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                            LE MORTE DARTHUR

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[Illustration]

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                            LE MORTE DARTHUR


                       _Sir Thomas Malory’s Book
                of King Arthur and of his Noble Knights
                          of the Round Table_


                          =The Text of Caxton=

                     _EDITED, WITH AN INTRODUCTION_

                                   BY

                       SIR EDWARD STRACHEY, BART.


             Si quando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges,
             Arturumque etiam sub terris bella moventem;
             Aut dicam invictae sociali foedere mensae
             Magnanimos Heroas.—MILTON.




                                =London=
                           MACMILLAN AND CO.
                              AND NEW YORK
                                  1893

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                                 Oxford

                 HORACE HART, PRINTER TO THE UNIVERSITY

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                                   TO

                            FRANCES STRACHEY

                     HER FATHER INSCRIBES THIS BOOK

                       THE INTRODUCTION TO WHICH

                   COULD NOT HAVE BEEN NOW RE-WRITTEN

                            WITHOUT HER HELP

                 IN MAKING THE EAR FAMILIAR WITH WORDS

                   WHICH THE EYE CAN NO LONGER READ.

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                 ADVERTISEMENT TO THE PRESENT EDITION.


The Introduction to the first edition of this volume included an
account of the Text in the various editions of Sir Thomas Malory’s
‘Morte Darthur,’ and an attempt to estimate the character and worth of
his book. The publication of Dr. Sommer’s edition of the Text and
Prolegomena, demands that I should complete my bibliography by an
account of this important work; and it enables me, by help of this
learned writer’s new information, to confirm, while enlarging, my
former criticism. I have, therefore, revised and re-written the two
first sections of the Introduction. The Essay on Chivalry remains, but
for a few verbal changes, as it was first printed.

  SUTTON COURT,

    _November, 1891_.

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                               CONTENTS.


                             INTRODUCTION.

               §1. THE AUTHORSHIP AND MATTER OF THE BOOK.

                                                                    PAGE

Origin of the Book.—Its claim to be called a poem.—Epic in
  plan.—Malory’s use of the old romances.—His History and
  Geography.—Camelot.—Glastonbury.—Almesbury.—Joyous Gard.—The
  Sangreal.—Influence on our language, letters, life.—Morality of
  the Book.—Spenser, Milton, Tennyson.—Malory, Caxton

                                                                      ix


                 §2. THE TEXT AND ITS SEVERAL EDITIONS.

The edition of Caxton, 1485.—Those of Wynkyn de Worde, 1498
  and 1529.—Of Copland, 1557.—Of East, without date.—Of
  Stansby, 1634.—Editions of 1816.—Southey’s edition of
  1817.—Discovery of interpolations in that edition.—Mr.
  Wright’s editions, 1858 and 1866.—Character and object of
  the present edition.—Abridgