseracordia to the throat of the Red Knight and with that the Red
Knight beheld Death, as it were, looking him in the face.

Then all they who were thereabouts came running to where the two knights
lay, and they cried out aloud to Sir Gareth, saying, "Sir Knight! Sir
Knight! Spare the knight our champion and slay him not!" And the Red
Knight said in a voice very faint and weak, "Sir Knight, spare me my
life!"

Then Sir Gareth cried out, "I will not spare this knight unless he yield
him altogether to my will." And the knight said, "I yield me." And Sir
Gareth said, "Still I will not spare this knight his life unless yonder
damsel crave his life at my hands."

[Sidenote: _Lynette asketh for the life of the Red Knight._]

Then Lynette came forward to where Sir Gareth still held his enemy to
earth and she was weeping a very great deal. And she said: "Brave Sir
Beaumains, be ye merciful as well as powerful and spare this good
worshipful knight his life." And Sir Gareth said, "So will I do at thy
demand."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth layeth his commands upon the Red Knight._]

Therewith Sir Gareth got him up upon his feet and the Red Knight arose
also, and so sore had been their battle that both knights had to be held
upon their feet by those who stood near by. Then the Red Knight said,
speaking in a very weak and fainting voice, "Fair Sir Knight, what are
thy commands upon me?" and Sir Gareth said: "These are my commands: that
so soon as you shall be sufficiently healed of your hurts you and all
these your people shall depart hence and take your way to the court of
King Arthur. And my command is that you shall tell King Arthur that
Beaumains, the kitchen knave, hath sent you thither for to pay your
homage unto him. And because you have dishonored other knights as you
have done by taking away their shields and horses, it is my will that
you shall also be dishonored; for I ordain that your shield shall be
taken away from you and that it shall be hung upon one of these
willow-trees where you have hung the shields of those knights whom you
have overcome in battle as I have overcome you. And I ordain that your
horse shall be taken away from you and that your armor shall be taken
away from you and that you shall travel to the court of King Arthur
afoot; for so you have made other knights walk afoot whom you have
beaten in battle as I have beaten you."

Then the Red Knight bowed his head full low for shame and he said: "This
is a very hard case, but as I have measured to others so it is meted
unto me, wherefore, Messire, it shall be done in all ways as you
command."

Then Lynette came to Sir Gareth and took him by the hand and set his
hand to her lips and she was still weeping at that time. Then Sir
Gareth smiled upon her and said, "Hah! Lynette, have I done well?" and
Lynette still wept, and she said, with all her weeping, "Yea, Messire."
And anon she said: "I pray you, Messire, that you will go with me up to
the castle of my sister so that you may there be cherished and that your
wounds may be looked to and searched and dressed."

But to this Sir Gareth said: "Not so, Lynette; for behold I am sorely
wounded and I am all foul with the blood and dust and sweat of battle
and so I will be refreshed and made clean ere I appear before that most
fair lady your sister. So this night I will lie in the pavilion of this
Red Knight, there to be cleansed of my hurts and to be refreshed. Then
to-morrow I will come up unto my lady your sister."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth abideth in the pavilion of the Red Knight._]

And so it was done as Sir Gareth would have it, for that night he lay in
the pavilion of the Red Knight and he was bathed and refreshed, and a
skillful leech came and dressed his hurts. And the Red Knight of the Red
Lands had a guard of several knights set around about the pavilion so
that the repose of Sir Gareth should not be disturbed.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now after that battle aforetold the damsel Lynette betook her way to the
castle of her sister, and she entered into the castle and there was
great rejoicing at her return. Then they who first met her said to her:
"Thy sister awaiteth thee and she is in that room in a turret where she
keeps her bower." And Lynette said, "I will go thither."

So she went to that place and there she found the Lady Layonnesse, and
her brother (who was Sir Gringamore) was with her. And Lynette ran to
her sister and embraced her and kissed her. And she said: "Save you, my
sister and give you joy that the champion whom I brought hither hath
freed you from your enemy."

The Lady Layonnesse said: "Where is that knight and why hast thou not
brought him hither with thee so that I may render to him my thanks?"

To this Lynette made reply: "Sister, he hath been sore wounded in his
fight and he is moreover so befouled with the blood and dust of battle
that he would not come hither at this present but lyeth in the pavilion
of the Red Knight until the morrow."

[Sidenote: _Lynette telleth her sister of Sir Gareth._]

Then the Lady Layonnesse said: "I pray you tell us who is this champion
who hath thus set me free from my oppressor?" and Lynette said: "That I
know not, only this I may tell you: that at the court of King Arthur
there would no knight undertake the adventure because I would not
declare your name and your degree before the King's court there
assembled. Then there arose a youth of whom Sir Kay made great scorn
and said that he was a kitchen knave hight Beaumains and the youth did
not deny that saying. And King Arthur gave him leave to go with me and
undertake this quest, and the youth did so. So we travelled together.
And I was very angry because I thought that King Arthur had given me a
kitchen knave for my champion instead of a good worthy knight, and so I
treated Beaumains with great scorn, but ever he repaid all my scorn with
very patient and courteous speeches. So he followed me hither and now he
is that champion who hath just now overthrown thine enemy."

Then the Lady Layonnesse cried out, "What matters it if this young
knight is a kitchen knave? Lo! he is my champion and hath risked his
life for my sake. So because he hath fought that battle for me I will
even raise him up to sit beside me, so that whatsoever honors are mine,
they shall be his honors also. For if so be he is now lowly, then by me
shall he be exalted above the heads of all you that are hereabouts."

[Sidenote: _Lynette defendeth Beaumains._]

So said the Lady Layonnesse, and thereat Lynette laughed with great
heartiness. And when she had ended her laughter, she said, "My sister, I
believe that it shall not be necessary for you to lift up this young
knight. For if we should come to know who he really is, it might well be
that we should discover that it is he who would exalt you rather than
you would exalt him. For this champion can be no such kitchen knave as
he pretends to be, but rather is he some one of great worth and of high
degree. For several days I have so tried the patience of this knight
that I do not believe that any one was ever so tried before. But
although I so tried him very sorely he was always passing patient and
gentle with me. Think you that any kitchen knave would be so patient as
that? Moreover, I have beheld this knight in this short while fight six
battles, and always he bore himself with such haughtiness and courage
that were he an old and well-seasoned Knight of the Round Table of the
King he could not have proved himself to be more noble or more worthy.
You yourself have beheld to-day how he did battle against the Red Knight
who is certes one of the greatest knights in the world, seeing that he
hath never before been overcome; you have beheld how he hath suffered
wounds and the danger of death; think you then that any kitchen knave
could have fought such a battle as you beheld him fight? Nay, my sister,
rather this young knight is someone of a very great and high estate."

Then Sir Gringamore spake, saying: "Lynette speaketh very truly, my
sister, and in good sooth I believe that this is no kitchen knave, but
one who is sprung from the blood of right champions. Now tell me,
Lynette, I pray thee, is there no one who knoweth this knight who he
really is?" and Lynette replied: "Yea, there is one who knoweth and
that is the dwarf Axatalese. He could tell us who this knight really is,
for he hath followed him for a long time every where he hath gone."

Then Sir Gringamore bethought him for a little while, and anon he said:
"Meseemeth it is needful that we have this dwarf for so only shall we
come to know who that knight is. Now thou and I and Lynette will go down
to the place of those pavilions. And thou shalt go to the pavilion of
the knight and bring the dwarf out thence, for I doubt not he will come
at thy bidding. Meantime, whilst thou are finding that dwarf I shall be
hidden in some secret place, and when thou hast brought him near enough
to me I will leap out upon him and will catch him. Then we will fetch
him hither, and it will go hard but we learn who this knight is."

So it was done as Sir Gringamore said; for he and the damsel Lynette
went to a place nigh to the place of pavilions where there was a hedge.
And Sir Gringamore hid him behind the hedge and so after he was hidden
Lynette went alone to the pavilion of the Red Knight where Sir Gareth
lay. Now at that time they all slept, even to the guard that surrounded
the tent. And so Lynette passed through their midst and none heard her.
And Lynette came to the pavilion where Sir Gareth lay and she lifted the
curtain of the door of the tent and looked within and beheld Sir Gareth
where he lay sleeping upon a couch with a night-light burning very
faintly near by him. And she beheld where the dwarf Axatalese lay
sleeping near to the door of the tent.

Then Lynette entered the pavilion very softly and she reached out and
touched Axatalese upon the shoulder and therewith he immediately awoke.
And Axatalese was astonished at beholding the damsel at that place, but
Lynette laid her finger upon her lips and whispered very low to him,
"Say naught, Axatalese, but follow me." And Axatalese did so.

So the maiden brought Axatalese out of the pavilion and he followed her
in silence. And she brought him through the other pavilions and still
ever he followed her in silence and no one stayed them in their going.
So Axatalese followed Lynette and she led him by a path that brought
them out of the field where the pavilions were and to that place near by
where Sir Gringamore lay hidden behind the hawthorn hedge. Then when
Axatalese was come very close to that place Sir Gringamore leaped out of
a sudden from the thicket and catched him. And Axatalese lifted up his
voice and fell to yelling very loud and shrill, but anon Sir Gringamore
clapped his hand upon the mouth of the creature and silenced him. And
Sir Gringamore drew his miseracordia and set it at the throat of
Axatalese and said to him, "Sirrah, be silent, if you would live." And
at that Axatalese ceased to struggle and was perfectly silent. Then Sir
Gringamore released his hand from the mouth of Axatalese and Axatalese
was afraid to utter any further outcry.

[Sidenote: _They bring Axatalese to the castle._]

So after that Sir Gringamore and Lynette brought Axatalese to the castle
and into the castle. And they brought him to that place where the Lady
Layonnesse awaited their coming. Then, when they were safely come to
that place, Sir Gringamore said to Axatalese, "Sirrah Dwarf, tell us who
is that knight, thy master, and what is his degree?" And Axatalese cried
out, "Alas, Messire, harm me not." Quoth Sir Gringamore, "No harm shall
befall thee, only speak as I bid thee and tell us who thy master is."

[Sidenote: _Axatalese telleth of Sir Gareth._]

Then Axatalese trembling with fear, said: "Fair Messire, the knight my
master is hight Sir Gareth and he is the son of King Lot of Orkney and
the Queen Margaise, the sister of King Arthur, and so it is that he is
right brother of those noble worthy champions, Sir Gawaine and Sir
Gaheris, and he is the brother of Sir Mordred of Orkney."

Now when Lynette heard the words that Axatalese spoke she smote her
hands very violently together and she cried out in a loud and piercing
voice: "Said I not so? Well did I know that this was no kitchen knave,
but otherwise that he was some very noble and worthy knight. So he is,
for there is none better in all the world than he. Rejoice, my sister,
for here indeed is a great honor that hath befallen thee. For this is a
very worthy champion to have saved thee from thy distresses."

And the Lady Layonnesse said: "Sister, I do indeed rejoice and that
beyond all measure." And she turned her to Sir Gringamore and said: "My
brother, let us straightway hasten and go to this worthy knight so that
we may give him such thanks as is fitting for one of his degree to
receive."

"Nay," quoth Sir Gringamore, "not so. Rather let us wait until to-morrow
and until he has altogether rested himself from this day of battle.
Meantime, I will take this dwarf back whence we brought him and
to-morrow we will pay Sir Gareth all due honor."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gringamore payeth court to Sir Gareth._]

So it was as Sir Gringamore ordained. For first he took Axatalese back
to the place of the pavilions, and after that they waited until the
morn. And when the morn was come Sir Gringamore and the Lady Layonnesse
and Lynette went down to that place of the pavilions and to the pavilion
of Sir Gareth, and the Lady Layonnesse and the damsel Lynette waited
outside of the tent and Sir Gringamore entered thereinto. And Sir
Gringamore came to where Sir Gareth lay and he saluted Sir Gareth
saying, "Save you, Sir Gareth of Orkney."

Then Sir Gareth was greatly astonished and he said: "How know you my
name and my degree, Messire?" And Sir Gringamore said: "Sir, my sister
the damsel Lynette, and I, catched thy dwarf last night and took him
away to my sister's castle. There we compelled him to tell us who you
were, and so we had knowledge of your name and your condition." And Sir
Gringamore said: "Sir Gareth, we are rejoiced beyond measure that you
have so greatly honored us as to come hither and to serve as the
champion of my sister, the Lady Layonnesse. Now if you will suffer her
to have speech with you, she standeth without the door of the pavilion."
And Sir Gareth said, "Let her come in for I would fain see her near at
hand."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Layonnesse cometh to Sir Gareth._]

So Sir Gringamore went out of the pavilion and immediately he returned,
bringing the Lady Layonnesse and Lynette with him. And the Lady
Layonnesse came and kneeled down beside the couch whereon Sir Gareth
lay. And Sir Gareth saw her face near by and he saw that it was ten
times more beautiful than he had supposed it to be when he saw it from a
distance at the upper window of the Castle Dangerous as aforetold of.
And Sir Gareth loved her from that moment with all his heart and from
that time forth his love never wavered from her.

That day they brought Sir Gareth to the castle in a litter and Sir
Gareth abided at the castle for a fortnight and in that time he was
altogether healed of his hurts that he had got in his battle with the
Red Knight.

And ever Sir Gareth loved the Lady Layonnesse more and more and ever she
loved him in like manner. So they were continually together and it was
said of all that heaven had never sent to the earth two more beautiful
young creatures than they.

Then at the end of that fortnight aforesaid, Sir Gareth said: "Now it
behooves me to return to the court of the King to proclaim myself to my
brothers. For since I have succeeded in overthrowing the Red Knight of
the Red Lands and so of achieving this adventure, I believe I am not
unworthy to proclaim myself even unto my brothers."

So spake Sir Gareth, and to this the Lady Layonnesse replied: "Sir, it
is indeed well that you return to the court of the King. But when you go
I beseech you that you will permit my brother, Sir Gringamore, and my
sister Lynette, and I myself for to go with you. For so you who departed
alone will return with a company of those who love and honor you." Thus
said the Lady Layonnesse for it had come to pass by this time that she
could not bear to be parted from Sir Gareth even for so short a while as
a few days.

[Sidenote: _They all depart for the court of the King._]

Accordingly, it was done as she said and straightway preparation was
made for their departure. So the next day they took leave of the Castle
Dangerous for a while, betaking their way with a considerable court of
knights, esquires, and attendants to the King's court at Carleon where
the King was at that time still abiding.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now return we to the court of King Arthur ere those others shall come
thither, so that we may see how it befell at that place after the
departure of the kitchen knave Beaumains.

Now it hath been told how that Sir Kay departed to follow after
Beaumains for to have a fall of him; and it hath been told how that Sir
Kay returned to court upon a gray mule; and it hath been told how that
Sir Kay was made the mock and laughing-stock, all because of the
misadventure that had befallen him.

After that there passed five days, and at the end of that time there
came Sir Perard to the court with the word that Sir Gareth had bidden
him for to carry thither; to wit, that the kitchen knave, Beaumains,
hath beaten him in battle and had sent him thither for to pay his duty
unto the King.

[Sidenote: _How the several knights do homage._]

Then King Arthur said: "'Fore Heaven! What sort of a kitchen knave is
this to overcome so brave and well-seasoned a knight as Sir Perard? This
can be no kitchen knave, but rather is he some youth of very heroic race
who hath been dwelling for all this while unknown in our midst, in the
guise of a kitchen knave." So said the King. And Sir Gawaine said,
"Lord, I may well believe that what you say is indeed the case."

Then two days after Sir Perard had come to Carleon in that wise, there
came thither that knight whom Sir Gareth had saved from the six thieves.
And he brought a very considerable court of esquires and attendants with
him; and he also told of the further doings of Sir Gareth. And when they
at Carleon heard those things, both the King and the court made loud
marvel and acclaim that Beaumains should have become so wonderful a
champion as to do those things that were told of him.

After that there passed a week and at the end of that time there came
Sir Percevant of Hind with a great court of knights and esquires
accompanying him; and he also brought the same word that Sir Perard had
done; to wit, that Beaumains, the kitchen knave, had overcome him in
battle and had sent him to the King's court for to pay his duty to the
King. And at that King Arthur and all of his court knew not what to
think of a kitchen knave who should do such wonderful works.

So passed a fortnight and at the end of that time there came the Red
Knight of the Red Lands, walking afoot and without shield or armor but
surrounded by even a greater court of knights and esquires than Sir
Percevant had brought with him. And he also brought the same word to
the King--that the kitchen knave, Beaumains, had overcome him and had
sent him thither to pay his duty to the King. And besides this he told
the King many things concerning this same Beaumains that the others had
not told; to wit, how Beaumains had carried his adventure of the Castle
Dangerous through to a worthy ending and how that he was even then
lodging at the castle of the Lady Layonnesse of Granderegard.

So when King Arthur and his court heard all these things, he and they
wist not what to think, but marvelled as to who this extraordinary young
champion was.

[Sidenote: _Queen Margaise cometh to court._]

Now the day after the Red Knight of the Red Lands had come to Carleon as
aforetold, it befell that there came to the court of the King an herald;
and the herald brought news that Queen Margaise of Orkney was even then
upon her way for to visit the King.

Then King Arthur was very glad that his sister was coming thither for he
loved her above all others of his kin. So it came to pass that when the
day after the next day had come, Queen Margaise reached the court of the
King as she had promised to do, and the King and the court gave her
royal greeting.

Then Queen Margaise looked all about and by and by she said, "Where is
my son Gareth whom I sent thitherward a year ago?"

At that King Arthur was very much astonished, and for a little he wist
not what to think; then he said, "I know of no such one as Gareth."

[Sidenote: _Queen Margaise grieveth for Sir Gareth._]

Upon this Queen Margaise was filled with anxiety, for she wist not what
to believe had happened to her son. So her color changed several times
and several times she tried to speak and could not. Then at last she did
speak, saying: "Woe is me if harm should have befallen him, for certes
he is the very flower of all my children."

Then King Arthur took suddenly thought of Beaumains and he said:
"Sister, take heart and look up, for I believe that no harm but rather
great honor hath befallen thy son. Now tell me, did he come hither about
the time of the feast of Pentecost a year ago?" And the Queen said,
"Yea." Then King Arthur said: "Tell me, was thy son fair of face and had
he ruddy hair and was he tall and broad of girth and had he a dwarf
named Axatalese with him?" And the Queen said, "Yea, that was he!" Then
King Arthur said: "He hath been here, but we knew him not." And the
Queen said, "What hath befallen him?"

Then King Arthur told the Queen his sister all that had befallen. For he
told her how that Gareth had come thither and in what guise; and he told
her how Gareth had dwelt all that year unknown at the court under the
name of Beaumains because of the whiteness of his hands; and he told her
how that Beaumains had gone forth upon that adventure to the Castle
Dangerous; and he told her how he had succeeded in that adventure; and
he told her of the several other things that are herein told, and ever
Queen Margaise listened to him.

But when King Arthur had finished his telling the Queen was very angry
and she said: "Methinks, my brother, that you should have known my son
for one of high and noble degree, even though he were clad in green as
you tell me and even though he did beseech no greater boon of you than
food and drink and lodging. For certes there was ever that in his
bearing that bespake better things than these."

[Sidenote: _King Arthur placates Queen Margaise._]

Then King Arthur, speaking very mildly, said: "My sister, how may one
know another, his name and his degree, only by looking in his face? Yet
wit you that had I not thought there was somewhat high and noble about
this youth I had not given him leave to undertake this adventure in
which he hath succeeded so very gloriously."

So spake King Arthur, but Queen Margaise was hardly yet appeased, nor
was she pacified for a long time afterward. Then, at last, she was
pacified.

Now a day or two after this time the King called Sir Gawaine and Sir
Gaheris to him and he said to these two: "Take you a noble court of
knights and gentlemen and go you forth and find your brother and bring
him hither to our court in all such royal estate as is befitting for
such a knight to enjoy. For of a surety it will be a great honor for to
have such a knight amongst us."

Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Gaheris were much pleased that the King should
so favor their brother, wherefore they fulfilled that command to the
full, for they chose them such a court as was as noble as possible, and
they set forth upon that journey as the King had commanded.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Gaheris depart to find Sir Gareth._]

So they travelled for one whole day and for a part of another day, and
toward the afternoon of that second day they beheld a great company of
knights and lords and ladies ahorseback coming toward them. And many
esquires and attendants accompanied that fair company, and they so shone
with cloth of gold and with many jewels and with bright shining armor
that it bedazzled the eyes to look upon them. And Sir Gawaine and Sir
Gaheris wondered what lordly company that could be. And when that
company had come nearer, they two perceived that at the head thereof
there rode two knights in armor and two ladies upon ambling palfreys and
they saw that the two ladies were very beautiful. And when that company
had come still nearer Sir Gawaine and Sir Gaheris perceived that one of
those knights who rode with the ladies was none other than him whom they
had aforetime called "Beaumains"; and that one of the damsels was the
damsel Lynette who had come to court a short time before.

[Sidenote: _They meet Sir Gareth upon the way._]

Then when Sir Gawaine and Sir Gaheris perceived their brother at the
head of that company they immediately set spurs to horse and raced
forward to meet him with all speed they could command. And when they had
come to where Sir Gareth was, they leaped down from off their horses and
ran to him, crying aloud, "Brother, Brother!" and Sir Gareth leaped down
from his horse and ran to them and so they kissed and embraced each
other upon the highroad, weeping for joy.

Thus it was that Sir Gareth was acknowledged by those two noble and
worthy knights-champion, his brothers, and so his kindred met him and
gave him welcome.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Sir Gareth becometh a Knight of the Round Table._]

And now it remains but few things to say; for there remaineth only to be
said that Sir Gareth was received at the court with such rejoicings as
you may well suppose. And it remaineth to be said that at that same time
there suddenly appeared upon one of the seats of the Round Table near to
the seat of Sir Launcelot of the Lake a name in letters of gold, and the
name was this:

    GARETH OF ORKNEY.

For from that time Sir Gareth became a Knight of the Round Table, being
elected thereto in that miraculous way that was usual in the case of
those who were chosen for that high and worshipful companionship.

And it remaineth to be told that in a little while Sir Gareth was wedded
to the Lady Layonnesse with great pomp and ceremony and that thereafter
he returned with her to the Castle Dangerous of which he was now the
lord.

And in after times Sir Gareth became one of the most famous of all the
knights of the Table Round, so that much is told of him in divers books
of chivalry. Yet there shall be no more told of his adventures at this
place, albeit there may be more said concerning him in another book
which shall follow this book. Yet it is to be said that these are the
most famous adventures that befel him, and that the history of Gareth
and Lynette is the one which is most often told of in stories and sung
in ballads and poems.

       *       *       *       *       *

So endeth the Story of Gareth of Orkney, which same was told at this
place in part because it is a good worthy history to tell at any place,
and in part because that time in which he did battle with and was
knighted by Sir Launcelot, as aforetold, was the only time that Sir
Launcelot was seen by any of the court of King Arthur until after he had
accomplished the Adventure of the Worm of Corbin.

For that which followeth dealeth of the adventure of the Worm of Corbin
and with how that Sir Launcelot overcame that dragon and became
acquainted with the Lady Elaine the Fair, who was the mother of Sir
Galahad, who was the flower of all chivalry. Wherefore, if you would
know that part of the history of Sir Launcelot that relates to those
things, you must needs read that which is written hereinafter.

[Illustration]




PART III

The Story of Sir Launcelot and Elaine the Fair


_Here followeth the history of Sir Launcelot's wanderings and of how he
came to the town of Corbin, and of how he slew the great Worm of Corbin
that for somewhiles brought sorrow and death to the folk of Corbin. Here
you shall also read the history of Elaine the Fair, the King's daughter
of Corbin, and of how for her sake Sir Launcelot fought in the
tournament at Astolat.

All these and several other things are herein duly set forth, so that,
should you please to read that which is hereafter written, I believe you
shall find a great deal of pleasure and entertainment in that history._

[Illustration: How Sir Launcelot held discourse with ye merry
Minstrels.]




[Illustration]

Chapter First

_How Sir Launcelot rode errant and how he assumed to undertake the
Adventure of the Worm of Corbin._


And now you shall be told how it befell Sir Launcelot after that he had
fought with Sir Gareth and had made him knight as told in the history of
Sir Gareth.

       *       *       *       *       *

You are to know that after Sir Launcelot left Sir Gareth he went his way
very cheerfully, and many times he bethought him of how the damsel
Lynette had taken Sir Gareth to be a kitchen knave, and at that thought
he would laugh with great joy of so excellent a jest.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot rideth errant._]

So with great cheerfulness of spirit he rode ever onward upon his way,
whilst the daylight slanted farther and farther toward sunset. And,
after awhile, the sun sunk in the West, and the silence of the twilight
fell like to a soft mantle of silence upon the entire earth. The
darkness fell, the earth melted here and there into shadow and every
sound came very clear and loud as though the bright and luminous sky
that arched overhead was a great hollow bell of crystal that echoed back
every sudden noise with extraordinary clearness. Then Sir Launcelot was
both hungry and athirst and he wist not where he might find refreshment
to satisfy the needs of his body.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot meeteth the strolling minstrels._]

So, thinking of food and drink, he was presently aware of the light of
a fire shining in the gray of the falling twilight and thitherward he
directed his way, and in a little pass, he came to where there was a
merry party of strolling minstrels gathered around about that bright and
cheerful fire. Some of these fellows were clad in blue and some in
yellow and some in red and some in green and some in raiment pied of
many colors. And all they were eating with great appetite a savory stew
of mutton and lentils seasoned with onions and washed down with lusty
draughts of ale and wine which they poured forth, ever and anon, from
big round-bellied skins into horns and cups that were held to catch it.

These jolly fellows, beholding Sir Launcelot coming to them through the
dusk, gave him welcome with loud voices of acclaim and besought him to
descend from horseback and to eat with them, and Sir Launcelot was right
glad to do so.

So he dismounted from his horse and eased it of its saddle and turned it
loose to browse as it listed upon the grass of the wayside. And he laid
aside his shield and his spear and his sword and his helmet and he sat
him down with those minstrels and fell to eating and drinking with might
and main. And the minstrels bade him to take good cheer and to eat and
drink all that he desired and Sir Launcelot did so.

[Sidenote: _The minstrels chaunt._]

Then, after Sir Launcelot and the minstrels had supped their fill, those
lusty fellows brought forth other skins of wine and filling again the
several cups and flagons they all fell to drinking and making merry. And
several of the minstrels brought forth lutes and others brought forth
viols, and anon he who was the chief minstrel called upon one to stand
forth and sing, and that fellow did so, chaunting a rondel in praise of
his sweetheart's eyes. After that, another sang of battle and still
another sang in praise of pleasant living; meantime the others
accompanied, with lute and viol, those who sang, and Sir Launcelot
listened to their music with great pleasure of heart.

All about them lay the deep silence of the moonlit night with only that
one red spot of fire and of cheerful mirth in the midst of it, and the
fire shone very bright upon the armor of the knight and lit up all those
quaint fellows in red and green and yellow and blue and pied so that
they stood forth against the blackness behind them as though they had
been carved out from it with a sharp knife.

Then he who was chief among the minstrels said to Sir Launcelot,
"Messire, will ye not also sing?" At this Sir Launcelot laughed, and
quoth he: "Nay, good fellows, I cannot sing as ye do, but I will tell ye
a story an ye list to hear me."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot telleth a conte._]

At that they all cried out to tell them that story and thereupon he did
so, telling them a certain goodly conte of two knights who loved a lady,
but she loved neither of them, having set her heart upon an esquire of
low degree. So of these two knights the one became an hermit and the
other by force of his knighthood brought it to pass that the esquire was
exalted from his squirehood to become a king. But when the esquire
became a king the lady would have none of him, but turned her love to
the knight who had exalted him to his high estate. So the lady left the
esquire who was king and married the noble knight who had made him king,
and so, having made choice of the greatest and the noblest of all the
three, she dwelt happily with him to the end of her life.

To this the minstrels listed in silence and when Sir Launcelot had
finished they gave him great applause without measure.

After that the minstrels sang again and Sir Launcelot told them another
tale of chivalry; and so with good cheer the night passed pleasantly
away until the great round moon, bright and full like to a bubble of
shining silver, floated high in the sky above their heads, very bright
and as glorious as day and bathing all the world in a flood of still
white light, most wonderful to behold.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot would leave the minstrels._]

Then perceiving it to be midnight, Sir Launcelot bestirred himself, and
he said: "Good fellows, I thank ye with all my heart for the
entertainment ye have given me, but now I am refreshed I must go again
upon my way."

To this he who was chief among the minstrels said: "Sir Knight, we would
fain that you would remain with us to-night and would travel with us
upon our way to-morrow, for indeed you are the pleasantest and
cheerfulest knight that ever we met in all of our lives."

[Sidenote: _He asketh of some adventure._]

At this Sir Launcelot laughed with great good will, and he said: "Good
fellows, I give you gramercy for your fair regard. Ye are indeed a merry
company and were I not a knight methinks I would rather be one of your
party than one of any other company that ever I fell in with. But it may
not be, for, lo! I am a knight and I must e'en go about my business as
becometh one who weareth spurs of gold. So here and now we part.
Ne'theless you may haply do me one service, and that is to tell me
whether anywhere hereabout is to be found an adventure such as may
beseem a knight of good credit to undertake."

Upon this one of those minstrels spake saying: "Messire, I know where
there is an adventure, which, if you achieve it, will bring you such
great credit that I believe Sir Launcelot of the Lake himself would not
have greater credit than you."

At this Sir Launcelot laughed with great good will. "Well," quoth he, "I
would not be overbold, yet this I may say, that anything Sir Launcelot
of the Lake might not fear to undertake, that also I shall not fear to
assume, and whatever he might find strength to do that also I may hope
to accomplish. For indeed I may tell ye that I hold myself to be
altogether as good and worthy a knight as ever is Sir Launcelot of the
Lake."

"Ha!" quoth the chief minstrel, "I perceive, Sir Knight, that thou hast
a very good opinion of thyself. Now, were Sir Launcelot here, haply thou
wouldst not venture to reckon thyself so high as thou now dost."

At that all those minstrels laughed in great measure, and Sir Launcelot
laughed with them as loud as any. "Good fellows," said he, "I believe I
reckon myself to be no better than another man born of woman, yet this I
have to say: Oftentimes have I beheld Sir Launcelot and sometimes have I
contended against his will, but never at any time have I found him to be
stronger or worthier than am I myself. But let us not debate so small a
matter as this. Let us instead learn what is that adventure concerning
which yonder good fellow hath to advise us."

"Messire," quoth the minstrel, "have ye ever heard tell of the Worm of
Corbin?"

"Nay," said Sir Launcelot, "but tell thou me of it."

[Sidenote: _The minstrel telleth of the Worm of Corbin._]

"Sir," said the minstrel, "I will do so. You are to know that some ways
to a considerable distance to the eastward of this place there is a very
large fair noble town hight Corbin; and the King of that country is King
Pelles. Now one time it chanced that Queen Morgana le Fay and the Queen
of North Wales were upon a visit to Corbin, and whilst they were there
there was given in that place a great jousting and feast in their honor.

[Sidenote: _Of the damsel who came to the feast of the King._]

"Whilst King Pelles sat at table with the two queens (all of his court
and his daughter Elaine the Fair being with him) there came into the
pavilion where the feast was held a wonderfully fair damsel, tall and
straight and clad from top to toe in flame-colored satin. In her hand
she bare a paten of silver and upon the paten was a napkin, and on the
napkin there was a wonderful ring of gold set with a clear blue stone.
And the damsel spoke in a voice both high and clear, saying: 'Lords and
Ladies, here have I a ring that may only be worn by the fairest and
worthiest lady in this room.'

"At these words, as you may suppose, there was a great deal of wonder
and much expectation, and a great deal of talk. For some said that one
lady should by rights have that ring and some said that another lady
should have it.

[Sidenote: _Of how Queen Morgana tryeth the ring._]

"Now the first to essay that ring was Queen Morgana le Fay, for she
supposed that this was a masque devised by King Pelles in honor of her.
So she took the ring in her hand and essayed to pass it upon her finger,
but lo! it would not pass the first joint thereof.

"At that Queen Morgana was filled with wrath, but still she dissembled
her anger and sat, waiting to see what would next befall.

[Sidenote: _Of how the Queen of North Wales tryeth the ring._]

"So after Queen Morgana le Fay had thus failed to wear that ring, the
Queen of North Wales said unto herself, 'Haply King Pelles may intend
this ring for me.' So she also took the ring and would have placed it
upon her finger, but lo! it grew so large that it would not stay where
it was placed, but fell off upon the table before the whole court of the
King.

"At this many who were there laughed aloud, and thereat the Queen of
North Wales was filled with anger and mortification as much as Queen
Morgana le Fay had been. But she also dissembled her anger before the
court and sat to watch what would befall.

"So after these two queens had so essayed, several others of the ladies
who were there each tried to put the ring upon her finger, but no one
could do so, for either it was too large, or else it was too small. Then
last of all the Lady Elaine the Fair, the King's daughter, essayed the
adventure of the ring, and lo! it fitted her as exactly as though it had
been made for her.

"At this both of those two queens aforesaid were more angered than ever,
for each said to herself, 'Certes, this King hath done this to put
affront upon us.' So that night they communed together what they should
do to punish King Pelles of Corbin and the Town of Corbin for that
affront which they deemed themselves to have suffered.

[Sidenote: _Of how Queen Morgana layeth a curse upon the town._]

"Now the next morning those two queens quitted the court, and as they
and their attendants passed by the market-place of the town they
perceived where there lay a great flat stone that marked the centre of
the town. Then Queen Morgana le Fay cried out: 'See ye yonder stone!
Beneath that slab there shall breed a great Worm and that Worm shall
bring sorrow and dole to this place ten thousand times more than the
shame which I suffered here yesterday. For that stone shall be enchanted
so that no man may lift it. And beneath that stone the Worm shall live;
and ever and anon it shall come forth and seize some fair young virgin
of this town and shall bear her away to its hiding-place and shall there
devour her for its food.'

"So it was as the Queen said, and now that Worm dwelleth at Corbin
beneath the stone, and ever bringeth sorrow and death to that place. And
it cometh out only at night, so that the terror of the Worm of Corbin is
greater than it would otherwise be, for no eye hath ever beheld it in
its comings and its goings. So if any champion shall achieve the death
of that Worm, he shall be held to have done a deed worthy of Sir
Launcelot of the Lake himself."

"Friend," said Sir Launcelot, "thou sayest true and that were indeed a
most worthy quest for any knight to undertake. As for me, I am so eager
to enter upon that quest that I can hardly stay my patience."

With this saying, Sir Launcelot rose from where he sat; and he whistled
his horse to him and when his horse had come to where he was he put the
saddle upon its back. And he took his shield and spear in his hand and
mounted upon his charger and made him ready to leave that place.

But ere he departed, the chief minstrel and several others came to him,
and the chief minstrel laid his hand upon the horse's neck and he said:
"I pray you, Messire, tell us who you are who have seen Sir Launcelot of
the Lake so often and who declare yourself to be as good a knight as
he."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot revealeth himself to the minstrels._]

Then Sir Launcelot laughed and he said: "Good friend, I am riding errant
as you behold. In these my travels I would fain withhold my name from
the knowledge of men. Nevertheless, since we have eaten and drunk
together, and since we have cohabited in good fellowship together, I
will tell you that I myself am that very Sir Launcelot whom ye appear to
hold in such high regard. Wherefore it is that I am, certes, as good as
he could possibly be, let that be saying much or saying little."

So saying, Sir Launcelot set spurs to his horse and rode away and left
them astonished at his words. And long after he had left those merry
fellows he could hear their voices in the distance babbling together
very loud with wonder that Sir Launcelot of the Lake had been amongst
them for all that time without any one of them suspecting him who he
was. For by this time all the world knew Sir Launcelot of the Lake to be
the greatest champion that ever the world had seen from the very
beginning unto that time.

       *       *       *       *       *

After that, Sir Launcelot rode forward upon his way toward the eastward
through the moonlit night, and by and by he entered a great space of
forest land. And somewhile after he had entered that woodland the summer
day began to dawn and all the birds began at first to chirp and then to
sing very blithely and with a great multitude of happy voices from out
of every leafy thicket. Then up leapt the jolly sun and touched all the
upper leafage of the trees and turned them into gold.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot beholdeth Corbin._]

And anon the sun rose high and higher and when it was very high in the
heavens Sir Launcelot came out of the forest into an open country of
level meadows and of pasture-lands. And in the midst of that place, a
great way off, he beheld where there was a fair walled town set upon a
hill with a smooth shining river at its foot, and he wist that this must
be the Town of Corbin of which the strolling minstrels had told him the
night before.

So Sir Launcelot rode forward and drew near the town. And as he drew
closer to it he thought that this was one of the fairest towns that ever
he had beheld in all of his life. For the castle of the town and the
houses of the town were all built else of stone or else of brick, and a
thousand windows sparkled in the brightness of the day, shining like to
stars in heaven. And the river that flowed beside the town wound down
between fair green meadows which lay upon either side, and betwixt banks
of reeds and rushes and pollard willows, and it was like to a great
serpent of pure silver lying in the grass. The walls of the castle and
the walls of the town came down to the river, and stood with their feet,
as it were, in the clear and crystal-bright water, and there were trees
that overhung the water upon this side and upon that, and there was a
bridge with three arches that crossed over the river and led to the
town. All these things Sir Launcelot beheld and so it was that the town
appeared exceedingly pleasant to his eyes.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot bespeaks the town's folk._]

Now when Sir Launcelot had come pretty close to the town he met a party
of town-folk with several pack-mules hung with bells and laden with
parcels of goods. These Sir Launcelot bespoke, saying, "I pray ye, fair
folk, tell me, is this the Town of Corbin?" Thereunto they replied,
"Yea, Sir Knight, this is that town." Sir Launcelot said, "Why are ye so
sad and downcast?" Whereunto the chief of that party--a right reverend
man with a long white beard--made reply: "Sir Knight, wherefore do you
ask us why we are sad? Whence come you that you have not heard how we
are cursed in this town by a Worm that torments us very grievously; and
how is it that you have not heard tell how that Worm devoureth every now
and then a tender virgin from our midst?"

"Sir," quoth Sir Launcelot, "I have indeed heard of this Worm that
bringeth you so much woe and dole. Know ye that it is because of this
very Worm that I have come hither. For I purpose, if God's grace be with
me, to destroy that vile thing and so to set ye all free from the curse
that lies upon you!"

"Alas, Sir Knight," quoth the old man, speaking very sorrowfully, "I do
not doubt that you are possessed of all the courage necessary for this
undertaking, yet for all that you may not hope to succeed in your quest.
For even if you were able to slay the Worm, yet you could not come at
it. For you are to know that it lyeth beneath a great stone and that the
stone is sealed by magic which Queen Morgana le Fay set upon it so that
no man may raise it from where it lyeth."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot speaketh words of cheer._]

Then Sir Launcelot spoke words of good cheer to that old man and to his
companions, saying: "Let that be as it may, yet for all that ye need not
despair of succor. Know ye not that naught can be achieved until it
first be essayed? As for that enchantment that lyeth upon the stone, I
tell ye this: Behold this ring which I wear upon my finger! It is
sovereign against all magic whatsoever, wherefore I know that the spells
which bind this stone into its place cannot prevail against the counter
magic of this ring. So ye shall be well assured that I shall lift that
stone, and after that, when it shall be lifted and when it shall come to
battle betwixt me and that Worm, then shall the issue lie altogether
with God, His Grace and Mercy."

[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot entered Corbin._]

Now when those who were there heard what Sir Launcelot said, their
hearts were filled with hope and joy, for it seemed to them that here
indeed might be a champion who should deliver them out of their
distresses. Wherefore when they heard his words they presently lifted up
their voices in loud acclaim, some crying, "God be with you!" and some
crying, "God save you from destruction!" some crying this, and some
crying that.

Then Sir Launcelot smiled upon them and said, "Save you good people,"
and therewith set spurs to flank and rode away.

But many of those who were there went with him, running beside his
horse, seeking to touch him and even to touch the horse which he rode.
And all the time they gave him loud acclaim without measure and without
stint.

For the virtue of Sir Launcelot went forth from him like a shining light
wherefore it seemed to them that here was one who should certainly free
them from the curse that lay upon them.

       *       *       *       *       *

And thus it was that Sir Launcelot of the Lake rode across that
three-spanned bridge and into the Town of Corbin and so to his adventure
with the Worm of Corbin.

[Illustration: Sir Launcelot slayeth the Worm of Corbin:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Second

_How Sir Launcelot slew the Worm of Corbin, and how he was carried
thereafter to the Castle of Corbin and to King Pelles and to the Lady
Elaine the Fair._


[Sidenote: _The folk of the town welcome Sir Launcelot._]

So thus it was that Sir Launcelot entered the town of Corbin to slay the
Dragon that lay beneath the stone. And with his coming a great multitude
gathered very quickly, hurrying from all sides, crying out and blessing
him as he rode forward upon his way. And ever a great roar of voices
sounded all about him like to the noise of many waters.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot cometh to the place of the Dragon._]

So, upborn by that multitude, Sir Launcelot went forward very
steadfastly toward the market-place of the town, in the midst of which
lay that great stone, aforetold of, with the Worm beneath it. And when
he had reached the place, he bade the multitude abide where they were.

So, upon that command, the people stood afar off, and Sir Launcelot went
forward alone to where was the slab of stone. And he looked down upon
the slab and beheld that it was very flat and wide and so big that three
men might hardly hope to lift it. Besides this, he beheld that it had
been sealed by magic as had been reported to him, for many strange
letters and figures had been engraved into the face of the stone.

Now you are to remember that it was aforetold of in the "Book of the
Champions of the Round Table" that Sir Launcelot wore upon his finger a
ring which the Lady of the Lake had given him when he quitted the Lake;
and you all remember that that ring was of such a sort that he who wore
it might dissolve all evil magic or enchantment against which he should
direct his efforts. Wherefore it was that Sir Launcelot was aware, as he
had already told the people outside of the walls of the town, that he
might lift that stone even if another, because of the magic that was
upon it, should not be able to stir it where it lay.

So Sir Launcelot put aside his sword and his shield and he went forward
to the slab and he seized the slab in both of his hands. And he bent his
back and lifted, and lo! the bands of enchantment that lay upon the
stone were snapped and the slab moved and stirred in the bed wherein it
lay.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot lifteth the stone._]

Then when the multitude of the people who gazed upon him beheld the slab
how it moved and stirred in its bed, a great shout went up from several
thousand lips like to one mighty voice of outcry. Therewith Sir
Launcelot bent again to the stone and heaved with all his might. And lo!
he lifted the stone and he raised it and he rolled it over upon the
earth.

Then he looked down into the hole that was beneath the stone and he was
aware that there lay something in the hole that moved. And anon he
beheld two green and glassy eyes that opened upon him and looked up at
him from out of the hole; and he beheld that those eyes were covered
over as with a thin film to shelter them from the dazzling light of the
daytime. And as Sir Launcelot gazed he beheld that that thing which lay
within the hole began to crawl out of the hole, and Sir Launcelot beheld
that it was a huge worm, covered all over with livid scales as hard as
flint. And the Worm lifted the fore part of its body to the height of a
tall man and gaped very dreadfully with a great mouth an ell wide, and
all glistening with three rows of white and shining teeth. And Sir
Launcelot beheld that the Worm had as many as a thousand feet, and that
each foot was armed with a great claw like the claw of a lion, as hard
as flint, and very venomous with poison. And the Worm hissed at Sir
Launcelot. And its breath was like the odor of Death.

[Sidenote: _The Worm of Corbin cometh forth._]

Such was that dreadful terrible Worm that lay beneath the stone at
Corbin. And when the people of the town saw it thus appear before them
in the broad light of day, they shrieked aloud with the terror of that
which they beheld. For it was like to something that had come to life
out of a dreadful dream, and it did not seem possible that such a thing
should ever have been beheld by the living eyes of man.

But Sir Launcelot beholding the Worm in all its terror leaped to where
was his sword and he seized his sword in both hands and he ran at the
Worm and lashed at it a blow so mighty that it might easily have split
an oak tree. But the scales of the Worm were like adamant for hardness
wherefore the stroke of the sword pierced them not but glanced aside
without harming the creature.

Then when the Worm felt itself thus smitten, it hissed again in a manner
very terrible and loud, and it reached out toward Sir Launcelot and
strove to catch him into the embrace of a hundred of its sharp claws.
But Sir Launcelot sprang aside from the embraces of the Worm and he
smote it again and again, yet could not in any wise cut through the
scales that covered its body. And at every blow the Worm hissed more
terribly and sought to catch Sir Launcelot into its embraces.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot doeth battle with the Worm._]

Thus for a long time Sir Launcelot avoided the Worm, but, by and by it
came to pass that he began to wax faint and weary with leaping from side
to side, weighed down as he was with his armor. So, at last, it befell
that the Worm catched Sir Launcelot in the hook of one of its claws, and
thereupon they who looked on at that battle beheld how in a moment it
had embraced Sir Launcelot in several hundred of its claws so that his
body was wellnigh hidden in that embrace. And the Worm, when it so held
Sir Launcelot in its embrace, tore at him with its claws and strove to
bite him with its shining teeth. And anon it catched its claws in the
armor of Sir Launcelot and it tore away the epaulier upon the left side
of Sir Launcelot's shoulder, and it tore away the iron boot that covered
his left thigh, and it cut with its claws through the flesh of the left
shoulder of Sir Launcelot and through the flesh of his thigh to the very
bone, so that the blood gushed out in a crimson stream and ran down over
his armor and over the claws of the Worm.

Then Sir Launcelot, finding himself as it were thus in the very embrace
of Death, put forth all his strength and tore away free from the
clutches of the Worm ere it was able to do him further harm. And seeing
how that the case was now so ill with him, he catched the haft of his
sword in both of his hands, and he rushed at the creature and he stabbed
with his sword into the gaping mouth of the creature and down into its
gullet so that the cross-piece of the sword smote against the teeth of
the creature's mouth.

Then when the Worm felt that dreadful terrible stroke driven thus into
its very vitals, it roared like a bull in its torments, and it
straightway rolled over upon the ground writhing and lashing the entire
length of its body, bellowing so that those who heard it felt the marrow
in their bones melt for terror.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot slayeth the Worm._]

But Sir Launcelot, looking down upon the lashings of the Worm, beheld
where there appeared to be a soft place nigh to the belly and beneath
the scales of the back and sides, and therewith he rushed at the Worm
and plunged his sword twice and thrice into that soft spot, whereupon,
lo! thick blood, as black as ink, gushed forth after those strokes. Then
again Sir Launcelot pierced the Worm twice and thrice in such another
place and thereafter it presently ceased to bellow in that wise and lay
shuddering and writhing in death, rustling its dry scales upon the earth
in its last throes of life.

Then Sir Launcelot beheld that his work was done and he stood leaning
upon his sword, panting and covered all over with the blood and slime of
that dreadful battle. And the people beholding how that the Worm was now
slain, fell to shouting aloud beyond measure. And they came running from
all sides to that place like to a flood so that they filled the entire
market-place. And they crowded around and gazed upon the Worm with
horror, and they gazed upon Sir Launcelot in wonder that Heaven should
have sent so wonderful a Champion to save them out of their distresses.
And ever Sir Launcelot stood there leaning upon his sword panting and
with the blood flowing down from his shoulder and his thigh so that all
that side of his body was ensanguined with shining red.

[Sidenote: _The knights of Corbin do honor to Sir Launcelot._]

So as he stood there, there came a party of knights riding into that
place. These thrust their way through the multitude to where Sir
Launcelot was in the midst of the crowd as aforesaid. When they had come
to Sir Launcelot the chief of those knights said, "Sir, art thou he who
hath slain the Worm?" Sir Launcelot said, "Thou seest that I am he."
Then he who spoke to Sir Launcelot said, "Messire, I fear me you are
sorely hurt in this battle." Quoth Sir Launcelot: "I am hurt indeed, but
not more hurt than I have been several times before and yet live as you
behold me."

Then those knights went and looked upon the Worm where it lay and they
gazed upon it with wonder and with loathing. And they gave great praise
beyond measure to the knight who had slain it.

After that they sent for a litter and they laid Sir Launcelot upon the
litter and bare him away into the Castle of Corbin where King Pelles of
Corbin was then holding his court in royal pomp of circumstance. And
they brought Sir Launcelot to a fair chamber of the castle where a
number of attendants came to him and eased him of his armor and led him
to a bath of tepid water steeped with healing herbs. And there came a
skilful leech and searched the wounds of Sir Launcelot and spread
soothing unguents upon them and bound them up with swathings of linen.
And after that they bare Sir Launcelot to a fair soft couch spread with
snow-white linen and laid him thereon, and he was greatly at ease and
much comforted in body.

[Sidenote: _King Pelles of Corbin doeth honor to Sir Launcelot._]

Then after all this was done in that wise, there came King Pelles of
Corbin to that place for to visit Sir Launcelot, and with him came his
son, Sir Lavaine, and his daughter, the Lady Elaine the Fair. And Sir
Launcelot beheld that King Pelles was a very noble haughty lord, for his
beard and his hair were long and amplelike to the mane of a lion, and
resembled threads of gold sprinkled with threads of silver. And he was
clad all in a robe of purple studded over with shining jewels and he
wore a fillet of gold about his head set with several gems of great
price. Upon the right hand of King Pelles there came his son, Sir
Lavaine--a very noble young knight, newly created by the bath--and upon
his left hand there came his daughter, the Lady Elaine the Fair.

[Sidenote: _Of the Lady Elaine the Fair._]

Then Sir Launcelot looked upon the Lady Elaine the Fair and it seemed to
him that she was the most beautiful maiden that ever he had beheld in
all of his life. For he saw that her hair was soft and yellow and
shining like to the finest silk; that her eyebrows were curved and very
fine, as though they had been marked with a sharp and delicate pencil;
that her eyes were very large and perfectly blue and very lustrous, and
as bright as precious jewels; that her forehead was like cream for
whiteness; that her cheeks were like roses for softness of blush; that
her lips were like coral for redness, and that betwixt her lips her
teeth were white, like to pearls for whiteness.

Such was the Lady Elaine, as Sir Launcelot beheld her, and he was amazed
at her surpassing beauty, and at the tender grace of her virgin youth.

Then King Pelles and Sir Lavaine and the Fair Elaine came close to where
Sir Launcelot lay upon his couch, and there they kneeled them down upon
the ground. And King Pelles spake, saying: "Messire, what thanks shall
we find fit to give to you who have freed this entire land from the
dreadful curse that lay upon it?" "Lord," said Sir Launcelot, "thank not
me but give your thanks to God whose tool and instrument I was in this
undertaking." "Messire," quoth King Pelles, "I have not forgot to give
thanks to God. Nevertheless seeing the instrument which He hath fitted
to His hand is so perfect an instrument, one may praise that also. So we
do praise you and give thanks from our heart to you for the deliverance
which you have brought to us. Now I pray you tell me who you are who
have brought this great succor to our state, for methinks you must be
some famous hero, and I would fain thank you in your own name for what
you have done to benefit us."

"Lord," said Sir Launcelot, "this you must forgive me if I tell you not
my name. For there is supposed to be shame upon my name, wherefore I am
now known as le Chevalier Malfait, because in the eyes of those to whom
I am accountable I have done amiss."

"Well," quoth King Pelles, "I dare be sworn you have not at any time
done greatly amiss in that which you have done. Nevertheless an you will
have it so, so it shall be as you will, and with us all of this place
you shall be known as le Chevalier Malfait until such time as it
pleases you to assume your proper name and title."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot lyeth sick in Corbin._ ]

Thus I have told you all the circumstances of that famous adventure of
the Worm of Corbin and there remaineth now only this to say: That Sir
Launcelot did not recover from his hurt as soon as he had supposed he
would. For the venom of the Dragon had got into his blood, wherefore
even after a twelvemonth had gone by, he still remained in the castle of
King Pelles at Corbin, albeit he was by that time quite healed in his
body.

And also there is this to tell--that at the end of the twelvemonth
aforesaid, King Pelles came to Sir Launcelot and said to him: "Messire,
I would that you would henceforth dwell with us at this court. For not
only would you be a great credit to any court in which you live, but
here we all love you as one loveth the apple of his eye."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot remaineth at Corbin._]

"Lord," said Sir Launcelot, "ye cannot love me more than I love ye all
who have been so good to me in the days of my sickness and disease. So I
will be exceedingly rejoiced to remain with ye yet a while longer; for
this is indeed a pleasant haven in which to rest in the long and
toilsome journey of life, and I have nowhere else to go."

Then King Pelles took Sir Launcelot into his arms and kissed him upon
the brow and so they became plighted in friendship unto one another.

So Sir Launcelot remained at Corbin and went not any farther errant at
that time.

But meantime, and for all that while, there was great wonder at the
court of King Arthur whither Sir Launcelot had gone and what had become
of him that no one in all of the world heard tell aught of him.

[Illustration: Sir Launcelot confideth his Shield to Elaine the Fair]




[Illustration]

Chapter Third

_How King Arthur proclaimed a tournament at Astolat, and how King Pelles
of Corbin went with his court thither to that place. Also how Sir
Launcelot and Sir Lavaine had encounter with two knights in the highway
thitherward._


[Sidenote: _King Arthur proclaimeth a tournament._]

Now it fell upon a time that King Arthur proclaimed a great tournament
to be held at Astolat, upon Lady's Day Assumption. And the King sent
word of this tournament throughout all the land, both east and west and
north and south. So it came about that word of the tournament was
brought one day by herald to King Pelles at Corbin, and when this news
came to him he ordained that his court should make them ready to go to
Astolat to that passage of arms, in pursuance of the word that the
herald of King Arthur had brought to Corbin.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot is troubled._]

Then Sir Launcelot was much troubled in his mind for he said to himself,
"I fear me that if I go unto Astolat with this court there may be some
one there who will know me." For Sir Launcelot was still very bitterly
affronted at his kinsmen because that they had chid him so greatly for
the manner in which he had ridden in a cart upon that adventure to
rescue Queen Guinevere as aforetold of. For the pride of Sir Launcelot
was stiff and stubborn and he could not bring himself to bend it or to
break it. Neither could he bring himself to overlook such an affront as
that which he had suffered from the words that Sir Lionel and Sir Ector
de Marishad said to him. Wherefore, until full justification had been
rendered unto him, he was unwilling that any of his former companions
should behold him or know him who he was.

Yet did he not see how he could refuse to obey the behest of King
Pelles, for as he was now become a knight of the court of the King of
Corbin he was bound to obey whatsoever that King should command him to
do. Wherefore he wist not what to do in this case, and so was much
troubled in mind.

[Sidenote: _King Pelles talketh with Sir Launcelot._]

Now King Pelles was aware how it was with le Chevalier Malfait and that
he was unwilling to go to the tournament at Astolat. So one day the King
took Sir Launcelot aside and he said to him: "Messire, will you not also
go with our court to this tournament that King Arthur hath proclaimed?"

To this Sir Launcelot said, "Lord, I would rather that I did not go."

King Pelles said: "Sir Knight, far be it from me to urge you to go if it
be greatly against your wishes; yet you are to know that it will be a
very sad thing for all of us if you do not go with us. For it is the
truth that you are, beyond all others, the foremost of our court, and
its most bright and shining light; wherefore it will be sad for us if we
go thither without you."

Then Sir Launcelot looked very steadfastly at King Pelles and his heart
went out toward the King and he said, "Do you then desire my company so
very greatly?" King Pelles said, "Yea." "Well," said Sir Launcelot, "let
it be so and I will go with you." And at that saying King Pelles was
glad beyond measure.

So when the time came Sir Launcelot made him ready to go with the others
to Astolat, and when the day of departure arrived he went with them.

[Sidenote: _King Pelles and his court journey to Astolat._]

Thereafter they travelled by easy stages toward Astolat, and upon the
third day after their departure from Corbin they came to the castle of a
certain Earl, which castle stood about three leagues or a little more
from the town. This Earl was a kinsman of King Pelles and in great amity
with him, wherefore he was glad to have the King and his court to lodge
with him at that time. And they of Corbin were also glad, for this was a
very noble excellent place in which to lodge and all the other castles
and inns nigh to Astolat were at that time very full of folk.

So it came about that King Pelles and his court remained several days at
that place, and in all that time Sir Launcelot kept himself ever in
retreat, lest some one with whom he was acquainted should chance to see
him and know him who he was. To this end, and that he might conceal
himself, Sir Launcelot was most often with the court of the Lady Elaine
the Fair and not often with the court of the King.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine and Sir Launcelot talk together._]

Now the Lady Elaine was not very well pleased with this, for she held
Sir Launcelot in great admiration above all other men, and she would
fain have had him stand forth with the other knights who were there, so
that his nobility might be manifested amongst them. So one day whilst
they two sat together in the garden of the castle of that Earl (the
court of the Lady Elaine and several lords of the King's court being
near by playing at ball) the Lady Elaine spake her mind to Sir Launcelot
upon this point saying: "Fair Sir, will you not take part in this noble
and knightly tournament the day after to-morrow?"

To this Sir Launcelot replied, "Nay, Lady."

She said to him: "Why will you not so, Messire? Methinks with your
prowess you might win yourself very great credit thereat."

Then for a little Sir Launcelot was silent, and after a little he said
to her: "Lady, do you disremember that I call myself le Chevalier
Malfait? That name I have assumed because my friends and my kinsmen deem
that I have done amiss in a certain thing. Now, since they are of that
opinion I am very greatly displeased with them, and would fain avoid
them until I am justified in their sight. At this tournament there will
be many of those who knew me aforetime and I would fain avoid them if I
am able to do so. Wherefore it is that I am disinclined to take part in
the battle which the King hath ordained."

After this they were silent for a little, and then by and by the Lady
Elaine said: "Sir Knight Malfait, I would I knew who you really are and
who are your fellows of whom you speak." At that Sir Launcelot smiled
and said: "Lady, I may not tell you at this present who I am nor who
they are, but only that they are very good worthy knights and
gentlemen." "Aye," quoth the Lady Elaine, "that I may very well
believe."

So at that time no more was said concerning this matter but ever the
mind of the Lady Elaine rested upon that thing--to wit, that Sir
Launcelot should take part in that tournament aforesaid. So at another
time when they were alone together, she said: "Sir Knight Malfait, I
would that thou wouldst do me a great favor." Sir Launcelot said: "Lady,
ask whatsoever thou wilt, and if it is in my power to do that thing, and
if it is according to the honor of my knighthood, then I shall assuredly
do whatsoever thou dost ask of me."

"Sir," quoth the Lady Elaine, "this is what I would fain ask of thee if
I might have it. It is that thou wouldst suffer me to purvey thee a suit
of strange armor so that thy friends might not know thee therein, and
that thou wouldst go to the tournament disguised in that wise. And I
would that thou wouldst wear my favor at that tournament so that I might
have glory in that battle because of thee."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot will take part in the tournament._]

Then Sir Launcelot sighed very deeply, and he looked steadfastly at the
Lady Elaine, and he said: "Lady, you know not how great a thing it is
you ask of my pride, for I would fain remain unknown as I am at this
present. And you know not what it is you ask of my knighthood, for wit
ye it must be against my one-time friends and companions-in-arms that
you would have me contend. So it is that if I should have success in
such an affair as this, whatsoever credit I should win therein shall
bring discredit unto them. Moreover, I must tell you that never in all
of my life have I worn the favor of any lady, having vowed my knighthood
to one who is a queen and the wife of a king. Natheless, though all this
is so, yet far be it from me to refuse a boon when it is you who ask it
of me. For I speak the truth, Lady, when I say that I would freely lay
down my life at your bidding. So in this case, maugre all that I have
said, I will even do as you ask me, wherefore, if you will purvey me
that armor of which you speak, I will do your will in all ways that I am
able."

So spake Sir Launcelot, and thereat the Lady Elaine smiled upon him in
such wise and with such great loving-kindness that it was as though both
her joy and her great love stood revealed in the midst of that smile.
Quoth she: "Assuredly I shall gain great honor and glory at thy hands.
For I believe that thou art indeed one of the very greatest and foremost
knights in all of the world, as well as the perfect peer of all noble
gentlemen."

Now the Earl, the lord of that castle, had a son hight Sir Tyre, who was
then lying abed, ill of a flux, and the armor of Sir Tyre was at that
place. So the Lady Elaine went to the Earl and she besought him to lend
her that armor for the use of Sir Launcelot, and the Earl listened to
her and gave it to her.

So she had the armor of Sir Tyre brought to Sir Launcelot and thus the
Lady Elaine purveyed him in all wise for that tournament so that no one
might know him who he was.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine giveth her sleeve to Sir Launcelot._]

Then, after all this had been accomplished, the Lady Elaine came to the
chamber where Sir Launcelot was, and her brother Sir Lavaine was with
her. And the Lady bore in her hand a sleeve of flame-colored satin very
richly bedight with many pearls of great price. And she said to Sir
Launcelot: "I beseech you to take this sleeve, Sir Knight, and I beseech
you that you wear it as a favor for my sake."

Then Sir Launcelot smiled very kindly upon the Lady Elaine and he said,
"Will this give you pleasure?" and she said, "Yea." Then Sir Launcelot
smiled again and he said, "It shall be in all things as you will have
it." So he took the sleeve, and he wound it about the crest of the
helmet he was to wear at the tournament, and the sleeve formed a wreath
of satin about the helmet like to a wreath of fire. And the pearls upon
the wreath were like to drops of dew as you behold them of an early
morning. Wherefore because of the brightness of that wreath and because
of the pearls upon it, the favor of the Lady Elaine was of such a sort
that all the world could not but see it what it was. And so Sir
Launcelot accepted the favor of the Lady Elaine the Fair.

Then after Sir Launcelot had thus accepted that favor, Sir Lavaine spake
and said: "Sir Knight Malfait, I beseech you that you will take me with
you unto this tournament as your knight-companion. For I believe that in
your company I shall assuredly gain me great honor and much glory and
renown, wherefore I ask of you that you will grant me this great
courtesy."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot accepteth Sir Lavaine as his companion._]

Then Sir Launcelot looked upon Sir Lavaine and smiled upon him and loved
him exceedingly, and he said to Sir Lavaine: "Friend, I will gladly
accept thee as my companion-in-arms, and I believe in very sooth that it
would be hard for me to find any one whom I would be better pleased to
have with me at such a time." And so it was that Sir Lavaine also had
his will with Sir Launcelot.

Then Sir Launcelot turned him to the Lady Elaine and said, "Lady, see
you this shield and this armor of mine?" And she said, "Yea, I see
them."

Sir Launcelot said: "Lady, this shield is a very precious thing to me,
for it and all mine armor was given to me by a very wonderful lady who
is not of this world in which we mortals dwell. Since that time she gave
mine armor to me I have sought ever and in all wise to use those
defences as became a gentleman so that whatever mark of battle there
should be upon them there should be no mark of dishonor to mar their
brightness. Now I beseech you for to take this shield and that armor to
your maiden bower and to hold them there in trust for me and that as
sacredly as though they were your very life." Therewith Sir Launcelot
gave the Lady Elaine his shield and he said: "I charge you, Lady, for to
let no one touch this shield or to meddle with it until I return hither
to reclaim it and mine armor of you." And the Lady Elaine said: "It
shall be as you say, and I shall hold this shield and this armor as
sacred as my life."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine depart for Astolat._]

So these matters were all brought to settlement and the next day Sir
Launcelot in the armor of Sir Tyre, and Sir Lavaine in his own armor,
rode out from the castle of that Earl and away from that place and so
betook their way toward Astolat.

Now it chanced that same day that two very worthy knights of King
Arthur's court were upon that road on which Sir Launcelot and Sir
Lavaine travelled to Astolat, and these two knights were Sir Gawaine and
Sir Mador de la Porte. With these were several lords who paid homage and
respect to them, and all that party stood beneath the shade of several
trees nigh to a water-mill where it was very cool and pleasant. And some
of those who were there sat upon their horses, and some had dismounted
therefrom and were lying in the cool and pleasant grass beneath the
shade.

Then Sir Gawaine perceived where Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine came
riding and he said to those who were with him: "Behold yonder two
knights coming hitherward. Now I am of a mind that Sir Mador de la Porte
and I shall try a fall with them, so stand ye by and see what
happeneth."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Mador bespeak Sir Launcelot and Sir
Lavaine._]

So Sir Gawaine and Sir Mador took horse and rode a little forward and
met the two and saluted them very courteously, and Sir Launcelot and Sir
Lavaine saluted those others in like manner. Then Sir Gawaine said:
"Messires, I pray ye tell me who ye are and whither ye go upon this
pass."

Now Sir Launcelot knew very well who those two knights were because of
the devices upon their shields. Wherefore he changed his voice a little
when he answered Sir Gawaine so that Sir Gawaine should not know him.
And he said: "Messire, I know not by what right ye demand such knowledge
of us, nevertheless I may tell you that I am called le Chevalier
Malfait, and this, my comrade, is hight Sir Lavaine of Corbin. As for
our journey and its purpose, I may furthermore tell you that we intend,
God willing, to enter the tournament at Astolat to-morrow, in which
friendly battle you also, doubtless, intend to take a part."

Then Sir Gawaine said: "Tell me, Sir Knight Malfait, will you and your
companion try a fall with me and my companions-in-arms?"

Now Sir Launcelot had no very great relish for such an encounter as that
for he feared by some hap he should betray himself who he was. Yet he
wist that he must accept the challenge of Sir Gawaine, wherefore after a
little while of silence he said: "Sir Knight, we two would fain go our
way in peace, but an it cannot be otherwise we must needs accept your
challenge. But will you not let be and suffer us to pass onward?"

"Well," said Sir Gawaine, "this is a strange thing that you should
pretend to aspire to that tournament of to-morrow and yet have no heart
to meet in friendly tilt two knights whom you encounter upon the way."

"Sir," quoth Sir Launcelot, "we fear you not in any wise, wherefore,
make yourselves ready in God's name, and we upon our side will do our
endeavor."

[Sidenote: _The four knights run a tilt._]

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine is overthrown._]

So Sir Gawaine and Sir Mador de la Porte made themselves ready as Sir
Launcelot had advised, and when they were in all ways prepared they
withdrew to a little distance so as to have a good course to run. Then
when all were ready for that encounter, each knight shouted and set
spurs to his horse, and all four thundered together with such violence
that the ground trembled beneath them. So they met in the middle of the
course and so furious was the meeting of those four good knights that
you might have heard the roar of that encounter for half a mile away or
more. In that encounter both Sir Lavaine and Sir Mador broke each his
spear upon his enemy and neither of them suffered a fall. But Sir
Gawaine had no such fortune for his spear broke into splinters unto the
very truncheon thereof, and the spear of Sir Launcelot held, so that Sir
Gawaine was lifted out from his saddle and flung upon the ground with
such violence that he rolled thrice or four times over and over before
he ceased to fall.

Now those who looked upon that encounter were well assured that Sir
Gawaine would easily overthrow his opponent into the dust, for Sir
Gawaine was held to be one of the very greatest knights in all of the
world. Wherefore it was that when they beheld how violently he had been
flung to earth by that unknown knight against whom he had tilted, they
were astonished beyond all bounds of wonderment.

But Sir Mador de la Porte, when he beheld how Sir Gawaine lay there in
the dust as though dead, voided his horse and ran to the fallen knight
where he lay. And he raised the umbril of Sir Gawaine's helmet, and lo!
the face of Sir Gawaine was like to the face of one who was dead. And at
first Sir Mador thought that he was dead, but after a while Sir Gawaine
sighed and then sighed again, and thereupon Sir Mador knew that he was
not dead, but in a swoon from the violence of the fall. And Sir Mador
rejoiced very greatly that no more ill had come of that encounter.

Then Sir Mador turned to Sir Launcelot, and cried out: "Sir Knight
Malfait, go thy way in the fiend's name. For indeed thou art well named
Malfait, seeing what an evil thing it is that thou hast done to this
worshipful knight. For wit you that this is none other than Sir Gawaine,
the nephew of King Arthur himself, whom you have overthrown; and had you
slain him, as at first I believed you had, it would have been a very ill
thing for you. Moreover, you are to know that this knight was to have
been the leader of all those upon King Arthur's side in the battle
to-morrow-day, but now God knows if he will be able to wear armor again
for many days to come. Wherefore go thy way and trouble us no more."

Quoth Sir Launcelot: "Well, Sir Knight, this quarrel was altogether of
your own seeking, and not of ours. Wherefore, if ill hath befallen this
worshipful knight, it is of his own devising and not of mine."

But Sir Mador only cried out the more vehemently: "Go your way! Go your
way, and leave us in peace!" And thereupon Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine
drew their bridle reins and set heel to horse and rode away from that
place, leaving Sir Mador and those others who were there to cherish Sir
Gawaine and to revive him from his swoon as best they might.

[Sidenote: _Sir Bernard of Astolat followeth Sir Launcelot and Sir
Lavaine._]

Now there was among those knights who were with Sir Gawaine and Sir
Mador a certain old and very worthy knight of Astolat, hight Sir
Bernard, surnamed of Astolat. Seeing Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine
departing in that wise, Sir Bernard hied him after them and when he had
come up with them he saluted them, and said, "Messires, I pray ye tell
me where it is ye lodge this night."

Sir Launcelot said: "Fair Sir, we know not where we lodge for we go to
seek such lodging as we may find in Astolat."

Sir Bernard said: "You will find no lodging in Astolat this night, for
all places are full. Now I pray ye that you will lodge with me, for I
have a very good and comely house and I shall be greatly honored for to
have you lodge with me. For I make my vow, Sir Knight Malfait, that
never saw I such a buffet as that which you gave to Sir Gawaine anon.
Nor do I believe that ever Sir Launcelot of the Lake himself could have
done more doughtily than you did in that encounter. Wherefore, I think
that you will win you great glory to-morrow-day, and that I shall have
due worship if so be that ye two shall have lodged with me over this
night."

Then Sir Launcelot laughed, and he said to Sir Bernard: "Well, Sir
Knight, I give you gramercy for your courtesy, and so we will gladly
take up our inn with you until the time of the tournament. Only this I
demand, that we shall be privily lodged apart from any one else, for we
wish it that we shall not be known until to-morrow and after this
tournament shall have transpired."

"Messire," quoth Sir Bernard, "it shall all be as you desire."

So those three rode on their way together until they had come to Astolat
and to the habitation of Sir Bernard of Astolat.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot lodgeth with Sir Bernard._]

[Sidenote: _King Arthur knoweth Sir Launcelot._]

Now the habitation of Sir Bernard was a very fair house over against the
castle of Astolat where King Arthur and his court had taken up their
inn. And there was a high terraced garden belonging to the castle of
Astolat, and the garden overlooked the garden of the house of Sir
Bernard. That day it chanced that King Arthur was walking back and forth
in that terraced garden where the air blew cool over the plats of
flowers and grass. As the King so walked he chanced to look down over
the edge of the terrace into the garden of Sir Bernard's house, and at
that time Sir Launcelot was walking privily in the garden for to refresh
himself, and no one was with him. At that time Sir Launcelot had laid
aside his armor for the sake of coolness and was walking in light
raiment and bareheaded to the air, wherefore it befell that King Arthur
immediately knew him who he was.

Then the King was much astonished to see Sir Launcelot in that place,
and he said to himself, "What does Sir Launcelot here?" And at first the
King was of a mind to send word to Sir Launcelot, bidding him to come to
where he was. But afterward he bethought him that mayhap Sir Launcelot
would be displeased at being thus summoned to declare himself. For the
King perceived that Sir Launcelot did not choose to be known to any one
at that time. So King Arthur said to himself: "Well, let be! To-morrow,
I dare say, Sir Launcelot will declare himself in such a wise as shall
astonish a great many knights who shall do battle against him upon
yonder meadow-of-battle. Wherefore, let him e'en declare himself in his
own fashion."

Thus it was that King Arthur communed within himself. Wherefore he did
not betray the presence of Sir Launcelot to anybody at that time, but
kept that matter shut in his own bosom.

Nevertheless, when he had come again to where was his court, he said to
the knights there assembled: "Messires, I have this day beheld a certain
knight who hath come hither who will I believe play his play with the
best of you all at the jousts to-morrow." The knights who were there
said to the King: "We pray you, Lord, tell us who that knight is, so
that we may pay him such regard as he is worthy of." "Nay," quoth King
Arthur, "I will not tell you at this time who is that knight, but haply
you will know to-morrow who he is."

Then one of the knights who was there said: "Mayhap that was the knight
who overthrew Sir Gawaine this day in the highroad over against the town
a little distance away. He calleth himself le Chevalier Malfait, and
hath for his companion a youthful knight hight Sir Lavaine, the King's
son of Corbin."

Then King Arthur laughed, and said, "Like enough that was he." And so
the King departed into his lodging, leaving all those knights much
wondering who that knight could be of whom the King spoke to them.

       *       *       *       *       *

Thus it was that Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine came to Astolat, and now
followeth the history of that famous bout at arms so far as it affected
Sir Launcelot of the Lake and his companion-at-arms, Sir Lavaine of
Corbin. For in that affair at arms, as you shall presently hear tell,
Sir Lavaine gained him such great glory and renown that thereafter he
was regarded as one of the great heroes of chivalry, and by and by
received that crowning honor of becoming a knight-companion of the Round
Table.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine overlook the Field of
Astolat:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Fourth

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine fought in the tournament at Astolat.
How Sir Launcelot was wounded in that affair, and how Sir Lavaine
brought him unto a place of safety._


[Sidenote: _Of the lists at Astolat._]

So it is true that in these days one may not hope ever to behold a sight
like to the field-of-battle at Astolat upon Lady's Day Assumption, when
that tournament proclaimed by King Arthur was about to be fought before
the eyes of the King. For upon that morning--which was wonderfully
bright and clear and warm--the entire green meadow was altogether
covered over with a moving throng of people of all degrees--lords and
ladies, knights and dames, esquires, burghers, yeomen and
tradesfolk--all moving, each toward some stand from whence he might view
the battle that was about to take place. And here were gay attires and
bright colors and the fluttering of silk and the flash and sparkle of
shining baubles, and because of the sheen and sparkle of all these the
whole world appeared to be quick with life and motion.

Yet ever by little and little this confusion of many people pushing
themselves hither and thither resolved itself to order as one by one
that multitude took seat and brought itself to quietness. And so it came
to pass at last that the field prepared for battle was cleared of all
save a few who lingered and whom the guardians of the lists pushed back
into their places.

[Sidenote: _The knights-contestant enter the field-of-battle._]

Then, all being thus brought to order, the Marshal of the Tourney blew
his trumpet, and straightway there entered upon this side of that wide
meadow and upon that side thereof the two companies of knights who were
to contend the one against the other.

Then, lo! how the sunlight flashed upon shining armor! How it catched
the pens and bannerets so that they twinkled at tips of lances like to
sparks of fire! How war-horses neighed for love of battle! How armor
clashed and shield plates rang as those goodly companies of knights
brought themselves by degrees into array for battle!

Upon the one end of the meadow there gathered the knights-champion who
were of the party of King Arthur, and the chiefs of that party were the
King of Scots and the King of Ireland, and with them were many knights
of the Round Table, much renowned both in song and battle. And the
number of knights of that company were two hundred and ten in all.

[Sidenote: _Of the two parties-contestant._]

Upon the other end of the meadow of battle there assembled the party of
those who were to withstand the party of King Arthur; and the chiefs of
that company were the King of North Wales and the King of an Hundred
Knights, and the King of Northumberland and Galahaut the High Prince.
And though there were no knights of the Round Table in that company, yet
there were many champions of very great renown and high credit in courts
of chivalry. And the number of that party were two hundred thirty and
two.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine overlook the field of
Astolat._]

Now near to a certain part of the field-of-battle the trees of the
forest came down close to the meadow, and made, as it were, a green wall
of foliage circumjacent to that part of the field. Here, beneath the
shade of the green trees of the forest where it was cool and shady and
very still, Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine had taken stand at a certain
place whence they could look out upon those two parties of knights there
gathered in battle array. And, that while, the eyes of Sir Lavaine shone
like sparks of light and his cheeks were flaming red, like as though
they were on fire, and his breath was thick and stifled when he breathed
it. For this was the first great battle in which he had ever taken a
part and he wist not what was to befall him in that affair at arms.

But that same while Sir Launcelot neither moved nor spake but sat his
horse like to a statue made of iron; calm and steadfast and gazing very
steadily out upon that plain before him.

Then Sir Lavaine spake in a voice wonderfully high and clear. "Messire,"
said he, "upon what side do you will that we take part in this battle?"

Quoth Sir Launcelot: "To neither party do I yet will that we shall join
us. Rather let us wait a while and observe the issue of this battle, and
when we behold that one side is about to lose in the battle then will we
join with that side. For if so be we aid to bring victory out of defeat
for that party, then shall our credit and our glory be magnified in that
same degree." And Sir Lavaine said, "Sir, thou speakest with great
wisdom."

Then, as those two watched in that wise, they beheld that three
knights-champion came forth from one side and that three champions came
forth from the other side and they wist that these six champions were to
engage man to man and so to test the strength of this side and of that
ere the two arrays should join in battle-royal. And Sir Launcelot knew
these six champions very well and he declared to Sir Lavaine who they
were. To wit, he declared that the champions upon King Arthur's side
were the King of Scots and the King of Ireland and Sir Palamydes, and
that the knights of the other party were the King of Northumberland, and
the King of an Hundred Knights, and Galahaut the High Prince.

[Sidenote: _How the battle openeth._]

Then, even as Sir Launcelot was telling Sir Lavaine who were these six
champions who thus stood forth to undertake battle against one another,
the herald blew his trumpet very loud and shrill. And therewith, in an
instant of time, each knight had set spurs to his horse, and each horse
leaped forward from his station and rushed forward, and so they came,
three knights against three, like to thunderbolts launched against one
another. So they met together in the midst of the course with a crash of
splintering wood and a roar of armor that might easily have been heard a
mile away. In that meeting Sir Palamydes and Sir Galahaut the High
Prince smote down one another into the dust. And the King of an Hundred
Knights smote down King Angus of Ireland with such terrible violence
that he lay like dead upon the ground and had to be borne away out of
the field by his esquires and could not again do battle that day. As to
the King of Northumberland and the King of Scots, they broke each his
lance upon the other without suffering a fall. So that first encounter
was somewhat to the advantage of the party against King Arthur.

[Sidenote: _Of the grand assault at arms._]

Then all who beheld that noble encounter of knight against knight
shouted aloud in acclaim, and the shout of that vast acclaim was like
the multitudinous roaring of a strong wind in the forest. Thereupon in
the midst of all that roaring the herald blew his trump again and
therewith the two parties contestant rushed the one upon the other, the
earth shaking and trembling beneath that charge like to an earthquake.
So in another moment they met together in such an uproar of iron and
cracking of splintered wood that the ears of those who heard that
meeting were stunned with the crash thereof. Then all the air was full
of dust and splinters of wood and scraps and shreds of silk and of
plumes. Anon, out of a thick red cloud of dust there arose the roar of a
mighty battle; the shouts of men, the neighing of horses, the crash of
blows and the groans of those who fell. At times, some knight would
come forth out of the press reeling in the saddle and all red from some
wound he had got. At other times, a party of esquires would run into
that cloud, presently to come forth again bearing with them a wounded
knight whom they had rescued. At other parts of the field there were
knights armed with spears who ran tilt against one another, and ever and
anon a knight would be flung from the saddle or else horse and knight
would roll together upon the earth all in a smother of dust.

So for a while the battle was toward and yet no one could see how it
went. For what with all that dust and the contending of single
champions, no one could tell whether it inclined to this side or to
that.

But after a while the dust lifted a little, and those who contended
became fewer upon one side than upon the other and so stinted the
fierceness of their battle.

Then it was that those who looked down upon that battle beheld that the
party of King Arthur was pushing their opponents back, little by little,
toward the barriers upon their side of the field (and if so be they were
pushed altogether against that barrier then was their battle lost for
good).

Then Sir Launcelot said to Sir Lavaine: "Behold yonder company of noble
knights, how that they hold together and stand against their enemies in
spite of that defeat which must certainly fall upon them in the end."

"I see it," said Sir Lavaine, "and have great pity for them."

"Hast thou so?" said Sir Launcelot. "Then let us take side with that
side which is so sore bestead, for I believe that if you will help me a
little we may well aid them and maybe stay the ill-fortune that seems
like to overwhelm them."

"Sir," quoth Sir Lavaine, "spare not, and I upon my side will do the
best that I am able for to help you."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine take part in the battle._]

So with that Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine rode out from the forest
wherein they had sheltered themselves, and they set their spears in rest
and they drove forward to where those knights were doing combat. And
they drove faster and faster forward until they drove full tilt into the
thickest of the press.

The history of these things saith that in this charge and in other
charges that he made in that onset, Sir Launcelot smote down Sir
Brandiles, and Sir Sagramore, and Sir Dodinas, and Sir Kay, and Sir
Griflet, and the history saith that he smote down all those good knights
of the Round Table with one spear ere that spear burst asunder. And the
same history saith that Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Lucian the botteler
and Sir Bedivere with one spear in that charge and that then that spear
also was burst into pieces. And the history saith that Sir Launcelot got
him another spear and that Sir Lavaine did likewise and that thereafter
they two charged again as they had done before. And it saith that in
this second assault Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Agravaine, and Sir
Gaheris and Sir Modred and Sir Melyot of Logres, and that Sir Lavaine
smote down Sir Hozanna le Cure Hardy, and that after that those second
spears were burst in assault as the first had been.

Then Sir Lavaine withdrew a little to get another spear, but by that
time the madness of battle was upon Sir Launcelot so that he drew his
sword and he ran into the thickest of the press and smote upon the right
hand and the left hand with all his might and main so that in a
wonderfully short pass he had smitten down Sir Safir and Sir Epynogris
and Sir Galleron. And so terrible were the buffets he gave that all who
were nigh to him drew away from him from fear of the terrible blows
which he bestowed upon whomsoever came within his reach.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine taketh joy in the battle._]

By now all who looked upon that field were aware of how terrible a
battle it was that the knight of the red sleeve fought against his
enemies, wherefore they shouted aloud with a great voice of outcry and
loud acclaim. And the Lady Elaine the Fair beheld how her champion did
battle, and seeing him she could not contain the passion of her joy, but
laughed and wept and trembled for that joy. And she catched King Pelles
ever by the arm and cried out to him, "Lord! Lord! see what our champion
doeth and what my brother doeth!" and King Pelles said, "I see! I see!"
and held tight hold of the rail of the dais before him.

Then King Arthur where he sat said to those about him: "Behold yonder
champion, what battle it is he doeth. Saw ye ever a better battle than
that?" And they say, "Nay, never so great a battle!"

But when Sir Gawaine beheld the flame-colored sleeve that the champion
wore about his helmet, he said to King Arthur, "Yonder knight is he who
cast me down yesterday into the dust of the highway over against the
town," and Sir Gawaine said, "because of that and because of the battle
he now doeth, I would deem yonder knight to be none other than Sir
Launcelot of the Lake. And yet it cannot be Sir Launcelot, for this
knight weareth the sleeve of some lady as a favor upon his helmet, and
all the world knoweth that Sir Launcelot would never wear the favor of
any lady in such a wise as that."

[Sidenote: _Of the pause in battle._]

Meantime the battle was stayed for a little while, for at that time it
seemed as though neither horse nor man could do any more for that
while. Yet though the battle was stayed, nevertheless each knight braced
himself for a greater battle than that which had gone before. For all
knew that now indeed the time had come when either one party or the
other must win that battle. So in that pause of battle Sir Launcelot and
Sir Lavaine each chose him a good strong new spear of ash wood, and each
drank a cup of lusty spiced wine for to refresh his strength.

And, ere they began to battle afresh, Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Ector de
Maris and Sir Lionel upon the other side called together such kindred of
their blood as were upon that field: to wit, Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir
Bleoberis and Sir Aliduke, Sir Galihadan, and Sir Bellanger--all these
knights being of Sir Launcelot's kin. These say to one another: "If we
do not overthrow yonder single knight who fights so wonderfully against
us we shall certes lose this battle. For never knight fought so unless
it was Sir Launcelot. For lo! he himself is the single bulwark against
us in this battle."

So it was that these kinsmen of Sir Launcelot ordained it that they
should join themselves together for to overthrow that knight by main
strength if need be.

[Sidenote: _His kinsmen take battle against Sir Launcelot._]

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot is wounded._]

Then anon the battle was called again and anon each side hurled itself
against the other side, well knowing that at this time it must be else
to conquer or else to lose. And in that charge the kinsmen of Sir
Launcelot hurled themselves against that knight of the red sleeve and
against those who were by him. And Sir Bors and Sir Ector and Sir Lionel
drave three at once at Sir Launcelot and he drave against them--one
against three. But so heavy was the might of the assault of those three,
that they overthrew the horse of Sir Launcelot by the weight of their
three horses so that the horse of Sir Launcelot and Sir Launcelot
himself were cast down upon the earth beneath the feet of the horses of
those who charged against him. And in that charge the spear of Sir Bors
smote Sir Launcelot in the side, and the point of the spear burst
through the armor of Sir Launcelot and pierced deep into his side.
Therewith the head of the spear brake from the truncheon and remained
thrust deep into the side of Sir Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot groaned
aloud, deeming that he had got his death wound.

So Sir Launcelot lay upon the ground and could not rise and he would
maybe have been beaten to death beneath the feet of the horses. But Sir
Lavaine beheld how it was with him, whereat he shouted aloud with a
great voice and he and all that party rushed to the aid of Sir
Launcelot. And Sir Lavaine smote down the King of Scots at one blow
from out of his saddle. And he turned the horse of the King of Scots to
where Sir Launcelot lay. And he stood above Sir Launcelot and defended
him against the assault of all those others who were around about, and
so, maugre their vehement assaults, he brought Sir Launcelot to horse
again.

Then Sir Launcelot was clean wode because of the passion of agony he
suffered from that grievous wound he had got. Wherefore he drew his
sword and he stood up in his stirrups and he smote right and left like a
madman. And he smote down one after the other Sir Lionel and Sir Bors de
Ganis, and he smote Sir Bleoberis such a buffet that he fell down to the
earth in a swoon as if he had been dead. And in that time Sir Lavaine
smote down Sir Bellanger, and two other knights of worship and renown.
Then Sir Launcelot turned him about and smote Sir Blamor down from off
his horse and with that Sir Ector made at him. But Sir Launcelot was
blind with his passion of battle and of pain, and he wist not who that
was who came against him. Wherefore he turned upon Sir Ector and he
smote him so dreadful terrible a buffet, that the head of Sir Ector hung
down low upon the neck of his horse. Then Sir Launcelot catched Sir
Ector and rushed off the helm from the head of Sir Ector with intent to
slay him, for at that time he was so mad that he wist not where he was
or what he did.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot spareth Sir Ector._]

Then he beheld the face of his brother Sir Ector, and he beheld that
face all white and wan from the blow he himself had struck, and he
beheld his brother's cheeks all white and streaked with blood, and
therewith his senses returned to him, and in that instant he wist where
he was and what he did. Thereupon he cried out in a great and terrible
voice: "Woe! Woe! Woe is me! what is it that I do!" And therewith he
rushed away from that place where Sir Ector was, and he rushed into the
thickest of the press, striking right and left like a madman in fury.

And it stands recorded that all in all in that battle Sir Launcelot
struck down thirty knights with his own hand, and that sixteen of those
thirty were knights of the Round Table. And it is recorded that Sir
Lavaine struck down fourteen knights and that six of those knights were
knights of the Round Table. And it was because of Sir Launcelot and Sir
Lavaine that their party prevailed in that battle. For, because
beholding how they fought, their party took great heart and added
strength to strength and so drave their enemies back across the
meadow-of-battle until they were pushed back against the barriers of
their side of the meadow and so the battle was won.

And thus that was achieved that else had been lost had not Sir
Launcelot and Sir Lavaine lent their aid to that party with whom they
joined in battle against the party of King Arthur.

       *       *       *       *       *

But Sir Launcelot sat wounded nigh to death. Yea, he deemed that the
sickness and the sweat of death was even then upon him, for an exceeding
faintness overclouded his spirit. To him where he sat came the King of
North Wales and the King of Northumberland and the King of an Hundred
Knights and these say to him: "Sir, may God bless you, for without your
aid, and that of your companion this day had certes been lost to us."
And then they said: "Now we pray you that you will come with us to King
Arthur so that you may receive at his hands the prize you have so
worshipfully deserved." Thus they spake very cheerfully, for not one of
those worthies knew that Sir Launcelot had been so sorely wounded in the
battle he had fought.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot would fain depart._]

Then Sir Launcelot spake in a very weak voice, so that it sounded like
to one speaking from a very great distance away. And he said: "Fair
lords, if I have won credit in this I have paid a fair price for it, for
I am sore hurt and wist not what to do. Now this I pray of you that you
will suffer me to depart from this place, for I am in great pain and
would fain go away from here to somewhere I may have aid and comforts."

Then those three kings would have had him go to a fair pavilion for to
have his wound searched and dressed, but ever he besought them to suffer
him to depart. So they suffered him, and he rode very slowly away from
that place, and Sir Lavaine rode with him.

       *       *       *       *       *

So it was that Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine did battle at that famous
tournament at Astolat as I have told you.

And now if you would know how it fared with Sir Launcelot after he rode
away from that place, wounded as aforesaid, you shall immediately hear
of it in that which followeth.

[Illustration: Sir Gawaine knoweth the shield of Sir Launcelot]




[Illustration]

Chapter Fifth

_How Sir Launcelot escaped wounded into the forest, and how Sir Gawaine
discovered to the court of King Pelles who was le Chevalier Malfait._


So Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine rode away from that field of battle.
And they rode together into the forest, and all that while Sir Launcelot
contained his suffering to himself so that Sir Lavaine wist not how
grievous was his wound nor how great was the passion of agony that he
then endured because of that hurt. But after they had ridden a mile or
two or three into the woodland, Sir Launcelot could no longer thus
contain himself, wherefore he let droop his head very low and he groaned
with great dolor. Then Sir Lavaine was aware that some grievous hurt
must have befallen Sir Launcelot. Wherefore he cried out: "Messire, I
fear me ye are sore hurt. Now tell me, I beseech you, how is it with
you?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot declareth his wound._]

Then Sir Launcelot groaned again and he said: "Woe is me! I suffer much
pain." And therewith he made to dismount from his horse and would have
fallen had not Sir Lavaine catched him and upheld him. After that Sir
Lavaine aided Sir Launcelot down from his horse, and Sir Launcelot
leaned against a tree of the forest, groaning as from the bottom of his
soul, and Sir Lavaine wist not what to do to help him. Then Sir
Launcelot turned his eyes, all faint and dim, upon Sir Lavaine, and he
said: "Oh, gentle knight, Sir Lavaine, for the mercy of God I beseech
you to pluck forth the blade of a spear that has pierced into my side,
for I suffer a great pang of torment."

Then Sir Lavaine was aware of what sort was that wound and he made haste
to strip off the body armor from Sir Launcelot. So, when that body armor
was thus removed, Sir Lavaine beheld a grievous wound where the blade of
the spear had pierced deep into the side of Sir Launcelot a little above
the midriff. And Sir Lavaine perceived that the blade of the spear was
yet in the wound and that the hurt was very deep. So beholding that
wound Sir Lavaine wept, and cried out: "Dear my Lord! Woe is me! I dare
not pull out that blade; for an I do so, I dread me sore that you will
die here in the forest ere aid can be brought to you and so it shall be
I who killed you."

"No matter," said Sir Launcelot, speaking very faint and with failing
breath. "Do as I bid you, for the point of that blade lieth near to my
heart and I suffer a great deal of pain from it."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine draweth for the steel._]

Then Sir Lavaine laid hold of the shaft of the spear, and he strove to
draw forth the blade from out Sir Launcelot's side, yet he could not do
so. And thereupon Sir Launcelot cried aloud in a very piercing voice,
"Spare not! Spare not! but pull forth that steel!" So with that Sir
Lavaine plucked again with all his might and he drew the steel forth
from out of the wound. And as the blade came forth from out of the
flesh, Sir Launcelot cried out again in a voice very loud and shrill,
saying, "God! God! that this should be!" And with that a great issue of
blood gushed out of the wound like a crimson fountain and Sir Launcelot
sank down upon the ground in a swoon that was like the swoon of death.

Then Sir Lavaine believed that he had assuredly slain Sir Launcelot,
wherefore he wept aloud with a great passion of grief, smiting his hands
together and crying, "Woe is me! For I have slain my dear lord!"
Thereupon he kneeled down beside Sir Launcelot and fell to feeling his
heart. And he perceived that the heart still beat but very faintly, and
so he wist that Sir Launcelot was not dead but only in a deadly swoon.

So Sir Lavaine turned Sir Launcelot where that the wind blew upon him
and after a while Sir Launcelot opened his eyes again. Then with his
sight all swimming he beheld Sir Lavaine kneeling beside him weeping,
and he said, speaking in a voice very weak and faint, "Lavaine, am I yet
alive?" And Sir Lavaine said, "Yea, Lord." Sir Launcelot said, "Then
bear me away from this place." And Sir Lavaine said, "Whither shall I
take you?" Sir Launcelot said: "Listen, Friend, bear me away into the
forest to the westward of here. For after a while to the westward of
this place you shall find a forest path that runs across your way. And
you shall take that path toward the right hand and so you will come
after another while to the hut of an hermit of the forest. Bring me to
that holy man; for if any one can cure me of this hurt he alone can do
so." Sir Lavaine said: "Lord, how shall I take you such a journey as
that, so that you shall not die?" Sir Launcelot replied: "I know not how
you shall take me, but this I know: that if you take me not to that
place I shall certes die here before your eyes in this forest."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine beareth Sir Launcelot thence._]

So Sir Lavaine, weeping, made a litter of straight young trees and he
laid his cloak upon the litter and he bound the litter to the horses.
Then he lifted Sir Launcelot and laid him upon the litter as though it
were a little child whom he laid there. Thereafter he took the foremost
horse by the bridle, and so, led away into the forest whither Sir
Launcelot had bidden him to go.

So in that wise they travelled in the forest for a great while and by
and by night descended and the full moon arose all white and shining
into the sky. And it rose ever higher and higher and it shone down upon
the forest woodlands so that here it was all bright and there it was all
agloom with shadow; and anon Sir Lavaine, as he led the horses in that
wise, would walk in that silver silent light and anon he would be lost
in those shadows. And all that while Sir Launcelot lay so still that
several times Sir Lavaine thought haply he was dead. Then he would say,
"Sir, art thou dead?" And ever Sir Launcelot would answer, "Not yet."

Thus they travelled for a great while in that still forest (all so
silent and wonderful) and beneath the clear pale moonlight that caused
everything to appear like to an enchantment of stillness. So, somewhat
after the middle watch of the night, Sir Lavaine beheld before him a
little chapel built up against the rocks of a cliff of stone and beneath
the black and umbrageous foliage of a large oak tree. And the moonlight
shone down past the oak tree and bathed all the front of that little
chapel with pure white silvery light, so still and silent that the
chapel appeared as in a strange and singular picture as it were seen in
a dream.

[Sidenote: _They come to the forest chapel._]

Thither Sir Lavaine led the horses bearing between them the wounded
knight, whose face, as white as the moon above, was turned upward
against the sky. And when Sir Lavaine had come to the door of the chapel
he smote upon it with the butt of his lance; and he smote again, and
therewith the door was opened and there appeared in the doorway the
figure of an aged man with a long white beard like to snow for
whiteness. And that man was the hermit of the forest afore spoken of
several times in these histories.

Then when that reverend hermit beheld where Sir Launcelot lay in the
litter, so sorely wounded, he came to him and felt of his heart. So,
perceiving him to be alive, he aided Sir Lavaine to lift the wounded man
from the litter and to bear him into the hut and to lay him upon a soft
and fragrant couch of leaves and moss.

At that time Sir Launcelot was in a deep swoon like as though he were
dead; yet he was not dead, for after the hermit had bathed his face with
strong wine, and after he had set pungent herbs to his nostrils, by and
by Sir Launcelot revived so as to sigh very deep and to open his eyes.
And Sir Launcelot said, "Where am I? Am I still alive?" The hermit said,
"Yea, Messire." Sir Launcelot said, "I wist that maybe I was dead."

Then the hermit searched Sir Launcelot's wound and bathed it and put
unguents upon it and bound it about with bandages of linen and so Sir
Launcelot was put at ease. And after that Sir Launcelot fell into a deep
sleep so still and profound that it was like to the slumber of a little
child.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now whilst Sir Launcelot thus slept, Sir Lavaine and the hermit walked
in the moonlight upon a little lawn of grass before the door of the
hermitage. By and by the hermit said to Sir Lavaine: "Sir Knight, know
you who yonder knight is whom you brought hither to-night?" and Sir
Lavaine said, "Nay, I know not, save that he calleth himself le
Chevalier Malfait."

[Sidenote: _The hermit declareth Sir Launcelot's name._]

"Well," quoth the hermit, "God knows that all we who live upon His earth
may easily do ill in His sight; yet I dare to say that that yonder
knight hath done as little ill as any of us. Sir, you must know that he
is none other than Sir Launcelot of the Lake."

At this Sir Lavaine cried out aloud in great wonder, saying: "What is it
that you tell me! Lo! This knight hath dwelt at the court of my father,
King Pelles of Corbin, for more than a year yet no one there wist that
it was Sir Launcelot of the Lake whom we entertained in our midst."

"And yet," quoth the hermit, "that wounded man is none other than he."

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _King Arthur sits at feast._]

Now that same night whilst Sir Launcelot lay thus wounded in the
hermit's cell in the forest, a great feast was held at Astolat in the
presence of King Arthur. There were set fourteen tables in the great
hall of the castle of Astolat, and at those tables there sat down seven
hundred in all of the lords and knights and ladies of that land--kings,
earls, dukes, barons, knights, and esquires with their dames--fifty at
each table.

Then King Arthur looked all about but he beheld no sign of Sir
Launcelot, wherefore he said to the King of North Wales who sat nigh to
him: "Where is that worthy knight who was with you to-day--he who wore
about his helmet a flame-colored sleeve embroidered with fair pearls of
price?" To this the King of North Wales replied: "Lord, we know not
where that worshipful champion now is. For although we besought him to
come hither with us, and although we besought him to come to you so
that you might award unto him the prize of battle, yet he would not. For
he proclaimed himself to be wounded and craved our leave to withdraw
himself--wherefore we gave him that leave and he hied him away and we
know not whither he hath gone."

"Now I am right sorry for that," quoth King Arthur, "for I would rather
have that knight to feast with us than any one of all those who wear
spurs in this hall. And I am still more sorry to hear that so worshipful
a champion as that should have met with mishap in this battle of to-day.
Yet do I hope that wound which he suffered is not so sore but that he
will soon be well again."

"Lord," quoth the King of North Wales, "mefeareth that that noble
knight, whomsoever he may be, hath been very grievously hurt; for when
he spake to us his voice was passing weak and he appeared to suffer a
great deal of pain."

Then King Arthur was much grieved at what he heard and he said: "That is
sad news for me, for rather would I lose half of my kingdom than that
death should befall that noble champion." So said King Arthur, yet he
would not say who was that champion of the red sleeve, for he perceived
that Sir Launcelot would fain conceal his name, wherefore neither would
he betray it.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine grieveth._]

Now King Pelles sat not far from King Arthur's high seat at the table,
and the Lady Elaine the Fair sat with him and several lords of their
court were there also. These heard what was said between King Arthur and
the King of North Wales, and when the Lady Elaine the Fair heard how
that her champion was so sorely wounded that he was like to die, it was
as though a sword of terror had been thrust into her bosom; for hearing
those words she turned all as white as ashes and sank back into her
chair as though she would swoon.

Seeing her thus, all white and stricken, King Pelles said, "Daughter,
what ails thee?" and she said: "My father, did you not hear how that the
Chevalier Malfait hath been sorely wounded and mayhap may be even now
lying nigh to death?" "Yea, I did hear that," said King Pelles, "but
such is the chance of battle that every good knight is called upon to
face." Then the Lady Elaine cried out: "Father! Father! I am sorely
afraid that great ill hath befallen that noble knight. Now I pray thee,
let us go hence." King Pelles said, "Whither shall we go?" She said:
"Haply, my brother, Sir Lavaine, will bring him to the castle of the
earl our kinsman, wherefore I pray you, sir, let us make haste thither
and see if that be so." And King Pelles said, "It shall be as you will
have it."

So King Pelles besought leave of King Arthur to quit that feast, and
King Arthur gave him leave and King Pelles withdrew with the Lady Elaine
and all of his court from that company.

Yet when they returned to the castle of the earl, Sir Launcelot was not
there, for, as hath been told, he lay at that time in the hermit's cell
in the forest with his soul hanging in the scales betwixt life and
death.

[Sidenote: _King Arthur speaketh to Sir Gawaine._]

But King Arthur ever bore in mind how it was Sir Launcelot had been
wounded, wherefore, when that feast was over, he took Sir Gawaine aside,
and he said to him: "Sir, I would that you would seek out that knight of
the red sleeve where he is and bring him aid and succor." Sir Gawaine
said: "Lord, I pray you tell me; know you who is that knight? Methinks
he should be Sir Launcelot of the Lake, for I know of no other than he
who could do so nobly in battle as that champion did to-day. And yet, he
cannot be Sir Launcelot, for you wist very well that Sir Launcelot would
not wear the favor of any lady in such a wise as he wore the sleeve
about his helm to-day. So I know not who that knight can be."

"Well," said King Arthur, "when you have succored him then you will know
who he is."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine departs in search of Sir Launcelot._]

So Sir Gawaine withdrew from the court to seek that wounded champion.
And he remembered him that the knight had called himself le Chevalier
Malfait and that his companion-in-arms was Sir Lavaine, the son of King
Pelles of Corbin. So Sir Gawaine went to where were a number of knights
who knew of King Pelles, and he asked of these and of several others:
"Know ye, Messires, where I shall find King Pelles of Corbin?" They say
to him, "King Pelles is lodging at such and such a place." So Sir
Gawaine took horse and rode forth to the castle of the earl with whom
King Pelles had taken up his lodging, and King Pelles and his court were
still at that place. Then Sir Gawaine made demand to have speech with
King Pelles and therewith he was brought before the King where he was.
And the Lady Elaine the Fair was with King Pelles at that time, and Sir
Gawaine, when he beheld her, was amazed at her beauty.

Then Sir Gawaine said to King Pelles: "Fair Lord, can you tell me where
I shall find that wounded knight who called himself le Chevalier
Malfait?" King Pelles said, "Alas! I know not where he is." Sir Gawaine
said, "Lord, I pray you tell me who he is and what is his name." To this
King Pelles made reply: "Messire, I know not who that knight is saving
only that he came to us somewhat more than a year ago and that he slew
the great Dragon of Corbin; and that he was sorely wounded in his
encounter with the Dragon. Since that he hath abided at our court but
never have we known him by any other name than le Chevalier Malfait."

Then Sir Gawaine said: "Now I pray you tell me who was the lady who gave
her sleeve as a favor unto that knight, for no doubt she may know who he
is."

Then the Lady Elaine said: "Messire, it was I who gave my sleeve to him,
yet neither do I know who he is nor whence he came."

Sir Gawaine said: "Have you naught that you may know him by?" Whereunto
the Lady Elaine made reply: "Sir, by leave of our cousin, the earl of
this castle, I purveyed armor in which le Chavalier Malfait might do
battle in this tournament. Now when he quitted us he confided his armor
and his shield to me that I might hold them in safe keeping for him
until his return hither. Perhaps you can tell from his shield who is
that worshipful knight."

Sir Gawaine said: "I prithee, fair lady, tell me what device was painted
upon the shield?" And the Lady Elaine said: "I know not what was that
device for the shield was all encased in leather laced upon it and
painted white so that no one might see the device which it beareth."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine knoweth Sir Launcelot's shield._]

Then Sir Gawaine said, "Let me see that shield." And thereupon the Lady
Elaine sent her attendants to fetch the shield and they brought it to
her where they were. Then Sir Gawaine unlaced the leather from the
shield and drew the shield forth from its case, and lo! the shield shone
all dazzling bright, like to the sun in his glory. And Sir Gawaine
beheld the device upon the shield that it was a knight kneeling to a
lady upon a field of silver, and by that he knew (and several others who
were there knew) that it was the shield of Sir Launcelot. Thereupon Sir
Gawaine turned him to the Lady Elaine the Fair and he said: "Lady, it is
no wonder that this knight who hath worn thy favor should have done so
well in battle yesterday. For wit ye that this is the shield of Sir
Launcelot of the Lake and wit ye that it is to none other than he to
whom you gave your sleeve. So I wish you much joy of that great honor
that hath come to you through him; for you are to know that never hath
it ever been heard tell of before this that Sir Launcelot hath worn the
favor of any lady when he hath gone to battle."

But as for the Lady Elaine, when she knew that it was Sir Launcelot of
the Lake to whom she had given her sleeve, she was filled full of a
great joy and also with a sort of terror. For she had much joy that she
should have been so wonderfully honored by that noble knight Sir
Launcelot of the Lake, and yet when she bethought herself how she had
set her regard upon him who regarded no lady in the light of love she
was filled with a sort of terror because she forecast that nothing but
sorrow could come to her who had placed her heart and all her happiness
in the keeping of this knight, who had no heart or happiness to bestow
upon any lady in return.

But King Pelles was unaware of what thoughts lay within the heart of his
daughter. His spirit was greatly uplifted with the thought that Sir
Launcelot should have been a knight of his court for so long a while and
he said: "Messire, this is a very wonderful thing that you tell us, for
who would have thought that he was Sir Launcelot who has been with us
all this time? Now I know not any glory that could come to us that
should be greater than that; to wit, to have had that noble, worthy, and
glorious champion for to serve as a knight of our court. For now,
because of him, this court hath become famous for all time, that
otherwise would not have been known very far or for a very long while."

"Lord," said Sir Gawaine, "I do indeed give you great joy of this honor
that you have had through him; for I must tell you that yours is the
only court in all the world in which Sir Launcelot has ever served as
champion, saving only in the Court of King Arthur. Wherefore this is a
very singular honor that hath been visited upon you."

So spake King Pelles and so spake Sir Gawaine; but all that while the
Lady Elaine the Fair sat in silence saying naught to any one for her
soul was so deeply disturbed with joy and pride that Sir Launcelot
should have been her champion, and with fear and anxiety upon behalf of
her knight--that she wist not very well what was being done or said by
any of those who sat around about her.

That night Sir Gawaine abided at the Court of Corbin, and there was a
great feast prepared for his entertainment and all honor and regard was
paid to him that was possible to pay any man, even were that man a king.
And at that feast Sir Gawaine sat at the right hand of King Pelles and
the Lady Elaine sat upon the left hand of the King. And Sir Gawaine and
the King talked a very great deal together, yet ever the Lady Elaine sat
wrapped in silence, very distraught, passing by her food without tasting
of it. For always her thoughts dwelt upon Sir Launcelot as aforesaid,
and ever her heart was filled with anxiety as to what had befallen him
and where he was, and how it fared with him and who was cherishing him
in his sickness and his pain. Yea, even, she wondered whether he was
living or whether he was dead. Wherefore it was she knew not what passed
about her, but sat silent with her spirit remote and afar off from all
those who made merry and laughed and talked and jested so nigh to her.

For the soul in such times of trouble and anxiety is oftentimes very
solitary and silent; ever wrapped in its own broody thoughts like to a
spirit wrapped in a cloud of darkness that shutteth out from its sight
all the bright world of gayety and rejoicing that lieth around about it.
And so it was with the Lady Elaine at this season.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now, when the morning had come, Sir Gawaine departed from that place to
return to the King's court which was still at Astolat, there to bring
them news that it was Sir Launcelot who had fought in that battle and
that it was he who had been wounded.

[Sidenote: _Queen Guinevere is angered._]

But when that news came to Queen Guinevere she was filled full of a
great passion of anger and of indignation against Sir Launcelot and
against the Lady Elaine. For it is to be remembered that Sir Launcelot
had vowed his vows of service unto Queen Guinevere, and she upon her
part had accepted those vows and acknowledged him as her
knight-champion. Wherefore it was that finding he had worn the favor of
another lady in that wise, she was filled with a most consuming passion
of anger. At first she would not believe that it was true that Sir
Launcelot had worn the sleeve, and when she was convinced that it was
true she withdrew herself from the sight of all, and went and locked
herself into her chamber--and how it was with her in that place no one
could tell.

[Sidenote: _Queen Guinevere bespeaketh Sir Bors._]

Then, after a while, she sent for Sir Bors de Ganis, who was the nighest
of kin to Sir Launcelot of all those then at court. And the Queen said
to Sir Bors: "What is this your kinsman hath done, Messire? He hath
forsworn himself and is shamed of his knighthood in my sight and in the
sight of all. For who ever heard of any knight of worship who would
swear his faith to one lady and yet wear the favor of another? So I say
this knight is forsworn and is no true knight."

Quoth Sir Bors: "Lady, there is no man in all the world who would dare
to say to me that Sir Launcelot is shamed of his knighthood, but you may
say that because you are a lady. Now I pray you tell me why should not
Sir Launcelot wear the favor of so kind and so beautiful a lady as that
of the Lady Elaine, the King's daughter of Corbin? Such service cannot
injure you, who have always to your service so high and noble a knight
as King Arthur himself!"

So spake Sir Bors very sternly, and therewith Queen Guinevere's cheeks
flamed like fire and she stamped her foot upon the ground in wrath and
cried out in a very loud voice: "Do you dare to speak thus to me who am
your Queen? I say this unworthy knight is forsworn in that he sware his
faith to me, and that he came not to me to relieve him of that vow ere
he accepted the favor of another lady. Now I bid you go, find Sir
Launcelot and bring him straightway hither that he may answer me to my
face and that he may clear himself if he is able of that unknightly
faithlessness."

Then Sir Bors was filled with indignation against the Queen and at the
same time he was filled with great pity for her. For many things came
into his mind at that time, wherefore he did not choose to look into the
Queen's face, but only bowed low before her and said: "Lady, it shall be
as you command. I shall straightway go seek my kinsman and will bring
your commands to him that he shall come and present himself before you."

[Sidenote: _Sir Bors departeth in search of Sir Launcelot._]

So forthwith Sir Bors departed from the court to seek Sir Launcelot. But
after he had left her the Queen went into her privy closet and fast
locked herself in. And she wept amain; and as she wept she communed in
solitude with her soul, saying: "My soul! My soul! Is it anger thou
feelest or is it aught else than anger?"

[Illustration: Sir Launcelot leapeth from the window:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Sixth

_How the Lady Elaine went to seek Sir Launcelot and how Sir Launcelot
afterwards returned to the court of King Arthur._


Now ever the Lady Elaine the Fair, as aforesaid, took great grief beyond
all measure concerning the fate of Sir Launcelot. For he lay wounded she
knew not where and she knew not whether he were healing or dying. So
upon a day she came to her father, King Pelles, where he was, and she
had been weeping a great deal--yea, even whilst she spoke to her father
she began weeping afresh. So, still weeping, she said: "Sire, I pray
thee let me go and seek for this noble champion, Sir Launcelot of the
Lake, where he lieth wounded, for mefeareth he hath been so grievously
hurt that he may even now be upon the edge of death."

Then King Pelles said: "My daughter, what is this thou wouldst do?
Wouldst thou, a young damsel, go thyself errant in search of this
wounded knight?" and the Lady Elaine said, "Yea." The King, her father
said, "This may not be." Then the Lady Elaine wept all the more and with
such passion that it was as though her heart would break. And therewith
she kneeled down before her father and cried most vehemently: "Sire, let
me go! Else I believe I shall become distracted with my fears lest he be
dying of his wounds."

Then King Pelles was very sorry for the Lady Elaine and he lifted her up
and embraced her in his arms and kissed her upon the face. And King
Pelles sought to comfort her, wiping away the tears from her face. And
he said, "My daughter, weep not so." She said, "Lord, I cannot help it."
Then he said: "My daughter, weep no more, for it shall be as thou
wouldst have it. Go now in God's name upon this quest, if so be it will
ease thy heart to do so, and I will send safe escort with thee."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine departeth in search of Sir Launcelot._]

So it was that the Lady Elaine the Fair went upon that quest in search
of Sir Launcelot, and her father purveyed for her such an escort as he
had said. For he sent with her a company of seven worthy and noble
knights with their esquires and attendants; and seven damsels of her
court also went with her. These betook their way to Astolat, for it
seemed to the Lady Elaine that there they might best hope to have news
of the wounded knight. And when they had come to Astolat she took up her
inn at that place, and sent forth several to make diligent inquiry if
any news might be heard of the wounded knight.

So those whom she sent made inquiry upon all sides, and upon a certain
day, they found a woodchopper who had come out of the forest with a cart
load of wooden fagots. This woodman brought news of Sir Launcelot and of
Sir Lavaine; for he declared that he had seen them when they had entered
the forest after the tournament. So her agents brought the woodchopper
to where the Lady Elaine was, and she said to him, "What knowest thou,
good fellow?"

[Sidenote: _The woodman telleth of Sir Launcelot._]

To this the woodman made reply: "Lady, I will tell you all. One day
whiles I was in the forest I heard the sound of voices talking together,
and greatly wondering what those voices were, I made my way privily to
that place where I heard them speaking. There I beheld a half-armed
knight who lay upon the ground all bathed in his own blood, and another
knight, armed at all points, stood beside this knight, and the hands of
the second knight were all red with blood. So methought that the armed
knight had haply slain his fellow there in the woodlands in foul wise,
for so it appeared to be. So whilst I stood there I heard that knight
who lay on the ground complaining very grievously that he was hurt nigh
to death, and I heard him entreat that knight who was armed that he
should bear him to the westward and so by a forest path to the cabin of
a certain hermit that dwelleth in those parts. Therewith I went away
from that place as privily as I had come thither, for methought that
maybe some ill deed had been done at that place and that so I should be
punished if I meddled in it; wherefore I went away and left those two
knights in that wise."

Then the Lady Elaine the Fair asked that woodman if one of those horses
was white and the other piebald and he said: "Yea, as white as milk and
piebald with white and black." And the Lady said, "Then that must be
they."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine cometh to the forest chapel._]

So that same day she and her company made them ready and they rode away
from Astolat and so came into the forest toward the westward. And after
a while they came to a path that went across the way and they took that
path to the right hand. So they travelled that path for a great while,
and by and by they beheld before them the hut of the hermit where it was
all built up against a great rock of the forest and overshadowed by the
thick foliage of the aged oak tree that grew above it. Then as they
drew near they heard the neighing of horses and they wist that they must
be the horses of Sir Launcelot and of Sir Lavaine.

Then, as the horses neighed in that wise, and as the horses of the Lady
Elaine's party answered their neighing, there came one and opened the
door of the hut and stood gazing at the Lady Elaine and her party as
they drew near, shading his eyes from the slanting sun. And the Lady
Elaine beheld who it was who stood there and she knew that it was Sir
Lavaine, wherefore she cried out in a loud and piercing voice, "My
brother! My brother!" Then Sir Lavaine, when he heard her, cried out
upon his part as in great amazement, "My sister, is it thou?" and
therewith he ran to her and he took her hand and she stooped from her
horse and kissed his lips.

Then she said to Sir Lavaine, "How is it with him, doth he live?"
Whereunto Sir Lavaine said, "Yea, he liveth and will live, albeit he is
weak like to a little child." She said, "Where is he?" And Sir Lavaine
said, "Come and you shall see."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine beholdeth Sir Launcelot._]

So he lifted the Lady Elaine down from her horse and he took her by the
hand and led her into the hut of the hermit and there she beheld Sir
Launcelot where he lay upon a pallet and lo! his face was white like to
white wax and his eyes were closed as though in slumber and it seemed to
the Lady Elaine that he rather resembled a white and sleeping spirit
than a living man.

So the Lady Elaine went silently forward to where Sir Launcelot lay and
she kneeled down beside the pallet and the tears ran down her face like
to sparks of fire. Therewith Sir Launcelot opened his eyes and he beheld
her who she was and he smiled upon her. And Sir Launcelot said, "Is it
thou?" She said: "Yea, Messire." He said, "Whence cometh thou?" She
said, "I come from my father's house." He said, "And have you come
hitherward from thence only for to find me?" whereunto she said, "Yea."
Sir Launcelot said, "Why have you taken so great trouble as that upon my
account?" And at that she bowed her head low and said, "Certes, thou
knowest why." And this she spake not above a whisper, and so that I
believe they two alone heard her words.

Then Sir Launcelot said no more but lay gazing upon her albeit he could
see naught but her head, for her face was hidden from him. So after a
while he sighed very deep and said: "Lady, God knows I am no happy man.
For even though I may see happiness within my reach yet I cannot reach
out my hand to take it. For my faith lieth pledged in the keeping of one
with whom I have placed it and that one can never be aught to me but
what she now is. And it is my unhappy lot that whether it be wrong or
whether it be right I would not have it otherwise, and so my faith
remaineth pledged as aforesaid."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine commune together._]

Now the Lady Elaine wist what Sir Launcelot meant and that he spoke of
the Lady Queen Guinevere unto whom he had vowed his faith of knighthood.
And Elaine wept and she said, "Alas, Launcelot, I have great pity both
for thee and for me." And at that Sir Launcelot sighed again as from the
bottom of his heart and said, "Yea, it is great pity."

Then after a while the Lady Elaine came out from where Sir Launcelot
lay, and she gave command that they should abide at that place until the
wounded knight was healed of his hurt. So the Lady Elaine established
her court there in the forest nigh to where Sir Launcelot lay. And they
set up pavilions around about that place so that all that erstwhile
lonely and silent woodland was presently gay with bright colors and
cheerful with the sound of many voices.

And methinks that these days, whilst the Lady Elaine dwelt there in the
forest nigh to the chapel of the good old hermit of the forest, and
whilst she abided ever close to Sir Launcelot in that time of his
grievous sickness, were the happiest days of all her life unto that
time. For it was as though Sir Launcelot were all her own and as though
there was none in the world but they two. For ever she was nigh to him
and cherished him in all ways, the whiles the voices of those others who
were there sounded remote and afar off as though they were of a
different world than hers.

So ever the Lady Elaine drank deep draughts of love and joy, and thought
not of the morrow, but only of the day and of the joys that the day set
to the lips of her soul, as it were, in a bright, shining chalice of
pure gold.

For so it is, oftentimes, that the soul drinketh deep from that chalice
and reckoneth not that at the bottom of the cup there lyeth the dregs of
sorrow or of despair that must by and by likewise be quaffed, and which,
when drunk, must turn all the life thereafter to bitterness, as though
those dregs were compounded of the gall and of the wormwood of death.

[Sidenote: _They return to Corbin._]

Thus the Lady Elaine the Fair abided with her court there in the forest
for nigh a month and by the end of that time Sir Launcelot was healed of
his infirmities, though like to a little child for weakness. And after
he was healed she then had a fair litter prepared with several soft
cushions of down. And she had that litter hung with hangings of
flame-colored satin; and she had them lay Sir Launcelot therein and so
they bore him thence. Thus they bore him in that litter by easy stages
until they had brought him to Corbin and there he was received with
great rejoicing and high honor.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now it hath been told how that Queen Guinevere bade Sir Bors for to go
seek Sir Launcelot and to bear him a command for to return to the court
of the King. So Sir Bors did as the Queen bade him, but he did not find
Sir Launcelot until after he had been brought back to Corbin as
aforetold of.

[Sidenote: _Sir Bors cometh to Corbin._]

Thereafter it happened that one day Sir Bors had news that Sir Launcelot
was lying at the court of King Pelles. So he went thither and there he
beheld Sir Launcelot who was then wellnigh entirely recovered from his
wound.

But when Sir Launcelot beheld Sir Bors, such joy seized upon him that it
was as though his heart would break, wherefore he ran to Sir Bors and he
catched him in his arms, and embraced him with great passion and kissed
him many times upon the face.

And they of the court of King Pelles were very glad that so famous a
knight had come thither, wherefore they paid him great honor.

Only the Lady Elaine was troubled in spirit, for she wist that now Sir
Bors was come Sir Launcelot would not stay with them for long, but that
he would in a little while desire to return again to the court of King
Arthur.

[Sidenote: _Sir Bors speaketh to Sir Launcelot._]

And so she had reason for her fears, for the next day after he had
arrived at Corbin, Sir Bors took Sir Launcelot aside and he said to him,
"Sir Knight, I am a messenger." Sir Launcelot said, "What message have
you, and from whom?" Sir Bors said: "I bear a message from Queen
Guinevere and it is that you return immediately to the court of King
Arthur and that you present yourself to her and pay your duty to her as
of old."

Then after Sir Bors had thus spoken, Sir Launcelot turned him away and
stood at a window with his back to Sir Bors. And then after a
considerable while he said, "Sir, do you not know that my duty lieth
here?" Sir Bors said: "That I believe full well. Nor can I find fault
with you if you remain here in spite of the message I bring you. That
which I am here for is not to command you to come to Camelot, but only
to give you the commands of another."

Then Sir Launcelot said: "Would you return to Camelot if you were me and
I were you?" Sir Bors said, "That I cannot tell." Then after another
while Sir Launcelot cried out: "Nay, I will not go; for though my heart
lieth there and not here, yet I hold the happiness of another in my hand
and I cannot cast it away."

"Then," quoth Sir Bors, "I will return and tell them at the court of the
King that your honor binds you here." And Sir Launcelot said, "Do so."
And then he said, "There is but one favor I beseech of you, Messire."
Sir Bors said, "What is that?" Sir Launcelot said: "It is this: I pray
you of your courtesy that you will depart immediately from this place,
for the sight of you bringeth to me such great desire to behold my
kinsmen and my friends once more that I believe that I shall not be able
to contain myself because of that desire if you remain here any longer."
And Sir Bors said, "I will go within the hour."

So that very hour Sir Bors betook himself away from Corbin and returned
to the court of King Arthur, and when he had come there he delivered his
message to the Queen and thereat she was like one whose heart had been
broken. For when she received that news from Sir Launcelot she withdrew
into her bower and no one saw her for a long time thereafter.

Now after Sir Bors had departed from Corbin in that wise, Sir Launcelot
was very heavy and sad, and though several days went by, yet was he not
less sad at the end of that time, but still walked like one in a dream
with his thoughts a great way off.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine biddeth Sir Launcelot to return._]

And all this the Lady Elaine observed and her spirit was troubled
because of the sadness of Sir Launcelot. So one day she sent for Sir
Launcelot to come to her bower and when Sir Launcelot had come thither
she said to him, "Launcelot, I know what is in thy heart." Sir Launcelot
said, "What is there in my heart?" She said, "It is in thy heart that
thou wouldst fain return to the court of King Arthur." "Lady," said Sir
Launcelot, "it matters not what may be my inclination at this present,
for above all those inclinations it is my will that I remain at this
place."

Then Elaine looked very steadfastly at him and she smiled, but there was
as it were despair in her face even though she smiled. And after a
little she said: "Not so, Messire, for I cannot bear to see you dwell
with us thus in sadness. Wherefore, this command I lay upon you that you
leave this court and that you return to the court of King Arthur, which
same is the place where you do rightly belong."

Then Sir Launcelot turned away from her, for he wist that there was joy
in his face at the thought of returning to his kinsmen and his friends
once more, and he would not have her see that joy. Then after a while,
and with his back turned, he said, speaking as with a smothered voice:
"Lady, if that be your command I must needs obey, but if I do obey you
it shall be only to go for a little while and then to return after that
while." So for a little no more was said, but the Lady Elaine ever gazed
upon Sir Launcelot where he stood with his back to her, and after a
while she said, "Ah, Launcelot! Launcelot!" Upon that Sir Launcelot
turned him about and cried out, "Elaine, bid me stay and I will stay!"
But she said, "Nay, I bid thee not, I bid thee go."

Then Sir Launcelot went from that place with his head bowed down upon
his bosom, and after he had gone she wept in great measure, for it was
as though she had cut off her hope of happiness with her own hand, as
though it had been a part of her body.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot returneth to court._]

So the next day Sir Launcelot took horse and departed from Corbin,
betaking his way toward Camelot, where was the court of King Arthur, and
though he thought a very great deal of the Lady Elaine, yet he could not
but look forward with joy in coming back again to the court of the King
and of beholding the Queen and his knights companions once more.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot cometh to the Queen._]

Now when Sir Launcelot reached Camelot the news of his coming spread
like fire throughout the entire place and everywhere was heard the noise
of loud rejoicing and acclaim. But Sir Launcelot spake to nobody but
came straight to where Queen Guinevere was and he stood before the Queen
and his face was very gloomy and he said to her, "Lady, here am I."

Then Queen Guinevere gazed at him with great coldness and she said to
him, "Sir Knight, what brings thee hither?" Sir Launcelot said: "Lady,
it is thy command that brings me. For alas! I find it to be thus with me
that thy word hath power to bring me to thee whether it be from glory or
from happiness or from peace or from prosperity. Yea; all these things
would I sacrifice at thy behest."

Then Queen Guinevere gazed upon Sir Launcelot for a long while and her
soul was tossed and troubled with a great ferment of passion, and yet
she wist not whether that passion was of indignation or of grief or of
anger or of something else that was not like any of these. And first her
face had been very white when he stood before her, and anon it flamed
red like to fire, and she said: "Sir Knight, one time I sent my word to
thee by a messenger and thou heeded him not. Now it matters not that
thou comest, for thy coming and thy going are henceforth of no moment to
me."

Then Sir Launcelot's heart was filled to bursting with bitterness and
despair, and he cried out aloud: "Lady, thou beholdest me a miserable
man. For I have left all my duty and all my service and all my hope of
peace and happiness and have come to thee. Hast thou not then some word
of kindness for me?"

But the Queen only hardened her heart and would not answer.

Then Sir Launcelot cried out in great despair: "Alas! what is there then
left for me? Lo! I have cast away from me all my hope of peace and now
even thy friendship is withdrawn from me. Nothing then is left to me and
my life is dead."

[Sidenote: _The Queen is angry._]

Then Queen Guinevere's eyes flashed like fire, and she cried out: "Sir
Knight, you speak I know not what. Now I bid you tell me this--is it
true that you wore as a favor the sleeve of the Lady Elaine the Fair at
the tournament of Astolat?"

Sir Launcelot said, "Yes, it is true."

Then the Lady Queen Guinevere laughed with flaming cheeks and she said:
"Well, Sir Knight I see that you are not very well learned in knighthood
not to know that it is both unknightly and dishonorable for a knight to
sware faith to one lady and to wear the favor of another. Yet what else
than that may be expected of one who knoweth so little of the duties and
of the obligations of knighthood that he will ride errant in a hangman's
cart?"

So spake Queen Guinevere in haste not knowing what she said, her words
being driven onwards by her passion as feathers are blown by a tempest
over which they have no control. But when she had spoken those words she
was terrified at what she had said and would have recalled them. But she
could not do that, for who can recall the spoken word after it is
uttered? Wherefore, after she had spoken those words she could do
nothing but gaze into Sir Launcelot's face in a sort of terror. And as
she thus gazed she beheld that his face became red and redder until it
became all empurpled as though the veins of his head would burst. And
she beheld that his eyes started as though from his head and that they
became shot with blood. And she beheld that he clutched at his throat as
though he were choking. And he strove to speak but at first he could not
and then he cried out in a harsh and choking voice, "Say you so!" and
then again in the same voice he cried, "Say you so!"

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot leapeth from the window._]

Therewith he turned, staggering like a drunken man. And there was a tall
window open behind him, and straightway he leaped out of that window
into the courtyard beneath, where he fell with a loud and dreadful
crash.

But yet it was as though he had not fallen for he immediately leaped up
to his feet and ran away all bruised and bloody from that place like one
gone wode.

Then Queen Guinevere shrieked aloud with a great passion of terror and
remorse. And she cried out she knew not what and smote her hands very
violently together. Thereat several came running to her and to them she
cried out in a voice of vehement passion: "Go you, run with might and
main and fetch Sir Launcelot hither to me again!"

So those ran with all despatch but they could not find Sir Launcelot.
For immediately after leaving the Queen as aforesaid, he had leaped upon
his horse and had thundered away with all speed, and no one knew whither
he had betaken himself.

[Sidenote: _Sir Bors is indignant._]

Now the word of all this was talked about the court of the King almost
as soon as it had happened, for all the court was loud with the noise of
it. Thereat, when the kinsmen of Sir Launcelot had heard what had
passed, they were filled with great indignation at the manner in which
he had been treated; and most of all Sir Bors was indignant, for he said
to himself: "Lo! this Lady first sends me to seek my kinsman and to
bring him to her and when he cometh at her bidding then she treats him
with contumely altogether unworthy for a knight to endure. What then
must Sir Launcelot think of me who was her foolish messenger to fetch
him hither?"

[Sidenote: _Queen Guinevere bespeaketh the kinsmen of Sir Launcelot._]

But Queen Guinevere, not knowing of the indignation of the kinsmen of
Sir Launcelot, sent for three of them to come to her, and these three
were Sir Ector and Sir Lionel and Sir Bors de Ganis. When these three
had come to her they found her weeping and when they stood before her
she said, "Messires, I have done amiss." To this they said nothing lest
from anger they should say too much. Yet the Queen beheld their anger,
wherefore she dried her tears and spake with pride, saying: "Messires, I
ask you not to forgive me who am your Queen, but I would fain ask Sir
Launcelot to forgive me and I know that out of his gentleness he will do
so. Now as your Queen and sovereign I lay this command upon you, that
you straightway go in quest of Sir Launcelot and that you find him and
that you bring him hither to me so that I may beseech his forgiveness
for all that I have said amiss to him."

So spake Queen Guinevere, and those knights who were there, though they
were very angry with her yet they could not but obey the command which
she laid upon them.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Of the Quest of Sir Launcelot._]

So began the Quest of Sir Launcelot concerning which a very great deal
hath been both written and said. For upon that quest there went forth
those three knights as aforesaid, to wit; Sir Ector, Sir Lionel, and
Sir Bors de Ganis, and after that there went forth Sir Gawaine and Sir
Ewaine and Sir Sagramore the Desirous and Sir Agravaine and Sir Percival
of Gales.

All these undertook the Quest of Sir Launcelot and in that quest several
adventures happened to them. Yet of all those adventures little of
anything shall here be said saving only that which shall concern those
adventures that befell Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival and Sir Gawaine; of
which more anon.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now there followeth the story of the Madness of Sir Launcelot, and
of how he returned in a very strange manner to the Lady Elaine the
Fair--and of how she was made happy by that return.

[Illustration]




PART IV

The Madness of Sir Launcelot


_Here follows the story of how Sir Launcelot went mad from grief and of
how he roamed the woods as a wild man of the woods. Also many other
adventures that befell him are herein told, wherefore I hope that you
may have pleasure in reading that which is here written for your
entertainment._

[Illustration: The Madman of the Forest who was Sir Launcelot:]




[Illustration]

Chapter First

_How Sir Launcelot became a madman of the forest and how he was brought
to the castle of Sir Blyant._


[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot driveth through the forest._]

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot falleth in a fit._]

Now when Sir Launcelot had quitted the presence of Queen Guinevere as
aforetold, and having leaped to horse as aforetold, he rode very
furiously away, he wist not whither and cared not. And he raced like a
whirlwind, striving, as it were, to escape from himself and his own
despair. Thus he drove onward until he reached the shades of the forest,
and he rode through the forest, rending the branches with his body,
until his horse was all a lather of sweat. So he pursued his way till
night descended upon him, and still he drove ever forward, he knew not
whitherward. And he travelled in that wise all that night until about
the dawning of the day, what time he came to that part of the woodland
where was the hut of the hermit of the forest, and there he beheld the
chapel and the cell of the hermit. Here Sir Launcelot leaped down from
his horse, and he burst very violently into the dwelling-place of that
good man so that the hermit was amazed at his coming. And Sir Launcelot
cried out in a loud and violent voice, "God save you!" and therewith he
fell forward and lay with his face upon the floor.

Then the hermit ran to him and he lifted up his head and looked in his
face and he beheld that Sir Launcelot was in a fit.

So the hermit eased Sir Launcelot of his armor and he loosed the jerkin
and the shirt at his throat so that his throat was bare. And he lifted
Sir Launcelot and brought him to his own cot and he laid him down
thereon and there Sir Launcelot lay for the entire day.

But toward the sloping of the afternoon the sick man opened his eyes and
he aroused and sat up and gazed about him, and he said, "Where am I?"
The hermit said, "Thou art with me," and he further said, "What aileth
thee, Sir Launcelot?"

But to this Sir Launcelot answered naught but ever looked about him as
though not knowing who he was or where he was; for he was like to one
who is bedazed by a heavy blow he hath received. Then by and by Sir
Launcelot said, "I know not what it is that hath happened." Thus he
spake because his brains were bewildered by the passion through which he
had passed, for even at that time the madness which afterward gat hold
of him had begun to ferment in his brains so that he wist not very well
what he said or did.

Then the hermit knew that some great trouble had befallen Sir Launcelot,
and he thought that maybe if Sir Launcelot would eat he would perhaps be
refreshed and might maybe recover his mind once more. So the good man
said, "Messire, will you not eat?" and Sir Launcelot said, "Yea, give me
to eat."

[Sidenote: _The hermit cherisheth Sir Launcelot._]

So the hermit brought bread and milk and honey and fruit and he set
those things before Sir Launcelot. And Sir Launcelot fell upon those
things and ate of them very fiercely and voraciously, devouring them
more like a savage than a worshipful and worthy knight.

Then after Sir Launcelot had thus eaten he said, "I am aweary," and
therewith he arose and ungirded his armor, and laid it aside, piece by
piece, even to the very last piece thereof. Then when he was thus eased
of his armor, he flung himself down in his jerkin and hose upon the
hermit's pallet and therewith in a moment had fallen into a slumber so
deep that it was like the sleep of death. And as he slept thus the
hermit sat beside the pallet whereon Sir Launcelot lay. And he gazed
very steadfastly upon Sir Launcelot, and was greatly grieved to see him
in that condition.

Now it happened that about the middle of the night the hermit fell
asleep where he sat and shortly after that Sir Launcelot awoke and was
aware how the old man slept. And Sir Launcelot took of a sudden a great
fear of the hermit he wist not wherefore, so that the only thought in
his mind was to escape from the hermit. Wherefore he arose and went very
softly and in his bare feet out from that place, doing this so silently
that he did not awaken the hermit from his sleep.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot escapeth from the hermitage._]

Thus Sir Launcelot came outside the hermit's hut, and after he had thus
escaped therefrom, he took of a sudden great fear lest the hermit should
awake and pursue him for to bring him back to the hut again. So
straightway he turned him and sped away into the forest with great
speed, like as though he were a wild animal pursued by the hunter. And
he fled away for all the rest of that night. And when the dawn had come
he ceased to fly and he crouched down and hid himself in the thickets of
the forest. For in his madness he was ever pursued by the fear that the
hermit would follow him and that he was even then hunting for him for to
bring him back to the hut again.

Thus it was that Sir Launcelot escaped from the hut of the hermit, and
after that he abided in the forest for a long while. What time he
gathered the wild fruit of the forest for his food. And he drank of the
forest fountains and that was all the food and drink that he had. And
after a while the clothes of Sir Launcelot were all torn into shreds by
the thorns and briars, and his hair grew down into his eyes and his
beard grew down upon his breast so that he became in all appearance a
wild man of the forest, all naked, and shaggy, and gaunt like to a
hungry wolf.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot becometh the forest madman._]

And now and again it chanced that some one who travelled in the forest
would see him as he ran through the thickets of the woodland like to a
wild creature, and hence it was that much talk of that wild man of the
forest went about the countryside, and folk were afraid of all that part
of the woodlands because of him.

Now one pleasant morning in the autumn season when the early frosts were
come, and when all the trees had taken on their clothing of crimson and
russet and gold, Sir Launcelot, in his mad wanderings, came to the edge
of the woodland and there before him he beheld a little open plain all
yellow and bright in the broad beams of the shining sunlight. And Sir
Launcelot beheld that in the midst of that small plain was a fair
pavilion of blue silk. And he beheld that near by the pavilion there
were three horses tethered browsing upon the autumn grass. And he beheld
that a bright shield hung to a tree that grew near the pavilion, and
that a fair sword hung nigh the shield, and that a spear leaned against
the tree beside the shield and sword.

Then Sir Launcelot was pleased with the bright color of the pavilion and
something of knighthood awoke within him at the sight of the shield and
the sword and the spear, wherefore he desired to handle the sword and
the spear and to touch the shield.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot beateth upon the shield of Sir Blyant._]

So Sir Launcelot went forward into that plain and he came to the tree
where were the sword and the shield and the spear. And he took the
pommel of the sword into his hand. Thereupon a great desire for battle
came upon him, and he straightway catched the pommel of the sword in
both his hands and he drew the blade forth from the sheath. And he
whirled the sword about his head and he smote the shield; and he smote
it again and again, striking great dents into it with the blade of the
sword; and the sound of those blows made such a din and uproar that it
was as though ten men were fighting in that place.

Therewith, at all that sudden din and uproar, there came running out of
that pavilion a misshapen dwarf very broad of shoulder and strong of
limb. And when that dwarf beheld a madman smiting the shield in that
wise, he ran at him with intent to take the sword away from him.

But Sir Launcelot beheld the dwarf coming in that wise, and straightway
he dropped the sword which he held, and he catched the dwarf by the
shoulders and he flung him so violently down upon the earth that the
neck of the dwarf was wellnigh broken by that fall.

Then the dwarf was overwhelmed with the terror of Sir Launcelot,
wherefore he did not dare to arise from the ground whereon he had
fallen, but lay there calling out for help in a loud voice of outcry.

Thereupon, there immediately came forth from out of the pavilion a noble
knight clad all in scarlet and wrapped in a scarlet cloak trimmed with
miniver. And that knight was Sir Blyant whose castle stood not more than
four or five leagues from that place. For at such pleasant season of the
year, Sir Blyant was wont to ride forth with his lady, and ever when he
chose he would have a pavilion set up in some such pleasant place as
this little glade. And sometimes Sir Blyant and his lady would lodge in
that pavilion over-night, as was the case at this time.

[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant pitieth the madman._]

So Sir Blyant came forth out of the pavilion as aforesaid, and he beheld
the dwarf lying upon the ground. And he beheld that Sir Launcelot had
catched up the sword again, and that he stood above the dwarf, making
play with his sword as though there were many enemies thereabouts; and
Sir Blyant wist that he whom he beheld must be the Madman of the Forest
of whom folk talked so much. Then Sir Blyant pitied that madman a very
great deal, and he spake very mildly to him, saying: "Good man, put down
that sword, for meseems thou art in greater need of food and of warm
clothes and of nourishing and comforting than of playing with a sharp
sword in that wise."

But ever Sir Launcelot waved the sword this way and that, crying out in
a great loud voice, "Keep thou away or I will slay thee."

Then Sir Blyant perceived that there was great danger in having to do
unarmed with that madman, wherefore he called upon his dwarf to arise
and come to him, and therewith he withdrew into the pavilion with intent
to arm himself and so to take away that sword from Sir Launcelot by
force.

[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant armeth himself._]

So the dwarf, who by that time had arisen from where he lay, went into
the pavilion to where Sir Blyant was, and he aided Sir Blyant to don his
armor, and so Sir Blyant armed himself from head to foot. When he was
thus armed he took sword in hand and went forth from out of the pavilion
prepared to deal with the madman in such wise as was necessary to take
that dangerous sword from him. For even if it must be that he had to
slay that madman, Sir Blyant wist that he must not leave him thus with a
sharp sword in his hand. So Sir Blyant came out of the pavilion armed at
all points.

But when Sir Launcelot beheld him coming forth thus armed as for battle,
the love of battle awoke to full life in his heart, wherefore he shouted
aloud. And he rushed at Sir Blyant and he struck Sir Blyant upon the
helm so fierce and terrible a buffet that nor guard nor armor could
withstand that stroke. And had the sword not turned a little in the
hands of Sir Launcelot that had been Sir Blyant's last day upon earth.

[Sidenote: _The madman overthroweth Sir Blyant._]

Natheless, the sword, though turned, fell with full force upon the crest
of Sir Blyant, and at that dreadful, terrible stroke the brains of Sir
Blyant flashed fire into his eyeballs. Then blackness came roaring upon
him and therewith he fell down in a deathly swoon, the blood running out
from his nose and ears from the force of that woeful stroke he had
suffered.

So when Sir Launcelot beheld Sir Blyant fall thus beneath the blow, he
shouted aloud for joy. And straightway with the naked sword in his hand
he ran into the pavilion with intent to find what other enemies there
might be in that place.

Now the lady of Sir Blyant was alone in that pavilion, so when she
beheld that half-naked madman rush therein with the shining sword in his
hand, and a terrible fierce look of madness upon his face, she shrieked
with terror and straightway ran forth from the tent upon the other side
thereof.

So Sir Launcelot stood and gazed all about him, waving his sword from
side to side, but could behold no enemies such as he might assault. And
then he saw where there was a fine soft couch spread with a covering of
flame-colored linen in that place, and therewith he ran to that bed and
leaped into it and straightway covered himself all over with the
coverlet.

[Sidenote: _The Lady is adread._]

When the lady of Sir Blyant ran in that wise out of the pavilion as
aforesaid, she beheld where her lord, Sir Blyant, lay stretched out upon
the ground, and she beheld the dwarf bending over him, removing the helm
from his head. And beholding that sight she shrieked more than ever and
ran frantically to where that stricken knight lay. Therewith, beholding
his face all white as milk and streaked with blood, she thought that he
had certes been killed by that madman, whereupon she flung herself down
upon his body, crying aloud in a most piercing voice, "My lord! My lord!
Assuredly thou art dead!"

"Not so, lady," said the dwarf, "he is not dead, but aswoon." And even
as the dwarf spoke, Sir Blyant sighed very deeply and opened his eyes.
And he said: "Where is that madman who struck me anon? Never in all my
life felt I such a buffet as that which he gave me." The dwarf said,
"Lord, that madman ran but now into the pavilion and drove your lady out
thence." "Go, Sirrah," said Sir Blyant, "and see what he is at in the
pavilion."

So the dwarf went very fearfully to the door of the pavilion and peeped
within, and he beheld where Sir Launcelot lay sleeping upon the couch.
Thereupon the dwarf returned to Sir Blyant and he said: "Sir, that
madman hath taken to your bed, and he lyeth there now very soundly
asleep as he were in a swoon." And then the dwarf said: "Give me leave
to take this sword and go thither and I will slay him where he lieth.
For only so may we hope to save ourselves from the madness of his
phrenzy when he shall awake."

[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant looketh upon the madman._]

But Sir Blyant pitied the madman and he said: "Let be and harm him not,
for I misdoubt this madman is not what he seemeth to be." And he said,
"Help me to arise, for my head swimmeth." So the lady and the dwarf
helped Sir Blyant to his feet and in a little while he was able to stand
and to walk. And anon Sir Blyant went into the pavilion, and he went to
where Sir Launcelot lay and he stood and looked down upon him. And he
beheld that Sir Launcelot wore a rich ring upon his finger (and that was
the ring of magic which the Lady of the Lake had given him) and he
beheld that Sir Launcelot's body was covered with many scars of wounds
such as a knight might receive in battle. So seeing these things, Sir
Blyant said: "This is no common madman, but some great champion who has
fallen into misfortune, for I behold that he weareth a ring such as only
a knight of great credit might wear, and I behold that he beareth many
honorable scars of battle."

And Sir Blyant said to the dwarf: "Take thou thy horse and ride with all
speed to my castle. When thou art come there, bid my brother Sir
Selivant to make haste hither with several men. And bid him to fetch a
horse litter with him so that we may be able to bring this mad knight to
where he may have succor and where he may haply be cured of his
infirmities."

So the dwarf did as Sir Blyant commanded him; he took horse and rode
with all speed to the castle of Sir Blyant, and there he gave Sir
Blyant's word to Sir Selivant. And straightway Sir Selivant came to that
place with those men and a horse litter for to bring Sir Launcelot away;
and he reached that place within three hours after the messenger had
been sent to him.

[Sidenote: _They bear the madman thence._]

So Sir Selivant and Sir Blyant and those men lifted Sir Launcelot as he
lay in his bed, and they laid him on the litter and Sir Launcelot did
not awake. And they took him away from that place and still he did not
awake; for all that while he lay in a deep slumber that was like to a
swoon. Thus they brought him to the castle of Sir Blyant without his
ever arousing from that swoonlike sleep.

After that they fetched the barber of the castle and the barber trimmed
the hair and the beard of Sir Launcelot and they put fresh decent
clothes upon him, and all that time Sir Launcelot did not awake but lay
ever in that swoonlike sleep.

Now when they of that castle beheld Sir Launcelot as he lay after he had
been thus clothed and clipped; and when they beheld how noble and comely
was his appearance, they said, "Certes, this is indeed some noble and
haughty champion of high estate, though who he may be we know not."

So they all took great pity for Sir Launcelot, but yet they feared his
phrenzy when he should awake. So they sent for the smith of the castle,
and the smith fastened light strong chains of steel to the wrists of Sir
Launcelot and to his ankles; so that he might do no harm to any one.

[Sidenote: _The madman is made prisoner._]

So when Sir Launcelot awoke he was a prisoner in chains in the castle of
Sir Blyant. And Sir Launcelot remained dwelling in the castle of Sir
Blyant for a year and a half, and ever he remained bound with those
light strong chains of steel. For still his wits flitted and he wist not
where he was or who he was, wherefore they feared he might at any moment
break forth into a phrenzy.

But ever the folk of the castle treated Sir Launcelot with great
kindness and gentleness. And especially Sir Blyant was kind to him,
wherefore Sir Launcelot loved Sir Blyant as some dumb creature loveth
its master, and he would follow Sir Blyant about whithersoever he went.

Thus it was that Sir Launcelot went mad and thus he came to be chained
in the castle of Sir Blyant.

And now remaineth other adventures to be told that befell at this time.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: The Forest Madman saveth ye Life of King Arthur:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Second

_How Sir Launcelot saved the life of Sir Blyant. How he escaped from the
castle of Sir Blyant, and how he slew the great wild boar of Lystenesse
and saved the life of King Arthur, his liege lord._


[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant rideth in the woodland._]

Now it happened upon a day that Sir Blyant rode in a little wood nigh to
his castle, and whilst he was thus alone he beheld two knights riding
side by side all in the clear bright springtime. As these drew nigh to
him Sir Blyant was aware from the devices upon their shields that one of
them was Sir Breuce sans Pitie and that the other was Sir Bertolet his
brother, which same, you are to know, were Sir Blyant's bitter enemies.
For in the tournament at Astolat Sir Blyant had very grievously hurt a
young knight who was their brother, and afterward that knight (whose
name was Sir Gelotius) had died of those hurts.

Yet though Sir Blyant wist that this meeting boded ill for him yet would
he not withdraw therefrom but went forward. So it came about that when
he was pretty close to those two knights, the foremost of them (who was
Sir Breuce sans Pitie) rode forth and bespoke him, saying, "Sir Knight,
who are you and whither go you?" Sir Blyant said: "Messires, I am a
knight of these marches, riding errant in search of adventure." Sir
Breuce said, "Art thou not Sir Blyant of the White Castle?" Sir Blyant
said, "Thou sayest it and I am he."

Then Sir Breuce sans Pitie spoke very savagely, saying: "Sir Knight,
this is well that we meet you here who are the slayer of our brother Sir
Gelotius at the tournament of Astolat." To this Sir Blyant said:
"Messires, what do you have against me for that? Certes, it is that I
overthrew Sir Gelotius and that he died thereafter, yet it was by chance
of battle that this happened and with no evil intent of mine. Moreover,
your brother, Sir Gelotius, took his chances of battle as did all those
who entered that tournament."

"Say no more!" said Sir Breuce. "Say no more! but prepare you straight
for battle with us who have every day sought you from that time till
now, and so have found you here to our hand."

"Messires," cried Sir Blyant, "would you fall upon me thus, two against
one?" They say, "Aye," and thereupon they drew sword and prepared
themselves for battle.

[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant is assailed in the woodland._]

Then Sir Blyant perceiving how it was, and that there was no other way
for him to do than to fight this battle against odds, straightway drew
his sword and put himself into posture of defence. Then in a moment they
three came to battle together in the woods, two of them against the one.

Yet, for a while, although he stood one to two, Sir Blyant defended
himself with great courage and address, striking now upon this side and
now upon that, anon wheeling his horse away from a stroke, anon lashing
a stroke at his enemies. And so great was the defence he made that it
was a long time ere that those two knights had their will of him.

But one knight could not hope to fight thus a continued battle against
two who were his equals, wherefore it befell that in a little while Sir
Blyant was wounded here and there, and in another place; and then, in a
little while longer it came about that, what with weariness and what
from the loss of blood, he was aware that he must die in that battle
alone in the woodlands unless he saved himself from his enemies.

[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant fleeth._]

Therewith a great despair fell upon him and with that he put his horse
straight at Sir Breuce as though to strike him a buffet. Then as Sir
Breuce drew aside to avoid that stroke, Sir Blyant drave his horse very
fiercely against Sir Breuce's horse, so that Sir Breuce's horse wellnigh
fell to the ground with his rider upon his back. Therewith Sir Blyant
thrust past his enemy and quickly fled away toward his castle with all
the speed that he could drive his horse to make.

Now at first those two knights were astonished at the sudden escape of
their enemy. But immediately they awoke to his going and so set spurs to
horse upon their part and chased after Sir Blyant; and if he sped fast,
they sped as fast after him. And ever and anon they lashed furiously at
him, yet because of his speed they could do him no great harm.

So Sir Blyant raced for his castle and he rushed forward beneath the
walls of the castle with those two knights thundering after him amain.
And because they were so close upon him, Sir Blyant could not draw rein
to turn his steed into the drawbridge of the castle, but must needs rush
past the drawbridge, calling for aid to those who were within the
walls.

[Sidenote: _The madman beholdeth Sir Blyant's danger._]

Now at that time Sir Launcelot lay (chained as was aforetold) in a
certain window of the castle where the sun shone down strong and warm
upon him, and Sir Launcelot slumbered there in the sunlight. And as Sir
Launcelot so slumbered he was aroused by the sound of galloping horses
and a loud noise of shouting and the din of lashing of blows. So,
looking forth from that window, he beheld the three knights as they came
thundering past the walls of the castle. And Sir Launcelot beheld that
the one knight who was pursued by the two knights was his master, Sir
Blyant; and he beheld that Sir Blyant was much put to it to save his
life; for he was all covered over with blood and, whilst anon he would
wheel his horse and strike right and left, yet anon he would wheel again
and flee for his life; and Sir Launcelot beheld that Sir Blyant reeled
in his saddle under every blow that his enemies lashed at him.
Meanwhile, in the castle was a great shouting and calling to arms,
wherefore it came to Sir Launcelot to know that Sir Blyant was being
slain.

[Sidenote: _The madman breaketh his bonds._]

Then a great rage of battle awoke in Sir Launcelot's heart against those
who pressed his beloved master, Sir Blyant, in that wise, wherefore he
would have hastened to the aid of Sir Blyant, but could not because of
the chains that bound him. Then, in his madness, and being driven
furious at being thus bound, Sir Launcelot catched those strong steel
chains in his hands and wrestled with them. And the chains bit deep into
his flesh in his wrestlings so that he was sore wounded by the iron. But
in spite of that Sir Launcelot put forth his entire strength, and even
though the blood flowed from his arms and hands yet he snapped the
chains that bound his arms. After that he catched up a great stone in
his hands and he beat upon the chains that bound his legs and brake
those also, and so he was free again.

Then Sir Launcelot leaped upon the window-ledge, and he leaped out of
the window of the castle and into the moat below and he swam the moat
and so came out upon the other side thereof.

Right there came Sir Blyant striving to defend himself against those who
followed him, and at that time he was very nigh falling from his horse
at every blow he received. This Sir Launcelot beheld and when he saw how
those two knights ever smote Sir Blyant and how that Sir Blyant reeled
in his saddle beneath those blows, he roared aloud in pity and in rage.

[Sidenote: _The madman doeth battle for Sir Blyant._]

Therewith, thus roaring, he straightway rushed upon Sir Bertolet, who
was nighest to him, and he leaped up and catched that knight about the
body and dragged him down upon the pommel of his saddle with great force
of strength, and Sir Launcelot catched the sword of Sir Bertolet and he
wrestled with Sir Bertolet and so plucked the sword out of Sir
Bertolet's hand.

Then Sir Bertolet cried out to Sir Breuce: "Help! Help! my brother! For
this madman slayeth me."

Therewith Sir Breuce turned from Sir Blyant for to succor his brother,
and upon that Sir Launcelot quitted Sir Bertolet and rushed at Sir
Breuce. And Sir Launcelot gave Sir Breuce such a buffet upon the helm
with the sword of Sir Bertolet that he smote Sir Breuce with that one
blow clean over the crupper of his horse.

Then Sir Bertolet took his spear in hand and therewith rushed his horse
upon Sir Launcelot with intent to pierce him through the body. But from
that assault Sir Launcelot leaped nimbly aside. Thereupon he rushed in
and catched the spear of Sir Bertolet in his hand; and he ran up the
length of the spear, and reached forward, and smote Sir Bertolet such a
blow that he cut through the epaulier of the shoulder and deep into the
shoulder to the very bone thereof, so that the arm of Sir Bertolet was
half cut away from the body at that blow. Then Sir Launcelot would have
struck again only that Sir Bertolet let go his spear from his hand,
shrieking aloud, and wheeled his horse to escape.

Now by that time Sir Breuce sans Pitie had got him to horse again
wherefore, beholding that terrible blow and beholding how his brother
Sir Bertolet fled away from that madman, he also drove spurs to flank
and fled away with might and main.

So it was that Sir Launcelot, unarmed, save for the sword in his naked
hand, defeated two strong and doughty knights and so saved his master's
life.

[Sidenote: _Sir Blyant cherisheth the madman._]

But by now the castle folk had come running to where were Sir Blyant and
him whom they called the mad fool of the castle, and they beheld them
both panting and bleeding. And Sir Blyant looked upon Sir Launcelot and
beheld how his arms and hands were torn and bleeding from breaking those
chains, and he said, "Poor fool! and hast thou suffered all that for my
sake?" And at that Sir Launcelot laughed and nodded. Then Sir Blyant
said to the folk of the castle: "Never let those chains be put upon his
body again, for he is gentle and kind, and meaneth harm to no one."

So they did not chain Sir Launcelot again, but suffered him to go free,
and after that he wandered whithersoever he willed to go, and no one
stayed him in his going or his coming. And ever he was kind and gentle
to all so that no one in all that place had any fear of him but all were
pleased and merry with him.

Yet ever there lay within the heart of Sir Launcelot some remembrance
that told him that he was too worthy to content himself with being a mad
fool in a lord's castle, wherefore it was always in his will to escape
from the castle of Sir Blyant if he was able to do so.

[Sidenote: _The madman escapeth from the castle of Sir Blyant._]

So now, being unchained, it happened one night when none observed him,
that he dropped privily from the wall of the castle into the moat
thereof, and swam the moat to the other side. And after he had thus
escaped into the night he ran on without stopping until he had reached
the forest, and there he roamed once more altogether wild as he had been
aforetime. For the remnant of his knighthood said to him that it would
be better for him to die alone there in the woodlands than to dwell in
shame in a lord's castle.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now at that time there was a great wild boar in those parts that was the
terror of all men, and this boar was called the boar of
Lystenesse--taking its name from that part of the forest which was
called the Forest of Lystenesse.

[Sidenote: _King Arthur hunts the boar of Lystenesse._]

So word of this great wild boar, and news of its ravages came to the
ears of King Arthur, whereupon the King ordained that a day should be
set apart for a hunt in which the beast should be slain and the
countryside set free from the ravages thereof.

[Sidenote: _The madman chases the boar._]

Thus it befell that upon a time Sir Launcelot, where he lived in his
madness alone in the forest, was aware of the baying of hounds and the
shouting of voices sounding ever nearer and nearer to where he was. Anon
the baying of the hounds approached him very near indeed, and presently
there came a great cracking and rending of the bushes and the small
trees. Thereupon as he gazed, there burst out of the forest that great
savage wild boar of Lystenesse. And lo! the jowl of that boar was all
white with the foam that was churned by his tusks, and the huge tusks of
the boar gleamed white in the midst of the foam. And the bristles of
that great beast were like sharp wires of steel, and they too were all
flecked with the foam that had fallen from the jowl of the beast. And
the eyes of the wild boar gleamed like to two coals of fire, and it
roared like to a devil as it fled, rending, through the forest. And ever
the hounds pursued the boar, hanging upon its flanks but not daring to
grapple with it in its flight, because of the terror that surrounded it.

Then when Sir Launcelot beheld that sight the love of the chase flamed
up within his heart and thereupon he shouted aloud and fell to running
beside the dogs after the boar, tearing his way through the briars and
thorns and thickets, even as the boar and the hounds burst through
them. And so Sir Launcelot and the dogs chased the boar for a great
while, until at last the beast came to bay, with his back set against a
great crag of stone, and there the dogs surrounded it, yelling and
baying. And ever Sir Launcelot shouted them on to the assault, yet not
one of the hounds dared to grapple with the wild beast because of the
terror of its appearance.

So as Sir Launcelot and the dogs joined in assault about the boar, there
came the sound of a horseman riding with speed and winding his horn.
Then in a moment there came King Arthur himself, bursting out of the
forest alone; for he had outridden all his court and was the first of
all upon the field.

Then King Arthur, beholding the boar where he stood at bay, set his
lance in rest with intent to charge the beast and to pierce him through
the body. But the boar, all fierce and mad with the chase it had
suffered, did not wait that charge of the King but himself charged the
horseman. And at that charge King Arthur's horse was affrighted, with
the terror of the beast and flung suddenly aside so that the lance of
King Arthur failed of its aim.

[Sidenote: _The boar overthroweth King Arthur._]

Therewith the boar ran up under the point of the lance and he catched
the horse of the King with his tusks and ripped the horse so that both
horse and rider fell to the ground; King Arthur beneath the wounded
animal, so that he could not free his leg to rise from his fall.

Then it would have been ill indeed with King Arthur but for that forest
madman. For beholding the fall of the King, Sir Launcelot ran
straightway to him. And he seized the sword of the King and plucked it
forth from its sheath. Therewith he leaped at the boar and lashed at it
a mighty buffet, and as he did so his foot slipped in the blood of the
horse which there lay upon the ground, and he fell flat with the force
of that blow which he purposed should destroy the boar.

Thereupon the boar, finding himself thus attacked by another, turned
upon that other and ere Sir Launcelot could arise from his fall it was
upon him. And the boar ripped Sir Launcelot with its tusks through the
flesh of the thigh, even to the hip bone.

[Sidenote: _The madman slayeth the boar._]

Now, when Sir Launcelot felt the pang of that dreadful wound which the
boar gave him he yelled aloud. At the same time his soul was filled with
a great passion of rage and madness so that, ere the boar could charge
him again, he leaped to his feet and rushed upon the boar. And Sir
Launcelot smote the boar such a terrible dreadful stroke that he cut
through the bristles of the neck and through the spine of the neck and
half-way through the neck itself, so that the head of the boar was
wellnigh cut away from its body.

Therewith the boar fell down dead and Sir Launcelot staggered and stood
leaning upon the sword, groaning amain with the bitter pangs of pain
that racked him.

Right so, as Sir Launcelot stood thus, the other huntsmen of the King's
party came bursting out of the forest with the sound of horses and of
shouting voices.

Then when Sir Launcelot beheld them he thought, because of his madness
and the raging of his torments, that these were they who had hurt him.
So therewith he roared like to a wild beast and he ran at those
newcomers, whirling the sword of King Arthur like lightning around his
head.

Then several of those set their lances in rest with intent to run the
madman through the body ere he could do a harm to any one, but King
Arthur cried out: "Beware what you do! Do him no harm, for he hath saved
my life." So those who would else have charged Sir Launcelot held their
hands and drew away in retreat before him.

But already Sir Launcelot's strength was failing him, for his brains
were even then swimming with faintness. So in a little he sank down in a
swoon and lay all of a heap upon the ground.

Then the King, and the others who were there came to where he lay
bleeding and swooning, and all looked down upon him, and because he was
all naked and unkempt they knew him not. But nevertheless, they beheld
that he was of great girth and that he was covered over with a great
many scars of battle, and they all felt deep pity for him as he lay
there. Then King Arthur said: "This is the framework of a mighty
champion. Pity indeed that he should have come to this as we behold
him." And he said: "Lift him up tenderly and bear him hence to where he
may have comfort and nourishment."

So they lifted Sir Launcelot with great gentleness, and they bare him
away from that place, and they brought him to the hut of that hermit
where he had been healed aforetime when he had received that grievous
wound in the tournament at Astolat.

       *       *       *       *       *

So the hermit received Sir Launcelot and wist not who he was. For though
he beheld that here was a man of mighty girth and stature, yet was the
great champion so changed by his madness and by his continued fasting in
the forest that even his nearest friends might not know him.
Nevertheless, though the hermit knew him not, yet he had them lay that
forest madman upon a cot in his cell, and he searched that wound in the
madman's thigh and bathed it with tepid water, and anointed it with
balm and bound it up with bands of smooth white linen, so that that
wound was in all ways well searched and dressed.

[Sidenote: _The madman lyeth in the hermit's cell._]

And the hermit looked upon Sir Launcelot and beheld that he was all
gaunt and hollow with hunger and he said: "If this poor mad creature is
not fed, he will die in a little while." So when Sir Launcelot had
revived him from that swoon, the good old man fetched milk and white
bread and offered them to the sick man. But he would not touch that
food. For, though he was dying of hunger, yet he loathed that food
because of his madness.

So Sir Launcelot lay there wounded and famishing and the hermit wist not
what to do to make him eat. And he lay in that wise for three days and
ever the hermit watched him and tried to make him partake of food, and
ever the madman would fling away from the food that was offered him.

[Sidenote: _The madman escapeth from the cell of the hermit._]

Now upon the fourth day, the hermit being at his orisons in the chapel,
Sir Launcelot made assay to rise, and in spite of his weakness, he did
arise. And having thus arisen, he found strength in some wise for to
crawl out of the hut of the hermit, and the hermit at his prayers wist
not that the wounded man was gone. And after that Sir Launcelot crept
away into the forest and so hid himself, very cunningly, like to a wild
creature, so that, though the hermit searched for him ever so closely,
yet he was not able to find him. And the hermit said: "Alas for this!
For certes this poor madman will die of his wound and of starvation all
alone here in the forest, and no one can bring him succor."

       *       *       *       *       *

So it was that Sir Launcelot escaped from the cell of the hermit a
second time. And now it remaineth to be told how he returned to Corbin
and to the Lady Elaine the Fair, and how the Lady Elaine cherished him
and brought him back to health and strength and comeliness again. So I
pray you to read that which followeth if you would fain learn concerning
those things.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: The Lady Elaine the Fair knoweth Sir Launcelot:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Third

_How Sir Launcelot returned to Corbin again and how the Lady Elaine the
Fair cherished him and brought him back to health. Also how Sir
Launcelot with the Lady Elaine withdrew to Joyous Isle._


So Sir Launcelot escaped from the cell of the hermit as aforetold. And
he lay hidden in the thickets all that day till the night had come. And
when the night had come he arose and turned his face toward the eastward
and thitherward he made his way.

[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot returneth to Corbin._]

For death was very close to Sir Launcelot and there was but one thought
in his mind and that thought was to return to Corbin. For even through
his clouds of madness, Sir Launcelot wist that there at Corbin a great
love awaited him and that if he might reach that place he might there
have rest and peace; wherefore in this time of weakness and of pain, he
willed to return to that place once more.

So Sir Launcelot made his way toward Corbin, and he travelled
thitherward several days and God alone knows how he did so. And one
morning at the breaking of the day he came to the town of Corbin, and he
entered the town by a postern gate he knew of old. And after he had
entered the town he made his way slowly and with great pain up through
the streets of the town and the town was still asleep. So he came unseen
to the market-place of Corbin where he had aforetime slain the Worm of
Corbin as aforetold, and there sat him down upon that slab of stone
beneath which the Worm had made its habitation. And why he came there
who shall say except that maybe there lay very dimly within his mind
some remembrance that here he had one time had great honor and glory of
knighthood.

[Sidenote: _The people behold the madman._]

So there he sat, and when the people of the town awoke they beheld
sitting there in the midst of that market-place one all naked and
famished who gazed about him with wild and terrified looks like to a
starving wolf who had come out of the forest driven by hunger.

And many gathered and stared at Sir Launcelot from a distance, and these
laughed and jeered at him as he sat there in his nakedness, and not one
of those wist that this was he who had aforetime slain the Worm of
Corbin and so saved them in a time of their direst need. So they laughed
and mocked him and anon some of those who were there began to cast
stones at him with intent to drive him away from that place. So, at
last, one of those stones struck Sir Launcelot where he sat, and at that
his rage flamed up and took possession of him, whereupon he leaped up
and ran at those who were tormenting him. And he catched a young man of
the town and heaved him up and cast him down so violently upon the earth
that he broke the bone of his thigh.

[Sidenote: _The people assail the madman._]

Upon that all those who were there shouted and screamed and fled away.
And anon they returned and began stoning Sir Launcelot where he stood
glaring and gnashing his teeth with the man whom he had hurt lying upon
the ground at his feet. And many stones struck Sir Launcelot, some
wounding him upon the head and some upon the body. And now and then Sir
Launcelot would charge the mob in his rage, and the mob would scatter
before him like chaff before a gust of wind; but ever they would return
and begin stoning him again.

So stoning Sir Launcelot and so Sir Launcelot charging the mob, the
people drove him out of the market-place. And they drave him through the
town and Sir Launcelot retreated before them toward the castle; for he
wist even in his madness that there were friends there who should help
him. So he ever retreated until he had come to a postern gate of the
castle, and there he took stand with his back set against a wall. So at
that place he maintained his stand, facing the mob and glaring upon
them, until at last a stone smote him upon the head and he fell to the
earth.

[Sidenote: _They of the castle save Sir Launcelot._]

Then it would have fared very hard with Sir Launcelot, even to his
death, had not they within the castle, hearing the uproar of the
multitude, flung open the postern gate of a sudden and so come charging
out upon the mob. Thereupon the multitude, being thus charged by the
armed folk of the castle, scattered upon all sides and ran away, leaving
Sir Launcelot lying where he was.

Then they of the castle came and gazed upon Sir Launcelot where he lay,
and they beheld what a great and noble frame of man it was that lay
there, and thereupon they took great pity that such a man should be in
that condition. So the captain of the guard said: "Alas, that such a man
as this has been should come to such a pass. Now let us lift him up and
bear him away into the castle where he may have care and nourishment."

So they did as that captain said, and they brought Sir Launcelot into
the castle of Corbin and to safety.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine knoweth Sir Launcelot._]

Now it chanced that the Lady Elaine the Fair happened to be at her
window, and looking down therefrom and into the courtyard she beheld
where several men at arms bore a wounded man into the castle from that
postern gate. As they passed beneath where she was, the Lady Elaine
looked down upon the countenance of the wounded man. Then she beheld his
face with the sun shining bright upon it, and at that a thought struck
through her like to the stroke of a keen, sharp knife, whereat the Lady
Elaine clasped her hands and cried out aloud: "My soul! My soul! What is
this? Can it be he?"

Now there was in attendance upon the Lady Elaine at that time a certain
very old and sedate lady of the court who had been her nurse and
caretaker ever since her mother had died, leaving her a little helpless
babe cast adrift upon the world. And the name of that lady was Dame
Brysen. So Elaine ran to where Dame Brysen was and she cast herself upon
her knees before Dame Brysen and buried her face in Dame Brysen's lap
even as though it were her mother who sat there. And she cried out from
where she lay with her face in that lady's lap, "Alas! Alas! Alas!
Methinks I have beheld a most terrible sight!" Dame Brysen, speaking as
in affright, said, "What hast thou seen, my child?" The Lady Elaine
said: "Methinks I have beheld Sir Launcelot all starved with famine, and
bruised and bleeding, and lying so nigh to death that I know not whether
he is dead or not."

Dame Brysen said: "What is this thou sayst, my child? Where sawst thou
such a sight as that? Hast thou been dreaming?" The Lady Elaine said:
"Nay, I have not been dreaming, for, certes, as I stood at the window a
little while ago I saw Sir Launcelot, and several men bore him into the
castle courtyard through the postern gate, and he was all naked and
starved and wounded and bruised."

The Dame Brysen said: "Nay, child, calm thyself; what ails thee to think
so strange a thing as that? That man whom thou didst see was not Sir
Launcelot, but was a poor madman whom the townsfolk were stoning at the
postern gate."

But the Lady Elaine cried out all the more vehemently: "I fear! I fear!
Certes that was Sir Launcelot! Now take me to him so that I may be
assured whether it was he or not, for otherwise meseems I shall go mad!"

Then Dame Brysen perceived how it was with the Lady Elaine and that she
was like one gone distracted, and she wist that there was naught to do
but to let her have her will of this matter. Wherefore she said, "It
shall be as thou wilt have it."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine cometh to Sir Launcelot._]

So Dame Brysen arose and she took the Lady Elaine by the hand and she
led her to that place where the madman lay, and they beheld that he lay
in a little cell of stone, very gloomy and dark. For the only light that
came into that place was through a small window, barred with iron, and
the window was not more than two hands' breadth in width. Yet by the dim
light of this small window they beheld the wounded man where he lay upon
a hard pallet of straw. And they beheld that he was in a sleep as though
it were a swoon of death and they beheld that his face was like death
for whiteness.

Then in that gloomy light the Lady Elaine came and kneeled down beside
the couch whereon he lay and looked down into Sir Launcelot's face and
she studied his face as though it were a book written very fine and
small; and ever her breath came more and more quickly as it would
suffocate her, for she felt assured that this was indeed Sir Launcelot.
And anon she took Sir Launcelot's hand, all thin with famine and as cold
as ice, and she looked at it and she beheld a ring upon the finger and
the ring was set with a clear blue stone, and thereupon the Lady Elaine
knew that this was the ring which the Lady of the Lake had given Sir
Launcelot aforetime.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine weepeth._]

Thereupon she knew that this was indeed Sir Launcelot and she cried out
in a very loud and piercing voice, "It is he! It is he!" and so crying
she fell to weeping with great passion. And she kissed Sir Launcelot's
hand and pressed it to her throat and kissed it again and yet again.

Then Dame Brysen leaned over the Lady Elaine and catched her beneath the
arm and said: "Lady, Lady! restrain your passion! remember yourself, and
that people are here who will see you." Therewith Dame Brysen lifted the
Lady Elaine up from where she kneeled, and she brought her out of that
gloomy place, still weeping with a great passion of love and pity. But
yet the Lady Elaine had so much thought for herself that she drew her
veil across her face so that none might behold her passion, and she said
to Dame Brysen, "Take me to my father," and so, Dame Brysen, embracing
her with one arm, led her to where King Pelles was.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine telleth her father of Sir Launcelot._]

Then, when the Lady Elaine beheld her father standing before her, she
flung herself upon her knees and embraced him about the thighs, crying:
"Father! Father! I have seen him and he is in this castle!" At this
passion of sorrow King Pelles was much amazed and he said, "Whom hast
thou seen, my daughter?" She said: "I have seen Sir Launcelot, and it
was he whom they fetched into the castle but now to save him from the
townsfolk who were stoning him to death at the postern gate." Then King
Pelles was amazed beyond measure and he said: "Can such a thing be true?
How knowest thou it was he?" She said: "I know him by many signs, for I
knew him by my love for him and I knew him by his face, and I knew him
by the ring set with a blue stone which he weareth upon his finger."

Then King Pelles lifted up the Lady Elaine where she kneeled at his feet
and he said: "Daughter, stay thy weeping and I will go and examine into
this."

So he did as he said and he went to the cell and he looked long upon Sir
Launcelot as he lay there. And he looked at the ring which the wounded
man wore upon his finger. So after a while King Pelles knew that that
was indeed Sir Launcelot who lay there, albeit he would not have known
him, had not the Lady Elaine first declared that it was he.

So immediately King Pelles bade those who were in attendance to lift Sir
Launcelot up and to bear him very tenderly away from that place and to
bring him to a fair large room. So they did as King Pelles commanded and
they laid Sir Launcelot upon a couch of down spread with a coverlet of
wadded satin. And King Pelles sent for a skilful leech to come and to
search Sir Launcelot's hurts and he bade the physician for to take all
heed to save his life. And all that while Sir Launcelot lay in that deep
swoon like to death and awoke not.

And Sir Launcelot slept in that wise for three full days and when he
awoke the Lady Elaine and her father and Dame Brysen and the leech alone
were present. And lo! when Sir Launcelot awoke his brain was clear of
madness and he was himself again, though weak, like to a little child
who hath been ill abed.

[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot awoke from his madness._]

That time the Lady Elaine was kneeling beside Sir Launcelot's couch and
hers was the face he first beheld. Then Sir Launcelot said, speaking
very faint and weak, "Where am I?" and the Lady Elaine wept and said,
"Lord, you are safe with those who hold you very dear." Sir Launcelot
said, "What has befallen me?" She said: "Lord, thou hast been bedazed in
thy mind and hast been sorely hurt with grievous wounds, wherefore thou
hast been upon the very edge of death. But now thou art safe with those
who love thee."

He said, "Have I then been mad?" And to that they who were there said
naught. Then Sir Launcelot said again, "Have I been mad?" and thereupon
King Pelles said, "Yea, Messire."

Then Sir Launcelot groaned as from his soul, and he covered his face
with one hand (for the Lady Elaine held the other hand in hers) and he
said, "What shame! What shame!" And therewith he groaned again.

[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot was cherished._]

Then, ever weeping, the Lady Elaine said, "No shame, Lord, but only very
great pity!" and she kissed his hand and washed it with her tears. And
Sir Launcelot wept also because of his great weakness, and by and by he
said, "Elaine, meseems I have no hope or honor save in thee," and she
said, "Take peace, Sir, for in my heart there is indeed both honor for
you and hope for your great happiness." And so Sir Launcelot did take
peace.

Then after a while Sir Launcelot said, "Who here knoweth of my madness?"
and King Pelles said, "Only a very few in this castle, Messire."

Then Sir Launcelot said: "I pray you that this be all as secret as
possible, and that no word concerning me goes beyond these walls." And
King Pelles said, "It shall be as you would have it, Messire."

So it was that the news of Sir Launcelot's madness and of his recovery
was not carried beyond those walls.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and Elaine commune together._]

Now after a fortnight had passed, Sir Launcelot was fast becoming cured
in body and mind. And one day he and the Lady Elaine were alone in that
room where he lay and he said, "Lady, meseems you have had great cause
to hate me." At this she looked upon him and smiled, and she said, "How
could I hate thee, Launcelot?" Sir Launcelot said, "Elaine, I have done
thee great and grievous wrong in times gone by." She said, "Say naught
of that." "Yea," he said, "I must say much of that, for I have this to
say of it, that I would that I could undo that wrong which I did thee by
my neglect. But what have I aught to offer thee in compensation? Naught
but mine own broken and beggared life. Yet that poor life and all that
it holds dearest I would fain offer thee if only it might be a
compensation to thee."

Then the Lady Elaine looked very long and intently at Sir Launcelot and
she said: "Sir Launcelot, thy lips speak of duty, but that which boots
is that thy heart should speak of duty. For if so be that thou hast ever
done me wrong, thou canst not hope to remove that wrong by the words of
thy mouth. But if from thy heart thou sayst, 'I have wronged this one
and I would fain make amends,' then indeed may that wrong be very
quickly amended."

Then Sir Launcelot smiled and he said: "And so I have looked well into
my heart ere I spake to thee, and so it is my heart that speaks and not
my lips. For in my heart meseems I find great love for thee and certes I
find all honor and reverence for thee lying therein, and moving me to
everything that I now hope to do or to perform. Now tell me, Lady, what
can any heart hold more than that?" And Elaine said, "Meseems it can
hold no more."

Then Sir Launcelot took her by the hand and drew her to him and she went
to him, and he kissed her upon the lips and she forbade him not. So they
two were reconciled in peace and happiness.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine are wedded._]

So when Sir Launcelot was altogether healed of his sickness, they two
were married. And after they were married, King Pelles gave to them a
very noble castle for to be their dwelling-place and that castle was
called the Castle of Blayne.

That castle stood upon a very beautiful island in the midst of a lake of
pure water as clear as crystal. And the island was covered over with
many plantations and orchards of beautiful trees of various foliages.
And there were gardens and meadows upon that island and there was a town
about the castle so fair that when one stood upon the margin of that
lake and gazed across the lake to the town and the castle he beheld such
a place as one may see in a shining dream.

So Sir Launcelot, because of the great peace of that island and because
of the peace which he hoped to find there, called it the Joyous Isle,
and so it was known of all men from that time forth.

       *       *       *       *       *

So endeth this part of the history of Sir Launcelot with only this to
say. That he dwelt there in Joyous Isle in seeming peace and
contentment.

[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot dwelt in Joyous Isle._]

Yet was it indeed peace and contentment that he felt? Alas, that it
should be so, but so it was that ever and anon he would remember him of
other days of doughty deeds of glory and renown, and ever and anon he
would bethink him of that beautiful queen to whom he had one time
uplifted his eyes, and of whom he had now no right to think of in that
wise. Then his soul would up in arms and would cry out aloud: "Let us go
hence and seek that glory and that other's love once more! Are not all
thy comrades waiting for thee to return, and doth not she also look for
thee?" Then Sir Launcelot would ever say to his soul, "Down, proud
spirit, and think not of these things, but of duty." But ever and anon
that spirit would arise again within him and would struggle with the
bonds of honor that held it in check. And ever Sir Launcelot would say,
"That which remaineth for me is my duty and my peace of soul."

For indeed it is so that the will of a man is but a poor weak defence
against the thoughts that arise within a stubborn heart. For, though a
man may will to do that which is right, yet may his thoughts ever turn
to that which is wrong; and though he may refrain from doing wrong, yet
it is in spite of his desirings that he thus refraineth. Yea; there is
no help for a man to contain himself within the bounds of duty, save
only that he hath the love of God within his heart. For only when his
feet are planted upon that rock may he hope to withstand the powerful
thoughts that urge him to do that which is wrong.

So it was with Sir Launcelot at that time; for though he ever willed to
do that which was right, yet his desires ever called to him to depart
from the paths of honor and truth in which he walked, and so he was
oftentimes much troubled in his spirit.

[Illustration]




PART V

The Story of Sir Ewaine and the Lady of the Fountain

_Here beginneth the story of Sir Ewaine; of how he went forth to search
for Sir Launcelot in company with Sir Percival of Gales; of how they two
met Sir Sagramore in a condition of great disrepute; and of how Sir
Ewaine undertook a very strange adventure, in which he succeeded, after
great danger to his life, in winning the most fair Lady of the Fountain
for his wife._

[Illustration: Sir Gawaine, Knight of the Fountain:]




[Illustration]

Chapter First

_How Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival departed together in quest of Sir
Launcelot, and how they met Sir Sagramore, who had failed in a certain
adventure. Also how Sir Sagramore told his story concerning that
adventure._


It hath already been told in this book how certain knights of King
Arthur's court--to wit, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Lionel, Sir Bors de
Ganis, Sir Gawaine, Sir Ewaine, Sir Percival, Sir Sagramore the Desirous
and Sir Agravaine went forth upon Queen Guinevere's command to search
for Sir Launcelot and to bring him back to the court of the King.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ewaine ride forth together._]

Upon that quest, Sir Percival and Sir Ewaine rode together for the sake
of companionship. And they made agreement to travel together in that
wise until the fortunes of adventure should separate them.

So they rode side by side in very pleasant companionship, taking the way
that chance led them, yet everywhere seeking for news of Sir Launcelot,
of whom they could find no word of any sort.

In those days the world was very fresh and young, so that it was great
pleasure to journey in that wise, for anon they two rode beneath blue
skies and anon through gentle showers, anon up hill and anon down dale,
anon through countryside, anon through town, anon through forest and
anon through wold. Yea; in those days, when the world was young, all
things of life were so gay and joyous that it was little wonder that
good knights like those twain took delight in being abroad in that wise,
for so they might breathe more freely, out in the wider expanses of
God's world, and so the spirit within them might expand to a greater joy
of life than would be possible in court or in lady's bower.

So those two worthy gentlemen travelled as aforesaid in good-fellowship
together, journeying hither or yon for a fortnight, neither hearing
aught of Sir Launcelot, or meeting with any adventure whatsoever, and
lodging them at night at what place chance might happen to bring them.

[Sidenote: _They perceive a castle in a valley._]

At the end of that time--to wit, a fortnight--they came to a certain
high hill and from the summit thereof they beheld a valley that lay
stretched out beneath them. And they beheld a fair tall castle that
stood in the midst of that valley, and the castle was surrounded by a
little town and the town was surrounded by many fair fields and
plantations and orchards of fruit-trees. And at that time evening was
coming on apace, and all the golden sky was fading into a pale silver,
wonderfully clear and fine, with a single star, like a jewel, shining in
the midst of the bright yet fading firmament.

Then Sir Ewaine said: "Sir, let us go down to yonder place and seek
lodging at that fair castle, for meseems that must be a very pleasant
place to abide for the coming night." To the which Sir Percival replied,
"Let it be so, brother," and therewith they rode down into that valley
and to that castle. And when they had reached the castle, Sir Percival
blew his bugle horn very loud and clear, and straightway there came
several of the attendants of the castle who bade them welcome and led
them within the gateway thereof. There, when they had arrived, came the
major of the castle, and requested them that they would tell what was
their name and their degree, and when the two knights had announced
these there was great rejoicing that two such famous champions had come
thitherward. So several ran and took their horses in charge and others
came and assisted them to dismount and others again led them into the
castle and thence brought them each to a fair chamber, well bedight and
with a very cheerful outlook. Then came other attendants and assisted
each knight to disarm and to disrobe, and after that they brought each
to a bath of tepid water. Thereafter, when they had bathed and dried
themselves with fair linen towels, very soft and fragrant with lavender,
these same attendants brought them rich robes of silk and garments of
silk, and they dressed them and were at great ease and comfort.

For thus it was that good knights of old were received in such castles
and halls wheresoever they chose to abide in that adventurous wise.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ewaine refresh themselves at the
castle._]

Now after Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival had refreshed themselves and
bathed themselves and had clad themselves as aforetold, there came to
them a certain dignitary of the castle, who brought them word that the
lord of the castle desired to have speech with them. So they two went
down with that attendant, and he brought them to the great hall of the
castle where was the lord thereof, standing to give them welcome. He was
a haughty and noble worthy with a long gray beard and he was clad in a
dark purple robe embroidered with silver. When he beheld Sir Ewaine and
Sir Percival coming into that place, he hastened to meet them and give
them greeting and welcome beyond stint. And he said: "Welcome, welcome,
fair lords! Thrice welcome to this castle! For certes it is a great
glory to us all to have you with us. Moreover, I may tell you that
already there is one of your fellows here at this place, and I believe
you will be very glad to see him."

Quoth Sir Ewaine, "Sir, who is it that is here?"

[Sidenote: _They hear news of Sir Sagramore._]

"It is Sir Sagramore who hath come hither," said the lord of the castle,
and at that Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival cried out with amazement. And
Sir Ewaine said, "How came Sir Sagramore hither, fair lord?"

"I will tell you," said the lord of the castle. "A little before you
came hitherward, there arrived at this place a knight riding without a
shield and seated upon a white mule. This knight requested rest and
refreshment for the night, and upon our asking him his name and degree,
he at first refused to tell, for shame of his condition; yet afterward
he declared that he was Sir Sagramore of King Arthur's court, and a
knight of the Round Table. He also declared that he had met with a sad
mischance and had lost his shield and his war-horse, wherefore he was
travelling in that wise as I have told you."

"Sir," quoth Sir Ewaine, "this is a very strange thing I hear, that Sir
Sagramore should be travelling in that unknightly wise. Wit you that as
Sir Sagramore is a knight of the Round Table, this matter concerns both
Sir Percival and myself very closely. Now I pray you for to let me have
speech with him, so that I may know why it is that he hath travelled in
that wise and without his knightly shield."

"It shall be as you command, Messire," said the lord of the castle,
"and so I will straightway send a messenger to Sir Sagramore with word
that you would have speech with him."

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore appeareth._]

So the lord of the castle sent the messenger as he said, and anon there
came Sir Sagramore to where they were. But when Sir Sagramore stood
before Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival, he hung his head full low, as though
not wishing to look those knights in the face because of shame that they
should find him there in such a condition. Then Sir Ewaine said to him:
"Sir, I pray you tell me how you came by such a mischance as this, so
that you ride without your shield and upon a white mule like to a
strolling demoiselle?"

"Messire," said Sir Sagramore, "I will tell you the whole story, for I
would have you know that it was through no disgrace but by mishap of
battle that I am come to this pass."

Quoth Sir Ewaine, "I may well believe that."

Then the lord of the castle said: "Messires, ere you talk of these
things I pray you to come to table and eat and drink and refresh
yourselves. After that we may listen with a better spirit to what this
knight has to tell us."

[Sidenote: _They all sit at feast together._]

So that which the lord of the castle said seemed very good to those
knights, wherefore they straightway went in to table in the hall and sat
down thereat. And the table was spread with all manner of meats, and
there was wine of divers sorts, both red and white, and they ate and
drank with much appetite and great good-will. Then when they were
satisfied as to their hunger, Sir Ewaine said to Sir Sagramore: "Now,
Messire, I pray you to tell us concerning that adventure which hath
befallen you."

Sir Sagramore said, "I will do so." Then he said:

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore telleth of his adventures._]

[Sidenote: _How Sir Sagramore came to a wonderful valley of
enchantment._]

"You must know that when I travelled forth errant in search of Sir
Launcelot, as several of my fellows did, I went forward upon my way,
making diligent inquiries concerning him, but still could get no news of
him. So I travelled onward in that wise, ever making inquiries as
aforesaid, until two days ago, what time in the evening I came to a
certain place a considerable distance to the east of this. There I found
myself in a valley that I verily believe must be the fairest valley in
the world. For in that valley I beheld a very pleasant expanse of
meadow-lands all abloom with flowers, and I beheld many glades of trees
of an even size, some abloom with blossoms and some full of fruit. And
there was a river of very clear water that flowed down through the
centre of the valley, and everywhere there were birds of curious
plumage that sang very bewitchingly, so from these things I wist that
this valley was very likely a place of enchantment. In the midst of that
valley I beheld a very noble castle that was of as wonderful an
appearance as the valley itself, so I rode forward into the valley and
approached the castle.

"As I drew near thereunto I beheld two youths clad in flame-colored
satin who shot at a mark with bows and arrows. And the hair of the
youths was yellow and curling, and each bore a frontlet of gold upon his
head, and they wore upon their feet shoes of embossed leather with
latchets of gold upon the insteps.

"These two youths, as I drew near, gave me very courteous greeting, and
besought me that I would declare to them my name and degree, and I did
so. Then they besought me that I would come with them to the castle, and
I went with them with great content of spirit; for it seemed to me that
this was likely to be a very fair and cheerful place to lodge
over-night. So I entered with those two youths into the castle, and
there came attendants and took my horse and there came others who
unarmed me and led me to a bath of tepid water. After that I descended
to the hall of that castle, and there I beheld that it was all hung with
tapestries and fabrics of divers sorts and of very rich and beautiful
designs.

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore meets the Lady Vivien._]

"In that hall there were twelve ladies who sat embroidering cloth of
satin at a window, and I think I have hardly ever seen any ladies who
were so beautiful as they. Immediately I entered that room these twelve
ladies arose, and she who was the fairest amongst them came forward and
gave me greeting. And immediately I knew that lady that she was the Lady
Vivien who beguiled the Enchanter Merlin to his undoing and his ruin.
Yet in this time, I do assure you, she has grown more beautiful than
ever she was before; for her hair, which was ruddy, is now like to pure
gold for brightness, and it was enmeshed in a golden net, and yet one
could not tell whether the net or the hair shone the more brightly. And
her eyes, which are perfectly black are as bright as jewels, and her
lips are like red corals and very fragrant, and her teeth are like to
rich pearls. Moreover, she was clad in garments of flame-colored satin,
and her neck and arms were adorned with ornaments of gold set with
jewels of a great many kinds and colors. And well ye wist, Messires,
that it was very difficult not to be altogether enchanted by her beauty
of face and appearance.

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore feasteth with the Lady Vivien._]

"Yet well knowing how this lady loved mischief, I was for a time very
ill at ease, not knowing whether or not she might be minded to cast some
evil spell upon me. Yet she made no sign of such intent, but spake me
very fair and gave me courteous greeting. And she took my hand and led
me into an adjoining apartment where there was a feast set with all
sorts of meats and wines, and we two took our places at the board side
by side. And as we feasted so together, there came some who sang and
others who made sweet music and I felt such great pleasure as I have
hardly ever felt in all of my life before. Meanwhile, as we sat at the
table, the Lady Vivien conversed with me upon such matters as she deemed
would be of entertainment to me. And she inquired of many lords and
ladies at the court of the King and spake well of them all. Then after a
considerable while she inquired of me whether it would be pleasant to me
to tell her upon what errand I was bound, and so I told her I was errant
in search of Sir Launcelot.

"'Ha!' quoth she, 'if thou wert in search of adventure, I could bring
you to one that would be well worth undertaking.'

"I said to her: 'Lady, though I am errant upon a certain business, yet I
am very ready to stay my affairs for a while if so be I may meet with an
adventure that may bring me any credit.'

[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien telleth Sir Sagramore of an adventure._]

"At that the Lady Vivien laughed, and she said: 'Sir Sagramore, I know
not what credit you may obtain in this adventure, but I will tell you
what you are to do to enter into it. To-morrow I will ordain that one of
the youths who brought you hither shall conduct you to a certain path
that leads through the forest that lies beyond this valley. If you will
follow that path, you will by and by come to a mound of earth, and on
that mound you will very likely behold a man of gigantic stature who is
herdsman to a herd of cattle thereabouts. Ask him where is the enchanted
fountain, and he will direct you still farther upon the way.'

"I said to her: 'Lady, I am very much beholden to you for the
information you give me, and I will very gladly take up with this
adventure.' Upon this she laughed a very great deal and said: 'Sir
Knight, it may be that after you have passed through this adventure, you
will not be so pleased either with me or with yourself. Now I have this
to ask of you in return for my entertainment of to-night. My request is
that you will return hitherward to me after you have finished this
adventure so that I may see how it hath happened with you.' I said to
the lady, 'It shall be as you ask.'

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore departs upon the adventure._]

"So when the next morning had come I arose very early and donned mine
armor. And there came to me one of those youths aforetold of, and he
aided me to my horse and afterward guided me through that valley. So he
brought me to the borders of a woodland that lay beyond the valley and
there he showed me a path and bade me take that path and it would bring
me to that adventure I sought.

"Thereafter I followed that path, and after I had gone upon the way a
considerable distance I came, some time before midday, to that mound
whereof the lady had spoken.

"On the top of the mound there sat a man of gigantic size and so
hideously ugly that I never beheld his like in all of my life before
that time. This being called to me in a voice exceedingly loud and
rough, demanding of me whither I went and upon what business. Thereupon
I told him that I sought a certain magic fountain and that I would be
much beholden to him if he would direct me upon my way. Upon this he
laughed very boisterously, and after a while he said: 'Take that path
yonder through the glade. Follow that path until you come to a hill.
From the hilltop you will find before you a valley, and you will see in
the valley a fountain of water that flows into a small lake with many
lilies about the margin. At the fountain is a tall tree with
wide-spreading branches, and beneath the tree is a marble slab, and upon
the slab is a silver bowl attached to it by a chain of silver. Take some
of the water of that fountain into the silver bowl and fling it upon the
marble slab, and I believe you will find an adventure that will satisfy
your desires for a very long time to come.'

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore cometh to the valley of the fountain._]

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore poureth water upon the slab._]

"So spake that gigantic oaf. I took the path to which he directed me,
and I followed the path until I came to the hill, and I climbed the hill
and there I beheld the valley of which he spake. And I beheld the lake
of lilies of which he spake and I beheld the fountain that flowed into
the lake and I beheld the tree that overshadowed the fountain, so I
straightway rode down into the valley thereunto. And when I had come to
the tree I beheld the slab of stone and the bowl of silver just as that
gigantic herdsman had said that I would find them. Then I dipped the
silver bowl into the water as he had told me to do and I flung the water
of the fountain upon the marble slab.

"Then immediately a very singular thing happened, for lo! the earth
began to tremble and to shake, and the skies began, as it were, to
thunder, and all over the sky there spread a cloud of very great
blackness and density so that whilst it was still midday, it began to
grow dark like night-time. Then there came a great wind of such strength
that I thought it would blow me away, and after that there fell a rain
in such quantities and with such deluge that methought I would be
drowned by that rain. And the rain roared down in torrents everywhere
through that valley as it were a deluge. And, as the rain fell and the
thunder burst forth from the sky and the lightning flamed like living
fire, I heard, as from a very great distance, the sound of many voices
raised in lamentation.

"Then, by and by, the storm passed and the clouds disappeared and the
sun came forth with extraordinary brightness. Then lo! there happened
another singular thing, for presently there came a great multitude of
birds flying through the air, and they lodged in that tree above the
fountain, and they sang with such exquisite melody that methought that
my heart would break with the joy of their singing.

"Now whilst I sat there listening to those birds, I beheld where, a
great way off, there came a horseman riding with extraordinary rapidity
across the plain, and as he drew nigh I beheld that he was a knight
seated upon a black horse and clad all in black armor. This knight came
riding very violently toward where I was, and he called out in a very
fierce loud voice: 'Sir Knight, wherefore did you meddle with my
fountain. Know that you have brought a great deluge upon this land, and
for that I am come hither to punish you. Now defend yourself from my
anger, for it is very great.'

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore is overthrown by the Knight of the Fountain._]

"Therewith he made ready to assail me, and I upon my part immediately
put myself into a posture of defence, and dressed my shield and my
spear, and took post upon the meadow close to the fountain. After that I
ran a tilt against that knight and he ran against me, and he cast me out
of my saddle with such violence that methinks I have never before felt a
buffet like to that which I then received.

"Having thus cast me down, he paid no more heed to me than if I had been
a billet of wood, but he took from me my shield and he laid it upon the
saddle of my horse and he took my horse by the rein and rode away from
that place, leaving me still lying upon the ground. And in departing he
said not one single word to me. And indeed I do think, Messires, that I
was never so abashed in all my life before.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien mocketh Sir Sagramore._]

"Then I remembered how that I had pledged myself to return to the Lady
Vivien, and at that I was more ashamed than ever. So, in obedience to
that promise, I had to make my way back whence I came on foot. When I
passed by where was that mound, the gigantic creature who sat thereon
made great mock of me. And when I reached the castle, the Lady Vivien
looked at me out of a window and laughed at me beyond measure. And when
I requested admission to the castle, she denied me entrance thereunto,
and when I besought her for to lend me a horse to ride upon my way, she
gave me instead a white mule for to bear me thence. So I returned
hitherward upon a white mule without any shield, and thus I have
confessed everything to you to the last word."

Such was the story of Sir Sagramore, and thereunto all those who were
there listened with great attention and with much amazement. Then Sir
Ewaine spake, saying: "That was a very great shame that was put upon
you, Messire; and I take it so greatly to heart that had I suffered it
in my own person methinks I could not feel much greater shame than I do.
For that which hath befallen you is, as it were, a despite put upon all
of us who are knights of the Round Table. Wherefore, being a fellow of
that company, your despite is my despite also. As for that mischievous
Lady Vivien, methinks that she is at the bottom of all this coil, and I
am much misled if this hath not all been devised by her to bring shame
upon you who are a knight of King Arthur's court and of the Round
Table."

Quoth Sir Percival, "That may very well be so, Messire."

Then Sir Ewaine said: "Well, Messires, as for me, I am of no mind to sit
down quietly under this affront."

"Sir," said Sir Sagramore, "what would you do?"

"I would do this," said Sir Ewaine. "I would go upon that same quest in
which you have failed, and if I succeed therein, then will the shame of
your mischance be wiped away from us all."

Thus spake Sir Ewaine with great feeling; for you are to know that those
noble knights of the Round Table were so closely knit into brotherly
fellowship that whatsoever ill thing befell to the injury of one was in
that same measure an injury to all, and that whatsoever quarrel was
taken up by one of that company, was a quarrel appertaining to all.
Wherefore it was the injury that had been done to Sir Sagramore was also
an injury done to Sir Ewaine, and so it was that Sir Ewaine felt himself
called upon to undertake that adventure in which Sir Sagramore had
failed as aforesaid.

Then Sir Ewaine said: "Now I prithee tell me where that path is that may
bring me to this adventure and to-morrow I will part from you and will
myself enter upon it. Meantime, do you both resume your quest of Sir
Launcelot, and if I should not prosper in this undertaking, I will
return hither and leave report of my happenings. Wherefore at this place
you may, at any time, easily hear what hath befallen me if you will come
hither."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine departeth upon the Adventure of the Fountain._]

So Sir Sagramore gave Sir Ewaine such directions for that adventure as
were necessary and after that they all went to bed to rest them after
their travails of the day. And when the next morning had come and while
the dew still lay upon the grass, shining like to a thin veil of fine,
bright silver spread over the level meadow-lands, Sir Ewaine arose all
in the freshness of the early daytime and busked him whilst the rest of
the castle still lay fast asleep. And he donned his armor and went down
and aroused the sleeping groom and gave command that his horse should be
brought to him; and after the groom had apparelled his horse he mounted
and rode forth upon that way which Sir Sagramore had advised him would
lead him toward the castle of the Lady Vivien.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now if you would know how Sir Ewaine prospered in that undertaking
which he had assumed, I pray you to read further in this history and you
shall hear how it befell with him.

[Illustration: Sir Ewaine poureth water on the slab:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Second

_How Sir Ewaine undertook that adventure in which Sir Sagramore had
failed, and how it sped with him thereafter._


Thus it was that Sir Ewaine departed upon that adventure whilst Sir
Percival and Sir Sagramore were still asleep, and no one wist of his
going saving only the groom. After he wended his way from that place
until he had come to the woodlands, and he entered the woodlands and
travelled therein for a long while, breaking his fast with the charcoal
burners whom he found there at a curious place. About the middle of the
morning he came to a high hill, and when he had climbed this hill he
beheld before him a very strangely beautiful valley, and he beheld that
in the midst of the valley there stood a wonderful castle, and he wist
that this must be the castle of the Lady Vivien of which Sir Sagramore
had aforetold of.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to the castle of the Lady Vivien._]

And Sir Ewaine was astonished at the wonderful appearance of that castle
and the valley in which it stood. For this castle was bright and shining
as though of polished stone, and the roofs thereof were of bright red
tile variegated with dark green tiles and black tiles, laid in sundry
figures and patterns very strange to behold. And the valley in which the
castle stood was spread out with fair lawns and gardens and meadow-lands
and plantations of comely trees. And everywhere there were flowers
abloom in incredible quantities, and there were thousands of birds of
bright plumage that sang in the trees throughout the valley, so that the
multitudinous sounds of their singing came even to Sir Ewaine where he
sat so far distant. And ever those birds flitted like bright sparks of
color hither and thither through the foliage of the trees, and Sir
Ewaine had never beheld their like before in all of his life. So because
of the wonderfulness of all that he beheld, Sir Ewaine wist that this
must be a land of faery and enchantment with which the Lady Vivien had
surrounded her castle and herself and her court. So for a while Sir
Ewaine sat there observing all these things, and after a while he set
spurs to horse and rode down into that valley and toward the castle.

Now when Sir Ewaine had come pretty near to the castle, he beheld two
youths with golden hair, clad in garments of flame-colored satin, and he
knew that these must be the two fair youths of whom Sir Sagramore had
spoken. And he saw that those two youths were playing at ball under the
walls of the castle just as Sir Sagramore had beheld them when he had
visited that place.

These, when Sir Ewaine drew nigh, ceased their play, and he who was the
chief of the twain came forward and greeted that noble knight with great
courtesy, saying: "Sir Knight, you are very welcome to these parts where
not many ever come. For she who is the lady of this castle ever takes
pleasure in giving welcome to such as you who come thitherward. Now I
pray you of your courtesy to tell me who you are and upon what quest you
are bound and what is your degree, for I would fain announce you with
all dignity to the lady of the castle."

Quoth Sir Ewaine: "Fair youth, you are to know that I am a knight of
King Arthur's court, and that I am a fellow of the Round Table. My name
is Sir Ewaine, and I am King Uriens' son of Gore, my mother being Queen
Morgana le Fay. As for your lady, I know very well who she is, and that
she is none other than the Enchantress Vivien. Moreover, I know that she
is not at all above devising mischief against me because I am a knight
of King Arthur and of his Round Table. Yet I will that you bring me
before this lady, for I would fain have speech with her."

Upon this, so boldly said by Sir Ewaine, those two fair youths were
adoubt, wherefore they withdrew a little to one side and held
consultation together. Then he who had before spoken to Sir Ewaine spake
again, saying: "Messire, I trust you have it not in your mind to do any
ill to the lady of this castle, for unless we are well assured upon that
point we will not bring you to her."

"Rest ye easy," quoth Sir Ewaine; "I am a true knight, and mean no ill
to any lady, be she evil or good. Only I would have speech with her as
presently as may be."

Then the youth who was the speaker for the two said, "Sir, I will take
you to her."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to the Lady Vivien._]

So forthwith that youth led the way into the enchanted castle and Sir
Ewaine followed closely after him. And after they had come unto the
castle and after Sir Ewaine had dismounted from his horse and after they
had traversed various spaces, the youth brought Sir Ewaine to where the
Lady Vivien was. And she was in her own fair bower with her eleven
damsels gathered about her.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien giveth welcome to Sir Ewaine._]

Now the news of the coming of Sir Ewaine had gone before him, so that
when he came to the Lady Vivien she arose from her seat and went forward
to meet him and received him with her face all wreathed with smiles. And
she said: "Welcome! Welcome! Thrice welcome, Sir Ewaine! Now I pray you
to let my attendants conduct you to a fair room where you may bathe and
refresh yourself, for we would fain have you stay with us at this place
for a day or two or three if so be you will favor us so greatly."

But Sir Ewaine neither smiled nor made acknowledgment of any sort;
otherwise he spake with great sternness, saying: "Fair Lady, I know you
well, and I know that you have no very good will toward us who are of
King Arthur's court. I know that you continually devise mischief and
enchantments against all who come near you, and I well believe that
could you do so without danger to yourself, you would this moment
practise mischiefs against me. Nevertheless, I am not come hither to
chide you because of your shortcomings, for though all those things are
well known to me and to others, yet I leave it to God to judge you in
His own wisdom and am not come hither to be myself your judge. What I
have come for is this: not long since you sent my fellow, Sir Sagramore,
upon an adventure that brought great shame upon him. Now I pray you that
you will direct me to that same adventure so that I may undertake it,
for, if so be I have that good fortune, I would fain punish that
discourteous knight who so shamed my companion at arms."

Then the Lady Vivien laughed very high and shrill. "Sir," quoth she,
"you are very brave for to undertake that adventure wherein so good a
knight as Sir Sagramore failed so signally. Gladly will I direct you
upon your way, and all that I ask in return is that when you have sped
in that adventure, you will also return hither as did Sir Sagramore, so
that I may bestow a white mule upon you as I bestowed one to him."

To this Sir Ewaine bowed his head very gravely and said: "Be it so. Show
me the way to that adventure, and if I fail therein, then I will submit
myself to you so that you may humiliate me as you humiliated Sir
Sagramore."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine entereth into the Adventure of the Fountain._]

Then the Lady Vivien called to her that youth who had afore spoken to
Sir Ewaine, and she bade him set Sir Ewaine upon the path that should
lead him to that adventure he sought. And after that Sir Ewaine left the
Lady Vivien without any further word and he took horse and departed
thence. And that fair youth with the golden hair went before Sir Ewaine
to the skirts of the forest that lay upon the other side of the valley
from that side upon which Sir Ewaine had entered it. Then the youth
showed Sir Ewaine a certain path that led into the forest and he said:
"Take that path, fair lord, and it will bring you to your adventure."

So Sir Ewaine took the path as the youth directed and he travelled upon
it for an hour or two and by and by he came to an open place in the
woodland. And in the midst of that open place there was a high mound of
earth covered with fair green grass and many sheep browsed upon the
slopes of the mound and coadjacent thereunto. And on the mound there sat
the being of whom Sir Sagramore had spoken, and Sir Ewaine was amazed at
his hideous aspect. For he was of giant stature and swarthy black, and
his hair was red as brick. His mouth gaped wide like a cavern and the
teeth within were sharp like the teeth of a wild beast.

To this creature Sir Ewaine spake, saying, "Sirrah, whither shall I go
to find that Adventure of the Fountain?"

Upon this that giant being laughed like the pealing of thunder and he
said: "Ho! little man, have you come also to that adventure? The day
before yesterday one came hither and sped but ill, and so also, I doubt
not, it will fare with you. Take you yonder path, and I believe you will
come to that adventure all too soon for your own good."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to the valley of the fountain._]

So Sir Ewaine took the path that that being directed, and so entering
the woodlands again he rode for a long while through the thick forests.
Then after a while he came to a hill and he ascended the hill, and when
he had reached the top thereof he found that the forest ceased and that
the open country lay spread out before him and he beheld a fair and
level valley lying beneath the hill. And he beheld that the valley was
very fertile with many fields and plantations of fair trees. And Sir
Ewaine beheld in that valley a lake and a fountain that flowed into the
lake and a tree that overshadowed the fountain, and he wist that this
was the place where Sir Sagramore had met with that adventure aforetold
of. So straightway he rode down into that valley and toward that place
where was the enchanted fountain overshadowed by the tree. And when he
reached that place he beheld the slab of stone and the silver bowl
chained to the slab by a silver chain just as Sir Sagramore had beheld
those things.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine casteth water upon the slab._]

Then Sir Ewaine took the silver bowl into his hand and he dipped up
water therein from the fountain, and he flung the water upon the marble
slab as Sir Sagramore had done.

Then straightway it befell as it had with Sir Sagramore, for first the
earth began to tremble and to quake and then the sky began to thunder,
and then there arose a great cloud that overspread the sky, so that it
became all black like unto night time, although it was still the middle
of the day. Then there came the great wind, the like of which Sir Ewaine
had never before known in all his life, for it blew with such strength
of fury that he was afraid it would blow him away from that place. Then
there fell such a deluge of rain that he feared he would be drowned
therewith. And whilst the rain fell in that wise he heard a multitude of
voices in lamentation as though a great way off, just as Sir Sagramore
had heard these voices.

Anon the rain ceased and the clouds passed away, and the sun came forth
and shone with wonderful warmth and brightness, and thereupon a great
flock of small birds came flying to that tree and perched in the
branches thereof so that the tree was entirely filled with the multitude
of feathered creatures gathered there. And that multitude of birds began
to sing in such a wise, that when Sir Ewaine listened to that singing he
wist not whether he were in paradise or upon earth, so sweet and
piercing was the melody of their singing. And all these things befell
with Sir Ewaine as they had befallen aforetime with Sir Sagramore.

Now, whilst Sir Ewaine stood listening in that wise, all bewitched by
the singing of those birds, he was aware of one who came riding very
rapidly toward him across the plain. And as that rider drew nigh unto
Sir Ewaine, he beheld that he was a knight clad all in black armor and
seated upon a great charger which was entirely black and which was hung
with trappings as black as any raven. And the knight bore a shield which
was altogether black and without any device whatsoever. And he was of a
very terrible appearance, being huge of form and violent and fierce in
his advance.

This black knight, when he had come close to that place where Sir Ewaine
awaited him, cried out in a great voice: "Sir Knight, why didst thou
come hither to meddle with my fountain? Know thou that thou hast brought
a great deluge upon all this land so that thou hast wrought great damage
to us who are the people thereof. But now thou shalt pay very dearly for
the injury thou hast done. Prepare thyself straightway for battle!"

Unto this Sir Ewaine made reply: "Sir Knight, I wist not that in
throwing water upon yonder slab I was doing injury to thee or to any
one. Nevertheless, I am ready to meet thee in battle as thou dost make
demand." Therewith Sir Ewaine dressed his shield and his spear and took
his station in the meadow near the fountain and beside the lake, and put
himself in such array for defence as he was able.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine doeth battle with the Knight of the Fountain._]

So when they both had prepared themselves in all ways they let go their
horses the one against the other, in very violent assault, rushing
together like a whirlwind. And so they met together in the midst of the
course with an uproar as of thunder; the one smiting against the other
with such violence that the spear of each was burst all into pieces unto
the very truncheon thereof. And in that assault both knights would
assuredly have been overthrown excepting for the wonderful address of
each. For each drave spur into steed and shouted aloud so that each
charger recovered his feet and fell not. Then each knight threw away the
truncheon of his spear and each drew his sword and straightway fell to
battle with might and main. And in that combat each knight gave the
other many sore buffets and, for a long while, no one could have told
how that encounter was like to go.

But at last Sir Ewaine waxed very furious with the opposition of that
other knight, wherefore he arose in his stirrups and lashed at that
black knight such a buffet that nor guard nor shield nor helm could
withstand the stroke. For under that blow the black Knight of the
Fountain reeled in his saddle as though he would fall from his horse.
Then he drooped his shield and hung his head full low and catched at the
horn of his saddle as though to stay himself from falling. Herewith Sir
Ewaine lashed another buffet at him, and with that blow the sword of Sir
Ewaine pierced through the helmet of the black knight and deep into his
brain pan and with that stroke the black knight received his mortal
hurt.

Then Sir Ewaine, perceiving that the black knight was so sorely hurt,
repented him of what he had done in the heat of his battle and stayed
his hand, though all too late. And he cried out: "Sir Knight, I fear me
that I have given thee a very woeful hurt. I repent me of that, so yield
thou thyself to me, and forthwith I will look to thy wound and will give
thee such ease as I may."

[Sidenote: _The Knight of the Fountain fleeth from Sir Ewaine._]

But to this the black Knight of the Fountain made no reply. Otherwise he
immediately wheeled his horse about, and set spurs to flank, and drove
away with all speed from that place. And so rapidly did he race away
from the field of battle that he appeared to fly, as it were, like to
the shadow of a bird across the plain.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine pursueth the Black Knight._]

At first Sir Ewaine was altogether amazed at the suddenness of the
flight of the Black Knight, but presently he awoke and set spurs to his
horse and sped away in pursuit as fast as he could race his horse
forward. And ever Sir Ewaine pursued the Black Knight in that wise and
called upon him to stay, and ever the Black Knight fled all the more
rapidly away as though he heard not the voice of Sir Ewaine. And ever
though he strove, Sir Ewaine could not reach the Black Knight in his
flight.

Thus they sped as swift as the wind across the plain, the Black Knight
fleeing and Sir Ewaine pursuing, and by and by Sir Ewaine was aware that
they were approaching a walled town and a very tall and noble castle
with many high towers, and steep roofs that overlooked the houses of the
town. And Sir Ewaine perceived that many people were running hither and
thither about the castle as though in great disturbance, and that many
people were upon the walls of the town, watching the Black Knight and
him as they drew nigh. And ever the knight rode toward the gate of the
town and of the castle, speeding like the wind, and ever Sir Ewaine
pursued him without being able to overtake him. So, in a little while,
the Black Knight reached the drawbridge of the gate and he thundered
across the drawbridge and Sir Ewaine thundered after him.

Now as the knight had approached the gateway of the town the portcullis
had been lifted for to admit him, and so he rode through the gateway
with all speed. But when Sir Ewaine would have followed, the portcullis
was let fall for to keep him without.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine is caught within the portcullis of the town._]

Yet so great was the fury of Sir Ewaine's chase and so closely did he
follow the Black Knight in pursuit that he was within the portcullis as
it fell. And the portcullis fell upon the horse of Sir Ewaine and smote
him just behind the saddle and cut him in twain, so that the half of the
horse fell within the portcullis and the other half of the horse fell
without the castle. And so violent was the blow of the falling of the
portcullis, and so sudden the fall of the horse, that Sir Ewaine was
flung down to the ground with so dreadful and terrible a shock that he
lay in a swoon as though he had been killed.

So as Sir Ewaine lay there, there came a number of those who were in
attendance at that part of the castle. These looked in through a wicket
of iron and beheld Sir Ewaine where he lay in that swoon in the space
between the portcullis and the inner gate. So when they beheld him lying
thus with the half of his dead horse, they said: "Behold! yonder is the
man who wounded our champion and who pursued him hither. Let him lie
where he is until that our champion tells us what we shall do unto him.
For lo! he is a prisoner here and cannot escape from our hands, and so
we have it in our power to do with him whatsoever we please."

Thus they said, not knowing that even at that time their champion was
lying very nigh to death because of the wound he had received at the
hands of Sir Ewaine.

So these went away from that place, leaving Sir Ewaine lying as though
dead in the swoon that his violent fall had caused him. But after a
while life came back to him and he opened his eyes and gazed about him,
and after that he made shift to arise, though with great pain. Then he
beheld that he was a prisoner at that place, and that he lay with the
half of his dead horse betwixt the portcullis and the inner gate of the
castle so that he could neither get into the castle nor out but was
there a prisoner like to a creature caught in a trap.

Then Sir Ewaine went to the wicket of the inner gate and he looked forth
through the iron bars of the wicket for to see what sort of a place it
was into which he had come. And he beheld that within the gate was the
street of the town. And he perceived that the street was very steep and
that it was cobbled with stones. And he beheld that the houses of the
town that stood upon either side of the street were built either of
brick or else of stone, and that they were fair and tall with
overhanging gables and with shining windows of glass and roofs of bright
red tiles. And he beheld that there were many booths and stores with
fair fabrics and merchandise displayed for sale. And he saw that there
were many people in the street but that all they were moving in one
direction as though in great agitation. And as he stood, so gazing, he
was aware of a great sound of lamentation that arose from all parts of
the town, wherefore he thought that maybe the knight whom he had chased
thither must now be lying nigh to death. At that he was much grieved,
for not only was that a very noble and valorous knight, but his death
would certes put Sir Ewaine himself into great jeopardy as soon as the
people of the castle should come to deal with him in that place where he
was now a prisoner.

       *       *       *       *       *

And now followeth the history of the further adventures of Sir Ewaine as
it is told in the books of chivalry that relate to these happenings, so
I pray you to read that which followeth if that other which hath gone
before hath been pleasing to you.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: The Damsel Elose giveth a ring to Sir Ewaine:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Third

_How a damsel, hight Elose, who was in service with the Lady Lesolie of
the Fountain, brought succor to Sir Ewaine in his captivity._


So Sir Ewaine stood gazing out of the wicket of the gate as aforetold;
and he wist not what to do to save his life; for he knew he could do
naught but wait there until those who had to deal with him might come to
slay him.

Now, as he stood thuswise in great trouble of spirit, he was aware of a
damsel who came thitherward. And as that damsel approached, Sir Ewaine
perceived that she was very comely of appearance, and that she had
yellow curling hair and it seemed to Sir Ewaine that he had hardly ever
beheld a damsel more fair than she who approached his place of
captivity.

This damsel came close to the wicket where Sir Ewaine stood, and she
gazed upon his face and her own face was pitiful and kind, and neither
angry nor scornful. Then Sir Ewaine, beholding that her face was kind,
said to her: "Damsel, why do you come to gaze thus upon a poor captive
who is waiting for his death?"

[Sidenote: _The Damsel of the Fountain pitieth Sir Ewaine._]

To this the damsel made reply: "Alas, Sir Knight, I come hither because
I take great pity that a noble champion such as you appear to be should
be in so sad a case as this. For certes the people of this castle will
come to slay you in a very little while."

"Damsel," said Sir Ewaine, "thy pity is a great comfort to me, but it
would be a still greater comfort if thou couldst help me to escape from
this place."

To this the damsel made no reply. But presently she said: "Tell me, Sir
Knight, why did you do so grievous a hurt to our knight-champion who was
the defender of this land against those who would meddle with the
fountain to bring a deluge upon our land. Wit you that because of the
woeful buffets you gave him he lieth so near to death that he is like to
die in a few hours."

"Damsel," said Sir Ewaine, "to tell you the very truth, I meant not to
bring an injury upon this land, neither did I mean to visit so grievous
a hurt as I did upon that good worthy knight your champion. But first I
entered upon this adventure because a fellow of mine failed in it and
because I deemed that it behooved me to redeem with mine own hand the
honor he had lost to your champion. As for the hurts which he suffered
at my hand--wit you that when a knight fights in battle with another
knight, as I fought of late with your champion, that one knoweth not how
hard he smites until the mischief is done. So it was with me, and when I
smote I smote in the heat and the passion of battle. Then, when I
perceived that I had hurt him so sorely I pursued your knight with
intent to help him whom I had so sadly hurt. But ever your
knight-champion fled away from me, so that at last I pursued him in
anger; wherefore I rushed into this place without thinking, and so am
caught here a helpless prisoner."

Then the damsel said, "Sir Knight, I pray you tell me what is your name
and your degree?" To the which Sir Ewaine made reply: "My name is Sir
Ewaine and I am King Uriens' son of Gore, and my mother is Queen
Morgana, surnamed Le Fay."

Now when the damsel heard this announcement of the name and the degree
of Sir Ewaine, she made great admiration, crying out: "Is it then
possible that so famous a knight as thou art, and one so renowned in all
the world both of chivalry and of common history, shouldst be caught a
prisoner in this wise?" And she regarded Sir Ewaine through the aperture
of the gate with very great wonder, and by and by she regarded him with
still greater pity. Then after a little, she said: "Sir Knight Ewaine, I
take great sorrow that so worthy a knight as thou art shouldst suffer
harm. Now I am of a great mind for to help thee if thou wilt do my
bidding in all things that I shall ordain for thee to do. For if I
release thee from thy captivity, there are several things I would have
thee do upon my commandment."

"Lady," said Sir Ewaine, "I believe that you mean me well, and I believe
that you would not lay any command upon me that would be contrary to my
knightly honor or my integrity as a right knight of royal blood to
fulfill." And the damsel said: "Take no thought that I intend ill faith
against thee, Sir Ewaine, for instead I am of a mind to be thy friend in
this affair if so be thou wilt put thy trust in me."

Then Sir Ewaine said: "Lady, I yield myself to your will, and if you
will set me free from this captivity I will do whatsoever you ordain for
me to perform. But tell me, how mean ye for to bring me forth from this
peril unless you may get the keys of this gate from the porter
thereof?"

[Sidenote: _The damsel giveth succor to Sir Ewaine._]

"Sir," said the damsel, "I cannot get those keys but I have another way
than that to set you free. For wit you that though locks and bars be
strong, yet the power of enchantment is still stronger than they." With
this the damsel drew from her bosom a locket that hung there by a chain
of gold, and she opened the locket and she brought forth therefrom a
ring set with a clear red stone like to a pure ruby--bright--shining and
very brilliant. And she said, "See you this ring?" and Sir Ewaine said,
"Yea." "Well, Messire," said she, "this is a very wonderful ring, for it
hath had many potent spells set upon it by the magician Merlin, who gave
it in days gone by to my father, King Magnus of Leograns. So my father
gave it to me and it is the most precious thing of all my possessions.
For the property of this ring is of such a sort that if you turn the
stone inward upon your hand so as to hide it within your palm, then you
shall become invisible; and if you turn the stone out upon your hand
again, then you shall become visible as you were before. Take this ring,
Sir Ewaine, and when you have made yourself invisible by means of it,
then you shall escape from your enemies. After you have so escaped, come
you to the garden of this castle and I will be there. Do you come and
lay your hand upon my shoulder, and then I will know you are there.
After that I will then conduct you to a certain apartment where you
shall be privily lodged until this present danger hath passed."

Therewith speaking, the damsel gave the ring to Sir Ewaine and he took
it, giving her thanks beyond measure for her kindness to him. And
immediately he set the ring upon his finger and turned the stone inward
so as to hide it in his palm. Then lo! as soon as he had done that he
became immediately invisible to the eyes.

Then the damsel Elose fled away from that place, lest those who would
come to slay Sir Ewaine should find her there talking to him.

So, shortly after she had gone, there came a great party of armed men
with intent to slay Sir Ewaine, and some of these were armed and all
bore swords and guisarms. These came to the gate and flung it open, and
rushed into the space between it and the portcullis with a great tumult,
for they expected to find Sir Ewaine there and to slay him. But lo! he
was gone and they beheld nothing there but the half of his dead horse
and the saddle and the bridle and the trappings thereof. For there was
neither sight nor sign of him anywhere to be seen.

At that they were all amazed beyond measure to find their prisoner gone,
for they wist not how he could have escaped from that place. So they
raised a great tumult and some cried out to hurry hither and others to
hurry thither, and in the tumult and confusion Sir Ewaine passed out
from their midst and none of them were aware of his going.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine escapeth from the gateway._]

After that Sir Ewaine went away from that place and into the town within
the walls. And he came to the castle of the town and no one saw him in
his going. And he entered the castle and the people of the castle saw
him not.

[Sidenote: _How Sir Ewaine entereth the garden of the castle._]

So, invisible to all, Sir Ewaine went to the privy garden of the castle,
and he perceived that that was a very pleasant place, with many shady
trees and with plats of flowers and with fountains and long straight
walks where the lady of the castle might take her pleasure when she
chose to be out of doors. And Sir Ewaine entered that garden and he
perceived that there were several damsels therein and that all they were
very sorrowful and downcast because that the knight-champion of that
place had been slain, and several of them wept. But amongst these
damsels was the damsel Elose, and she alone of all who were there was
cheerful and bore a smiling countenance.

Then Sir Ewaine went to her and laid his hand upon her shoulder as she
had bidden him to do, and thereupon she knew that he was there though
she could not see him. So straightway she arose and went forth from out
of the garden and Sir Ewaine followed her.

After that the damsel led Sir Ewaine to a certain part of the castle and
up a long flight of steps and so brought him to an apartment that was
immediately beneath the eaves of a certain part of the tower of the
castle.

And Sir Ewaine beheld that here was a large and noble apartment hung
with woven hangings representing pictures of battle and of court, and he
beheld that the floor was spread with finely woven fabrics of divers
sorts. And he saw that there were several large windows that overlooked
the streets of the town and a fair prospect beyond. And the breeze blew
into those windows very softly and pleasantly, and great flocks of
pigeons flew about in the air with noisy and clapping flight, and
numbers of other pigeons strutted on the tiles of the roof and bridled
and cooed to each other in the red sunlight of the waning day. So this
was a very pleasant place in which to dwell. And the damsel said to Sir
Ewaine, "Here shall you abide until my further purpose is ripe."

[Sidenote: _The damsel serveth Sir Ewaine._]

Then the damsel Elose brought an ewer full of tepid water and she poured
the water into a basin, and the ewer and the basin were both of them of
silver. And the damsel held the basin and Sir Ewaine bathed his hands
and his face, and after that she gave him a large napkin of fine white
linen and he dried his hands and his face thereon. So, when he was thus
refreshed she brought him food and drink, and Sir Ewaine ate and drank
with much appetite and was greatly uplifted in spirit. And by that time
the evening was come.

Now all this while Sir Ewaine was greatly astonished that the damsel
should be so kind to him, wherefore he said, "Damsel, why art thou so
kind to me?" To this she made reply: "Messire, I have a purpose in all
this, that by and by and in good season I will unfold to thee."

Then Sir Ewaine said to her: "I pray you, fair damsel, tell me now the
mystery of that fountain and of the knight who guarded it? For I am very
curious to know why there came that quaking of the earth and that
thundering and rain when I cast water upon the slab beside the
fountain."

"Sir," said Elose, "I will tell you that mystery." And so she did, as
followeth:

[Sidenote: _The damsel telleth Sir Ewaine of the enchantment of the
fountain._]

"You are to know," quoth she, "that somewhile ago there was appointed a
joust at a place not very distant from this. And to that joust there
went the lady of this castle who is hight the Lady Lesolie. Thither also
went the Lady Vivien, of whom thou either knowest or hast heard tell,
for she is one of the greatest and most mischievous enchantresses in all
of the world.

"At that jousting there was one knight who distinguished himself above
all others, and he was Sir Sagron surnamed Coeur de Fer. For that
noble knight won the battle of the joust, overthrowing all who came
against him without once suffering defeat himself. So to him was awarded
the prize of battle, which prize was a fillet of gold. This fillet the
victor had the right to bestow upon the lady whom he deemed the fairest
of all who were there.

"Now the Lady Vivien thought that she would be chosen by whomsoever won
that prize, for that day she had put on all the enchantments of beauty
that she possessed. Nevertheless, and in spite of these charms, Sir
Sagron bestowed the prize of beauty, not upon the Lady Vivien, but upon
the Lady Lesolie, who is the countess of this castle where we are.

"Now when the Lady Vivien saw that she was passed over by Sir Sagron,
she took great affront with Lady Lesolie who had been chosen, and vowed
vengeance upon her.

"So afterward by her enchantments she had that slab of stone laid by the
fountain and she ordained that whensoever any one should cast the water
of the fountain upon the slab then there would come a great deluge to
this land. Thereafter she established herself not very far distant from
this valley of the fountain, and whenever a knight cometh by her castle,
that knight she sets upon the adventure of the fountain.

[Sidenote: _Of Sir Sagron of the Fountain._]

"Meantime Sir Sagron had offered himself as champion of the fountain,
undertaking to defend it if the Lady Lesolie would upon her part consent
to wed him and make him lord of this domain. To this the lady was
constrained to say yea. So it was ordained that if Sir Sagron would
defend the fountain without fail or default for the space of a year and
a day, after that time she would give herself and all her domain to him
as the lord thereof. So Sir Sagron hath ever since defended the fountain
with great honor until to-day, when you overcame him in battle, and
pursued him hither wounded unto death. Had he defended a fortnight
longer, he had won his suit with the Lady Lesolie and would have been
lord of this land. But now he will to-morrow awake in Paradise.

"This, Sir Ewaine, is the story of the mystery of the fountain, and now
I tell thee I know not who will defend it unless haply it is thou who
wilt do so."

"Fair damsel," quoth Sir Ewaine, "how may I look to defend the fountain
who will immediately be slain if it be known that I am here?"

To this the damsel laughed and said: "Sir Ewaine, all that may come
about if fortune be with me in these matters I am about to undertake."

Now by this time the darkness being come, the damsel lit two tapers of
perfumed wax, and thereafter she conducted Sir Ewaine into another
apartment. There he beheld a couch, very soft and comfortable and spread
with a coverlet of crimson satin. And the damsel Elose said: "Sir
Ewaine, doubtless thou art aweary. If that be so, here thou mayst rest
thyself and be at ease." And therewith she set down the candles of wax
upon a table and quitted the room and Sir Ewaine was left alone.

And Sir Ewaine was very weary, wherefore he laid aside his armor and
disrobed himself and laid himself down upon that fair soft bed with
great joy of comfort. And straightway thereafter he fell asleep as
though he were a little weary child.

Now about the twelfth hour of the night and whilst Sir Ewaine lay thus
asleep, he became aware of a great disturbance--the sound of weeping and
a great outcry of lamentation that filled the entire silence of the
night.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine beholdeth the funeral at night._]

Anon came the damsel Elose, and she said: "Sir Ewaine, the knight Sir
Sagron is dead whom thou wounded yesterday, and now they are bearing him
to the church. Come and see!" So Sir Ewaine arose quickly and covered
himself with a cloak, and he went with the damsel to a certain window
that overlooked a street of the town. From that window and beneath him
he beheld a great concourse of people that filled the entire street.
Many of those were clad in armor of proof and others bare torches so
that the entire night was aflame with the light thereof. And there were
many women who rode upon horseback beside the armed knights. And all of
this great assembly of people were crying out in lamentation so that it
was as though all the hollow beneath the space of heaven were full of
the voice of their sorrow. With this lamentation of many voices were
mingled the sound of trumpets and the chaunting of priests and acolytes
who recited the services for the dead. In the midst of all the press
there was a bier, and over the bier there had been spread a veil of
white linen and upon the bier there lay stretched the knight-champion of
that place with his hands crossed upon his sword. All about the bier
were many people carrying long candles of wax, and these also added
their lamentation to the voices of those others who lamented.

Then when Sir Ewaine beheld this spectacle he said: "Woe is me, Elose,
this is surely a very sorry sight to behold! Now I grieve me greatly
that I am the cause of this, for I meant not to slay that knight. Yet in
the heat of battle who may stay the hand for to measure the stroke that
one giveth to his enemy?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine beholdeth the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain._]

Then anon as Sir Ewaine still gazed upon that scene, he beheld that a
lady followed after the bier, and he saw that her hair was hanging loose
and that she was in great disarray. But maugre that, it appeared to him
that she was the most beautiful lady his eyes had ever looked upon. Then
Sir Ewaine said to Elose, who was looking out of the window beside him,
"What fair lady is that who followeth the bier of the dead knight?" To
the which she made answer: "That is the lady of this castle, and she is
making sorrow for the knight her champion who is slain."

Then Sir Ewaine gazed and gazed at that lady for as long as he could see
her, and when she had gone by, he said: "Elose, certes that lady is the
most beautiful dame that ever mine eyes looked upon. Now I tell thee
truly that I do not wonder that your knight-champion was willing for to
serve her for a whole year with faithfulness; for I would willingly
serve for even a longer time than that to win her good regard."

At this Elose laughed with great good will. "Is it so with you, Sir
Knight?" quoth she, "and do you then find that your heart is inclined
toward this lady?" And Sir Ewaine said, "Yea, it is even so with me."
Elose said: "And wouldst thou be pleased, Sir Ewaine, if I could devise
it in such wise that the lady of this castle should look kindly upon
thee?" And again Sir Ewaine said, "Yea."

Then Elose smiled very cheerfully upon Sir Ewaine and she said: "Well,
Messire, let be till to-morrow and then we shall see what that day shall
bring forth."

[Sidenote: _The damsel Elose serveth Sir Ewaine in the morning._]

So when the next morning had come, Sir Ewaine arose greatly refreshed,
and by and by Elose came to him with food with which to break his fast.
And after he had broken his fast she brought a bowl of ivory with tepid
water, and she brought a razor with a heft of ivory studded with gold,
and she hung a fine linen towel upon her shoulder and she shaved Sir
Ewaine so that his face was both fresh and clean. After that she brought
him fine raiment--an undervest of soft cambric linen and a surcoat and
hose of azure silk embroidered with silver, and a cloak with a clasp of
gold, and with pears of silver hanging from the corners thereof. And she
brought a circlet of gold for his head, such as became the son of a
king. Then she looked upon Sir Ewaine and he was very comely.

After all this had been done in that wise, Elose left Sir Ewaine and
went to where was the Lady Lesolie, and the lady sat alone in her bower
in great sorrow that her knight-champion was dead. But Elose entered
that place with a very cheerful countenance, and she said, "Lady, what
cheer?"

[Sidenote: _The Lady Lesolie rebuketh the damsel._]

Then the Lady Lesolie looked upon Elose with great indignation because
of her cheerful aspect, and she said: "Damsel, I am much displeased that
thou shouldst appear so cheerful and gay of spirit when thou beholdest
me in such sorrow. And I think very ill of thee that thou who art the
best beloved of all my damsels hast not come nigh me in all this time
for to offer me cheer or comfort in mine affliction."

Now Elose was greatly in favor with the Lady Lesolie so that she feared
her not, wherefore she still bore a very cheerful aspect. And she said:
"Lady, I know not wherefore I should take such sorrow as I see the
sorrow to be that you assume for Sir Sagron. I did not love him so much
that I should take more than reasonable grief when he suffered such
misfortune of battle as may befall any knight."

Then the Lady Lesolie's eyes sparkled very brightly with anger, and she
said: "Ha! Damsel! Thou goest beyond all measure of the liberty of
speech which I allow to thee. Mayhap I loved not Sir Sagron as he would
have had me, yet I honored him a very great deal, and now that he is
gone I know not who may defend the fountain in his stead. So, because
thou dost smile and take cheer in this time of trouble, thy presence is
displeasing to me, wherefore I would have thee gone from hence."

Then Elose said: "Very well, Lady, I will go as thou hast bidden me, but
I think thou wilt be sorry that thou didst not talk more with me and
that thou dost not inquire of me why I appear so cheerful as I do."

Therewith Elose turned as though to go forth from that place. But after
she had gone a little distance, the Lady Lesolie arose and followed her
to the door of the chamber and began coughing very softly. Then when
Elose turned, the lady beckoned to her and said, "Come hither!" and
Elose laughed and came. Then the lady said: "Thou art very saucy of
disposition, but nevertheless I love thee more than thou deservest. Now
tell me what it is that thou hast upon thy mind."

Then Elose said, "I will tell thee, but it must be where none may hear."

The lady said, "Come hither, then," and therewith she led Elose into a
place where they were altogether by themselves, and when they were come
there the Lady Lesolie said, "What is it, Elose?"

[Sidenote: _The damsel bespeaketh the Lady Lesolie._]

Then Elose said: "Lady, there is in this castle a knight who loveth thee
a very great deal, and this knight is exceedingly noble and of very
great skill at arms, and he is a king's son, and he is a knight of King
Arthur's court, and he is a knight of the Round Table. So great is the
love of this knight for thee that thou mightest demand anything of him.
Now it appeareth to me that since thou hast lost the knight who was our
champion, thou wouldst do well to call upon this knight to defend thee.
And if in good time thou shouldest choose him for thy lord, then it
would be much to thy pride and greatly to the joy of this land."

Now all this while the lady had been regarding Elose very steadfastly,
and when the maiden ended she said: "Who is this knight, and what is his
name and his degree?" Elose said: "Lady, thou hast heard of him a great
many times, for he is Sir Ewaine, the son of King Uriens of Gore and of
Queen Morgana le Fay." Then the lady said in a very strange voice:
"Elose, it is wonderful that a knight so famous as this should have been
in our castle and yet we knew nothing thereof. Now tell me, when was it
he came hither?" Then Elose was confused and said: "Lady, he hath only
been here a little while, for he did but come this morning."

Then the Lady Lesolie smiled very curiously, and she said: "Bring that
knight hither, that I may see him and speak with him." Then straightway
Elose went to where Sir Ewaine was. And Elose said: "Sir Ewaine, arise
and come with me, for my lady would have speech with thee."

So Sir Ewaine arose and went forth with Elose, and Elose brought him to
where the Lady Lesolie was. And Elose introduced Sir Ewaine to the Lady
Lesolie, and Sir Ewaine paid great homage to her for he beheld that she
was very wonderfully beautiful. The lady looked at Sir Ewaine very
steadily, and by and by she said, "Elose, this knight hath not the
appearance of one who is a traveller new arrived from a journey; rather
he appeareth like one who is fresh and well-bedight."

Then at first Elose was confused and wist not where to look. Then
presently the lady said: "Elose, I believe this was the knight who slew
Sir Sagron."

Then Elose looked very steadily into the lady's face, and anon she spake
boldly and without fear, and she said: "Well, lady, what then? So much
the better for thee if this knight overcame Sir Sagron, who was the best
knight in all this land. For if this knight overcame Sir Sagron, then is
he better than Sir Sagron, and so he is better to be the defender of the
Fountain."

Then the lady said: "Say no more, but go ye both away until I meditate
upon this for a while." And thereupon Elose and Sir Ewaine quitted the
apartment of the lady and went away to another part of the castle.

[Sidenote: _The damsel bringeth Sir Ewaine to the Lady of the
Fountain._]

After that they waited for word to come to them from the lady of the
castle, yet no word came for a long while. But when the evening had
come, the chatelaine sent a very courteous message to Sir Ewaine that it
would pleasure her to have him sup with her. So Sir Ewaine went upon
that command, and the lady received him very graciously and made place
for him beside her at the table, and they sat and ate and drank together
and talked of many things of court and field. And ever as they talked
together the Lady Lesolie regarded Sir Ewaine very closely, and she
perceived that he was very noble and haughty of appearance, and she wist
that he was greater champion than she had ever beheld before.

Then, by and by, she said of a sudden to Sir Ewaine: "Messire, dost thou
not think thou didst very ill to come hitherward to the destruction of
our peace?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine promiseth to defend the Fountain._]

Then Sir Ewaine spake very boldly, saying: "Lady, I am very sorry to
have caused thee grief, but I did only as any knight-adventurer would
do, taking my chance of battle and of death with him as he took his
chance with me. Yet now that the chance of war hath brought me hither, I
cannot repent me of anything that hath befallen me. For that chance hath
brought me into thy presence and hath made me acquainted with thee."
Then the lady said: "Well, Messire, what am I to do now that thou hast
slain the knight-champion of this place?" To the which Sir Ewaine made
reply: "Lady, if thou wilt take me for thy champion, I will serve thee
very faithfully and will ask no guerdon from thee. For I know of no
greater joy that could befall me than to be thy chosen champion." Then
the Lady Lesolie smiled and said: "Sir Ewaine, thou speakest very well,
and I believe that thy deeds are every whit as trustworthy as thy words.
So I will accept thee as my champion to do combat in my behalf and to
protect my fountain and myself for a year and a day. If by the end of
that time thou hast proved thyself to be entirely faithful, then I will
consider anything else that thou mayst have to say to me."

       *       *       *       *       *

So Sir Ewaine abided at that place and he defended the Fountain so well
that no one came thither to assail it who was not overthrown, and from
all whom he thus overthrew, Sir Ewaine took horse and shield and sent
them away from that place afoot.

And Sir Ewaine dwelt in the Valley of the Fountain for nigh a year, and
in that time he and the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain were betrothed to
one another with intent to be wedded when the year was ended. And ever
Sir Ewaine loved the Lady of the Fountain more and more, and ever she
loved him more and more.

Yet oftentimes Sir Ewaine bethought him of the King's court and of his
friends thereat and at those times he would long for them with a very
great passion of desire. So it befell upon a day that Sir Ewaine and the
Lady Lesolie were in the garden of the castle and Sir Ewaine sat sunk in
deep and silent thought concerning those friends and that court. And
meanwhile the lady watched him askance. Then by and by she said: "What
is it that lieth upon thy mind, Messire, that causeth thee to take so
much thought to thyself?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine longeth for the court of the King._]

Then Sir Ewaine aroused himself and said: "Lady, it is that I think much
of my friends and companions of the court of King Arthur. For now nigh
to a year hath passed and in all of that time I have heard no single
word of any of them."

Then the Lady Lesolie said, "Ewaine, art thou discontent with us at this
place?" He said: "Nay, lady, thou knowest I am very well content and
more than well content to be thus forever with thee. Yet ne'theless I
would that I might have word of my companions, for I know not how it
fareth with them. And furthermore, I would fain know whether they who
went in quest of Sir Launcelot with me have yet heard anything of that
noble and worthy champion."

Then the Lady Lesolie said: "Ah, Ewaine, I fear me that thou thinkest so
much of thy friends that thou wilt, in a little while, be discontent to
remain with us any longer." To which Sir Ewaine said: "Lady, thou
knowest very well that that could never be." And she said, "Art thou
sure of that?" "Yea," quoth Sir Ewaine, "I am well assured of it."

Then the Lady of the Fountain said: "Ewaine, I have it in my mind that
thou shalt go and visit thy friends at the court of the great king. For
after thou hast seen them and hast satisfied thyself, I believe that
thou wilt be better content to be here. So I lay it as my command upon
thee that thou shalt go to Camelot, and have converse once again with
thy friends and companions. Yet I would not have thee remain too long
away from us, wherefore I lay it as a further injunction upon thee that
thou shalt return hither as soon as possible, for we can ill spare our
champion who is so dear to us."

[Illustration]

[Illustration: The Lady of the Fountain:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Fourth

_How Sir Ewaine returned to the court of King Arthur, and how he forgot
the Lady Lesolie and his duty to the Fountain._


So it came about that the day after that day, Sir Ewaine took horse and
departed from the Valley of the Fountain as the Lady Lesolie had
commanded him to do; and he travelled alone, going from that place in
the same manner that he had come thither.

Now as he went upon his way in return to Camelot he must needs travel
upon that same road by which he came thitherward. So by and by he again
beheld that huge herdsman oaf who sat upon the mound as aforetold of,
guarding his cattle. When this being beheld Sir Ewaine he shouted to him
aloud in a great voice, "Hello, little man! Whither goest thou?" But to
him Sir Ewaine made no reply, but rode steadfastly upon his way.

Anon, and about the hour of noon, he came to within sight of that
wonderful valley wherein stood the enchanted castle of the Lady Vivien.
And Sir Ewaine rode down into the valley and toward the castle, and as
he drew nigh they of the castle were aware of his coming from afar.

So it was that as Sir Ewaine came nigh to the castle there issued forth
a multitude of people, who approached him singing and making joy and
giving him great voice of welcome. For ever they cried aloud: "Welcome,
O noble champion! Welcome! And welcome still again!"

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to the castle of Vivien._]

So they met him and brought him as it were in triumph to the castle, and
when he had come nigh thereunto the Lady Vivien herself came forth to
add her welcome to his coming. And she wore a very smiling and cheerful
countenance, and she also cried, as did the others, "Welcome, Sir
Ewaine! Welcome! Thrice welcome!" and she said: "Messire, I well know
that thou didst come forth victorious from that adventure which thou
didst undertake against the Knight of the Fountain, wherefore it is that
I am rejoiced to see thee. For, as thou already must know, I bore no
very high regard for that knight whom thou didst overthrow."

Now Sir Ewaine was very well pleased with the welcome he found at that
place, for he did not suspect that the Lady Vivien, who smiled so kindly
upon him, nourished any thought of mischief against him. Wherefore he
suffered them all to bear him into the castle in triumph and to relieve
him of his armor and to bring him to a bath and to fit him with fine
soft raiment wherewith he might with a good appearance come before the
Lady Vivien in her bower.

After that Sir Ewaine went to where that lady was, and he sat with her
and talked in great amity with her. Yet he knew not that all that while
he talked with her she was planning mischief against him. So by and by,
still in great amity, they went to a place where a noble feast was
prepared, and there Sir Ewaine sat beside the Lady Vivien with great
pleasure in being thus near to her. Then, after a while, having in mind
those several mischiefs she had planned against the knights of King
Arthur and of the Round Table, he said to her: "Lady, you who are so
kind and fair to me, I know not why you do mischief against those
others, my companions, who are of King Arthur's court; and I know not
why you do mischief against the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain so as to
bring trouble upon that land. She hath done you no ill that you should
so practise evil against her."

Then the Lady Vivien assumed an appearance of great meekness and
contrition, and she said: "Messire, what you say is true, and I repent
me of all those evil things which I have done." And she said: "Would it
pleasure you if all enchantment should be removed from that fountain,
and if the land of the fountain should be left at peace?" Sir Ewaine
said, "Lady, it would pleasure me beyond measure." Then the Lady Vivien
said: "So it shall be, and I promise you very faithfully that that
enchantment shall be entirely removed from that land this very day
forward unto all time." Then she looked upon Sir Ewaine and smiled upon
him in such wise that he was bewitched with her smiling, and she said,
"Sir Ewaine, let there be peace betwixt us from this time forth for
aye!" and he said, "Lady, God knows I bear you no ill will and so there
is peace betwixt us."

Then the Lady Vivien said, "Sir, I would that thou wouldst accept a
pledge of peace from me." And he said, "What is that pledge?" Quoth she,
"I will show thee."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien giveth Sir Ewaine the ring of
forgetfulness._]

Thereupon saying, she smote her hands together, and in answer there came
a fair young page clad in cloth of gold and with long, curling ringlets
of golden hair hanging down upon his shoulders. To this youth the lady
gave sundry commands, and he departed, returning anon bearing in his
hands a patten of gold and upon the patten was a fair white napkin of
fine linen, and upon the napkin a ring of gold very cunningly wrought,
and inset with a bright shining yellow stone. These the fair young page
brought to the Lady Vivien, kneeling upon one knee, and she took the
ring from the patten and gave it to Sir Ewaine, saying: "Sir, behold
this ring! This I give to thee to wear as a pledge of the amity that
lieth betwixt us." Therewith Sir Ewaine took the ring and set it upon
his finger.

Now that ring was enchanted with very potent spells. For it was a ring
of forgetfulness, so that whosoever wore it, that person would forget
whatever the Lady Vivien would have him disremember.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine forgetteth the Lady Lesolie._]

So when Sir Ewaine set the ring upon his finger, that moment he forgot
all about the Lady of the Fountain. And he forgot all the pledges that
had passed betwixt himself and that lady, and he forgot all the other
things that belonged to that part of his life. But all else he
remembered: to wit, how he had undertaken that Adventure of the
Fountain, and how he had overthrown the knight-champion of the Fountain
and all other parts of his life.

Then Sir Ewaine looked at the Lady Vivien very strangely, like to one
who is newly awakened from a sleep, and he said, "What is it we were
speaking of anon?" And at that the Lady Vivien laughed and said, "Sir,
it matters not." Sir Ewaine said, "Meseems I have had a dream, but I
cannot remember what it was"; and then the Lady Vivien laughed again and
said, "Neither does it matter what was thy dream." And she said: "It
only matters that we are friends, and that thou wearest my pledge of
amity upon thy hand. Now I prithee never remove that ring from thy
finger, for from that moment the friendship that now exists shall cease
betwixt us." Sir Ewaine said: "This ring shall remain upon my finger for
aye, and I shall never take it from my finger even for a single moment."

So Sir Ewaine rested with great pleasure for that night at the castle of
the Lady Vivien, and, when the next morning was come, he departed from
the castle, betaking his way to the court of King Arthur.

For he said to himself: "Haply by this time they have some news of Sir
Launcelot. So I will straightway return to the court of the King and
learn if that be so."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine returneth to the court of the King._]

Now Sir Ewaine, because he had forgotten all about his life at the
Valley of the Fountain, had no thought that he had been gone from that
court for a longer time than a fortnight, wherefore when he was come
amongst his friends again and when he found that wellnigh a year had
passed, he knew not what to think. "How is this," he said, "and what
hath befallen me? Surely there was something that was like to a dream
that I cannot remember. What is it that hath happened to me? I know not
what it is." So Sir Ewaine was ashamed that he should not be able to
remember what had happened to him for the year that had passed,
wherefore he held his peace and said nothing concerning the matter. But
ever Sir Ewaine feared lest he should betray to his friends that he had
forgotten a whole year of his life. So it was he said to himself: "After
that I have rested a little here at the court of the King I will set
forth again in quest of news of Sir Launcelot. For maybe by and by I may
be able to remember what I have forgotten of this year that hath
passed."

[Sidenote: _King Arthur rideth afield._]

But Sir Ewaine did not immediately depart from the court, and so it
chanced upon a certain day, the weather being very pleasant, King Arthur
went afield with certain of his court and Sir Ewaine was one of those.
That time it was early summer weather, and the breezes were soft and
balmy, and full of the odor of growing things. So when the heat of the
day was come the King ordained that a pavilion should be erected at a
certain spot that pleased him very well, and he and the Queen and their
courts sat in that pavilion at a fair feast which the attendants of the
court had prepared for them.

[Sidenote: _There cometh a damsel to the King's pavilion._]

Now whilst they so sat, there came of a sudden a bustle and a sound of
several voices talking without, and anon there came into the pavilion a
damsel very fair of face and with curling yellow hair. And the damsel
was clad in garments of yellow silk and she wore a frontlet of gold upon
her head, and she wore shoes of variegated leather with latchets of gold
upon her feet. And she was further adorned with necklaces of gold and
with armlets of gold, wherefore they who sat there were astonished at
the beauty of the damsel and at the suddenness of her coming.

(Now you are to know that maiden was the damsel Elose, and yet Sir
Ewaine knew her not because of the ring of forgetfulness which he wore.)

Then King Arthur arose where he sat, and he said: "Fair demoiselle,
whence come you and what would you here? Tell us, I pray, who are you
who cometh hither like to a fair vision from a dream."

Yet ever the damsel stood within the door of the pavilion, and because
of the dazzling brightness of the sunlight whence she had come she could
not at first see very well within the shadow of the tent. So she said,
"I pray you tell me, is Sir Ewaine at this place?"

To that King Arthur, much wondering, said, "Yea, lady, yonder he sits,"
and thereupon the damsel Elose beheld Sir Ewaine where he was.

[Sidenote: _The damsel Elose accuseth Sir Ewaine of treason._]

Then Elose entered farther into the pavilion and came to where Sir
Ewaine sat. Her eyes shone very bright with anger, and she said: "Sir
Ewaine, I denounce thee as a false knight and a traitor!"

Then Sir Ewaine looked upon the damsel with great astonishment, and
said, "Who art thou, lady, who dost accuse me of being false?"

Upon that the damsel cried out in a very shrill voice, "Thou knowest
very well who I am!"

But ever Sir Ewaine looked very steadily at her and almost he remembered
her, but he could not quite remember her because of that ring which he
wore. Wherefore he said, "Nay, I know thee not."

Then Elose smiled upon Sir Ewaine very bitterly, and she said: "Thou
didst not forget me when thou didst lay in peril of thy life in the
Castle of the Fountain; but now that thou art enjoying thyself with thy
fellows, it pleases thee to forget so poor an one as I, who preserved
thy life for thee. But that I could forgive thee if the need were to
forgive it; yet I cannot forgive thee that thou hast also forgotten that
dear lady, my mistress, unto whom thou didst pledge thy faith, and unto
whom thou art bound in fealty. Messire, thou hast a very short memory."

Then Sir Ewaine cried out in an exceedingly bitter voice like one in
great pain: "Lady, why say ye these things to me? I know you not."

Then Elose came very close to Sir Ewaine and she took his hand, and she
said, "Do you not know me now?" He said, "Nay, I know thee not." Upon
that the damsel raised her right hand with her glove in it, and she
smote Sir Ewaine upon the face with the glove so that the mark of her
glove lay upon his cheek. And Sir Ewaine made no defence against her
assault, but ever he gazed very steadfastly at her, and he said very
bitterly: "Lady, if thou wert a knight, thou wouldst not dare to do that
to me, for either thou wouldst pay for that blow with thy life, or else
I would wipe out the disgrace thereof with mine own blood."

But Elose laughed, and she went out from that pavilion and mounted her
horse and rode away, leaving Sir Ewaine with his head bowed full low
upon his breast as though he had been struck a mortal blow.

Then after the damsel had gone, King Arthur said, "Ewaine, who was that
lady?" And at that Sir Ewaine lifted his head and cried out with great
vehemence: "Sire, I know her not; nor can I remember that I have ever
seen her before."

At that King Arthur was silent and all those who were there looked
askance at Sir Ewaine and whispered together concerning those things
that had happened. And Sir Ewaine was aware of how they regarded him and
how they whispered together, yet he heeded them not, but ever sat with
his head bowed low with shame and humiliation. And ever he strove to
remember who that damsel was, but could not remember.

[Sidenote: _The King's court is adoubt concerning Sir Ewaine._]

So after that time there was much talk amongst those at the court
concerning that which had befallen in the King's pavilion. And many of
them said to one another: "How is it possible for a knight of honor and
of repute thus to forget one who had saved his life? And if he did
indeed remember her, what of honor hath he who would deny her before
those who know him?"

So those of the court spake together, and Sir Ewaine was aware that they
regarded him with disfavor and he was hurt to the quick by that
knowledge. So one day he came to King Arthur where he was, and he said:
"Lord, I am aware that I am held in disrepute in this court. Now I crave
thy leave to depart from hence at least for a season." And King Arthur
said: "Messire, I will not deny that many things displeasing to me are
said concerning thee. So if it be that thou art of a mind to quit us for
a while until thou art able to approve thy truth and thy honor, and
until thou hast disproved these things which thy calumniators say
against thee, thou hast my fair leave to depart according to thy
request."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine departeth from the court._]

So Sir Ewaine took his departure from court, and his heart was filled
with bitterness and anger toward those who were one time his friends.
For he ever said to himself: "Why is it that they should contemn me
because I cannot remember that which I have forgot? For I cannot
remember me of that damsel."

Thus he rode upon his way in great bitterness of spirit and with anger
toward all the world, because that all the world appeared to be set
against him.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now Sir Ewaine journeyed for a long time he knew not whither, for he
travelled somewhiles like to one in a dream.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine cometh to a lonely hut._]

So it befell one day that he came to a thick woodland of great extent,
and there night overtook him and he wist not where he was nor how he
should be able to come out of that wilderness. And whilst he was
travelling thus in darkness and perplexity, he was suddenly aware of a
light shining at a distance, and he followed that light until he came to
a rude hut of the forest, which same stood in an open glade of no very
great extent. To this forest habitation came Sir Ewaine, and he smote
upon the door thereof with the butt of his spear and anon came one and
opened the door, and that one was an ancient and grisly beldame of a
most repulsive and forbidding appearance. When she beheld Sir Ewaine
before her at the door of the hut she would have shut the door again,
but he would not let her do so, but thrust his spear into the opening of
the door so that she could not close it.

Then that beldame, finding that he would not be denied, spake to him
very harshly, saying, "What would you here, Sir Knight?" Sir Ewaine
said, "I would have lodging for the night."

Then the hag laughed very loud and shrill, and she said: "Well, since
thou wilt not be denied, thou shalt have thy desire. Enter, and may thy
lodging be for long."

So Sir Ewaine dismounted from his horse, and turned it loose to graze
upon the grass by night. Meantime he himself entered the hut.

Here he beheld a great fire burning, with loud roaring in the chimney,
and over the fire he beheld a great cauldron, in which was seething a
stew of venison, the flavor of which filled the hut with a very savory
odor. And Sir Ewaine beheld a great table, whereon were many platters of
wood, and beholding these things spread as for a feast, he said, "Good
dame, I pray thee tell me who dwells here in this hut with thee?" The
beldame said, "My husband and my sons dwell here with me." Sir Ewaine
said, "Certes, thou hast a great family." And at that the beldame
laughed very violently and said, "Yea, that is true."

After that the hag ladled forth a mess of the stew into a wooden bowl,
and she poured forth a great flagon of strong ale and she set these
things upon the board with a hunch of black bread, and Sir Ewaine sat
him down and ate and drank with great appetite. Then, after he had thus
satisfied his hunger and his thirst he was very drowsy, wherefore he
laid aside his armor and stretched himself upon a wooden bench that
stood to one side and placed his helmet beneath his head and presently
was enwrapped in a sound sleep.

[Sidenote: _The thieves return to the hut._]

Now that hut was a den of thieves and that old hag was their housekeeper
and there were twenty and seven in all of those thieves. So about the
middle watch of the night that band of robbers returned with a
considerable booty which they had seized from a party of townsfolk who
were traversing a part of the forest that was not very far distant from
that place. These beholding Sir Ewaine where he was sleeping, withdrew a
little to one side and whispered together. And they whispered to the old
beldame, saying, "Who is yonder man, and what doth he here?" She said:
"He is an errant knight, who demanded housing awhile since. So here he
lieth now asleep and at your mercy to dispose of as you see fit."

Then the captain of the thieves came softly to where Sir Ewaine lay, and
he looked closely at him and he beheld the rich chain of gold about his
neck and he beheld the ring upon his finger that the Lady Vivien had
given him. After that he withdrew a little and whispered to his fellow:
"Here is a rich booty upon this sleeping knight. Now fetch hither cords
and let us bind him. After that we may rob him at our ease, and after
that again we may either slay him or else keep him here for a great
ransom."

[Sidenote: _The thieves bind Sir Ewaine._]

So some of the thieves brought a strong cord and they made a noose
thereof, and first they privily took away all Sir Ewaine's weapons from
him, and then they slipped the noose over his arms and in a trice and
ere he was fully awake they had bound him several times about the body
so that as to his hands and arms he was altogether helpless.

Thus Sir Ewaine was rudely awakened to find himself a captive in that
place.

But when he saw who it was had made him captive, he assumed all the
majesty of his high estate and he said: "Know ye what ye do? Wit ye that
he whom you have thus bound is a king's son and a knight of the Round
Table so that you have through me committed a very grievous offence."

Then several of those thieves were abashed at his words and at the great
nobility of his bearing, but the captain of the band who was a hardened
wretch, spake very boldly, saying: "It matters not who you are, only if
you be truly a king's son and a knight of such worship, then will your
ransom be all the greater." And he said: "First of all we will take this
rich golden bawble from about your neck, and then we will take the fair
golden ring from off your finger."

[Sidenote: _The thieves rob Sir Ewaine of the ring of forgetfulness._]

So the chief robber first took the chain from about Sir Ewaine's neck,
as he said, and then he drew the ring from his finger, and because Sir
Ewaine was bound he could in no wise prevent the robber chief from
taking those jewels from him in that way.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine remembereth all._]

But lo! when the robber had plucked the ring from the finger of Sir
Ewaine, then in an instant the magic of forgetfulness departed from him,
and he remembered upon that instant all that had befallen him in the
Valley of the Fountain. And he remembered the Lady Lesolie of the
Fountain, and he remembered him of all the vows of faith he had plighted
to her. And he knew now of why Elose had come to him at the King's court
and had struck him in the face before them all; for he wist that the
damsel had come because she thought he had proved himself unfaithful and
false to her lady. So it was as though a sword of remembrance had been
struck through the heart of Sir Ewaine, wherefore he cried out in a loud
and piercing voice, "Betrayed! Betrayed! Betrayed!" saying that word
three times over. And the thieves wist not what he meant by those words,
but thought that he meant that he had been betrayed by the beldame, not
knowing that he meant that he had been betrayed by the Lady Vivien.

Then of a sudden in the fury of that remembrance of his own dishonor, it
was as though the strength of ten descended upon Sir Ewaine. Wherefore,
putting forth all his strength, he strained at his bonds so that they
cut into his flesh. And he strained even more and more violently at his
bonds until, of a sudden, they were burst and immediately he was free.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine doeth battle with the thieves._]

After that Sir Ewaine looked about him, but could find no weapon to his
hand, wherefore he catched up the solid wooden bench whereon he had been
lying awhile since. And he whirled that bench about his head and he
smote with it upon the right hand and the left and he smote the thieves
down upon the one side and the other. And so great was his fury that
they bore back from before him in terror of his madness.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine is wounded._]

So Sir Ewaine might have slain all those thieves (though there were a
score and seven of them in all) only for the captain of the band. He,
beholding the fury of Sir Ewaine, ran to where there was a javelin that
stood in a corner of that place. And he catched up the javelin and threw
it at Sir Ewaine; and the javelin pierced through the shoulder of Sir
Ewaine and pinned him fast to the wall of the hut.

Then Sir Ewaine wist that he was very sorely wounded, wherefore he
roared aloud. And he strove with the javelin and anon he wrenched
himself loose from the wall to which he had been pinned. Then he rushed
at the thieves with the javelin still pinned through his shoulder and
they made way before the terror of his onset.

Now as the robbers parted from before his onset, Sir Ewaine perceived
that there was a way for him to the door. Thereupon he cast himself upon
the door and he burst it open and fled away into the forest with the
javelin still transfixed in his shoulder.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine escapeth._]

Therewith, perceiving that their captive was escaping from them, the
thieves rushed after Sir Ewaine and pursued him with great outcry. But
ever they were afraid of the violence of his anger (for he had slain or
broken the bones of eleven of them) wherefore they followed him not with
as good a will as they would else have done. Hence it befell that Sir
Ewaine made his escape from them and so got safe away into the cover of
the night and of the forest, though sorely and woefully wounded.

After he had thus escaped from that danger, Sir Ewaine knew not what to
do. For he was faint and bedizzied because of his wound and the agony
thereof. But he wist that he must free himself from that javelin,
wherefore he catched the haft of the weapon and he broke it in twain.
After that he plucked out the javelin by the point which had transfixed
his shoulder and with that a great issue of blood burst forth from the
wound so that Sir Ewaine was nigh to swooning therewith.

But he did not swoon, but bare up under the passion of pain that lay
upon him and from the issue of blood that followed what he had done.
Wherefore, after he had rested him for a while, he went forward through
the forest, tottering like a drunken man, now and then falling, and ever
anon arising again and betaking his way he knew not whither.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: A Damsel bringeth aid unto Sir Ewaine:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Fifth

_How Sir Ewaine was succored and brought back to life by a certain noble
lady, how he brought aid to that lady in a time of great trouble, and
how he returned once again to the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain._


Thus Sir Ewaine wandered for all that night he knew not whither, and
sometimes he fell and anon he would arise and go onward again. So
against the dawn of day, he began to approach the outskirts of the
forest and there, as he wandered painfully onward, he met a fagot-maker
who had a cart and who was coming, all early in the morning, into the
forest to chop fagots.

This fellow, beholding that figure of misery with a face like to wax and
a body all covered with blood, wist not whether it was ghost or mortal
man whom he beheld, wherefore he fell to crossing himself and pattering
prayers for fear. But Sir Ewaine spake, though in a very weak and
plaintive voice, saying: "Alas, good fellow! I pray you, for the sake of
God's mercy to take pity upon me and to bear me hence in your cart to
where I may secure aid and succor, else I must assuredly die all alone
in the forest."

Then the woodchopper was aware that Sir Ewaine was no ghost or spirit
left behind by the night, but that he was mortal man, and when he looked
upon that sad woeful figure, he was moved to great pity, and said:
"Alas, poor mortal, thou art in a sad plight indeed and so I will be
glad to aid thee as thou desirest."

[Sidenote: _The woodchopper giveth aid to Sir Ewaine._]

So after that the fagot-maker spread a soft thick bed of leaves in his
cart and laid the wounded knight thereon. And so he bore Sir Ewaine out
of the forest, with intent to take him to some place where he might be
cherished with care and attention.

Thus it was that a poor woodchopper of the forest lent aid and
assistance to one of the most noble knights of the Round Table and
nephew to King Arthur. As for that fellow, he wist not who it was to
whom he was giving aid, but only thought that it was some poor wretch
who had fallen amongst thieves, for Sir Ewaine had neither armor nor
weapons of any sort that might indicate how exalted was his estate, and
even his golden chain of knighthood had been stolen from him by those
thieves of the forest. Wherefore it was not possible for any one to know
that he was other than a poor wayfarer of the forest. So the
fagot-maker, unknowing who he was, bare that good knight out of the
forest, and Sir Ewaine lay fainting, and all covered with blood and nigh
to death, upon a bed of leaves in a poor woodchopper's cart.

Now when the fagot-maker had brought the wounded knight out of the
woodlands and into the open country, he turned to find how it fared with
him, for it seemed to the honest fellow that his burden was lying
wonderful still and quiet. So the fagot-maker called out, "Friend, what
cheer have you?" To this Sir Ewaine answered him not, for in the
meantime as they travelled onward he had fallen into a swoon and now he
lay like one who was dying or was dead.

Then the woodchopper came and looked upon the face of Sir Ewaine, and he
beheld that it was white like to death. And he could not see that Sir
Ewaine breathed, wherefore he thought that the wounded man was dead.

Thereat the poor knave was filled with great fear, for he said to
himself: "Of a surety if they find me thus with a dead man lying in my
cart, they will believe that I have committed a murder and they will
hale me before the judge and they will hang me." Wherefore, reasoning in
that wise, he began to cast about him how he might rid himself of that
which was within his cart so that he should not thus be found in company
with a dead man.

[Sidenote: _The woodchopper layeth Sir Ewaine beside a lake._]

Now at that time the cart chanced to be passing through a park
coadjacent to a castle, the towers and the roofs and the chimneys of
which might be seen through the leaves of the intervening trees. And at
that place there was a little lake of water with many flags and sweet
rushes growing around about the margin thereof, and this was a very
secret, quiet place, for no one was nigh at that still early hour of
day.

So here perceiving that no one could see what he would do, the
fagot-maker stopped his cart and lifted Sir Ewaine out thereof and still
he thought that the wounded man was dead. After that the woodchopper
laid Sir Ewaine down very gently upon a soft bed of moss under the
shadow of an oak tree and beside the margin of the lake. Having thus got
rid of his burden in that wise he then went away and left the wounded
knight lying alone in that place.

[Sidenote: _The lady of the castle perceiveth Sir Ewaine._]

Now that part of the park where Sir Ewaine lay was a very favorite spot
of the lady of the castle, who was wont to take the air and to walk with
her court of damsels beside the lake. So it befell that morning, it
being a very pleasant and cheerful day, that she walked thither with
those maidens in attendance upon her. So coming to that place, she
perceived from afar where Sir Ewaine lay beneath the oak tree in the
centre of the park. And when she saw him she said, "Who is yonder man
and what does he do here?"

Then one of the damsels went more near to where Sir Ewaine lay, and she
looked closely upon him and anon she said: "Lady, I believe this man is
dead, for he is all covered with blood, and I do not see him move or
breathe."

The lady said, "See if that be so," and therewith the damsel went closer
to Sir Ewaine and reached forth and she laid her hand upon his bosom.
Then she was aware that his heart beat, but only a little, and she knew
that there was life in him. So she said: "Nay, he is not dead, but in a
swoon that is like to death."

Then the lady came and also looked upon Sir Ewaine, and she was moved
with pity to behold that great and noble frame of a man lying there in
that way. Wherefore she said, "I am of a mind to save this man."

So after that she and her court retired to her castle, and when she was
come there she took a very precious casket of ointment from a cabinet
and gave it to that damsel who had touched Sir Ewaine. To her she said:
"Take this ointment, damsel, to where that man lieth in a swoon. For wit
you, this is a very potent oil to heal all manner of sickness and
weakness even if one be upon the edge of death. Pour a little of this
ointment upon the bosom of that man above his heart. Then rub it well
with thy hand, and by and by he will revive. Take thou also yonder horse
and some decent raiment fit for such a well-appearing man to wear, and
let the horse be nigh to him when he awakens. Then do thou observe him
from secret place, and bring me word of what he doeth."

[Sidenote: _A damsel of the castle bringeth succor to Sir Ewaine._]

So the damsel did all as the lady had commanded her to do; she took the
horse, and the raiment and the precious balm and went to where Sir
Ewaine lay in that deathly swoon. But when she came to anoint him with
the ointment, she poured not a little upon him, nor did she rub with her
hand the bosom of him who lay there; otherwise she poured the whole of
the balm upon Sir Ewaine's bosom, and then she went away to a little
distance and hid herself to observe what he would do.

So in a little she saw that the wounded man began to bestir himself and
move his arms this way and that. Anon he uplifted himself from where he
lay and gazed all about him, and so, being revived, remembered all that
he had aforetime forgotten. Then he groaned with great travail of soul,
for the memory of his dishonor came upon him and he still suffered a
grievous pain from that sore wound in his shoulder. Then anon he beheld
the horse near by and the garments that were beside the horse, and he
thought that maybe those things had been placed there for his use,
though who had been so kind to him he knew not. So he arose with great
pain and he took the clothes from the horse and he went to the lake and
bathed himself. After that he put on the clothes and mounted upon the
horse with intent to depart from that place.

Then the maiden, who had beheld all that he did, came forth from the
thicket where she had been hidden and whence she had observed him, and
when Sir Ewaine saw her he said, "Maiden, was it thou who purveyed me
with this horse and with these garments?" She said, "Nay, it was the
lady to whom this place belongs." Sir Ewaine said, "Who is that lady?"
And the maiden replied: "She is the widow of a very powerful lord, and
she hath saved thy life this day. For she sent me with an ointment with
which I bathed thee, and which gave thee strength to arise again. And
she sent thee that horse and those clothes which thou hast put on." Sir
Ewaine said: "Certes, she is most kind and charitable in her heart.
Perhaps some time I may do her a service that will be equal to this
service which she hath rendered to me."

Now the maiden did not suspect who it was with whom she spake, for his
face was white like milk, and very haggard and wild with pain and
weakness, so that his countenance showed none of that nobility that
belonged to him. And, as aforesaid, he had no armor, for the thieves had
taken away his armor and he had left it behind him in the hut whence he
had escaped. So the maiden had no cause to think that he was one of
great worship whom she beheld, so she said: "Good fellow, my lady hath
need enough of aid, but I do not believe that thou art one who may help
her in her trouble."

"Why dost thou think that?" quoth Sir Ewaine. "Thou shouldst not judge
of my ability from what thou seest, for I may be other than what I
appear to be."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine declareth himself to the maiden._]

Then the damsel was greatly astonished at the dignity of manner with
which he spoke, for he spoke as one having authority and very calmly and
haughtily. So she began to misdoubt that this was some one else than she
had first thought him to be, wherefore she said, "I pray you, Sir, tell
me who you are?" To the which he replied: "I am Sir Ewaine of King
Arthur's court and of his Round Table, son to King Uriens of Gore and of
the Lady Queen Morgana surnamed le Fay."

At this proclamation the damsel was greatly astonished, wherefore she
cried out aloud: "Is it indeed possible that this is so, and that so
famous and so remarkable a knight should have come to such a pass as
that in which you were found?" and the damsel said: "Now the lady of
this castle will be very highly honored when she comes to know that she
hath lent succor to so noble and haughty a champion as you proclaim
yourself to be. Let us go to her so that you may tell her the story of
your misfortunes." And Sir Ewaine said: "So be it, and let us go."

So they both departed from that place and as they wended their way
thence Sir Ewaine said: "Now tell me, damsel, what is the need of help
that thy lady hath and concerning which thou didst speak to me anon?"

[Sidenote: _The damsel telleth Sir Ewaine concerning the lady of the
castle._]

The damsel said: "I will tell thee. The lady of this castle is a widow,
and at the death of her husband she had two very noble castles and two
great estates belonging to those castles. Those castles and that land
her lord bequeathed to her to have and to hold for her own. Now after
she was thus left a widow, it befell that a certain very proud and
haughty lord who was her neighbor, desired to make her his wife; but she
would not listen to his suit, having great love for that worthy knight
her husband who was dead. So she refused the knight who desired to wed
her and at that he was very angry. After that he came with a great array
of armed men, and he despoiled her of one of her estates by force. And
now, unless she should yield to him, he threatens to take away this
other estate whereon she dwelleth and which is all that she hath in the
world.

"So my lady is in a great pass and knoweth not what to do, having no
knight for to defend her; for all those who should defend her, fall away
from her in this time of trouble for fear of the anger of that lord who
seeks her hand."

"Certes, this is a sad story which thou tellest me," said Sir Ewaine,
"and indeed I will do what I may to help thy lady, who hath been so kind
to me."

Thus talking together, they two approached the castle, and the lady of
the castle, beholding them coming from a distance, was greatly surprised
to see the damsel conversing in that wise with the wounded man whom she
had been sent to succor.

Then when they were come to her the lady said to the damsel, "Didst thou
use that balm as I told thee to do?" And the damsel said, "Yea." The
lady said, "How much didst thou use thereof?" And the damsel said, "I
used it all."

[Sidenote: _The lady of the castle is affronted at the maiden._]

Then the lady when she heard how that the damsel had poured all of that
balm at one time upon Sir Ewaine, was much affronted and very angry with
her, and she said: "What is this that thou hast done? I cannot easily
forgive thee this, for thou hast wasted several score pounds worth of
the precious ointment upon a stranger whom we know not and who hath no
appearance of worship."

Unto her the maiden made reply: "Lady, be not offended at this, for wit
you that this stranger is of far greater worth than all the balm you
could pour upon him."

At these words the lady was much surprised, wherefore she said, "Who is
he that is of such great worth as thou sayst?" and the damsel replied:
"Lady, this is none other than Sir Ewaine, Knight of the Round Table and
nephew of King Arthur."

[Sidenote: _The lady giveth welcome to Sir Ewaine._]

Then the lady of the castle cried out with astonishment and said, "Is
this true that I hear?" And Sir Ewaine said, "Yea, Lady." Then the lady
of the castle came to Sir Ewaine and took him by the hand, and said:
"Welcome, welcome, Sir Ewaine! Now this is a great honor that hath
befallen us at this place to have given aid and succor to a knight so
famous in chivalry as thou art."

"Lady," quoth Sir Ewaine, "you do me honor beyond my worth, and so you
put me under still greater obligations than I rested under afore this.
Now I am most desirous of repaying you in some measure for all the
kindness that you have visited upon me, wherefore, if it be sooth as I
have been informed by this maiden that you have need of such a
knight-champion at this place, then do I offer myself as such a
champion, trusting that I may be of aid to you and so repay to you in
some measure those favors which you have bestowed upon me."

At this the lady was rejoiced beyond all measure, and she said:
"Messire, I accept thy offer of championship with all gratitude and with
much pride, for indeed I believe it would not be possible to find in all
of the world a champion as haughty and as puissant as thou art."

So it came about that Sir Ewaine abided at the castle of that widowed
chatelaine for a long time, and until he was altogether healed of his
wound. And every day he grew more strong and sturdy of body and more
noble of appearance, so that all they of the castle took great pride in
having him there as their champion.

Now it befell upon a day that there came to this castle that evil-minded
lord of whom the damsel had spoken to Sir Ewaine, and this lord brought
with him six other knights, and all these seven knights pitched their
pavilions before the castle gates. And they mocked at those in the
castle and dared any one to come forth therefrom, for they knew not, as
you may believe, that Sir Ewaine was there as the champion of the
castle.

So when Sir Ewaine heard how that knight mocked at the people of the
castle, he was very wroth, wherefore he quickly made him ready, and
donned a suit of rich armor that the lady had provided for him. And he
mounted upon his horse, and so being in all wise prepared, he gave
command to uplift the portcullis and to let fall the drawbridge. Then he
rode forth from the castle, his horse's hoofs smiting the planks of the
drawbridge with a noise like to thunder as he rode. And all of the
people of the castle crowded out upon the walls, and when they beheld
him ride past in that wise, they shouted with a loud voice because that
such a champion was to defend the rights of their lady chatelaine.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine doeth battle for the lady of the castle._]

But when the knight and his companions who had come against the lady of
the castle beheld that one champion ride forth in defence thereof, he
was greatly surprised, and wist not what to think. So presently he rode
forward to meet Sir Ewaine, and he said to him, "Sir, what knight art
thou?" Sir Ewaine said: "I am the champion of the lady of this castle,
and I come forth with intent to do battle in her behalf." Then that lord
said, "What is thy estate?" To the which, Sir Ewaine, speaking with
great pride and haughtiness, made reply: "It matters not that I tell
thee at this present, but I may assure thee of this, that mine is a
higher estate and a greater credit than thine own." Then the knight
said, "Wouldst thou fight against us who are seven?" And Sir Ewaine
said, "Yea, verily." And the knight said, "Thou art very foolish, but be
it so."

So Sir Ewaine withdrew himself a little, and made himself ready in all
wise for battle. Meantime that knight who had bespoken him withdrew to
his party and he said to a knight who was the champion of his party, "Go
thou forth against yon fellow." And the champion of that party did so.

Now that knight was the greatest and most powerful knight in all the
country in which he dwelt. And he was very huge of girth and thick of
limb, and so great had been his success at arms that he made sure that
he could easily be able to overthrow his opponent. Wherefore he made him
ready very proudly and took his station with great confidence. And when
he was in all wise prepared, he shouted aloud and launched his horse
against the horse of Sir Ewaine with full expectation that he would
overthrow his enemy.

So they two rushed together like thunder and so met in the very middle
of the course with such a crash of encounter that those who heard it
stood appalled at the sound. But in that encounter the spear of the
champion of that wicked lord's party broke all into splinters, but the
spear of Sir Ewaine held so that the other was cast to earth with such
force that he lay stunned and altogether devoid of life and motion.

[Sidenote: _How Sir Ewaine overthrew the enemies of the lady._]

Then when the other knights of that party beheld how their champion had
been overthrown so violently to earth, all they were greatly amazed at
the result of that encounter; for as was said, there was no knight in
all of that region who was so strong as that champion. Then they were
filled with rage, and dropping their lances in rest, they all rushed
upon Sir Ewaine together, with intent to overthrow him by force of
numbers and might of metal, and afterward to slay him when he was
unhorsed. But Sir Ewaine did not give them their will, but wheeled his
horse with great address and dexterity and in such a wise as to separate
those who thus came upon him in a body. Then suddenly he wheeled about
again, and ere they were prepared for attack, he smote down one knight
and then another and another, so that only three of those who assailed
him were left. With that the others were filled with a great terror of
the woeful buffets that Sir Ewaine struck, wherefore, without further
combat, they all three turned and fled. But ever Sir Ewaine pursued them
with great fury and he came nigh to one who was fleeing and smote him
down from his horse. And he came nigh to another and smote him down
also. Then last of all he overtook that lord who was the enemy of that
lady, and he smote him so sorely with his sword that he would have
fallen from his horse had not Sir Ewaine catched him ere he fell. Then
Sir Ewaine plucked that knight out of his saddle and he laid him across
the bow of his own saddle. So after having overthrown all those seven
knights in that wise, he rode back again into the castle bearing that
wicked lord lying across his saddle bow.

Now when those who stood upon the castle walls beheld what wonderful
battle their champion did, they were amazed beyond measure at his
prowess and they shouted aloud for joy at the victory of their champion
over their enemies. So Sir Ewaine rode into the castle, in the midst of
all that shouting and loud acclaim. And he came to where the lady was
standing in a balcony that overlooked the courtyard of the castle, and
he looked up to where she stood and he said: "Lady, lo! I have brought
you back your enemy in payment for that blessed balm with which you
brought me back to life."

[Sidenote: _The lady of the castle giveth praise to Sir Ewaine._]

Then the lady of the castle knew not what to do for joy. Wherefore she
came down from where she was and catched Sir Ewaine by the hand and
kissed it repeatedly. And she called upon Sir Ewaine as her savior, but
Sir Ewaine withdrew his hand in great confusion, and said: "Lady, do not
do so, for wit you I am a man who hath done a dishonorable thing. And
though I did that ill thing unwittingly, yet I am attainted because of
that which I did."

Then the lady said: "Sir, I will not believe that you were ever
dishonorable, and I would that you would remain always in this castle."

Then Sir Ewaine smiled and said: "I thank you for that wish. But it may
not be, for now that I have done my service in your behalf and have
brought your enemy to you to deal with at your pleasure, to-morrow I
must depart upon my way once more."

Then Sir Ewaine delivered the captive knight from the pommel of his
saddle into the hands of the lady, and afterward that wicked knight was
bound with many securities and hostages to good behavior, and so he
tormented that lady no more from that time forth unto the end of her
life.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine departeth from the castle as a pilgrim._]

Now when the next day was come Sir Ewaine appeared before the lady of
the castle and besought her that she would take back the armor she had
given him and that in place of that armor she would purvey him the dress
of a pilgrim. So that lady did as she was asked, and when she had done
so Sir Ewaine clad himself as a pilgrim and departed from the castle of
that chatelaine.

And Sir Ewaine wandered hither and thither as a pilgrim for several
weeks; and after much journeying he came at last to that valley where
dwelt the Lady of the Fountain. For ever his will led him thitherward,
and so it came about that at last he beheld that town and castle once
more. And when he beheld that place and when he brought to mind all that
had befallen him of good and of ill thereat the tears arose into his
eyes so that all things that he beheld swam as in a flood of water.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine returneth to the Castle of the Fountain._]

Then by and by he went toward that Castle of the Fountain and when he
had come thereunto, he knocked upon the postern door and besought those
who opened to him that he might have speech with the lady of the castle.
So anon he was shown into the apartment where the lady was, and Elose
was with her, and several others of the damsels of her court.

Now the hood of the cloak that Sir Ewaine wore, and the pilgrim's hat,
so concealed his face that no one who was there knew who he was.
Wherefore the Lady Lesolie, speaking as to a stranger, said, "Sir, what
wouldst thou have of me?" And Sir Ewaine answered saying: "Lady, I come
hither to bear to you a message from one who has unwittingly done you a
great injury."

Upon this the lady cried out very vehemently: "Sir, if you come from
that recreant knight, Sir Ewaine, then you may return unto him again
who hath sent you hither." To which Sir Ewaine said, "Lady, I cannot
return unto him, for it would be impossible."

At these words the Lady Lesolie's countenance fell, and for a while she
spake not. Then after a while she said, "Dost thou bring ill news of
him?" And Sir Ewaine said: "I know not whether the news be ill unto thee
or not, but some while ago I beheld that unfortunate knight where he lay
dying in a park beside a lake of water."

Then the Lady of the Fountain pressed her handkerchief to her lips as
though to check an outcry, and after a little while she said, "Good Sir,
tell me what you know." Sir Ewaine said, "I will do so." And he said:
"You are to know that when Sir Ewaine left this court to return to the
court of King Arthur, he fell in with the Enchantress Vivien, who gave
him a ring of forgetfulness so that he disremembered all that had
happened to him at your court. Afterward there came a young damsel from
this place who put him to shame before all those who were his companions
at the court of King Arthur. This that damsel did because she thought
that Sir Ewaine was unfaithful to you. But he was not unfaithful and so
he was shamed for no good reason. Now after being thus shamed before all
the court of King Arthur in that wise, this woeful knight departed from
his friends because he could not bear to dwell in his humiliation before
them. So he left all those his friends and journeyed afar, and in his
journeyings he fell among thieves, and these finding him unarmed, bound
him whilst he slept, and robbed him and wounded him to death. So it was
that I beheld him lying by the wayside, pierced through with a javelin
and dying of that wound, and so have I come thither to tell you of this
story."

Now when the Lady of the Fountain heard what that pilgrim had to say,
she shrieked with great violence and immediately swooned away and fell
upon the ground.

Then several of her maidens ran to her and these served her until by and
by she revived from her swoon. Yet when she was thus recovered she
straightway fell to smiting her hands together and crying aloud in a
very bitter agony of spirit: "Woe is me that I should have disbelieved
in the honor of that noble and worthy knight, for now because of my
disbelief in him I perceive that I have lost him forever. For so hath
died the best and truest knight that ever lived in all of the world."
Saying this, she fell to weeping in great measure, and Elose strove to
comfort her, also weeping, but the lady would not be comforted. Then Sir
Ewaine said, "Lady, hast thou yet such a kind regard for the knight as
this?" And the Lady Lesolie said with great passion: "Yea, truly, and so
I always shall have, for methinks that never such another knight as he
lived in this world."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine declareth himself to the Lady of the Fountain._]

Then Sir Ewaine said: "Lady, you understood not my words. Sir Ewaine is
not dead, and if you will you may easily have him here again." She said,
"How know you that?" Then Sir Ewaine cast off his hood and laid aside
his hat and said: "Lady, I am that man; and if I have deceived thee in
this, it is that I may again behold thy face that is so dear to me--yea,
that is dearer than all the world besides." So saying, Sir Ewaine
kneeled before the lady and embraced her about the knees, and she
stooped and embraced his head and both of them wept with a great passion
of love and joy. And so they were reconciled to one another.

And in that reconciliation there was much rejoicing, for all the town
was bedraped with silken scarves and banners by day and illuminated by
night because of joy for the return of the champion-defender of the
Fountain. And there was feasting and drinking at the castle of the
Fountain, and there was jousting from day to day for seven days, and in
those joustings the knights of the court of the Fountain under the lead
of Sir Ewaine defended their chivalry with such skill and valor that
none of those that came against them were able to withstand them, but
all those companies of knights-contestant were defeated, to the great
glory of the Lady Lesolie of the Fountain.

Then after seven days of this rejoicing, Sir Ewaine was wedded with
great pomp of circumstance to the Lady of the Fountain. And of that
wedding it is to be recorded in the history of these things that Sir
Ewaine and the Lady Lesolie rode to the minster upon milk-white horses,
and that they were all clad in white samite embroidered with silver and
inset with so many precious stones of all sorts and kinds that they
glistened in the sunlight as though they were two figures of living
fire. And it is recorded that tenscore damsels of wonderful beauty, clad
all in white, preceded them upon the way, and spread the way with
flowers, chaunting the while in voices of great rejoicing.

Thus Sir Ewaine was wedded at the castle of the Fountain, and after that
he dwelt in the land of the Fountain with great peace and good content.

And Sir Ewaine ever defended the Fountain as he had aforetime, so that
the fame of the Knight of the Fountain was known throughout the length
and breadth of the land and in every court of chivalry. And many knights
undertook the Adventure of the Fountain but in every case such errant
knights were overthrown by the valor and the skill of the Knight of the
Fountain. And in every case where that knight adventurer was thus
overthrown, the Knight of the Fountain would take from him his horse and
his shield and would send him away upon foot, disarmed and ashamed.

So, because of the valor of the Knight of the Fountain, it came about in
course of time that a very noble and worthy court of chivalry became
established at the castle of the city of the Fountain, insomuch that the
renown of that court of the Fountain hath been handed down in the
histories of chivalry even to this day, when knighthood no longer
dwelleth upon the earth.

       *       *       *       *       *

Such is the history of Sir Ewaine when he undertook the Adventure of the
Fountain whilst upon the quest of Sir Launcelot. And now if you choose
to read further you shall hear how Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore found
Sir Launcelot in the Island of Joy and of how Sir Launcelot returned to
his friends once more.

[Illustration]




PART VI

The Return of Sir Launcelot


_Here followeth the further history of Sir Launcelot of the Lake; of how
Sir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris found Sir Launcelot where he was
dwelling very peacefully and happily (albeit not with perfect content)
in the Island of Joy, of which you have heard mention in that which hath
gone before; of the notable affair-at-arms betwixt Sir Launcelot and Sir
Percival, and of how Sir Launcelot, with Elaine the Fair, returned with
Sir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris to the court of King Arthur.
Likewise you shall there read of what befell that noble company in the
Valley of the Fountain aforetold of.

All this history is of such a sort that it hath given me great pleasure
to write it; wherefore if so be it may give you a like sort of pleasure
to read it, then shall I be very well content with that which I have
done in my endeavor to set forth these several events aforesaid._

[Illustration: Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival receive their Mother's
Blessing:]




[Illustration]

Chapter First

_How Sir Percival met his brother, and how they two journeyed to the
priory where their mother dwelt and what befell them thereafter._


Now return we to Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore whom Sir Ewaine left (as
aforetold of) still sleeping in that castle whence we departed so early
in the morning--even before the break of day--to undertake the Adventure
of the Fountain.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore depart together._]

When those two good knights awoke and founds that Sir Ewaine had
departed, they communed together in the bedchamber of Sir Percival. And
they agreed that thereafter they two should join company and that in
their further search for Sir Launcelot they should travel together as
companions. So when they had broken their fast, they bade farewell to
the lord of the castle, and departed upon their way, travelling very
cheerfully together, side by side, and taking great joy in the gay and
jocund weather, and in all the sweet freshness and the warmth of the
springtide that embalmed them around about.

So they travelled as companions in arms for more than a year, and in
that time they met with several bel-adventures, some of which are told
of in books of chivalry and some of which are not told of. And I would
that I could recount those adventures that befell them, but I cannot,
for it would take another book as great as this to tell all of the
things that happened to them in their journeyings. Yet it shall here be
said that in those adventurings they fell in with a great many sorts of
folk of different condition, both gentle and simple, and that several
times they met certain knights-companion of the Round Table. And it
shall here be said that they met in that wise with Sir Gawaine and Sir
Bors de Ganis, concerning which meeting there shall be more said anon.

[Sidenote: _Of the manner in which they journey._]

And if you would ask how they lodged them during their travels I would
say that they lodged them in divers sorts and ways. For if it happened
that at one time they would lodge them in such a noble castle as that
where Sir Gawaine and Sir Percival met Sir Sagramore, then it would
happen at another time that they would find shelter in the hut of some
lonely shepherd upon the moorlands, and then it would happen at still
another time that they would even have no shelter at all, but would
maybe wrap themselves each in his cloak with nothing beneath him for a
bed but the cold honest earth, and nothing above him for a coverlet but
the silent company of God's own sky, all sprinkled over with a countless
multitude of brightly shining stars. For so those good knights of old
travelled errant in those days, taking whatever befell them in good
part, and accepting all that came to them with a cheerful spirit.

If you would ask me in what sort of weather they travelled, I would tell
you that they were content with whatsoever weather God sent to them; for
if the weather were pleasant, as upon that first day of their journey,
then they would travel very cheerfully up hill and down dale, in
sunshine or shadow as the case might be; and if the weather were foul,
then they would abide wheresoever heaven sent them shelter wherein to
stay until the storm would pass by and be gone.

For this is true, that even wintry weather cannot chill a cheerful
heart; wherefore, when the north wind would bluster loud and
boisterously, and when the falling snow would be covering all the earth
with frozen white, then those two worthy champions would be well content
to lodge them at some wayside inn. For there they might warm them beside
the roaring fire, whereof the blaze would shine in red sparks of light
at several places upon the polished plates of their armor, and whilst
they took cheer in the heat of the fire, and whilst they listened to the
storm, how it beat and drummed upon the windows, and whilst they
harkened at the wind, how it roared and thundered about the gables of
the house, that while they would take great pleasure in the company of
the good folk of the neighborhood, who would be gathered around a merry
bowl of hot mulled ale, with roasted crab-apples bobbing afloat in it,
singing merry songs the while and telling jolly contes, and laughing and
making rude and homely sport in several ways that afforded good
entertainment to those two belted knights who listened thereunto.

Thus you may know how in several ways it was that those two good worthy
knights travelled during that considerable time when they were
journeying together as companions in arms, for in this wise I have taken
great pleasure in telling you thereof.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore come to a fair valley._]

Now after those two had thus been companions in amity together for the
space of a year or a little more than a year, it chanced upon a certain
day that they found themselves at a place where a woodland ceased and
where there began a very fair valley with a smooth shining river winding
like a ribbon down the length thereof. And they sat at the head of that
valley and they gazed down for some while thereinto, and they beheld
that valley with great joy because it was so fair and fruitful. For in
it were several meadow-lands, all smiling with verdure, and there were
many fields of growing corn, and these fields and meadows rose ever
upward until they cut against the sky, as smooth with fertility as
though carved out with the edge of a sharp keen knife. And beside the
river were banks of reeds and rushes and pollard willows and thickets of
alder and aspen. And the broad highroad followed the course of the
stream and there were several mills in the valley and broad ponds of
water with bosky trees and with houses clustered upon the banks thereof.
And ever the breeze blew mild and steady, and very balmy and warm, and
great round white clouds moved slowly across the high arch of the bright
blue sky.

All this Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore beheld and they took such joy in
it that so I cannot forbear to tell you of it as I have done because of
the joy that I also take in what they beheld. Wherefore I pray you to
forgive me if I have recounted more of those things than need be, who am
writing a history of chivalry and of knightly daring.

So those two worthies sat there where were the highlands at the edge of
the forest, and gazed their fill down upon that valley, all spread out,
as it were, upon a table beneath them, and when they had thus gazed
their fill they aroused themselves from their pleasant contemplations
and descended down into that valley, riding along beside the shining
river.

So they followed the highway, and by and by came to where the road
crossed the river by a high-arched bridge of stone. At that place were
several houses of stone with white walls that stood sheltered with
great, umbrageous trees and the walls of the houses touched the edge of
the smooth and gently flowing river. Coadjacent to this place was a mill
and a sheet of wide-spreading bright water where were so many swifts,
flitting hither and thither above the smooth surface, that they
resembled bees flying about a hive upon a warm day in June.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore meet a knight at the
bridge._]

Now as Sir Sagramore and Sir Percival approached that bridge aforesaid
with intent to cross it, they were presently aware of another knight who
came toward them from the other end thereof. And as they went forward he
also came forward so that it was likely that they three would meet in
the midst of the bridge. And they beheld that the knight rode upon a
great Flemish charger as black as a coal, and that he was of a very
noble, haughty appearance, showing no fear at their advance, though they
were two and he was but one. For ever he rode forward very boldly, and
with great spirit, even though it would bring him to meet them in the
middle of the way.

There was no device of any sort upon the shield or the armor of that
knight, for it appeared that he was minded to travel unknown; so they
wist not who he was, but in his appearance they beheld that he was
strong and big and very lusty.

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore exchanges words with the knight on the
bridge._]

Then as they approached one another Sir Sagramore bespake that knight,
saying: "Sir, what mean you, coming so boldly thus against us? Would you
who are one against two dispute the passage of this bridge with us?"

To this the other said: "Messire, I have no mind to assume any dispute
with you; yet you must be aware that it would ill beseem any one of true
knightly courage to draw aside and to give you way. For, as you say, you
are two and I am but one; wherefore, if I should withdraw me from this
meeting it might be that you would impute a lack of courage to me. So,
meseems, it would be better for you to give way for me, for you could do
so without any impeachment of fear, whilst I would do an injury to the
pure nobility of my knighthood if I should give way to you."

Then Sir Sagramore said: "Sir Knight, it need not be that there should
be two of us against one. Let my companion withdraw to the farther side
of the bridge and let us two try a fall together. So it shall be decided
which of us shall of a verity have the right first to cross this
bridge."

"Well," said the stranger knight, "that falleth in with my will in the
matter; therefore let it be as you say."

So, it being thus decided, Sir Percival drew away from the bridge upon
his side, and those two knights-contestant made each himself ready for
combat. Each chose his station, and when they were in all wise
prepared, each set spur to horse and shouted to the assault and so
dashed together across the space of bridge, each in a cloud of dust and
with a noise like to thunder of horses' hoof beats upon the roadway of
the bridge.

[Sidenote: _The strange knight overthrows Sir Sagramore._]

So they met in the very centre of the bridge with a crash one might have
heard a furlong or more away. In that encounter the spear of Sir
Sagramore broke into many pieces but the spear of the other knight held
so that Sir Sagramore was hurtled with great violence over the crupper
of his horse, and, striking the ground with a roar of falling armor, he
lay there like one who had been struck dead.

Now Sir Percival was greatly astonished to see so potent a knight as Sir
Sagramore thus overthrown, wherefore he hurried forward with all speed
to where his companion lay upon the ground. And Sir Percival leaped from
his horse and went to his friend and found that he was not dead but only
stunned by the violence of the fall he had suffered. For anon Sir
Sagramore began to move and to bestir himself and so, after another
while, Sir Percival was able to raise him up and set him upon his feet
again, albeit Sir Sagramore's head was as light as a feather and swam
like to running water.

Now all this while that other knight had been sitting very steadfastly
observing Sir Percival what he was about. So when he beheld that no
great harm had befallen that knight whom he had overthrown, he spake to
Sir Percival, saying: "Sir Knight, are you satisfied upon your part, or
will you also have to do with me in disputing the pass of this bridge?"

"Sir," quoth Sir Percival, "I would fain have had you go in peace, but
since you have thus offered me the chance of battle or no battle, lo! I
have no such choice, but must needs take this knight's quarrel upon
myself. So make you ready that I may avenge his fall upon you."

Therewith Sir Percival gat Sir Sagramore to horse and cleared the bridge
of him. Then he mounted upon his own horse and made him ready for that
assault which he had undertaken.

So when he was in all wise prepared and perceiving that his enemy was
also ready, he shouted to the charge and therewith drave forward in the
assault.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and the strange knight do battle together._]

Then again those two knights-contestant met in the centre of the bridge
with such a violence of meeting that the spear of each was broken into
splinters to the very truncheon thereof. And each would have fallen
before the assault of the other except that, with spur and bridle-rein,
each uplifted his charger to foot again. Thereupon, having no spear
wherewith to do further battle, each knight voided his saddle and each
drew his sword and made him ready for further battle. So they came
together to assault afoot, and presently each fell to lashing at the
other such violent buffets that the sound thereof could be heard in echo
both far and near.

So they fought for a long time and in that while neither gained any
advantage whatsoever over the other. But ever Sir Percival was more and
more astonished at the valor and the prowess of his enemy, for, unless
it were Sir Launcelot of the Lake, he knew not of any one in that land
who might withstand his assault unless it were his own brother, Sir
Lamorack.

So by and by Sir Percival stinted his battle, and he cried out, "Hold,
Sir Knight!" and therewith upon that demand the other also stayed his
assault, and stood leaning upon his sword, panting from the violence of
the battle he had done.

Then Sir Percival said: "Sir, you assuredly fight a very wonderful
battle, for I knew not there was any knight in this realm could
withstand my assault, unless it were Sir Launcelot of the Lake or mine
own brother who is Sir Lamorack of Gales. Wherefore I much marvel who
you can be. Now I pray you tell me, are you Sir Launcelot, or are you my
brother, Sir Lamorack?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival declare themselves._]

So spake Sir Percival, and at those words that other knight cried out in
a loud voice: "What say you! What say you! Who are you who layeth claim
to be brother to Sir Lamorack of Gales? Know I myself am Sir Lamorack of
Gales, so that if you are my brother, then you can be none other than
that good worthy knight Sir Percival."

Then Sir Percival cried out in a loud voice, "I am indeed Sir Percival!"
and with that he uplifted the umbril of his helmet and showed his face.
So also Sir Lamorack (for that other knight was indeed he) uplifted the
umbril of his helmet and showed his face.

Then when Sir Percival beheld his brother's face and wist that it was
indeed he against whom he had been doing battle, he cried out aloud: "My
brother! My brother! Is it indeed thou with whom I have fought!" And Sir
Lamorack also cried out, "My brother! My brother!" and thereupon each
ran to the other and embraced him in his arms. And each kissed the other
upon his cheek in great affection of spirit.

Then Sir Lamorack said: "My brother, I prithee tell me who was that
knight whom I chanced to overthrow but now?" and Sir Percival said,
"That was Sir Sagramore." Sir Lamorack said: "That is a great pity that
I should have assaulted him and done him a hurt. Let us now go see how
he doeth."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack knoweth Sir Sagramore._]

So they two went together to where Sir Sagramore was, and they found
that he was now altogether recovered from his fall. And when Sir
Sagramore heard that it was Sir Lamorack against whom he had run atilt,
he made great exclamation of astonishment and he said: "Hah! I am not at
all surprised that I should have met with such a mishap as that fall
which I suffered, seeing that it was thou, Sir Lamorack, against whom I
ran atilt."

After that there was much amicable talk betwixt the three. And after
they had so talked for a considerable while, Sir Percival said to Sir
Lamorack, "My brother, whither goest thou?" To this Sir Lamorack said:
"I go to visit our mother at the Priory of Saint Bridget's. For wit you
it hath now been three years since either of us hath seen her." Quoth
Sir Percival: "Brother, what thou sayst is true, and I am greatly
ashamed that it should be so long a time since I have beheld our mother.
Now I am of a mind to go with thee upon this errand, and I will do so if
my companion, Sir Sagramore, is willing to part company with me." And
Sir Lamorack said, "I pray you do so."

Then Sir Sagramore said to Sir Percival: "Sir, I would not stay you from
your duty. Go you with your brother in God's name and think naught of
me." And Sir Percival said, "I will do so."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack depart together._]

So after a little while longer of friendly talk, Sir Percival and Sir
Lamorack bade adieu to Sir Sagramore, and after that the two brothers
betook their way toward the Priory of St. Bridget's as aforesaid and Sir
Sagramore went his way alone.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack behold their mother._]

So Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack travelled upon their way for all that
day, and upon the afternoon of the second day they came to that place
where was the Priory of St. Bridget. Then you may suppose what joy that
noble lady prioress, their mother, had in beholding her two knightly
sons side by side before her once more. For it is recorded that when she
beheld those two noble lords kneeling upon the ground so that she might
bestow her blessing upon them, she wept very tenderly and said: "Ah, my
dear sons! When your father was slain he left me four sons, of whom
twain were slain by treachery so that now but you two are alive." And
she said: "I pray God He may take you into His keeping and cherish you
in all ways that be for your good, so that you may be spared your lives
and not perish by violence as did your father and your two brothers."

After that they three sat together talking very tenderly to one another;
and they sat together far into the night, so that it was past midnight
when they parted company to seek their repose. And as they said good
night to their mother, Sir Percival said: "Before the dawn of day
cometh, dear mother, I must depart upon my journey once more." And Sir
Lamorack said: "Is it so? Then I must depart with thee, my brother, for
to keep thee company." At that the lady prioress fell to weeping, and
still weeping she kissed them both and prayed that God might shield them
both from sin and sorrow; and so they parted for the night.

So it befell that upon the first breaking of the morn, they two took
horse and departed from that place. And when the lady prioress awoke,
they were far upon their way. Then when the lady, their mother, found
them gone, she cried out, "Alas! who would be a mother to suffer such
partings as these!"

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack depart from the Priory._]

Now after Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival had left the Priory of St.
Bridget's in that wise, they rode side by side through the dawning of
the day, what time a thin, cool mist like to a veil of silver lay all
about the meadow-lands; what time everywhere the birds were singing
their pretty matins with great joy; what time the leaves of the trees
rustled with the first breath of the coming day. Anon the sky grew
bright like to shining silver, very clear and remote, and then anon
uprose the glorious sun and sent his beams across the meadow-land and
wold.

Then Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack drew rein and dismounted each from
his steed. Each turned his horse to grass and then each opened his
wallet and broke his fast, quenching his thirst at a forest fountain
that burst out of a cleft rock near by, as clear as crystal and as cold
as ice.

After that they had thus refreshed themselves they took horse again and
once more travelled onward as before.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack hear a voice lamenting._]

Now about the middle of the day, they being then journeying in a leafy
woodland, they became aware of a sound of lamentation in a part of the
forest and they wist that there was in that place some one who was in
distress. So with one accord they followed that sound of lamentation a
little to one side, and away from the path, and so, by and by, they came
to a certain open glade of the woodlands where they perceived the figure
of a knight stretched out upon the ground. And that knight was covered
with blood and his armor was cleft and broken as with battle. Beside the
knight there knelt an esquire clad all in garments pied of red and
white. And as the esquire thus kneeled beside the knight he wiped the
face of the knight continually with a napkin, and ever made that outcry
of sorrow which they two had heard from a distance.

Then Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack rode forward into that glade and
when the esquire perceived those two strange knights coming toward him,
he arose and stood as though not rightly knowing whether to flee away or
to remain where he was. This Sir Lamorack perceived and so called out:
"Fair youth, be not afraid, but stay and tell us what is this sad sight
which we behold, for we are knights errant and we mean ye well and not
ill."

So the esquire, perceiving their intention to be friendly, remained
where he was, and thereupon they two rode up to him and to where that
figure of misfortune lay stretched in his blood upon the ground. Then
Sir Lamorack said: "Is this noble knight living, or is he dead?" And the
esquire said, "Alas, Messire! He is not dead, but mefeareth he is
dying."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack succor a wounded knight._]

Then Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival dismounted from their horses and they
went to where lay the unfortunate knight aforesaid. And they examined
him to see whether he were alive; and for a while they thought that he
was dead, but after a while they perceived that he was not dead, but
that he was grievously wounded and very nigh to death. Then Sir Lamorack
lifted up his face and looked at that esquire, and he said, "Who is this
knight, and how came he here?" "Messire," quoth the esquire, "I will
tell you all. This is a very worthy knight hight Sir Tarn. He and his
lady with only myself in attendance were riding this morning through
this part of the forest with intent to go to the castle of a brother of
Sir Tarn's. Right as we rode thus, there met us a very cruel and savage
knight of these marches hight Sir Godwin. This Sir Godwin had with him
several armed men and these fell upon my lord and his lady, and him they
struck down with many dolorous blows and left for dead and her they have
led captive away with them. As for me, I escaped from their hands into
the thick woodlands and after they had gone I returned hither to lend
such aid as I might to my sad, unfortunate lord."

"Ha!" said Sir Lamorack, "this is a very sorry story and that is indeed
a wicked and unkindly knight who treated thy lord in this wise. Well do
I know this Sir Godwin, for I slew his brother, Sir Gaudelin, for such
another piece of mischief as this of which thou complainest." And Sir
Lamorack said to Sir Percival: "Brother, let us put this good knight to
such ease and comfort as we may, and then let us go to the castle of Sir
Godwin and succor that lady of Sir Tarn whom he hath taken away
captive." And Sir Percival also said, "Let us do so."

So they two dismounted from their horses and, with the help of that
esquire they eased Sir Tarn of his armor. After that they searched his
wounds and bathed them from the waters of a near-by fountain of the
forest. And they bound up those wounds with such bandages as they had at
hand and so brought all the ease and comfort they were able to the
wounded man. So anon Sir Tarn opened his eyes and sighed, and anon he
moved and upraised himself upon his elbow.

Then Sir Lamorack said: "Lie still, Sir Tarn, and move not for this
while and until thou art better than thou now art. And take comfort to
thyself, for I am Sir Lamorack of Gales and this is my brother, Sir
Percival of Gales, and presently we go to the castle of Sir Godwin for
to succor thy lady and to bring her to thee again. For indeed I have
great faith that God will be with us in that undertaking, and that we
shall bring you peace of soul as we have brought you comfort of body."

So Sir Lamorack comforted Sir Tarn, and after that they bade the wounded
man adieu for the time and so left him and departed thence, betaking
their way to the castle of Sir Godwin.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack come to the castle of Sir
Godwin._]

So after a while they perceived the castle of Sir Godwin where it was in
the midst of the woodland. And they came close to the castle and when
they were very near they dismounted from their horses and tied the
bridles each to a sapling. After that they two went up to the gate of
the castle and demanded admission.

Then presently the porter came to the gate and looked forth at them
through the wicket, and he said: "Who are ye that demand admission, and
what is your business?" Sir Lamorack said: "We be two knights who come
to demand of Sir Godwin full satisfaction for the wounding of Sir Tarn
and to demand that the lady of Sir Tarn be set free from durance."

So spake Sir Lamorack, and thereat the porter laughed and said: "Certes,
ye be mad, or else ye be two fearless men to come thus upon such an
errand." Therewith he shut the wicket and went away. And he went to
where Sir Godwin was and told him how those two knights had come thither
and what was their business.

When Sir Godwin heard that message he also laughed and he said to the
porter: "Go thou and admit these two knights, and when they have entered
the courtyard do thou shut to the gate after them. So we will have them
catched as in a trap. After that we may deal with them as we please."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack enter the castle of Sir
Godwin._]

So the porter did as Sir Godwin commanded; he went and opened the gates
to Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival and he said, "Come in!" and when they
were within the castle he shut to the gate again so that they might not
go forth until they of the castle chose to let them out again. And at
that time Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack were in a courtyard of the
castle and there was no way whereby they might escape from that place
upon any side, for all the doors and passes were closed against them.

Anon came Sir Godwin, the lord of the castle, clad all in full armor.
And he appeared at a balcony that overlooked the courtyard beneath, and
he said: "Who are ye who come hither, meddling with that which concerns
you not?"

Him answered Sir Lamorack very boldly: "Thou wicked and unworthy knight!
Know thou that I am Sir Lamorack of Gales, and that I am he who slew thy
brother, Sir Gaudelin, for such an offence as this that thou hast this
morning committed. I and my brother, Sir Percival, are come hither with
intent to punish thee for the evil thing which thou hast done this
morning, for we will not suffer that such things shall be done as thou
doest. For those were like the deeds that thy brother did and for them
he died. So repent thee or his fate shall presently be thy fate also
unless thou dost presently repent and make amends for the injury thou
hast done."

So spake Sir Lamorack, and at that speech Sir Godwin was so filled with
rage that it was as though all the light of heaven turned red before his
eyes. For a while he could not speak because of that rage, and then by
and by he cried out: "Hah! Hah! Art thou indeed Sir Lamorack who slew my
brother? Now I am right glad of that. Make thine orisons, for this night
thou shalt assuredly sup in Paradise with thy brother for company."

[Sidenote: _Sir Godwin attacks Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack in force._]

Therewith he departed and was gone, and Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack
knew not what was to happen next. Then, after a while, a door of the
castle was suddenly opened upon the courtyard and a score or more of
full-armed men rushed very violently into the space where Sir Lamorack
and Sir Percival were. At that same time another door was opened upon
the other side of the courtyard and thereupon there rushed in Sir Godwin
and other armed men. All of these ran forward and flung themselves upon
Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival with intent to overthrow them by dint of
numbers.

But when Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack were aware of their coming, they
straightway set themselves back to back and each whirled his bright
shining sword about his head so that it flashed like lightning. Then
there befell a great battle in that narrow courtyard, many against two.
Yet ever those two bare themselves very valiantly so that in a little
space of time there were six or ten men lying groaning upon the ground,
and the pavement of the courtyard was become all slippery with blood.
Yea; so great was the terror that those two spread about them that in a
little while they who assaulted them drew away from the death that was
measured out to those who were nearest to the two.

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack slayeth Sir Godwin._]

So, for a while, there came a pause in that battle, and in that pause
Sir Lamorack perceived where Sir Godwin stood in the midst of the castle
folk, urging them to the attack. Thereat of a sudden the madness of
battle fell upon Sir Lamorack, so that he waited not for another
assault, but, shouting aloud, he ran at his enemy, whirling his sword
about his head. At that fierce attack the castle folk scattered from
before him like to chaff before the wind, and so Sir Lamorack and Sir
Godwin stood face to face with no one to stay Sir Lamorack in his
assault. Then Sir Lamorack whirled his sword and smote such a buffet
that though Sir Godwin took that buffet upon his shield, yet his wits
melted away from him because of the blow he had received. Then his
defences fell low before him, his head hung upon his breast, he
staggered, and his thighs trembled with weakness. Then he cried out,
"Mercy! Mercy!" saying those words twice over. But Sir Lamorack would
not hear him, but lifting up his sword he smote Sir Godwin again, and
with that second stroke Sir Godwin fell down upon his knees to the
ground. Then Sir Lamorack rushed off the helmet of Sir Godwin and he
catched Sir Godwin's head by the hair and drew his neck forward. And he
whirled up his sword and he smote Sir Godwin's head from his body so
that it rolled down upon the stones of the courtyard.

Now when the followers of Sir Godwin beheld how their master was slain
they were seized with a great terror of death insomuch that they crowded
away to the extremities of the courtyard like to rats caught in a pit.
And they held up their hands and cried aloud, "Mercy! Mercy!"

Then Sir Lamorack, panting for breath from his fight and leaning upon
his sword, said, "Take your mercy." And he said, "Where is the major of
this castle?" They say, "We will get him for you, lord," and therewith
several ran upon that errand. Anon they came bringing a fat old man all
trembling and quaking with fear. This fat old man kneeled down before
Sir Lamorack, and Sir Lamorack said, "Art thou the major of this place?"
And he said, "Yea, Messire." Sir Lamorack said, "What captives have ye
here?" to the which the major replied, "There be seven captives, and
four of those seven are ladies." Sir Lamorack said, "Take us to them."

So upon the command of Sir Lamorack the major arose from his knees,
trembling with fear. And he conducted Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival to
the keep of the castle and to the secret dungeons that were within the
keep. There they found and liberated those seven poor and miserable
creatures who were held prisoners in that place.

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack liberates the castle captives._]

Amongst those ladies who were captive was the lady of Sir Tarn, and
amongst the knights who were captive was Sir Percevant of Hind. All
these seven captives Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival liberated and they
gave great praise and loud acclaim to those two most worthy champions
who had set them free from their piteous and miserable durance.

Then Sir Lamorack said, "Where is the treasure of this castle?" and in
obedience to that command, the major conducted Sir Lamorack and Sir
Percival to the treasure-house. There they found twelve great chests
full of treasure, which same Sir Godwin had gathered by murder and
robbery and rapine.

Then Sir Lamorack said: "Let this treasure be divided equally amongst
these captives so that they may be recompensed for all the misery they
have suffered."

So it was done as he commanded and thus it was that those who had been
so sad in captivity were made glad in their liberation. Nor would Sir
Lamorack take any of that treasure for himself; otherwise he gave it all
to those who had suffered so much at the hands of Sir Godwin.

Then after all this was accomplished, it being then come eventide, Sir
Lamorack said: "Let every living soul quit this place, for it is a den
of thieves, and shall no longer be permitted to stand stone upon stone."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lamorack setteth fire to the castle._]

So all they of the castle came and stood without the walls, both young
and old, strong and weak, man and woman, the sick and the well. And when
all had thus come forth, Sir Lamorack gave command that torches should
be set here and there to the castle. So it was done according to that
command, and in a little while all that castle was in a flame of fire,
so that the falling night was made bright with the illumination thereof.

In the light of that illumination Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival rode
away with the lady of Sir Tarn. And they brought the lady to where the
wounded man lay--and he had then recovered his strength in a great
measure and was in a way of regaining his life and his health once more.

So a pavilion was set up over Sir Tarn and after he was in all wise made
comfortable, Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack departed from that place and
went upon their way, riding through the night and all enwrapped around
about by the darkness of the night and of the woodlands.

       *       *       *       *       *

Thus it was that Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival met at that bridge in
the valley; thus they visited together their mother, the prioress of St.
Bridget's Priory; thus they destroyed that nest of thieves, and thus
they departed once more upon their way.

And now followeth the story of how Sir Percival met Sir Ector de Maris;
of how Sir Percival joined company with Sir Ector; of how they
discovered a certain very wonderful isle in a lake of clear water, and
of how Sir Ector had to do with a certain knight who was the champion of
that island aforesaid.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Sir Percival and Sir Ector look upon the Isle of Joy:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Second

_How Sir Percival and Sir Ector de Maris came to a very wonderful place
where was a castle in the midst of a lake._


That night Sir Lamorack and Sir Percival lay in the woodlands, each
wrapped in his cloak, and each sleeping very soundly after all the
travails of the day. And when the next morning had come Sir Percival
awoke a little before the dawning of the day and Sir Lamorack still
slept.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival leaveth Sir Lamorack asleep._]

Then Sir Percival bethought him that he must again depart in quest of
Sir Launcelot and that his brother, Sir Lamorack, was not upon that
quest. So he rose very softly and he went aside and donned his armor so
quietly that he did not disturb his brother's slumbers. After he had
thus donned his armor, he took horse and rode alone into the forest,
leaving Sir Lamorack still asleep where he lay.

And Sir Percival traversed that woodland for a long while, not knowing
whither he went, but trusting ever to God to bring him out thence all in
good time. So as he journeyed he came about the prime of day to a
certain open place where there was a crossroad and a wayside shrine and
a little chapel. And as Sir Percival drew nigh to this place, he beheld
that a knight in shining armor was kneeling at that wayside shrine,
reciting his orisons.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival meets with Sir Ector de Maris._]

Beside the kneeling knight there stood a noble dapple-gray war-horse,
and the spear of the knight leaned against the bole of a near-by oak
tree, and the shield of the knight hung suspended to the spear. And the
knight wore neither helm nor bascinet, wherefore Sir Percival could see
his face and so could know who he was. And Sir Percival knew that the
knight who kneeled there was Sir Ector de Maris, the brother of Sir
Launcelot of the Lake.

Now though Sir Ector heard the sound of the footsteps of the horse as
Sir Percival drew nigh, yet he neither ceased his orisons nor turned his
head, but ever continued very steadfastly to recite his prayers. And so
Sir Percival drew rein at a little distance and waited until Sir Ector
was done his prayers, nor did he disturb the kneeling knight in any wise
until he had crossed himself and arisen to his feet.

Then Sir Percival said, "This is well met, Sir Ector," and because the
umbril of Sir Percival's helmet was uplifted, Sir Ector knew him and so
he said, giving him greeting, "Well met indeed, Sir Percival."

Therewith Sir Percival dismounted from his horse, and he came to Sir
Ector and clasped Sir Ector in his arms, and each kissed the other upon
the cheek as though they had been brothers.

After that they went a little to one side and sat them down in the soft
long grass of the wayside and beneath the shadow of a wide-spreading
tree.

Then Sir Percival said to Sir Ector: "Sir, hast thou any news of thy
brother, Sir Launcelot?" And Sir Ector said: "Nay, I have no news of
him, but I had hoped that you might have news."

Sir Percival said, "I have no news," and he said, "Do you still go in
quest of that noble and gentle knight your brother?" And Sir Ector said,
"Yea." Sir Percival said: "So do I go upon that quest, and I would fain
that we might travel somewhile together for the sake of companionship."
And Sir Ector said: "So also would I wish it to be."

Now as they thus talked there came the hermit of that chapel to them
where they sat, and he said to them: "Messires, will ye not break bread
with me ere ye depart from this place?" Whereunto they said: "Yea;
gladly will we do so."

So they all went together to the hermit's cell, and therewith he
prepared for them such food as he had at his dwelling-place; to wit,
sweet brown bread, with honey of the forest and berries freshly gathered
from the thickets. So those two noble knights ate with great appetite
and were fully refreshed and their hunger stayed.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ector ride together._]

Then, after they had thus eaten their fill, they gave many thanks to the
good man for their refreshment and so departed from that pleasant place,
riding side by side together, talking in pleasant discourse, and now and
then chanting a bit of song, either one alone or both together. Meantime
the warm sun shone very brightly, flickering ever and anon through the
leaves and blazing of a sudden with a quick and wonderful glory as it
catched upon the polished plates of their armor.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ector behold a fair valley._]

In this wise Sir Percival and Sir Ector travelled and by and by they
came out of that forest. And they travelled for several days, until at
last they one day came to a certain place whence they overlooked a
valley. Here they drew rein upon the heights and looked down into that
valley, and they beheld that it was a very fair place. And in the midst
thereof they beheld that there was a lake of water, wonderfully clear
and very blue and tranquil, as it were a part of the bright shining sky
that lay within the cup of that valley. And they beheld that in the
midst of the lake there was an island, and that upon the island there
stood a castle, very tall and stately, and with many tall roofs of tile
that shone all red like to several separate flames of fire against the
mild blue sky behind. And they beheld that there was a little town of
houses of stone and brick not far away from that castle, and they beheld
that the rest of the island was very fertile and green, like to a pure
emerald of bright fertility. And they beheld that there were several
groves and plantations of trees and of fruit-trees at several places
upon the island, so that, what with this and what with that, it was like
a fragment of paradise planted in that place.

All these they beheld, as it were, upon the palm of the hand. And after
they had gazed for a while, Sir Ector said: "Methinks that yonder is as
fair a place as ever I saw in all of my life. Now let us descend
thitherward and let us seek to discover to what noble lord yonder island
castle belongeth." To the which Sir Percival said, "That meeteth
altogether my wishes."

So thereupon those two rode down into that valley and so came to the
margin of the lake. And they beheld that the waters of the lake were as
clear as crystal and that all around the lake was a strand of yellow
pebbles that appeared like pebbles of gold in the sunlight, wherefore it
was as though that lake was altogether surrounded with the ring of gold.
And beyond this strand of pebbles were meadows of long grass and of
flowers, and chiefly these flowers were daffodils.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and Sir Ector ride beside the lake._]

So those two knights proceeded along that golden strand, all in the
shining sunlight, until, by and by, they came to a certain part of the
lake that was nighest to the castle. And the island at that point sloped
very gently down to the water, and as these two knights gazed across the
waters they saw how that a wide, smooth meadow lay betwixt the castle
and the waters of the lake, and that the meadow was besprinkled with an
incredible number of bright daffodil flowers like to the meadows upon
the other side of that strand of pebbles. And they perceived that there
was a lady standing deep in the long grass of the meadow and in the
midst of the flowers, and they saw that she wore many ornaments of gold
set with jewels and that she carried a sparrow-hawk upon her wrist.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival bespeaketh a lady of Joyous Isle._]

[Sidenote: _Of the champion of Joyous Isle._]

Then Sir Percival called to that lady across the water, saying, "Lady,
what is this castle and who is the lord thereof?" To this the lady also
called out in reply (speaking in a voice that was wonderfully high and
clear), saying: "This is hight the Joyous Isle and yonder is the castle
of Joyous Isle, and the lord of the castle is a very noble knight hight,
le Chevalier Malfait. We of this castle are exceedingly proud of that
knight, holding him to be the most noble champion in all of the world.
For there have been several tournaments and jousts held in these
marches, and in none of them hath any one been able to stand against our
knight. And many knights have come hither at different times to try an
adventure against our knight, but all these hath he overthrown with
wonderful skill and strength."

Thus spake that lady; and to her Sir Percival said: "Certes, lady, this
must be a very noble knight according to your accounting. Now I pray you
tell me how came so puissant a knight as that into this remote place?"

Quoth she: "I cannot rightly tell you that, only I know that he came
hither as a madman and that he was healed of his madness, and that he
was wedded to the daughter of the king of this country, who is one of
the most beautiful ladies in the world, and that since then he hath been
living here at Joyous Isle."

Then Sir Percival said: "Lady, we came not hither upon any such
adventure as that of trying the skill of your champion, but what you
inform us concerning him giveth me a great appetite to try of what
mettle he is. Now I pray you tell me, how may I come at this knight so
as to adventure myself against him."

At this the lady laughed, and she said: "Messire, if such be your wish,
you will find yourself very welcome at this place. If you would come at
this adventure, you must travel by the margin of the lake a little
farther upon the way you are going and until you have come to that part
of the lake that is back of the castle. There you will find a ferryman
and his two sons. Make your want known to this ferryman and he will take
you into his boat and will ferry both you and your two horses across the
water of the lake so that you may come to the other side."

So spake the lady; and after that Sir Percival gave her gramercy and
therewith he and Sir Ector took their departure. And so they travelled
some little while by the margin of the lake as the lady with the
sparrow-hawk had directed, and by and by they came to that part of the
lake that was back of the castle. Here they beheld a vessel such as the
lady had described, and they beheld a hut beside the margin of the lake;
and when they called there came forth out of the hut the ferryman and
two others who were his sons. Of these Sir Percival made demand that
they should transport him across the lake to the island and thereupon
the ferryman immediately prepared to do so.

Then Sir Percival said to Sir Ector: "Sir, I pray you of your courtesy
for one thing," and Sir Ector said, "What is that?" Sir Percival said:
"I pray you that you will abide here and let me undertake this adventure
alone. For I would not have it that two of us together should go forth
against this one knight. And indeed I have great hope that I may be
successful in this, even though I go thus alone, wherefore it is that I
pray you of your courtesy that you will abide here, and patiently await
my return."

So spake Sir Percival, and Sir Ector said: "Messire, let it be as you
say and I will even abide here at this place and await your return. And
if you should fail in that which you undertake, then will I also essay
this adventure to discover if I may meet with better success."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival passeth to Joyous Isle._]

So therewith Sir Percival entered the boat, and the ferryman and his two
sons also entered it, and they bent to their oars and in a little while
they had rowed Sir Percival across the water to the island that lay upon
the farther side.

Then when Sir Percival had safely come to the island in that wise, he
rode up toward the castle through that very pleasant meadow aforetold
of, and so came to the castle gateway. Here he beheld a bugle horn
hanging by a chain. Then he took that bugle horn into his hands and blew
upon it until the walls of the castle rang with the sound thereof. Anon,
in answer to that blast, there came the porter of that castle and looked
at Sir Percival through the wicket of the gate. And the porter said:
"Messire, what would you have of us of this castle?"

Quoth Sir Percival: "Good man, I have heard news of the great prowess of
the knight-champion of this castle, and so I have come hither to make a
better acquaintance of that prowess. Now I, pray you to go to him and to
tell him that there hath come an errant knight who would fain do battle
with him in a friendly tilt if so be he will come forth hither without
the castle and meet me in the meadow that lieth beneath the walls. For
that meadow is a pleasant place, smooth and level, where two knights may
have great joy in running atilt in friendly contest."

"Messire," quoth the porter, "it needs not that the knight of this
castle should come forth out of the castle to meet you. For inside of
this castle is a very pleasant tilt yard, and there is a gallery around
about the tilt yard whence the lords and ladies of this place may view
the contest between you and our knight. Wherefore, I pray you enter and
take no fear, for you will be very well received at this place."

"I give you gramercy," said Sir Percival, "and I find that this is
indeed a very gentle and kindly place whereunto I have come. So I pray
you give me way and I will enter as you desire me to do."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival entereth the castle of Joyous Isle._]

So anon the portcullis of the castle was raised and the drawbridge was
let fall and thereupon Sir Percival rode forward across the drawbridge
and entered the castle and the courtyard thereof, the iron hoofs of his
horse sounding very loud and noisy upon the stones of the pavement.

Then immediately there came several esquires running to him and asked of
him what was his will and why he had come to that place. Sir Percival
told them what he would have, and that he would have a friendly contest
of arms with the knight of that place; whereunto the esquires said, "It
shall be as you desire."

So two of those esquires ran to find the knight of the castle to tell
him how that a challenger was come to run atilt against him, and
meantime several other esquires led Sir Percival's horse to the tilt
yard of the castle and others still again brought him a cup of fair
spiced wine for his refreshment. Anon the folk of the castle began to
gather in the balcony that overlooked the tilt yard, and Sir Percival,
casting upward his eyes toward those who gathered there, beheld that
that was as fair a court of chivalry as ever had looked down upon any
battle that he had fought in all of his life.

After that, and by and by, there came the knight-champion of the castle,
riding into the farther extremity of the tilt yard, and when Sir
Percival looked upon him it seemed to him that he had hardly ever seen
so noble and haughty a figure as that castle champion presented.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival doeth battle with the champion of Joyous
Isle._]

Then straightway those two knights prepared each himself for the
encounter, and when they were in all ways made ready the marshal of the
lists came forward and proclaimed the conditions of battle--that it was
to be ahorseback or afoot as the knights-contestant chose. After that
proclamation the marshal withdrew a little to one side. Then he called
upon those knights to make them ready. Then in another little while, and
beholding that they were both ready in all wise, he blew a loud blast
upon his trumpet, whereupon in an instant they quitted each his post and
launched the one against the other like to two bulls rushing together in
a charge. So they two met in the midst of the course with such an uproar
of encounter that the ears of those who stood near by were stunned with
the noise thereof.

In that encounter each knight splintered his lance to the very butt
thereof, and at the violence of the blow that each gave the other, the
horse of each tottered back upon his haunches and would have fallen but
for the address of the knight rider, who quickly recovered him with spur
and voice and rein.

Then each knight voided his saddle and leaped to the ground, and each
drew his sword from its sheath for an encounter afoot. Then flashed
their swords like lightning in the sunlight, and blow followed blow with
such great spirit and good will that the sound thereof deafened the ears
of those who looked down upon that encounter from the balcony. And ever
these two champions lashed at the other such buffets that it was a
wonder that any skill and address at arms could have turned aside such
strokes as fell in that friendly battle.

So they two fought for so long a time that those who onlooked were
astonished at the strength and the courage and the endurance of those
two champions, and in all that while neither knight had suffered aught
of harm and neither had had aught of advantage over the other.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival and the champion stint their battle._]

Then at last the champion of the castle cried out, "Sir Knight, hold thy
hand!" and thereupon Sir Percival ceased his battle and stood leaning
upon the pommel of his sword, panting because of the great endeavor
which he had put forth during that conflict. Then the knight-champion of
the castle said: "Messire, I have met many knights in my day and amongst
them I have encountered those who were regarded to be the best knights
in the world, yet I make my vow that never until this time have ever I
met any knight who hath proved himself to be so strong and so powerful
as you have shown yourself to be in this battle. Now I pray you,
Messire, that you of your courtesy will declare your name and degree,
for I doubt me not that you are one whom we shall find to have conferred
great honor upon us by coming to this place."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival declareth himself._]

To this Sir Percival said: "Messire, your civility of words is equal to
your address at arms. Gladly will I declare my name and degree, and
happy will I be if it hath aught of significance to you, for I do not
think that even Sir Launcelot of the Lake himself was ever a better
knight than you have shown yourself to be. Know you that I am Sir
Percival of Gales and that I am son to King Pellinore and brother unto
Sir Lamorack of Gales. And now I beseech you upon your part to declare
your name and title to me."

But to this speech the champion of the castle made no reply. Otherwise,
when he heard what Sir Percival said, and when he heard the name and
degree of Sir Percival, he gave forth a great cry, either of joy or of
something different from joy. Therewith, and thus crying out, he flung
away his sword and he flung away his shield, and he ran to Sir Percival
and threw himself down upon his knees before Sir Percival and embraced
him about the thighs. And he cried out: "What have I done! What have I
done to do battle with thee in this wise!"

At this Sir Percival was very greatly astonished and he said: "Sir, what
is this thou doest to kneel to me? Who art thou who sayst such words as
these I hear? Now I pray thee that thou wilt immediately declare thyself
to me who thou art!"

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot declareth himself._]

Then that knight, still kneeling, said: "Sir Percival, I am he whom men
one time called Sir Launcelot of the Lake." Therewith saying, that
knight of the castle lifted up the umbril of his helmet and Sir Percival
beheld that it was indeed Sir Launcelot.

Then Sir Percival cried out even as Sir Launcelot had done, and thus
crying out he said: "At last, at last I have found thee!" Therewith he
lifted up Sir Launcelot into his arms, and he embraced Sir Launcelot and
kissed him upon the cheek and they wept over one another with a great
joy of meeting, and all those in the balcony who beheld that sight
wondered what was its occasion.

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival beholdeth Elaine the Fair._]

Then Sir Launcelot said to Sir Percival: "Sir, let me bring you to my
lady." And therewith he took Sir Percival by the hand and led him up
into the gallery and to where the Lady Elaine sat in the midst of her
court. And Sir Percival looked with a very earnest regard upon that
lady, and it appeared to him that he had never before beheld so sweet
and gentle and beautiful a countenance as that which he then looked
upon. And Sir Percival said: "Lady, now that I see thee I wonder not
that Sir Launcelot hath remained thus hidden away from the sight of all
of us for these two years past. For if this island wherein ye dwell is a
fair paradise then certes art thou a very fitting queen to that
dwelling-place."

So spake Sir Percival, and after he had spoken the Lady Elaine smiled
very kindly upon him and she said: "Messire, your words are very fair
and they flatter me far beyond my deserving. Great is your renown
amongst us and I declare that you are very welcome to this place. Now I
pray you put aside your armor and bathe and refresh yourself, and after
that we shall all take gentle sport together."

Sir Percival said: "Lady, gladly would I stay with you at this present.
But there is awaiting me at another place not far distant from this one
whom Sir Launcelot will be even more glad to behold than he was glad to
behold me. Now I pray you, suffer me first to go and bring that one
hither and then will we both remain with you in greater joy of your
company."

Quoth Sir Launcelot, "Who is it that could give me more pleasure to see
than you, Sir Percival?"

"Sir," said Sir Percival, "it is your own brother, Sir Ector. For I left
him upon the other side of the water of this lake whilst I came hither
alone to try my fortune with you. Now I pray you let me go to him and
bring him hitherward so that we may all rejoice together."

Then Sir Launcelot cried out: "This is indeed joy upon joy. Now I pray
you, Sir Percival, go and bring him!" Therewith Sir Percival departed to
fetch Sir Ector thither in accordance with that saying.

So Sir Percival rode down through the meadow of the island to the margin
of the lake, and when he had come there the ferryman ferried him across
the water as they had brought him across before. And Sir Percival found
Sir Ector waiting for him, who, when he beheld Sir Percival coming,
said: "Sir, what fortune had you in your adventure?" Quoth Sir Percival:
"Oh, friend! that fortune which I had was greater than you or I could
have deemed to be possible."

At these words Sir Ector was greatly astonished, and he said: "What
great fortune is this of which thou speakest?" and Sir Percival said: "I
will tell thee. Whom thinkest thou I have found upon this adventure?
None other than thine own brother, Sir Launcelot, for he it is who is
the lord of this castle."

Then Sir Ector cried out with astonishment, and he said: "Can this be so
indeed?" And then he said: "Let us make haste and go to him upon the
wings of the wind."

[Sidenote: _Sir Percival bringeth Sir Ector to Joyous Isle._]

So again they entered the ferry and were ferried across the water. And
after they were upon the farther side they rode together through that
meadow of flowers and up to the castle.

Now as they drew nigh to the castle in that wise they beheld a great
concourse of the castle folk coming forth to meet them and giving great
sound of jubilation and rejoicing. At the head of these who approached
to meet them came Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine, they two riding
side by side, Sir Launcelot upon a great black horse, and she upon a
white palfrey. And she was clad all in garments of white sarsanet
embellished with pearls and embroidered with threads of silver, and she
was adorned with ornaments of shining gold and she wore a golden crown
upon her head such as was befitting the daughter of a king to wear. Her
fair hair was enmeshed in a network of golden threads so that what with
this and that her beauty shone from afar with exceeding lustre. And
though Sir Ector had beheld her aforetime yet it was as though he had
never beheld her until that day, for her joy and her pride of Sir
Launcelot and in his meeting Sir Ector and Sir Percival again so
illuminated her countenance that it was as though her beauty shone with
a singular brightness from within; yea, it was as though her soul itself
had illuminated her body of flesh with a pure and shining beauty that
was other than of this world.

[Sidenote: _Sir Ector and Sir Launcelot meet one another._]

So as they met, Sir Launcelot and Sir Ector each leaped from his horse
and they ran together and embraced and kissed each other and wept one
upon another in such a wise that all of those who looked on wept also
for joy of their joy. And then Sir Ector came to the lady and took her
by the hand and kissed her hand and kissed it again and yet again.

After that they all went up to the castle of the Joyous Isle together,
and they entered into the castle with sounds of rejoicing and loud
acclaim so that the very walls of the castle seemed, as it were, to cry
out with joy. So after they had thus entered the castle, a number of
attendants took Sir Percival and Sir Ector and made them comfortable in
all wise. And they were given rich robes of royal make for to wear and
after that there was feasting and rejoicing beyond measure.

Thereafter day followed day in great cheer and mirth and there were many
joustings and tournaments held in honor of these two royal knights who
had come thither.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Sir Ector bespeaketh Sir Launcelot._]

Now one day Sir Launcelot and Sir Ector were walking together in the
garden of that fair castle and they were alone, no attendants being with
them at that time. Anon Sir Ector said to Sir Launcelot, "My brother, I
pray ye read me a riddle." Quoth Sir Launcelot, "What is your riddle?"
"It is this," said Sir Ector: "What should one do if a messenger came to
him with command from a queen to whom he had sworn duty--that command
being that he should show himself at court? Should that one neglect the
command that his queen had transmitted to him, or should he obey that
command."

Then Sir Launcelot turned his face aside so that Sir Ector might not
read his eyes, and after a little he said, "I will not return to court."

"Why will ye not do so?" said Sir Ector, and Sir Launcelot made reply:
"Because a duty that is greater than any queen's command keeps me here
with this lady unto whom I have pledged all my truth and all my faith."

After that Sir Ector was silent for a little, and then after a little
while he said: "Sir, you know very well that I would do naught to advise
you against that which I believe to be your duty and your honor. But are
you so doubtful of yourself that you fear to perform one duty lest you
should fail in another duty? Now we are commanded by that queen whom you
swore to serve to search you out and to find you and to tell you that it
is her command unto you that you return to the court of the Great King
and make your peace with her. Are you then so doubtful of your truth to
the Lady Elaine that you fear to obey the command of the Queen?"

Then Sir Launcelot cried out, "Say no more to me of this!" and so Sir
Ector said no more. So, shortly afterward they parted company.

After that they had so parted Sir Launcelot went to a certain chamber of
the castle where he was alone and there he communed with his spirit, and
these communings were very bitter and sad. Anon came the Lady Elaine to
that place and knocked upon the door and demanded entrance, but for a
while Sir Launcelot denied her. But ever she knocked, and so after a
while he opened the door a little and admitted her into that place where
he was.

Then the Lady Elaine came close to Sir Launcelot and looked very deeply
into his eyes, and by and by she said, "Launcelot, what ails thee?" He
said, "My brother hath been talking to me concerning certain matters."
She said, "What was it he said to thee?" And Sir Launcelot replied, "I
will not tell thee."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine bespeaketh Sir Launcelot._]

Then the Lady Elaine smiled into Sir Launcelot's face and she said: "It
needs not that thou shouldst tell me what thy brother said, for I can
guess very well what it was." Then she took Sir Launcelot's head into
her embrace and she said, "Launcelot! Launcelot!" and he said, "Elaine!
Elaine!" And the Lady Elaine said: "Alas, love, thou must return with
these good knights unto the court of the King, for it is thy duty to do
so. After that thou mayst return hither, and I pray God that thy staying
away from this place may not be for very long."

Then Sir Launcelot said: "Elaine, I will not go away from this place
unless it be that thou also goest with me. Wherefore, if thou wilt have
me go to King Arthur's court, then go thou along with me. Otherwise, if
thou wilt not do that, then I will disobey the Queen's commands and will
stay forever here with thee."

Then the Lady Elaine smiled again though somewhat sadly and she said:
"Ah, Launcelot, I am sorry for thee and for thy doubts. But as thou
wilt have it so, so let it be and I will go with thee to the court of
the King." Therewith she kissed Sir Launcelot upon the face and he
kissed her as with a great passion.

[Sidenote: _They all depart from Joyous Isle._]

So three days after that time all they departed from Joyous Isle--to
wit, Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and Sir Ector and the Lady
Elaine--and in the court who went along with them there also travelled
Sir Lavaine, the Lady Elaine's brother, who had aforetime been Sir
Launcelot's companion at arms in that tournament at Astolat as aforetold
of. These with their courts of esquires and ladies and demoiselles
wended their way from that place with great state of departure and with
all the pomp and circumstance that befitted the high estate of those who
travelled.

       *       *       *       *       *

So it was that Sir Launcelot was found, and now if you will read this
history further you shall hear of a very pleasant adventure that befell
them upon their way to the castle of King Arthur and of how Sir Ewaine
and the Lady of the Fountain joined them and went with them to the court
of the King.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Sir Lavaine the Son of Pelles:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Third

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and Sir Ector and the Lady Elaine
progressed to the court of King Arthur, and how a very good adventure
befell them upon their way._


Now, as was said, Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine departed for
Camelot, together with Sir Percival and Sir Ector and Sir Lavaine, for
their intent was to return to King Arthur's court. With them went a very
noble court of knights and ladies, and of many attendants of all degrees
in waiting upon them. So it was that whensoever their cavalcade would
make a halt, that place where they would rest would suddenly bloom
forth, as it were, with the glory of their coming. For upon such a halt
there would immediately be spread a number of pavilions of all sorts and
colors for the accommodation of those lords and ladies, wherefore the
green fields and meadow-lands would presently be covered all over with a
great multitude of gay colors of all sorts, bedazzling the eye with
their brightness and their variety. Then all the air would be aflutter
with silken pennants and banners, and all would be bright with the
shining of armor and the movement of gaily clad figures, and all would
be merry with the chatter and music of many voices talking together, and
all would be alive with movement and bustle--some running hither and
some running thither--and everywhere pages and esquires would be busy
polishing pieces of armor, and damsels would be busy in gentle
attendance upon the lady.

[Sidenote: _How they rest within the forest._]

So it was that they made progression in that wise, all gay and
debonnaire, and so one day they made halt toward the sloping of the
afternoon in a certain very pleasant woodland where a fair fountain of
water, as clear as crystal and as cold as ice, came gushing forth from a
mossy rock of the woodland. Here was a very pleasant meadow of lush
green grass all besprinkled with pretty flowers and around about stood
the trees of the forest, ever rustling and murmuring their leaves in the
soft and balmy breezes that caused their ancient heads to move, very
slowly this way and that, as though they were whispering to one another
concerning the doings of those gay travellers aforesaid.

Now as those knights and ladies who had been travelling all that day
were anhungered with journeying, a repast had been spread in the open
air, and all they sat at table with only the blue sky and the bright
floating clouds above their heads for a canopy, and only the soft green
grass and the pretty flowers beneath their feet for a carpet. And so as
they sat, pages and attendants ran hither and thither with plates and
dishes and pattens of silver and of gold full of meats of all kinds, and
with beakers and pitchers and goblets of silver and of gold full of
wines of various sorts; and with these foods the attendants served that
noble company as they sat at table. And all the stillness of the forest
was filled full of the noise of the chanting of many voices, and of
laughter and of snatches of song. What time there stood near by several
minstrels who played upon harps for the entertainment of those who ate
at the table.

[Sidenote: _A strange damsel appeareth in the forest._]

So, as they sat, all enjoying themselves with feasting and good cheer,
there came forth of a sudden from the forest a very beautiful damsel
riding upon a milk-white horse with two esquires in attendance upon
her--the one walking upon the one side of her horse, and the other upon
the other. This damsel and the esquires were all clad in flame-colored
satin and all these were adorned with many ornaments of gold. And the
damsel wore about her neck several shining necklaces of gold inset with
jewels of divers sorts, and she wore armlets of gold also inset with
jewels upon her arms, and her hair was gathered into a net of gold. So
it was, what with that flaming raiment and the shining of those several
ornaments of gold, that she who came thither was all one living flame of
fire.

So she drew nigh to them who sat at table, and they beheld that the face
of that damsel was of a very singularly beautiful appearance, being like
to ivory for whiteness; and they beheld that her lips were like to coral
for redness, and that her eyes were like two jewels, very bright and
shining. And they beheld that her hands were long and slender, and were
adorned with many rings of wrought gold, so that each finger shone, as
it were, with pure brightness because of those several hoops of gold
that encircled them.

Such was the appearance of that damsel and all they who sat there at
feast were astonished with wonderment when they beheld her, for they all
wist that without doubt she was fay.

[Sidenote: _The damsel bespeaketh them._]

Now when that damsel had come pretty close to where they sat at their
feast, she drew rein and cried out: "God save you, gentles! Now I pray
you tell me if there is any knight here who hath a mind for an adventure
that would doubtless be very pleasant for him to undertake?"

To this Sir Launcelot made reply: "I dare say, fair maiden, that there
are several knights here who would take pleasure in assuming any
adventure that one so beautiful as you are might call upon him to
perform. Speaking for myself, I shall be very glad to assume such an
adventure; wherefore, I pray thee, tell me what that adventure is."

"I will tell you," said the damsel. "The adventure which I would have
you undertake is hight the Adventure of the Fountain, and if you would
assume it, you have only to take yonder path that leads through the
woodlands in that direction and you shall come to it anon. For if you go
in that way you will come, by and by, to a high mound, where you will
find a huge black man sitting, watching a herd of cattle. Tell him that
you are come to assume the Adventure of the Fountain, and he will direct
you farther upon your way."

Then Sir Launcelot said: "This is a very strange thing that thou hast
set me to undertake. Now I prithee tell me further concerning this
adventure, and what will befall after I have bespoken that black
herdsman of whom thou tellest." But at this the maiden only laughed and
said: "The black man who sits upon the mound, he will tell you all that
is necessary for you to know." Thereupon she turned her horse about and
immediately departed with those two esquires who attended her. And so
presently she reached the edge of the woodland and disappeared into the
forest whence she had emerged not a very long while before. And all that
court of knights and ladies were equally amazed at her coming and at her
going.

Then after she had thus gone Sir Launcelot said: "I know not what it is
that this damsel has set me to do, but let us abide here to-night as we
had purposed, and when to-morrow comes then we will all depart together
in quest of this adventure which she calleth the 'Adventure of the
Fountain.' For I doubt not that it is some very excellent undertaking
that will afford us extraordinary entertainment."

[Sidenote: _They depart upon the Adventure of the Fountain._]

Accordingly, that night they abided where they were, and when the early
breaking of the day had come they departed thence upon the way that the
damsel had pointed out.

After they had thus departed, they travelled for a considerable distance
through the forest in that direction and anon they came to that mound of
which the damsel had spoken. And they beheld that the mound stood in a
wide open space of the woodland. And they beheld that there were many
cattle grazing around about this mound and upon the mound, and they
beheld that upon the mound there sat a gigantic being of such a hideous
aspect that they were astonished at his appearance. For his skin was
wellnigh black, and his half naked body was covered all over with hairs
like to the hairs upon the body of an ape.

Then, when this being beheld them where they came, he roared at them in
a great voice, saying, "Where go ye, little people, and what is your
business?"

To him Sir Launcelot made reply: "Fellow, I came hither to assay that
Adventure of the Fountain and these are my companions who come with me.
Now tell me what that adventure is and what I shall do to fulfill it."

Then that gigantic oaf bellowed with loud laughter and he cried out:
"Seekest thou that adventure? Now I warrant thee, thou wilt be well
satisfied when thou hast found it. For so all have been satisfied who
have come this way. Take thou yonder path and by and by thou wilt come
to a certain valley that is very fair and beautiful. In that valley is a
lake and there is a fountain nigh to the lake, and thou mayst know the
fountain because a great tree stands beside it and shelters the waters
thereof. Beside the fountain is a slab of stone and upon the slab is a
silver bowl attached to the slab by a chain of silver. Dip up some water
from the fountain into the silver bowl and cast the water upon the slab
of stone, and thou shalt straightway meet with an adventure that will, I
doubt not, satisfy all thy desires for a long time to come."

So spake that gigantic being in a voice like to thunder, and after he
had spoken they presently all departed upon further quest of that
adventure.

[Sidenote: _They behold the valley of the Fountain._]

So they travelled a very long distance until by and by they came to that
steep hill aforetold of in this history. Thereafter they climbed to the
top of this hill and found themselves at a place where the forest ceased
and whence beneath them lay a very fair valley. And they perceived from
a distance the lake and the fountain of which they had been told, and
after that they all rode down in that valley and to the place of the
fountain.

Here, finding a fair level meadow, they pitched their pavilions around
about the place of the fountain and Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival and
Sir Ector and their knights armed themselves in all wise so as to be
ready for any sort of adventure that might befall.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot poureth water upon the slab._]

Thus being in all ways prepared, Sir Launcelot approached the fountain,
and when he had come to it he found the silver cup chained to the slab
of stone as the gigantic herdsman had said that he would find it. So he
took the silver cup into his hand, and he dipped up the water of the
fountain therein, and he cast that water upon the slab of stone.

Then it befell just as it had aforetime befallen with Sir Sagramore and
Sir Ewaine. For the earth trembled and shook so that all those who were
there were filled with a great terror at the earthquake. Then there
arose a mighty wind, so violent that all the pavilions that had been
erected were overthrown and blown away before the blast. Then the skies
thundered and thick dark clouds gathered over the heavens so that the
light was presently altogether obscured, although it was hardly yet come
to the prime of the day. After that the rain fell in such a deluge that
all they who were there feared for some while that they would be drowned
in that rainfall. And ever, as it rained, they heard, as from a
distance, the voices of many raised, as it were in lamentation. For all
this was just as it had been when Sir Sagramore and Sir Ewaine had come
to that place.

Then after a while it ceased raining and the clouds cleared away from
the sky, and the sun shone forth once more with an extraordinary
brilliancy. And anon there came that multitude of birds flying, as
aforetold of in this history, and these, descending upon the tree by the
fountain, straightway fell to singing with such a piercing rapture of
melody that the hearts of those who listened were altogether ravished
with the charm of their song.

Then, whilst those who were there stood listening to that singing of the
birds, they perceived a great distance away the form of a knight who
came riding toward that place with great speed. And that knight was clad
altogether in black armor and he rode upon a great black horse, and all
the trappings and the furniture of that horse were as black as all the
other things that belonged to that knight. So that knight came violently
riding to where they were, and perceiving that great court of knights
and ladies who stood there all drenched and wet with the rain, he cried
out in a proud and menacing voice, "Who are ye, and which of ye was it
who meddled with this fountain?"

To this Sir Launcelot replied, "Sir, it was I."

Then the black knight, speaking very fiercely, said: "Know ye that ye
have done a very woeful mischief, for, because you have meddled with
this fountain, ye have brought a deluge upon this land that hath done
great damage to all they that dwell therein. Now make you straightway
ready for battle, for I have great hopes of punishing you for the
mischief you have done to this land by thus meddling with the fountain."

Then Sir Launcelot answered, speaking both with great pride and with
dignity of demeanor. "Messire," quoth he, "never yet have I refused any
call to battle, nor shall I do so at this present. As for that mischief
of which you speak, wit you that I knew not I was making any mischief in
what I did. Ne'theless, now that that mischief is done, I am ready to
defend mine act since you have called upon me to do so."

So saying, Sir Launcelot withdrew to one side in that meadow near to the
fountain as aforetold of; and the Knight of the Fountain likewise
withdrew himself to that same place, and when they had come there each
chose such ground as seemed to him to be best fitted for the encounter.
Meantime, all they who were there gathered in a good place whence they
might onlook that encounter and behold the upshot of the adventure.

So when all was ready for the encounter, as aforesaid, each knight
shouted aloud and drave spur to horse and each charged against the other
with all the fury of two wild bulls.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot doeth battle with the Knight of the
Fountain._]

So they met in the midst of the course with such a roar of encountering
spears and armor that the ears of those who heard it were stunned with
the noise thereof. In that encounter the spear of each knight was
shattered to splinters up to the hand that held it, and the horse of
each sunk back upon his haunches as though he had encountered a stone
wall. But each knight recovered his horse with spur and voice and with
wonderful skill and dexterity, so that neither horse nor man suffered a
fall from that encounter.

Then each knight voided his horse and leaped to the earth and each
straightway drew his shining sword, all flashing in the bright sunlight.
And each rushed upon the other with a great rage for battle, smiting and
slashing with their swords, and dealing such dreadful buffets that those
who beheld that battle were affrighted at the vehemence with which those
two champions fought. So they did combat for a great while and in all
that time neither suffered any great harm from the buffets of the other.
Then, at last, that knight who did battle against Sir Launcelot cried
out, "Stay thy hand for a little, Sir Knight, while I hold speech with
thee!"

So Sir Launcelot ceased his battle and each knight-champion stood
panting, leaning the while upon his sword. Then the Knight of the
Fountain said: "I pray thee, Sir Knight, if so be thou wilt do me that
courtesy for to tell me thy name. For I declare unto thee that never
before this day have I ever met so great a champion in battle."

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot declareth himself._]

Then said Sir Launcelot: "Sir, wit you that I am Sir Launcelot of the
Lake. As for you, I know not who you are, only know I for a certainty
that you must be some very puissant champion, for never did I encounter
a more worthy battle than this that I have met with to-day."

Now when the Knight of the Fountain heard the name that Sir Launcelot
declared, and when he wist who it was against whom he had been doing
battle, he cried out in a loud and piercing voice, "What say you?" And
again he cried out, saying: "Art thou indeed Sir Launcelot of the Lake?
Then have I been fighting against him whom I love very dearly and whom I
have sought for both long and far." So crying out, he threw aside his
sword and his shield and ran to Sir Launcelot where he was. And he cast
his arms around the body of Sir Launcelot and embraced him as with a
great passion of joy.

Then Sir Launcelot was greatly astonished to find himself embraced by
that strange knight, wherefore he said: "Messire, who art thou, and why
dost thou embrace me in this wise?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine declareth himself._]

Upon this the Knight of the Fountain uplifted the umbril of his helmet
and he said: "Behold me! I am thy one-time companion in arms. I am
Ewaine, the son of King Uriens of Gore." Therewith Sir Launcelot beheld
the face of Sir Ewaine and knew him, and thus knowing him, he cried out
with astonishment even as Sir Ewaine had cried out, saying: "Ewaine, is
it thou against whom I have contended? Alas, what have I been doing to
fight against thee in this wise!" Therewith he also cast aside his sword
and shield and took Sir Ewaine into his arms and embraced him before
them all, even as Sir Ewaine had embraced him. Then either kissed the
other upon the face, and after that all the others of those who were
one-time companions of Sir Ewaine came forth and also gave him greeting,
rejoicing beyond measure to see him again.

Then Sir Launcelot brought Sir Ewaine to where was the Lady Elaine and
he made the one acquainted with the other, and Sir Ewaine took the Lady
Elaine's hand into his and kissed it with a great ardor of love. After
that they all sat down together in full amity of discourse.

Then Sir Launcelot said to Sir Ewaine: "Messire, I prithee tell me how
it is that you have come hither and are now dwelling here as the
champion of this fountain. For certes, it is a very strange thing to
find you thus engaged."

[Sidenote: _Sir Ewaine telleth his story._]

To this Sir Ewaine made reply, "I will tell thee." And thereupon he told
them all that had befallen him since he had left Sir Percival to go upon
that Adventure of the Fountain in the which Sir Sagramore had failed to
achieve success as aforetold. Meantime all they listened to him with
great attention and with close regard. And when he had ended, all said
that that was as wonderful an adventure as ever they had heard tell of
in all of their lives.

Then Sir Ewaine said: "Gentles all, I pray you of your courtesy that you
will wend with me to the castle where dwelleth my fair beloved lady, for
certes it would be a great honor to her and to me to have you become
acquainted with her."

[Sidenote: _They come to the castle of the Fountain._]

So said Sir Ewaine, and all agreed with great joy to what he said, so
shortly afterward they departed from that place and betook their way
down that Valley of the Fountain to the castle of the Fountain as Sir
Ewaine asked them to do, and they arrived at that place somewhat past
the noon of the day.

There they were received with great joy and rejoicing, and after that
for several days there was feasting and merrymaking and pleasant sports
of all sorts at the castle of the Fountain.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now after several days had passed thus joyously at the castle of the
Fountain, it chanced that Sir Ewaine and his lady and Sir Launcelot and
the Lady Elaine were together in the garden of the castle, and no one
else was there but they. So as they sat in discourse Sir Launcelot said
to Sir Ewaine: "Messire, as we are going to the court of the King, will
you not join our company with your fair Lady of the Fountain to
accompany us? Certes it is that there would be great joy at court if so
be we would all return together in that wise."

To this Sir Ewaine said: "Sir, that would indeed be a very good thing
for us to do, and we will be glad to go with you as you ask us."

[Sidenote: _They all depart from the castle of the Fountain._]

So straightway they of that place of the Fountain began to prepare
themselves for journey, and three days after all the court of Sir
Launcelot and his lady and all the court of Sir Ewaine and his lady made
their departure from the Valley of the Fountain and betook their way
toward Camelot.

Now the way they took led them toward that mound whereon sat that
gigantic black man herding his cattle. And when this being perceived all
those people passing that way, he sat there and laughed like to the
pealing of thunder, though why he laughed not one of them wist, for
there was naught of mirth to be seen in their progression. Yet ever that
great black creature laughed and laughed until they had passed by and
gone, still leaving him laughing in that wise.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien hath vanished._]

And as they went still farther along that way they came by and by to
where was the valley of the Lady Vivien. And they looked for that castle
of the Lady Vivien whereunto Sir Ewaine had twice come as aforetold and,
lo! it had entirely disappeared. Yea, there was not to be seen nor stick
nor stone nor sign of it anywhere, and at that they all greatly
marvelled, much wondering what had become of that enchanted place.

Nor was it ever known what had become of it, nor was it ever known
whether the enchantress had wearied of her mischiefs, or whether she
feared the anger of so many who had now been raised up against her. Only
this was known to be true, that she had betaken herself and her court
and her castle altogether away from that place, nor was she seen there
any more again.

Moreover, it is to be said at this place that from that time forth the
enchantment of the fountain was removed and the cup and the slab of
stone disappeared from where they lay, and thenceforward they of the
valley were at peace. So endeth that part of the story of the Fountain.

[Sidenote: _They behold Camelot again._]

Now when that noble concourse of knights and ladies who were in
attendance upon Sir Launcelot and Sir Ewaine and their ladies drew nigh
to the neighborhood of Camelot (which same was upon the fourth day after
they had left the valley of the Lady Vivien) Sir Launcelot sent an
herald messenger before them to announce their coming. So it befell that
when they came within sight of the town, they beheld a great concourse
of knights and esquires of the court who had come forth to meet them.
These gave loud acclaim to Sir Launcelot and his companions, crying,
"Welcome, ye glorious champions who are returning to us again!"

This welcome they gave on behalf of King Arthur, by whom they had been
sent, for the King was glad beyond measure to have those champions who
were so dear to his heart return to him once more. So it was that those
who came to meet them cried out, "Welcome, welcome, ye glorious
champions," in that wise. So rejoicing and giving welcome all they
progressed toward the King's town--Sir Launcelot and his lady and Sir
Ewaine and his lady, and their companions and all their courts,
surrounded with great pomp of circumstance by those knights and esquires
of the court of King Arthur, who had been sent to meet them.

And all they who had thus come forth from the town looked with great
curiosity upon the Lady Elaine and the Lady Lesolie and all were
astonished at the beauty and the grace of these two high dames. But more
especially were they astonished at the beauty of the Lady Elaine, for
her loveliness shone like to a star in the midst of her court, wherefore
they who looked upon her said to one another: "Certes, even Queen
Guinevere herself is not more beautiful than yonder lady."

[Sidenote: _They kneel before the King and the Queen._]

So they came to the King's town and they entered the town and they
entered the castle of the King, and there they found King Arthur and
Queen Guinevere sitting in state to receive them. Both the King and the
Queen were crowned with golden crowns, and each sat upon a throne to
receive those who came in fitting pomp and with sufficient ceremony. So
Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine and all those who were with them came
before the King and Queen and kneeled down before them as they sat high
aloft in royal state. Then as they kneeled there the King arose and
descended from his throne and came forward and gave great welcome to
them all; for his heart was filled with gladness and joy to behold them
kneeling before him in that wise.

And all that while the Queen's face was smiling like to a beautiful
mask. And ever she gazed very steadily at the Lady Elaine, beholding how
that the countenance of that lady was exceedingly beautiful and very
noble and gentle. And as the Queen gazed thus upon the Lady Elaine she
hated her with great bitterness, yet ever she hid that hatred beneath a
smiling countenance.

That day there was great feasting and rejoicing at the court of the King
because of the return of Sir Launcelot and Sir Ewaine and Sir Percival
and Sir Ector. And ever the Lady Guinevere took part in that rejoicing,
albeit her heart was full of great bitterness and of a sort of despair.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _The Queen withdraweth the Lady Elaine from Sir Launcelot._]

Now the next day after that day, the Lady Guinevere sent for the Lady
Elaine to come to her, and when she was come the Queen said to her:
"Lady, I have it in mind to do thee a singular honor that I would bestow
upon thee, and this is that thou shouldst be in personal attendance upon
me. To this end I have purveyed thee a room next to mine own chamber in
mine own part of this castle, and there thou and thy attendants may
lodge so that ye shall ever be near to my person. And ever thou shalt be
in close attendance upon me and never shalt thou be parted from me for
all the time that thou remainest at this place."

Thus spake the Lady Guinevere, for so, under the mask of friendliness
and pretence of doing honor to the Lady Elaine, she purposed to separate
Sir Launcelot from his lady and after that to keep them separate from
one another. This she did, though why she should do it she could not
rightly tell even to her own heart.

       *       *       *       *       *

So it was that Sir Launcelot returned to the court of the King; so it
was that they were received at Camelot, and so it was that the Lady
Elaine the Fair was separated from Sir Launcelot as I have recounted
above.




[Illustration]

Conclusion


Now at this time the Lady Elaine was in very tender health, wherefore,
after a day or two or three, she began to repine at being thus separated
from Sir Launcelot as aforesaid; wherefore it befell that she grew
lonely in that strange place and wept a great deal and ate little and
slept little.

Now there was at this time with the Lady Elaine that Lady hight Dame
Brysen before spoken of--she who went with the Lady Elaine to Sir
Launcelot when he lay so nigh to death in the castle of Corbin. This
lady saw how it was with the Lady Elaine and how that she pined in that
wise for Sir Launcelot, and she wist that the Lady Elaine was like to
fall sick unless she had sight of her lord. So Dame Brysen went to Sir
Launcelot one day and she said to him: "Sir, if you find not some
opportunity to see your lady, she will fall ill and maybe wane away to
death because of her longing for you." Sir Launcelot said: "How may I
see her?" Dame Brysen said: "Come to me this night in a certain passage
of the castle during the mid-watch of the night and I will bring you to
her. So you may cherish and comfort her for that while and so she will
take good cheer once more."

[Sidenote: _How Sir Launcelot visiteth the Lady Elaine._]

So that night Sir Launcelot came to the place where Dame Brysen had
appointed and Dame Brysen took him to where was the Lady Elaine. And
when the Lady Elaine beheld Sir Launcelot she could scarce control the
transports of her joy in having him with her once more, for she catched
him in her arms and held to him like as one sinking in deep waters holds
to another who comes to save him. And ever she cried in her transport,
"Thou art here! Thou art here!" And ever Sir Launcelot soothed her and
spake words of comfort to her. So at last she took good cheer and smiled
and laughed as she was wont to do aforetime.

So Sir Launcelot remained with the Lady Elaine for a long while, and
Dame Brysen was with them for all that while, and the damsels of the
court of the Lady Elaine were with them, for Sir Launcelot did not quit
that place until the early watches of the morning were come, what time
the Lady Elaine had fallen asleep like to a child who slumbers.

Then ere it was come the dawning of the day, Sir Launcelot took his
departure and Dame Brysen conducted him thence as she had brought him
thither.

[Sidenote: _The Queen is angered._]

Now there was a fair young damsel of the court of the Queen who acted as
a spy upon Sir Launcelot. So when the next morning had come this damsel
went to the Queen and told her how Dame Brysen had brought Sir Launcelot
to the apartments of the Lady Elaine the night before, and when the
Queen heard that news she was wroth as though she were gone wode, yet
what she did and what she said and how she behaved hath never been told,
for no one beheld her in the madness of her wrath but that damsel who
was the spy and one other. Only it is known that after a while the Queen
cried out in a voice very harsh and loud: "Where is that false traitor
knight, Sir Launcelot! Bring him hither!" And then she said: "Let no one
else come in to me but him, and when he comes let us be alone together!"

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot standeth before the Queen._]

So anon came Sir Launcelot conducted to that place where the Queen was,
and then all those who were there withdrew, and no one was left in that
apartment but Sir Launcelot and the Queen herself. So Sir Launcelot
stood before the Queen and he said, "Here am I."

Then the Lady Guinevere looked for a long time upon Sir Launcelot, and
her eyes were very wide as she stared upon him and her face was white
like to wax. Anon she said, speaking in a voice that was very harsh but
not loud: "Is it true that thou camest to this part of the castle last
night?" and Sir Launcelot said, "Yea, lady." Then the Queen ground her
white teeth together, and she said, still speaking in that same voice
that was not loud: "Traitor! Traitor! how didst thou dare to come hither
without my permission?"

Then Sir Launcelot looked very long into the Queen's face, and at last
he said, "I am betrayed, it seems." "Yea," said the Queen, "thou art
betrayed indeed, but it is thou who hast betrayed thyself."

Sir Launcelot said: "In what way have I betrayed myself, and in what way
am I a traitor to thee or to anyone? Is not my duty first of all toward
that lady to whom I have sworn my duty? What treason did I then do in
cherishing her who is sick and weak and sad and helpless in this place
where thou keepest her prisoner?"

So said Sir Launcelot and after that those two, to wit, the Queen and
the knight champion, stared very fiercely at one another for a while.
Then by and by the Queen's eyes fell before his eyes, and anon she fell
to trembling. Then, of a sudden, she cried out in a very bitter voice:
"Ah, Launcelot, Launcelot! May God have pity upon me for I am most
unhappy!" Therewith she lifted her handkerchief to her eyes and so
covered her face with it. And that while her face was altogether hidden
excepting her lips which were all writhed and twisted with her passion.
And yet she wept not, but ever her bosom rose and fell very violently as
with a convulsion.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot pitieth the Queen._]

Then Sir Launcelot wist not what to do, albeit his heart was rent with
love and pity. Then by and by he came close to her and he said: "Lady,
lady! What is this you do! May God have pity on us both, for you tear my
heart strings with your grief." Therewith, they two being alone, he sank
down upon his knees before her, and he took her hands into his and
strove to draw them away from her face. And for a while she would not
let him withdraw her hands and then after a while she did let him, and
so he held them imprisoned very tight in his own. Yet ever she kept her
face turned away from him so that he could see but little of it. So with
her face turned away she said after a while, "Launcelot! Launcelot! Art
thou not sorry for me?" He said: "Yea, lady, I am sorry for thee and I
am sorry for myself, and for which of the two I am more sorry I cannot
tell. For God knoweth I would abide by my duty and my faith, and
mefeareth thou wouldst have me do otherwise." Then the Queen said:
"Launcelot, what is duty and what is faith when we measure these things
with the measurement of happiness and unhappiness?" And Sir Launcelot
said, "Lady, for God's sake, forbear."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine appeareth at that place._]

Now as Sir Launcelot said those words he became of a sudden aware that
some one was in that room. So he looked up and behold! not far away from
them there stood the Lady Elaine, and she was regarding them both and
her face was as white as death, for she had entered that place without
their knowing and she had heard much of that which had passed.

Then Sir Launcelot was aware that she had overheard his words to the
Queen and with that he was overwhelmed with confusion and with pity. So
he arose from his knees, though not quickly, and stood there before the
Lady Elaine with folded arms and with his gaze downcast upon the floor.
Then the Queen also looked up and likewise beheld the Lady Elaine where
she stood, and therewith her face flamed all red like to fire.

Then the Queen arose very haughtily and she said: "Lady, this is well
met, for I was about to send for you. Now tell me, was it by your will
that this knight came last night to this part of the castle?" and the
Lady Elaine said: "Yea, lady, it was by my will he came, for I was sad,
and no one but he could comfort me."

Then the Queen's eyes sparkled with anger and she said: "Then you have
broken an ordinance of the King's court, for well you know that such a
thing as that is not permitted. For this I might punish you even unto
death an I chose to do so. Yet I will not so punish you, but will have
mercy upon you and will spare you. Nevertheless I command you that you
quit this place with all expedition that is possible."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine chideth the Queen._]

So spake the angry Queen. But ever the Lady Elaine looked very proudly
upon her. And when the Queen had ended that speech she said: "Lady, it
shall be as you ordain, and to-morrow I shall be glad to depart from
this place, for it is a place of great unhappiness to me. But tell me
this, lady, ere I go: What would you say of one who took from another
who harmed her not, all the happiness and joy that that other had in her
life? And what would you say if that one who would so rob the other had
for herself a lord who was the most noble and the most worthy knight of
any in all of the world?"

At this speech the eyes of the Queen shone very wild like to the eyes of
a hawk. And first she strove to speak and could not, and then she did
speak, yet it was as though the words strangled her. And she said, "Go!
Leave me! You know not what you say!" and other than that she could not
say, but only strove to speak without any sound issuing out from her
throat.

Then the Lady Elaine turned with great dignity and went away leaving
those two alone together, and she neither turned her head nor paused at
any time in her going.

Then the Queen, turning to Sir Launcelot, said: "Messire, I lay this
command upon you, that though your lady shall depart, yet that you shall
remain here at this court until such time as I give you leave to depart
hence." Then she also turned and went away, and for a while Sir
Launcelot remained, standing alone like to a statue of stone.

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine quitteth the court._]

So the next day the Lady Elaine quitted the court of the King but Sir
Launcelot remained. And he said not to any one that the Queen had
commanded him to stay, for he would not betray her, so it was that all
who were of the King's court thought that he stayed of his own will.

But ere the court of the Lady Elaine departed from that place Sir
Lavaine, the brother of the Lady Elaine, came to Sir Launcelot and no
one was present but they two. And Sir Lavaine said to Sir Launcelot:
"Messire, do you not go hence with your lady?" and Sir Launcelot said:
"Nay, but maybe I shall follow her anon."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine accuseth Sir Launcelot of treason._]

Then Sir Lavaine said: "Sir, see you not that your lady, my sister, is
in exceeding tender health?" and Sir Launcelot said, "Yea, I see it."
Then Sir Lavaine said, speaking very fiercely: "What honor hath a man
who will leave his own lady for the smiles of another woman? If you do
such a thing you are dishonored as a knight and are a traitor to your
troth."

Then Sir Launcelot looked very steadily at Sir Lavaine and his face was
exceedingly white and his eyes were like to coals of fire. Anon he said:
"Messire, you speak bitter words, but you are safe from mine anger."
Then Sir Lavaine laughed, though not with mirth, and immediately he went
away from Sir Launcelot and left him where he was.

That same hour the Lady Elaine quitted the court of King Arthur, riding
thence in a closed litter so that few, saving those immediately in
attendance upon her, could know aught of what she thought or said or
did.

And yet the whole world might have seen her countenance, for it was very
calm and steadfast and without any mark of passion. And all the world
might have heard her words for those words were also without passion of
any sort. Yea, I believe that at that time her soul itself was
altogether cheerful and well-content and without any shadow of sorrow
upon it.

For once, when Sir Lavaine spoke with great anger and indignation, she
chid him for his heat, saying: "My brother, let be. What matters it?
Could you but see into the future as I gaze thereinto, you would know
that it mattereth but very little indeed that such things as this befall
a poor wayfarer in this brief valley of tears."

And at another time she said: "My poor lord, Sir Launcelot! Him do I
pity indeed, for God is like to chasten him before long, and to bend him
and to bruise him as though he were a reed that was bent and bruised so
that it may never be able to stand fully erect again. Yet even this
mattereth but little; for the span of life is but very short, and all is
in the hands of God."

So spake the Lady Elaine, very calmly and without passion or sorrow of
any sort! For, as aforesaid, I believe that even at that time her eyes
penetrated into the future and that she beheld therein what was to
befall all of them.

Thus they journeyed by easy stages for two days, what time they came out
from the mazes of the forest and into an open plain where they beheld a
fair priory of the forest set in the midst of fair and fertile fields of
corn and of rye. And the walls of the priory gleamed as white as snow in
the sunlight, and the red roofs thereof shone like flames of fire
against the deep blue sky against which they stood. And the road whereon
they travelled went down beside the banks of a smooth and placid river,
very bright and shining like to polished silver; and there were willows
and aspens upon the one hand and smooth fields of ripening grain upon
the other.

Now at that time the Lady Elaine was suffering great pangs of sickness,
wherefore she said to those in attendance upon her: "Dear friends, it is
well that we have come hither to this place. For this is a house of
peace, and I am very sick. Wherefore I pray you let me rest here till
God shall have dealt with me in my travails in such a manner as He shall
see fit."

So spake the Lady Elaine, and upon that command they bare her to the
gates of the priory. And they bare her into the priory and laid her upon
a soft couch and there she had such ease in her sickness as they could
bring to her at that time.

       *       *       *       *       *

Meantime Sir Launcelot abided at the court of the King, very heavy of
heart and very sorrowful of spirit. For his soul was dragged this way
and that way. And whether he had gone away from the court or whether he
had stayed as he did, in either case he would have been most unhappy.
Yet to his present unhappiness was added many pangs like to the pangs of
remorse. For he could not tell whether he did altogether ill or somewhat
well in remaining at the King's court as he did.

Yet ever his thoughts went out after the Lady Elaine and he said to
himself: "So soon as I can escape from this place with courtesy to the
Queen, I will follow after her." Wherefore had he wist that even then
she was lying so sick at the priory in the forest, it may well be
believed that he would not have tarried a single moment longer, but
would have flown to her upon the wings of the wind.

But Sir Launcelot knew not how it was with his lady, and so God was even
then preparing a great punishment for him for which he might never hope
to escape for as long as he should live.




PART VII

The Nativity of Galahad


_Here followeth the story of the nativity of Sir Galahad and of how Sir
Gawaine heard a miraculous prophecy concerning the Achievement of the
Holy Grail, and of how it was prophesied that Sir Galahad should achieve
that holy chalice. Also it shall be told how the infant Galahad was
confided to the care of Sir Bors de Ganis, who alone knew what then
became of him, until in due time he was manifested to the world as the
greatest and the most puissant knight who ever lived._

[Illustration: Merlin Prophesieth from a Cloud of Mist:]




[Illustration]

Chapter First

_How Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Gawaine went forth in search of Sir
Launcelot. How they parted company, and what befell Sir Gawaine
thereafter._


Now the history hath been told of those things that happened to several
of the knights who went forth in quest of Sir Launcelot after that he
went mad as aforetold; to wit, the history hath been told of Sir
Percival and of Sir Ewaine and of Sir Sagramore and of Sir Ector de
Maris. Here followeth an account of that which befell Sir Gawaine, when
he, together with Sir Bors de Ganis, also went forth in search of Sir
Launcelot.

After they two had left the court of King Arthur they joined company for
a while. Thus travelling together as companions in arms, they met with
several adventures, some of which are told in histories of chivalry and
some of which are not. In such companionship there passed the spring and
the summer and by and by it was the fall of the year.

[Sidenote: _How Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors rode forth together._]

Now some there be who love the summer time the best and some there be
that love the spring; yet others still there be who love the autumn the
best of all. And certes each season hath its beauties, so that one
cannot wonder that there are some who love the beauties of the fall
above the beauties of all other seasons. For in that time of the year
there comes the nutting season, when country folk take joy in being
abroad in the hazel thickets, gathering the bright brown fruits of the
hazel bushes. Then are days so clear and frosty, all early in the
morning, that it is as though the whole vault of heaven were made of
clear crystal. Then, when you look into the cold blue shadows of the
wayside bank, there you behold everywhere the sparkling of many myriads
of bright points of light where the thin frosts catch the shining of the
early and yet slanting sun. Then do the birds cry with a wilder note as
though heralding the approach of dreary winter. Then do the squirrels
gambol in the dry, dead foliage in search of their winter store of food.
Then is all the world clad very gloriously in russet and gold, and when
the bright and jolly sun shines down through the thin yellow leaves of
the woodland, all the earth appears to be illuminated with a wonderful
splendor of golden light, so that it may be that even the glory of
Paradise is not more wonderful than that unusual radiance.

Such was the world of autumn in which in the latter part of their
journeyings in company those two noble knights made progress together.
For anon they would ride along the smooth and dusty highways, where were
hedgerows, growing thin of leaves but all bright with red and purple
berries; and anon they would be riding through some thin woodland where
the dry and fallen leaves rustled under foot with a sound like to a
faint thunder of multitudinous rustlings; and anon they would be
journeying along the wolds where the wind blew strong and free and the
great white clouds sailed very smoothly and solemnly across the sky
above their heads.

[Sidenote: _They meet Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore._]

So travelling ever in that wise--sometimes here, sometimes there--they
came one day in the early morning to where there was a smooth and
shining lake, the chill waters whereof were all asmoke in the gentle
warmth of the newly risen sun. And here were sedge and reeds, all fading
brown and yellow, and at many places, wild fowl, disturbed at their
coming, would spring up with loud and noisy splashings from the
entangled water. So as they went beside that lake they beheld two
knights coming toward them, riding side by side in the sunlight. And
when they four had met together and had saluted one another and had
bespoken one another, they found that those two knights were Sir
Percival and Sir Sagramore, and that they also were journeying as armed
companions, as aforetold of in this history.

So they four went a little farther to where there was a pleasant
thatched farmhouse not far distant from the roadside, and there they
broke their fast with bread and milk and fresh laid eggs and honey,
which the farmer's wife served to them.

[Sidenote: _Sir Sagramore telleth of the Adventure of the Fountain._]

Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors besought Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore
for news, and therewith they two told Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors how they
had parted with Sir Ewaine and how that he had gone upon that Adventure
of the Fountain. Then Sir Sagramore told them how it had befallen with
him upon that same adventure, and to all this Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors
listened very intently. And after Sir Sagramore had ended his story, Sir
Bors and Sir Gawaine asked him many questions concerning those
happenings, and he answered all that they asked him. Then Sir Gawaine
said: "Well, Messire, I wot that all this mischief of which thou tellest
us was brewed by that sorceress the Lady Vivien. Well I know her, and
often have I had reason to chide her in times gone by for the mischiefs
she was continually plotting against innocent folk. Now I have a mind to
turn aside from my present quest and to find that lady and to bring her
to repentance. And if I may not bring her to repentance then I shall
compel her to undo all these mischiefs she hath done in this matter of
the Fountain." Then Sir Sagramore said: "Sir, hearken to me and let be,
or else thou wilt entangle thyself in those mischiefs also."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine seeketh the Lady Vivien._]

So spake Sir Sagramore very wisely, but Sir Gawaine would not listen to
what he said; otherwise he declared and affirmed that he would go and
find the Lady Vivien and have speech with her so that he would either
persuade or else compel her to better conduct. So ere Sir Percival and
Sir Sagramore had departed from that farmhouse, Sir Gawaine had
diligently inquired the way in which he should go so as to be likely to
find the Lady Vivien, and after that he bade Sir Sagramore and Sir
Percival farewell, and he bade Sir Bors farewell, and so took horse and
rode away in quest of the Lady Vivien.

Now after Sir Gawaine had thus parted company with those other knights,
he travelled all alone upon his way for the entire day, and that night
he lodged in the woodland, near to where there was a fountain of clear
pure water. And as he had no other shelter he wrapped himself in his
cloak and laid his head upon his helmet and so fell asleep with great
comfort and peace of mind.

So also he awoke very cheerfully in the dawning of the day, and laying
aside his armor he went to the fountain of water near to which he had
reposed and bathed himself therein and so was refreshed.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine findeth the Lady Vivien._]

Now after that and while Sir Gawaine was still unarmed, he was suddenly
aware that several people were coming thitherward toward him through
the yellow woodlands, and when they had come pretty near he beheld that
those who approached were a company in attendance upon a lady. And he
beheld that the company and the lady who rode in the midst of that
company were clad all in flame-colored satin, so that the entire
woodland was illuminated, as it were, by a great shining, flaming fire.
And when that lady had come pretty nigh to Sir Gawaine, he knew who she
was and wist that she was the Lady Vivien.

Then Sir Gawaine went to meet that lady, and he laid his hand upon the
bridle rein of her palfrey and he said: "Lady, if I mistake not, thou
art the Lady Vivien."

Quoth she: "Yea, I am that one, and thou, I perceive, art Sir Gawaine."
To the which Sir Gawaine said, "Yea, I am he," and he said, "I have come
hither with the especial purpose of having speech with thee."

Upon this the Lady Vivien looked at Sir Gawaine very strangely, and by
and by she said, "What is it thou wouldst have of me, Messire?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine rebuketh the Lady Vivien._]

Sir Gawaine said: "Lady, I am informed that thou hast done much mischief
to a certain valley called the Valley of the Fountain, and I know that
through this mischief thou hast brought mischance upon many good worthy
knights. Now what I would have to say to thee is this: I would beseech
thee to remove all of those mischievous enchantments from that Valley of
the Fountain and so set that valley free from the ills that happen to
it. This I beseech thee of thy gentleness to do, but if thou wilt not do
it because I so beseech thee, then I will compel thee here and now to
remove those enchantments."

Then the Lady Vivien's brows drew together into a frown and her cheeks
grew very red and her eyes shown like sparks of fire, and she said:
"Hah, Messire, methinks thou art very saucy in thy speech. What is it to
thee what mischiefs I may do to others? Lo! I do no mischiefs to thee,
wherefore this is none of thy affairs. Now I bid thee straightway to
take thy hand from off my bridle rein or else a greater ill than thou
hast any thought of will speedily befall thee."

Sir Gawaine said: "I will not take away my hand until thou hast promised
me to do that thing which I have demanded of thee and to remove the
enchantments of the Valley of the Fountain."

The Lady Vivien said, "Take away thy hand, Messire!" Sir Gawaine said,
"I will not."

Then the Lady Vivien cried out: "Thou fool! Then thank thyself for what
thou shalt suffer."

Now the Lady Vivien had in her hand a long white wand and as she spake
she lifted this wand and smote Sir Gawaine with it upon the shoulder.
And as she smote him she cried out: "Quit the shape that thou now hast
and take instead the shape of a misshapen dwarf."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Vivien bewitcheth Sir Gawaine._]

Then as she cried in that shrill and piercing voice, there befell a very
wonderful thing, for, upon the instant, it happened in that wise as she
commanded. For Sir Gawaine immediately began to shrink and to shrivel so
that in the space one might count five he had ceased to be what he was
and became instead a misshapen and diminutive dwarf.

Then all they of the Lady Vivien's party laughed and laughed until all
the woods echoed with their mirth. And thus laughing, they took their
departure, and rode away from that place, leaving Sir Gawaine standing
there all bewildered and astonished with terror at what had befallen
him.

So he stood for a little, like one in a maze, but after those others had
entirely gone, he suddenly awoke, as it were, to his woful case. Then
straightway he began running hither and thither, as though he had gone
mad. And he ran in this direction and in that direction, seeking for the
Lady Vivien, but nowhere could he discover any sign of her or her court.
And ever as he ran he cried aloud in a voice of exceeding agony, "Have
mercy! Have mercy!" But, as aforesaid, the lady and those who were with
her had disappeared, and only the lonely woodlands surrounded him. Yet
it appeared to him that he heard the sound of mocking laughter echoing
through the forest, though whether that was really so or whether he was
cheated by his fancy he could not certainly tell.

So after a while Sir Gawaine flung himself down upon the earth and wept
with despair. Then after another while he bestirred himself and prayed
God for help and wiped his eyes. And after that he gathered together the
pieces of his armor which he could not now wear upon his shrunken and
misshapen body, and he carried these pieces of armor away and hid them
in a cave which he had observed not far distant from that place. Then he
mounted upon his horse and rode away, not knowing whither to turn or
what to do in the direful trouble that had fallen upon him.

Now after he had ridden for a while in that way, perched high upon his
horse like some diminutive and withered ape, being still in the
woodlands, he was aware of the sound of voices and of horses' hoofs
coming toward him and then he was further aware of a company approaching
from a distance through the half-naked forest.

[Sidenote: _The Forest company behold Sir Gawaine as a dwarf._]

Then Sir Gawaine was filled with a great panic of shame, and he thought
of naught but how he might hide himself and his misshapen body from
those who were coming. But ere he was able to hide himself, those others
had catched sight of him. And they saw how singularly small and
deformed and withered was his shape, wherefore they shouted aloud and
gave chase to him as though he had been a wild creature. So they pursued
him for a long distance and at last they came up with him and surrounded
him.

Then, finding that he could not escape, Sir Gawaine leaped down from his
horse's back, and flinging himself upon the ground he covered his face
with his hands and sought to bury it, as it were, under the earth, so
that they who had caught him might not behold the shame of his misshapen
countenance. But they dragged him to his feet and they pulled his hands
away from his face and beheld it what it was. Then, when they beheld
that his face was like the face of an ape they all shouted aloud again
and again with laughter.

Then he who was the chief of that party said: "Who are you and how is it
that a misshapen dwarf such as you should be riding about here in the
forest upon a noble and knightly war-horse?" To the which Sir Gawaine
said: "Sir, a great misfortune hath befallen me, and I am not he whom I
was a little while ago." So said Sir Gawaine, and when they heard his
speech they thought he jested wherefore they laughed again and again
with a great uproar of laughter.

[Sidenote: _They mock at Sir Gawaine._]

Then he who had spoken to Sir Gawaine turned to those others and said,
"This poor creature is mad," but Sir Gawaine cried out: "Nay, I am not
mad, but very miserable and unfortunate. For this morning I was a noble
knight of royal lineage and now I am what you behold me."

At this speech they who heard laughed more than ever, for they thought
no otherwise than that this poor dwarf was mad and was making sport for
them.

Then he who had before spoken to Sir Gawaine spake still again, saying:
"Sirrah, you are to know that the pet dwarf of the lady of the castle at
which we dwell hath died only a few days ago. Now I will that you shall
go with us to her, and that you shall serve her instead of the other
creature who is dead. For certes you are the smallest and the most
misshapen elf that ever I beheld in all of my life. What think you of
this? If you go with us you shall have meat and drink in plenty and you
shall have good clothes and lodging and fifty bright silver pennies a
year for your hire."

Then Sir Gawaine cried out in a voice of great anguish: "I will not go
with you for such a service. For if you did but know who I am and what
it is that hath befallen me, you would know that such as I are not they
to take such service upon them, nor am I one to make sport for a lady
by exhibiting the miserable condition into which I have fallen from an
one time high estate."

Thus said Sir Gawaine in a great agony of spirit, but still those that
heard him did but laugh. Then seeing that he was of no mind to go with
them, they bound his hands and his feet together so that he could not
escape and so they constrained him to go whether he would or not.

After that they departed out of that forest and away therefrom, and by
and by Sir Gawaine beheld that they were approaching a castle and that
the castle was a very noble, stately, and lordly dwelling place.

[Sidenote: _They bring Sir Gawaine to the castle of a lady._]

So they came to the castle and entered into the courtyard thereof, and
after they had so arrived, he who was the leader of that party took Sir
Gawaine up to a certain place where the lady of the castle was, and he
said to her: "Lady, behold this dwarf; we have caught him in the
woodlands and have brought him to you to serve you instead of that
creature who died a while since. Saw ye ever such a wonderful dwarf as
this?"

Then the lady of the castle looked upon Sir Gawaine and beheld how
exceedingly diminutive he was and how exceedingly misshapen. And she was
astonished at his appearance, and she said to him, "Who art thou, and
whence comest thou?" She spake with such kindness and gentleness that
Sir Gawaine was emboldened to tell her of his misfortune wherefore he
cried out: "Lady, if I would tell you you would not believe me, for I am
not what I appear to be, but am something altogether different. This
morning I was a noble knight, but I have been enchanted and now I am
what you behold me."

[Sidenote: _The lady pitieth Sir Gawaine._]

At this the lady of the castle also thought that Sir Gawaine was
certainly mad, wherefore she said: "This poor creature is not in his
senses. Take him hence and treat him very kindly. Let him be fed and
clothed and then chain him with a very light chain of silver so that he
may not escape until he hath become used to this place, and yet so that
he may not be burdened with these chains."

So spoke the lady very kindly and gently, but Sir Gawaine was filled
full of an utter despair at her words. So he was taken away and fed like
to some pet creature and he was chained as the lady had said and ever he
wept for pure despair.

Now the lady of that castle was very tender of heart, wherefore she
pitied Sir Gawaine because he appeared to be so misshapen and deformed.
So ever she spoke kindly and gently to him and she would not suffer that
any of the people of the castle should torment him. Thus it was that
though at first Sir Gawaine was minded to escape from the castle, yet
afterward he would not escape, for he said to himself: "Why should I
leave this place; and where can I, poor wretch that I be, find a better
and kinder shelter in my misfortunes than I have at this castle?" So he
became gentle and tractable and would not have quitted that place even
if he could have done so.

[Sidenote: _How Sir Gawaine dwelleth at the castle._]

And Sir Gawaine abode in that castle for more than a year, and ever the
lady treated him with kindness and with gentle tenderness and ever he
treated her with such courtliness as a knight royal might bestow upon a
lady. So great was his courtliness of demeanor that the lady marvelled
much thereat, yea, insomuch that she said to herself: "Certes this poor
creature must have been reared in a noble court or else he must have
dwelt a long time in such a place, for to have learned such courtliness
of manner as he showeth."

And sometimes it befell that the lady would question Sir Gawaine as to
what had happened to him in times gone by; but Sir Gawaine had taught
himself wisdom upon that point and now he would tell her nothing; for he
was aware that whenever he had been moved to speak about himself and
what had befallen him, then they who heard him would think him to be
mad, and would laugh at him and mock him, wherefore he would no longer
give any one the chance to declare that he was mad. So ever he held his
peace and ever the lady of the castle wondered how it was that he had
come to have so much of gentleness and dignity of demeanor.

So that winter and another winter passed, and during all that time Sir
Gawaine abode at the castle of the gentle lady as aforesaid. Then came
the springtime and the summertime again, and the season when all the
trees were green and bosky and when the days were warm and balmy once
more.

Now it befell about the middle of that summer that the lord and the lady
of the castle whereof Sir Gawaine was now the dwarf went forth ahawking,
and a very gay court of the castle folk went with them. With these the
lady took her dwarf, for it was now come that she could hardly ever bear
to be parted from him. And it befell that when the heat of the day had
come the lord of the castle gave orders that a pavilion should be
pitched in a pleasant shady place, and there he and his lady took their
midday meal and rested until the sun should shed a less fervid heat.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine beholdeth the golden bird._]

That time Sir Gawaine was wandering very sadly about the skirts of the
forest, making great moan of that enchantment that lay upon him. So as
he wandered he was suddenly aware of a bird with plumage of gold that
sat upon the ground at a little distance, regarding him with eyes that
were very bright and shining. Now when Sir Gawaine beheld that bird, his
heart leaped very strangely in his breast, for he bethought him that
this was that same golden bird of the Lady Nymue of the Lake which she
had sent to him one time before to guide him to the valley where Sir
Pellias was abiding. For it hath been aforetime told in that Book of
King Arthur (which hath been written before this book) how that same
golden bird had conducted Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus of
Ireland through the forest to where Sir Pellias was at that time in
great trouble and anxiety of soul. So Sir Gawaine, beholding that bird
there in the forest, wist that it was the Lady Nymue's bird, and he
thought that if he should follow it now, maybe it might bring him to the
Lady of the Lake, and that she would release him from his deformity.

So Sir Gawaine went back to that pavilion whence he had come, and he
took a palfrey that he found there, and no one stayed him, for the dwarf
was now permitted to go whithersoever he pleased. So Sir Gawaine mounted
the palfrey and departed without saying a single word to any one, and no
one stayed him in his going.

So Sir Gawaine came again to where he had seen the bird and the bird was
still sitting upon the ground where he had first beheld it.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine followeth the golden bird into the forest._]

Then as Sir Gawaine approached the bird it took wing and flew with
shrill chirping to a little distance and then settled again upon the
ground. And when Sir Gawaine approached it again, again it took wing and
flew chirping to a little distance. So ever it flew and so ever Sir
Gawaine followed, and thus it conducted him into the forest and away
from that place where was the pavilion of the lord and lady.

Thus ever the golden bird led the way and ever Sir Gawaine followed,
until, at last, the bird brought Sir Gawaine out of the forest and to a
strange place which he had never beheld before. For beyond the edge of
the woodland he beheld a dreary valley, naked and bare, and covered all
over with a great multitude of stones and rocks. And in that valley
could be seen no sign of vegetation or of herbage of any sort, but only
those naked and desolate rocks and stones all shining bright in the heat
of the sun as though they were ribs of stones shining in a furnace of
fire.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine beholdeth the cloudy mist._]

And Sir Gawaine beheld that in the centre of the valley there was a
cloud of thick mist in the shape of a solid pillar of smoke. And he
beheld that that cloud of mist moved not in any way but remained fixed
in its place as it were a pillar of stone.

Then Sir Gawaine looked for that golden bird and he beheld it perched
upon the high branches of a tree near by. And he saw that the bird had
folded its wings as though to rest, wherefore he knew that there must
be somewhat at this place for him to undertake, and that the bird must
have conducted him to this place for that purpose.

So Sir Gawaine, in that enchanted appearance of a dwarf, went down into
the valley and drew near to that pillar of mist. And he came close to
the cloud and he stood and looked upon it. Then as he so stood, a voice
issued of a sudden out of the midst of the cloud saying, "Gawaine!
Gawaine! is it thou who art there?" And Sir Gawaine was astonished
beyond all measure that a voice should thus address him from out of the
midst of the pillar of cloud, for he had long since ceased to think that
any creature, mortal or otherwise, would know him in the guise into
which the Lady Vivien had bewitched him.

But though he was so astonished, yet he answered in the voice of the
dwarf, saying, "Who art thou who callest upon the name of Gawaine, the
son of Lot of Orkney?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine heareth the voice of Merlin._]

Then the voice replied: "I who speak to thee am Merlin. Here for twelve
years have I been lying asleep, enclosed in a coffer of stone, yet once
in every six years I awake for one hour of life and at the end of that
hour I relapse into sleep again. This is my time for waking, and so hast
thou been brought hither that thou mightest hear that prophecy that I
have to utter.

"And this is my prophecy:

[Sidenote: _Of the prophecy of Merlin._]

"The Sacred Grail that has been lost to the earth for so long shall be
brought back to that earth again. Yea, the time draweth nigh and now is
when he who shall achieve the Quest of that Holy Chalice is about to be
born into the world."

And the voice from out of the cloud continued, saying:

"When that babe is born into the world he shall be taken away by that
knight who is most worthy to handle him, and after he hath been taken
away he shall be hidden by that knight from the eyes of man until his
time hath come.

"You, who are a sinful man, may not have that babe in your keeping, but
there is one who hath but little of sin and he may do so. So do you
according to the ordination of this command:

"Follow that golden-winged thing that hath conducted you hither and it
will lead you to where you may become purified of your enchantment.
After that you shall follow that golden bird still farther and it will
lead you to where you shall find Sir Bors de Ganis. He it is who is most
worthy in all of the world at this present for to handle that babe, and
so he shall care for him and shall hide him in a place of safety until
his time shall be come.

"Bid Sir Bors to follow that golden bird along with you and it shall
bring you both to where you shall find that wonderful infant aforesaid.

"Thereafter, when that babe shall have been taken away by Sir Bors, go
you forth and proclaim to all men that when eighteen years have passed,
then shall the Knights of the Round Table depart in quest of the Holy
Grail. And do you proclaim this prophecy: that when that Grail hath been
recovered, then soon after shall come the end of the Round Table, and so
shall end the days of all this chivalry that shall forever be remembered
to all the world.

"And this is the prophecy of the Grail which you have been brought
hither to hear, so go you forth and declare it abroad so that all good
worthy knights may know that this prophecy hath been uttered."

So spake that voice, and then it ceased and Sir Gawaine listened for a
while, but still it spake no more. Then Sir Gawaine cried out aloud:
"Merlin, what may I do to free thee from the enchantment that lieth upon
thee?" And he waited for a reply, but no reply was vouchsafed him. And
he cried out again, "Merlin, what may I do to free thee from where thou
liest?" but still no answer was given to him.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine striveth to enter the cloud of mist._]

Then Sir Gawaine went forward with intent to enter that cloud of mist,
but lo! it was like to a wall of adamant and he could nowhere enter into
it. And he strove at several places but still there was no place where
he might penetrate it. For the enchantment that lay upon that pillar of
mist was so potent that it was not possible for any one to enter it
saving only the enchantress Vivien, who herself had created that cloud
by her powerful enchantments.

And ever Sir Gawaine called repeatedly upon the name of Merlin, but at
no time did Merlin answer him. Then by and by Sir Gawaine was aware that
the golden bird that had brought him to that place was flitting hither
and thither near by, as though it were very restless to depart. So Sir
Gawaine was aware that it behooved him presently to quit that place
whither he might never return again. So once more he called aloud upon
Merlin, saying, "Farewell, Merlin," and it appeared to him that he heard
a voice, very faint and distant as though sounding from a dream that is
fading, and he seemed that voice said, "Farewell."

Thereafter Sir Gawaine mounted his palfrey and turned him about and
departed from that place, still in the guise of a dwarf, and so that
prophecy of Merlin was completed.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _Of the sleep of Merlin._]

And never more after that time was the voice of Merlin heard again, for
no one saving Sir Gawaine ever found that valley with its pillar of
cloud. Yet it may be that Merlin did but sleep, for it was prophesied
of him that at the ending of the age he should come forth again into the
world, but whether he should come forth in the spirit or in the flesh,
no one knew. Yea, there be many who opine that Merlin hath awakened
again and is alive this very day, for such miracles are performed in
these times that it is hardly possible to suppose otherwise than that
the spirit of Merlin is in the world once more. Wherefore it is that
many suppose that he is now again alive, though haply in the spirit.

       *       *       *       *       *

Now followeth the story of the birth of Galahad, who was the most famous
knight who ever lived in the world and who achieved the Quest of the
Grail as was foretold by Merlin in that prophecy herein recounted. So I
pray you to read that story as it shall presently be told.

[Illustration]

[Illustration: Sir Bors de Ganis, the good:]




[Illustration]

Chapter Second

_How Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine came to a priory in the forest, and how
Galahad was born at that place._


[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine cometh to the magic lake._]

So Sir Gawaine followed the golden bird away from that valley of
enchantment where Merlin lay bound in sleep in the stone coffer (and
concerning that stone coffer and the enchantment of Merlin it was
aforetold of at length in the Book of King Arthur). And ever he followed
that winged golden creature both long and far, and ever the bird ceased
not to flit before him, but led him onward in a certain direction. So
thus it befell that toward the evening of that same day Sir Gawaine,
still following the golden bird, came out of the forest again and to a
wonderful place, lit by a strange golden light that was not like the
light of the moon nor like the light of the sun nor like any other kind
of light that was to be found in the world of mortal man. For though it
was toward evening when Sir Gawaine came to that place, yet everywhere
there was that golden radiance both upon earth and in the sky. And in
this light Sir Gawaine beheld a wide and circular lake, very still and
shining, and without any ripple upon the face thereof, so that it was
rather like to a lake of crystal than to a lake of water. And all about
the margin of the lake there bloomed an incredible number of tall
flowers, both lily flowers and asphodels.

Then, as Sir Gawaine drave his horse forward through those flowers, he
became aware that this was that magic lake where dwelt the Lady Nymue of
the Lake and where dwelt Sir Pellias who was her lord and the
knight-champion of the lake--for he had beheld that lake aforetime by
moonlight when he had followed Sir Pellias to that place.

Now as Sir Gawaine thus advanced amidst the flowers, he was aware that a
little distance away there stood a pavilion of green satin adorned with
golden figures of cherubim and so he went forward toward that pavilion,
for ever the golden bird led him thitherward.

So as he came toward that pavilion there issued forth therefrom a lady
who came to meet him. And that lady was clad all in a garment of shining
green; and she wore about her neck many bright and glistering ornaments
of gold inset with stones about her wrists and arms. And her hair was
perfectly black and her face was white like to ivory for whiteness and
her eyes were black and shining like to two jewels set in ivory. And Sir
Gawaine immediately knew that lady who she was and that she was the Lady
of the Lake herself; for so she appeared to King Arthur and so she
appeared to several others, as you may read of if it should please you
in those volumes of this history that were written before this volume.

So the Lady of the Lake came forward to meet Sir Gawaine, and she beheld
Sir Gawaine how that he was bewitched into the guise of a dwarf as
aforetold. And the lady said: "Certes, Messire, this is a great
misfortune that hath befallen thee. Now I prithee come with me until I
make an end of thy enchantment."

So the Lady of the Lake took the horse of Sir Gawaine by the bridle, and
she led the horse through those flowers for some little distance, and so
brought him to the margin of the waters of the lake. And when they had
come there the Lady of the Lake stooped and dipped up some of the water
of the lake into her hand; and she flung the water upon Sir Gawaine,
crying out in a high and piercing voice: "Cease from thy present shape,
and assume that shape that is thine own!"

[Sidenote: _The Lady of the Lake healeth Sir Gawaine of his
enchantment._]

Therewith, upon an instant, the enchantment that had rested upon Sir
Gawaine was released from him and he became himself again, resuming his
own knightly appearance instead of that semblance of a misshapen dwarf
into which the enchantment of the Lady Vivien had cast him.

Then Sir Gawaine leaped down from off the back of that poor palfrey upon
which he had been riding, and he kneeled down before that fair and
gentle Lady of the Lake, and he set the palms of his hands together and
gave her words of pure gratitude beyond stint that she had removed that
enchantment from him. And ever the Lady of the Lake looked down upon Sir
Gawaine and smiled very kindly upon him. And she said: "Messire, abide
this night in yonder pavilion, for it hath been prepared for thee to
rest in. To-morrow, after thou hast thus rested and refreshed thyself,
then thou shalt go forward upon thy way again."

[Sidenote: _The Lady of the Lake departeth._]

Then the Lady of the Lake gave her hand to Sir Gawaine and he took it
and kissed it. And after that she turned and approached the lake, and at
that time the sky was all golden both with the glory of the fading day
and with that other glory, the strange magic light that embalmed that
wonderful lake as aforetold. And Sir Gawaine, still kneeling upon the
strand of the lake, beheld that the Lady of the Lake reached the water,
and stretched forth her foot and set it upon the surface of the lake as
though the water had been a sheet of clear glass. And as soon as that
lady thus touched the water of the lake, she immediately disappeared
from sight, and thenceforth was seen no more at that time.

After that Sir Gawaine arose from where he kneeled, and he went toward
the pavilion and as he approached it there came forth two esquires to
meet him. And those esquires were people of the lake, for they also were
clad in garments of green like the garments of the Lady of the Lake, and
those garments also shone with a singular lustre as did her garments.
And their hair was perfectly black and each wore a fillet of gold about
his head.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine is served by the people of the lake._]

These came to Sir Gawaine and conducted him to the pavilion and into the
pavilion. In the pavilion was a couch and Sir Gawaine seated himself
thereon, and after he had done so the two esquires brought a table of
gold and placed it before him. Then they spread a napkin of white linen
upon the table and anon they set before Sir Gawaine a very bounteous
feast of various meats, and of manchets of white bread and of divers
wines both red and white. So Sir Gawaine ate and drank and refreshed
himself, and meantime the two esquires of the lake served him in all
ways.

After that Sir Gawaine laid him down to sleep, and he slept very
peacefully and gently and without any anxiety whatsoever. And when the
morning had come he bestirred himself and presently there came to him
those two esquires and aided him to arise. And they brought new rich
garments for him to wear, and they brought him food wherewith to refresh
himself, and after that they brought him a suit of splendid armor,
polished like a mirror and inlaid with various singular devices in gold.

Then those esquires of the lake armed Sir Gawaine and brought him forth
from the pavilion, and Sir Gawaine beheld a noble and lordly war-horse
caparisoned in all ways, and in all ways fitting for a Knight Royal to
ride upon. And the esquire said to him: "Sir, this is your horse, and it
hath been purveyed expressly for you."

So Sir Gawaine viewed the war-horse and saw how noble it was, and he
mounted upon it with great joy of possession and he gave thanks without
measure to those two esquires who had served him. After that he rode
away from that place with such lightness of heart and with such peace
and happiness of spirit as doth not often come to any man in this life.

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine followeth the golden bird once more._]

Then presently there came that golden bird once more and flitted before
Sir Gawaine as it had aforetime done, chirping very shrilly the while.
And Sir Gawaine followed the bird once more as aforetime, and it led him
as it had before done ever in a certain direction. So it brought him
onward in that wise until about the middle of the day, what time he came
forth into an open place of the forest and there beheld before him the
forest hermitage several times mentioned in these histories.

And Sir Gawaine saw that a noble black war-horse stood beside that
forest sanctuary, and he saw that a great spear leaned against a tree
beside the hermitage and that a shield hung from the spear. And when Sir
Gawaine had come close enough he knew by the device upon that shield
that it was Sir Bors de Ganis who was there at the hermitage.

Now as Sir Gawaine approached the cell of the hermit of the forest, the
horse of Sir Bors neighed aloud, and the horse of Sir Gawaine neighed in
answer. Therewith, as though that neighing had been a summons, the door
of the hut opened and the hermit appeared in the doorway, shading his
eyes with his hand from the glare of the sun. So when he perceived that
it was Sir Gawaine who approached that lonely place he cried out aloud:
"Welcome Sir Gawaine! Welcome to this place! Sir Bors is here and
awaiting thee. For it hath been told him in a dream that thou wouldst
meet him here at this time to-day, and so he is here awaiting thy coming
in fulfillment of that dream."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine meets Sir Bors again._]

So Sir Gawaine dismounted from his horse and he entered the cell of the
hermit and there he beheld Sir Bors kneeling at prayer at a little
altar, and Sir Gawaine stood and waited until Sir Bors had finished his
orisons. And when Sir Bors had crossed himself and had arisen to his
feet, he turned with great joy and took Sir Gawaine into his arms; and
either embraced the other and either kissed the other upon the cheek.

After that they sat down and the hermit brought them food and they ate
of the simple fare of the hermit's cell, and meantime Sir Gawaine told
Sir Bors all that had happened to him since they had parted company. To
all that was said Sir Bors listened with deep attention, for he was
much, astonished at that which had befallen Sir Gawaine and at the
enchantment he had suffered at the hands of the Lady Vivien. And indeed
it was, of a surety, a very wonderful adventure, such as any one might
well have marvelled to hear tell of.

But when Sir Gawaine told Sir Bors concerning the prophecy of Merlin,
then Sir Bors became all enwrapped as with a certain exaltation of
spirit. Wherefore, when Sir Gawaine had finished that part of his
story, Sir Bors cried out: "How wonderful is this miracle that thou
tellest me! Know ye that certain things of this sort have been presented
before me of late in several dreams, but lo! now they have been
manifested to thee in reality." And he said: "Let us straightway arise
and go forth hence, for methinks that even now we have tarried too long
in performing the bidding of this prophecy." Accordingly they arose and
they gave thanks in full measure to that good old hermit and they bade
him farewell. Thereafter they went forth and mounted their horses and
took shield and spear in hand and departed thence, and after they had so
departed, straightway the golden bird appeared once more and flew
chirping before them.

Then Sir Bors, beholding the bird, said: "Lo! is not yonder the bird
that has been sent to lead us upon our way?" And Sir Gawaine said, "Yea;
that is it." And then Sir Bors said, "Let us follow it apace."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors follow the golden bird._]

[Sidenote: _They come to the priory of the valley._]

So they followed the bird, and ever it flew before them, leading them
upon the way. Thus they travelled for a long while, until at last,
toward the sloping of the afternoon, they became aware that the forest
wherein they rode was becoming thinner. And anon they were aware of the
ringing of a bell somewhere not a great distance away. And the bird led
them toward where that bell was ringing, and so in a little pass they
came forth out of the forest and into a very fertile valley. And there
was a smooth river, not very broad, that flowed down through the valley,
and beside the river there was a fair priory, not large in size but very
comely, with white walls and red roofs and many shining windows, very
bright in the sun. And all about the priory were fair fields and
orchards and gardens, all illuminated very bright and warm, in the full
light of the slanting sun that was now turning all the world to gold by
its bright, yellow and very glorious shining.

So when Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine entered this pleasant plain, the golden
bird that had led them thitherward suddenly chirped very loud and
shrill, and straightway flew high aloft into the air and immediately
disappeared over the tree tops. Thereupon those two champions knew with
certainty that this must be the place whither they were to come, and
they wist that here they should doubtless find that young child of which
the prophecy of Merlin had spoken. So they went forward toward the
priory with a certain awe, as not knowing what next of mystery was to
happen to them.

[Sidenote: _They meet Sir Lavaine._]

So as they approached that holy place, the gateway of the priory was
suddenly opened, and there came forth a young knight of a very noble
and haughty appearance, and both Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors knew that one,
that he was Sir Lavaine, the brother of the Lady Elaine, and whilom the
companion in arms of Sir Launcelot of the Lake. And as they drew more
near they beheld that the face of Sir Lavaine was very sad and that he
smiled not at all as he gave them greeting, saying: "Ye are welcome,
Messires, and ye come none too soon, for we have been waiting for you
since the morning." And he said, "Dismount and come with me."

So Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine dismounted from their horses and straightway
there came several attendants and took the steeds and led them away to
stable. Then Sir Lavaine turned, and he beckoned with his hand, and Sir
Bors and Sir Gawaine followed after as he had commanded them to do. So
Sir Lavaine brought them through several passageways and from place to
place until at last he brought them to a small cell of the priory, very
cold and bare and white as snow.

[Sidenote: _They behold the Lady Elaine._]

In the centre of the cell there lay a couch and upon the couch there lay
a figure as still as death and Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine beheld that it
was the Lady Elaine who lay there. Her hair lay spread out all over the
pillow of the couch, shining like to pure gold, and in the midst of the
hair her face shone very white, like to pure clear wax for whiteness.
Her eyes looked, as it were, from out of a faint shadow and gazed ever
straight before her and she never stirred nor moved her gaze as Sir Bors
and Sir Gawaine and Sir Lavaine entered her cell; for it was as though
her looks were fixed upon something very strange that she beheld a great
distance away.

[Sidenote: _They behold the young child._]

Then Sir Lavaine, speaking in a whisper, said, "Come near and behold,"
and thereupon Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine came close to the couch upon
which the Lady Elaine lay. So when they had come nigh, Sir Lavaine
lifted the coverlet very softly and they beheld that a new-born babe lay
beside the lady upon that couch. Then they wist that that babe was the
child of Sir Launcelot of the Lake and the Lady Elaine; and they wist
that this was the babe of whom Merlin had spoken in his prophecy. For
the child was very wonderfully beautiful, and it was as though a certain
clear radiance of light shone forth from its face; and it lay so
perfectly still that it was like as though it did not live. So Sir Bors
and Sir Gawaine knew because of these and several other things that this
must indeed be that very child whom they had come to find. Yea, it was
as though a voice from a distance said: "Behold! this is that one who
shall achieve the Quest of the Holy Grail according to the prophecy of
Merlin."

So Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine kneeled down beside the bed and set their
palms together, and Sir Lavaine stood near them, and for a while all was
very silent in that place. Then suddenly the Lady Elaine spake in that
silence in a voice very faint and remote but very clear, and as she
spake she turned not her eyes toward any one of them, but gazed ever
straight before her. And she said, "Sir Bors, art thou there?" and Sir
Bors said, "Yea, Lady."

[Sidenote: _The Lady Elaine bespeaketh Sir Bors._]

Then she said: "Behold this child and look you upon him, for this is he
who shall achieve the Quest of the Holy Grail and shall bring it back to
the earth again. So he shall become the greatest knight that ever the
world beheld. But though he shall be the greatest champion at arms that
ever lived, yet also he shall be gentle and meek and without sin,
innocent like to a little child. And because he is to be so high in
chivalry and so pure of life, therefore his name shall be called
Galahad." And she said again, "Sir Bors, art thou there?" and he said,
"Yea, Lady."

She said: "My time draweth near, for even now I behold the shining gates
of Paradise, though it yet is that I behold them faintly, as through a
vapor of mist. Yet anon that mist shall pass, and I shall behold those
gates very near by and shining in glory; for soon I shall quit this
troubled world for that bright and beautiful country. Nevertheless, I
shall leave behind me this child who lieth beside me, and his life shall
enlighten that world from which I am withdrawing." Then she said for the
third time, "Sir Bors, art thou there?" And Sir Bors wept, and he said,
"Yea, Lady, I am here."

Then the Lady Elaine said: "Take thou this child and bear him hence unto
a certain place that thou shalt find. Thou shalt know that place because
there shall go before thee a bird with golden plumage, and it shall show
thee where thou art to take this child. Leave the child at that place
whither the bird shall lead thee, and tell no man where that place is.
For this child must hide in secret until the time shall come when he
shall be manifested to the world." And she said, "Hearest thou me, Sir
Bors?" And Sir Bors, still weeping, said, "Yea, Lady."

Then she said: "Go and tarry not in thy going, for the ending is very
near. Wait not until that end cometh, but go immediately and do as I
have asked thee to do."

[Sidenote: _Sir Bors departeth with the young child._]

Then, still weeping, Sir Bors arose from where he kneeled, and he took
the young child and he wrapped it in his cloak and he went out thence
and was gone, taking the babe with him.

And this while Sir Gawaine and Sir Lavaine also wept, and ever Sir
Gawaine still kneeled and Sir Lavaine stood beside him.

Such is the story of the nativity of Sir Galahad, who afterward achieved the Quest
of the Holy Grail as was prophesied in the prophecy of Merlin.

       *       *       *       *       *

[Sidenote: _The passing of Elaine the Fair._]

That same day the Lady Elaine died about the middle watch of the night,
departing from this world in great peace and good content, and Sir
Gawaine and Sir Lavaine were with her at the time of her passing.

Then Sir Gawaine said, weeping, "Let me go and fetch Sir Launcelot of
the Lake hither." But Sir Lavaine, speaking very sternly, said: "Let be
and bring him not, for he is not worthy to be brought hither. But as for
you, do you depart, for I have yet that to do I would do alone. So go
you immediately and return unto the court of the King. But when you have
come to the King's court, I charge you to say nothing unto any one
concerning the birth of the child Galahad, nor of how this sweet, fair
lady is no more, for I have a certain thing to do that I would fain
perform before those things are declared. So when you have come to court
say nothing of these matters of which I have spoken." To the which Sir
Gawaine said, "Messire, it shall be as you desire in all things."

[Sidenote: _Sir Gawaine departeth from the priory._]

So immediately Sir Gawaine went forth and called for his horse, and they
brought his horse to him and he mounted and departed from that place,
leaving Sir Lavaine alone with his dead.

And it remaineth here to be said that Sir Gawaine went directly from
that place to the court of the King, and when he had come there he told
only of those adventures that had happened to him when the Lady Vivien
had bewitched him. But of those other matters: to wit, of the nativity
of Galahad and of the death of the Lady Elaine, he said naught to any
one but concealed those things for the time being in his own heart.

Yet ever he pondered those things and meditated upon them in the silent
watches of the night. For the thought of those things filled him at once
with joy and with a sort of terror; with hope and with a manner of
despair; wherefore his spirit was troubled because of those things which
he had beheld, for he knew not what their portent might be.

[Illustration: The Barge of the Dead]




[Illustration]

Conclusion


Now after Sir Bors had departed and after Sir Gawaine had departed as
aforesaid--the one at the one time and the other at the other--there
came several of those of the priory to that cell of death. And they
lifted up that still and peaceful figure and bare it away to the chapel
of the priory. And they laid it upon a bier in the chapel and lit
candles around about the bier, and they chanted all night in the chapel
a requiem to the repose of the gentle soul that was gone. And when the
morning light had dawned Sir Lavaine came to that chapel when the
candles were still alight in the dull gray of the early day and he
kneeled for a long time in prayer beside the bier.

Thereafter and when he had ended his prayers, he arose and departed from
that place, and he went to the people of the priory, and he said to
them, "Whither is it that this river floweth?" They say: "It floweth
down from this place past the King's town of Camelot, and thence it
floweth onward until it floweth into the sea to the southward."

[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine findeth a boat._]

Sir Lavaine said, "Is there ere a boat at this place that may float upon
the river?" And they say to him: "Yea, Messire, there is a barge and
there is a man that saileth that barge and that man is deaf and dumb
from birth." At that Sir Lavaine said: "I pray you to bring me to where
that deaf and dumb bargeman is."

So one of those to whom he spake took him to a certain place where was
that barge, and the deaf and dumb bargeman. And the bargeman was a very
old man with a long beard as white as snow and he gazed very steadfastly
upon Sir Lavaine as he drew near thitherward. So Sir Lavaine came close
to the bargeman and he made signs to him, asking him if he would ferry
him down the stream to the King's town, and the dumb bargeman understood
what Sir Lavaine would have and he made signs in answer that it should
be as Sir Lavaine desired.

[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine with the dead lady departeth in the barge._]

After that Sir Lavaine gave command that the barge should be hung and
draped all with white samite embroidered with silver and he gave command
that a couch of white samite should be established upon the barge, and
the covering of the couch was also embroidered with silver. So when all
was in readiness there came forth a procession from the chapel, bearing
that still and silent figure, and they brought it to the barge and laid
it upon the couch of white samite that had been prepared for it.
Thereafter Sir Lavaine entered the barge and took his station in the bow
of the boat and the deaf and dumb man took his station in the stern
thereof.

Then the bargeman trimmed the sail and so the barge drew slowly away
from that place, many standing upon the landing-stage and watching its
departure.

[Sidenote: _So they descend the flood._]

And after that the barge floated gently down the smooth stream of the
river, and ever the deaf and dumb man guided it upon its way. And anon
they floated down betwixt banks of rushes, with here and there a row of
pollard willow-trees and thickets of alder. And all about them was the
pleasant weather of the summertime, with everything abloom with grace
and beauty.

Then anon, departing from those marshy stretches with their rushes and
their willows and their alders, they drifted past some open
meadow-lands, with fields and uplands all trembling in the still hot
sunlight. And after that they came to a more populous country where were
several small towns and villages with here and there a stone bridge
crossing the river. And at those places of habitation many came and
stood upon a bridge beneath which they passed, and others stood upon the
smooth and grassy banks of the stream and gazed in awe at that wonderful
barge as it drifted by adown the flood. And they who thus gazed would
whisper and marvel at what they beheld and would cross themselves for
awe and terror.

So ever they floated onward until at last they came to within sight of
the town of Camelot.

After that, in a little they came to the town and as they passed by the
town walls, lo! a great multitude of people came and stood upon the
walls and gazed down upon that white bedraped barge and those who were
within. And all the people whispered to one another in awe, saying:
"What is this and what doth it portend? Is this real or is it a vision
that we behold?"

[Sidenote: _So they come to Camelot._]

But ever that barge drifted onward past the walls and past those who
stood thereon, and so, at last, it came to a landing-place of stone
steps not far distant from the castle of the King. There the dumb
bargeman made fast the barge to the iron rings of the landing-stage, and
so that strange voyage was ended.

Now at that time King Arthur and many of the lords and some of the
ladies of his court sat at feast in the royal hall of the castle, and
amongst those was Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere. So as they sat
thus, there came one of a sudden running into the hall as in affright,
and thereat all looked upon him and wondered wherefore he came into the
hall in that way. Then King Arthur said, "What ails thee that thou
comest hither to us thus?"

[Sidenote: _King Arthur heareth news of the barge._]

Then he who came kneeled before King Arthur, and he said: "Lord, here is
a wonderful thing. For down by the river there hath come a barge to the
landing-stairs of the castle, and that barge is hung all with white
samite embroidered with silver. And in the barge and upon a couch of
white samite there lieth a dead lady so beautiful that I do not think
her like is to be found in all of the earth. And a dumb man sits in the
stern of the boat, and a noble young knight sits in the bow of the boat
with his face shrouded in his mantle as though for grief. And that
knight sits there as silent and as motionless as the dead lady, and the
dumb man sits there also, like to an image of a man rather than a man of
flesh and blood. Wherefore it is that I have come hither to bring you
word of this wonderful thing."

Then King Arthur said: "This is indeed a most singular story that thou
tellest us. Now let us all straightway go and see what this portendeth."

So the King arose from where he sat, and he descended therefrom, and he
went forth out of the hall, and all who were there went with him.

[Sidenote: _King Arthur and his court go to where is the barge._]

Now first of all there went King Arthur, and among those who were last
there went Sir Launcelot of the Lake. For when he had heard of that dead
lady he bethought him of the Lady Elaine and of how she was even then in
tender health, wherefore he repented him with great bitterness of heart
that he was not with her at that time instead of lingering at court as
he did. And he said to himself: "Suppose that she should die like to
this dead lady in the barge--what would I do if that should have
happened unto me?" So it was that his feet lagged because of his heavy
thoughts, and so it was that he was near the last who came to the
riverside where was that barge as aforesaid.

Now, there were many of the towns folk standing there, but upon King
Arthur's coming all those made way for him, and so he came and stood
upon the upper step of the landing-stairs and looked down into the boat.
And he beheld that figure that was lying there and knew it that it was
the Lady Elaine who lay there dead.

Then the King looked for a little upon that dead figure as it were in a
sort of terror, and then he said, "Where is Sir Launcelot?"

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot beholdeth the dead._]

Now when the King so spake, they who stood there made way, and Sir
Launcelot came through the press and stood also at the head of the
stairs and looked down into the barge. Then of a sudden--as it were in
an instant of time--he beheld with his very eyes that thing which he had
been thinking of anon; for there before him and beneath him lay in very
truth the dead image of that dear lady of whom he had been thinking only
a moment before.

Then it was as though Sir Launcelot had suddenly been struck with a
shaft of death, for he neither moved nor stirred. Nay, it was not to be
perceived that he even so much as breathed. But ever he stood there
gazing down into that boat as though he had forgotten for that while
that there was anybody else in all of the world saving only himself and
that dead lady. And many of those who were there looked upon the face of
Sir Launcelot, and they beheld that his countenance was altogether as
white as the face of that dead figure who lay in the barge beneath them.

[Sidenote: _Sir Lavaine accuseth Sir Launcelot._]

Then a great hush of silence fell over all and every voice was stilled,
and at that hush of silence Sir Lavaine lifted the hood from his face
and looked up from where he sat in the boat at the feet of the dead
lady, and so beheld Sir Launcelot where he stood. Then upon the instant
Sir Lavaine stood up in the barge and he cried out in a great loud harsh
voice: "Hah! art thou there, thou traitor knight? Behold the work that
thou hast done; for this that thou beholdest is thy handiwork. Thou hast
betrayed this lady's love for the love of another, and so thou hast
brought her to her death!"

So said Sir Lavaine before all those who were there, but it was as
though Sir Launcelot heard him not, for ever he stood as though he were
a dead man and not a living man of flesh and blood. Then of a sudden he
awoke, as it were, to life, and he clasped the back of his hands across
his eyes, and cried out in a voice as though that voice tore his heart
asunder, "Remorse! Remorse! Remorse!" saying those words three times
over in that wise.

Then he shut his lips tight as though to say no more, and thereupon
turned and went away from that place.

[Sidenote: _Sir Launcelot departeth._]

And he turned neither to this side nor to that, but went straight to the
castle of the King, and there ordered that his horse should be brought
forth to him upon the instant. So when his horse was brought he mounted
it and rode away; and he bade farewell to no one, and no one was there
when he thus departed.

So for a long while Sir Launcelot rode he knew not whither, but after a
while he found himself in the forest not far away from the cell of the
hermit of the forest. And he beheld the hermit of the forest, that he
stood in an open plat of grass in front of his cell and that he was
feeding the wild birds of the woodland; for the little feathered
creatures were gathered in great multitudes about him, some resting upon
his head and some upon his shoulders and some upon his hands. And a wild
doe and a fawn of the forest browsed near by and all was full of peace
and good content.

But at the coming of Sir Launcelot, all those wild creatures took alarm;
the birds they flew chirping away, and the doe and the fawn they fled
away into the thickets of the forest. For they wist, by some instinct,
that a man of sin and sorrow was coming thitherward; wherefore they were
afeared and fled away in that wise.

But Sir Launcelot thought nothing of this, but leaped from his horse,
and ran to the hermit and flung himself down upon the ground before him
and embraced him about the feet. And the hermit was greatly astonished
and said, "What ails thee, Sir Launcelot?" Whereunto Sir Launcelot cried
out: "Woe is me! Woe is me! I have sinned very grievously and have been
grievously punished and now my heart is broken!"

Then the hermit perceived that some great misfortune had befallen Sir
Launcelot, wherefore he lifted Sir Launcelot to his feet and after that
he brought him into his cell. And after they were in the cell together,
he said: "Now tell me what ails thee, Sir Launcelot. For I believe that
in telling me thou shalt find a great deal of ease."

So Sir Launcelot confessed everything to the hermit--yea, everything to
the very bottom of his soul, and the good, holy man hearkened to him.

Then after Sir Launcelot had said all that lay upon his heart, the
hermit sat for a while in silence, communing with his spirit. And after
a while he said: "Messire, God telleth me that if thy sin hath been
grievous, so also hath thy punishment been full sore. Wherefore
meseemeth I speak what God would have me say when I tell thee that
though neither thou nor any man may undo that which is done, nor
recommit that which is committed, yet there is this which thou or any
man mayest do. Thou mayst bathe thy soul in repentance as in a bath of
clear water (for repentance is not remorse but something very different
from remorse), and that having so bathed thyself thou mayst clothe
thyself as in a fresh raiment of new resolve. So bathed and so clad,
thou mayst stand once more upon thy feet and mayst look up to God and
say: 'Lo, God! I am Thy handiwork. I have sinned and have done great
evil, yet I am still Thy handiwork, who hath made me what I am. So,
though I may not undo that which I have done, yet I may, with Thy aid,
do better hereafter than I have done heretofore.'

"For every man may sin, and yet again may sin; yet still is he God's
handiwork, and still God is near by His handiwork to aid him ever to a
fresh endeavor to righteousness.

"So, though thou hast sinned, thou art still the creation of God and may
yet do His will in the world who hath sent thee hither."

Then Sir Launcelot wept, and he said, "There is much comfort in thy
words."

After that he abode for three days in the cell of the hermit and at the
end of that time he went forth again into the world, a broken yet a
contrite man, and one full of a strong resolve to make good the life
that God thenceforth intended him to live.

So by and by you shall hear of further adventures that befell him; yet
not at this place.

So it was with Sir Launcelot, and now it only remaineth to be said that,
after his departure from the King's court as aforesaid, they brought the
dead figure of the Lady Elaine to the minster at Camelot and there high
mass was said for the peace of her pure and gentle soul. So for two days
(what time Sir Launcelot was bathing himself in the waters of repentance
as aforetold) that figure lay in state in the minster and with many
candles burning about it, and then it was buried in the minster and a
monument of marble was erected to the memory of that kind and loving
spirit that had gone.

       *       *       *       *       *

So endeth the history of the Nativity of Galahad and so therewith this
book also cometh to an end.

Yet after a while, if God giveth me life to finish that work which I
have undertaken in writing these histories (and I pray He may give me to
finish that and several other things), then I shall tell you many things
more than these. For I shall tell you how Sir Launcelot came back again
into the world, and I shall tell you of the history of the Quest of the
Grail, and I shall tell you of other knights who came in later days to
make the court of King Arthur even more glorious than it was before.

Already two histories have been written concerning these things and this
makes the third, and another, I believe, will complete that work which I
have assigned myself to do; wherefore, as was said, I pray that God may
grant that I shall be able to finish that fourth book and so end my work
that I have here undertaken. Amen.

THE END

       *       *       *       *       *

Transcriber's Notes:

Punctuation has been standardised.

Spelling inconsistencies occur throughout this text.

Page 11, "Befel" changed to "Befell" (What Befell him)

Page 32, "ne'ertheless" changed to "ne'theless" (ne'theless, I cannot
find)

Page 36, "shie d" changed to "shield" (bare that shield.)

Page 78, "Lynnette" changed to "Lynette" (Lynette telleth Sir)

Page 84, "Grandregarde" changed to "Grandregard" (hight Granderegard)

Page 98, "Axaltalese" changed to "Axatalese" (Gringamore said to
Axatalese)

Page 98, "Layonesse" changed to "Layonnesse" (Layonnesse and the damsel)

Page 99, "Layonesse" changed to "Layonnesse" (my sister, the Lady
Layonnesse)

Page 101, "the" changed to "then" (even then upon her way)

Page 102, "Geharis" changed to "Gaheris" (Sir Gaheris wondered)

Page 139, "Palamedes" changed to "Palamydes" (meeting Sir Palamydes)

Page 151, "thust" changed to "thrust" (thrust into her bosom)

Page 153, "Chavelier" changed to "Chevalier" (in which le Chevalier)

Page 176, "Adred" changed to "adread" (The lady is adread)

Page 181, "than" changed to "that" (that the other was)

Page 195, "knowst" changed to "knowest" (How knowest thou)

Page 214, "travered" changed to "traversed" (had traversed various)

Page 275, "Percivant" changed to "Percevant" (captive was Sir Percevant)

Page 282, "Le" changed to "le" (hight, le Chevalier)

Page 297, "Ne'ertheless" changed to "Ne'theless" (Ne'theless, now that)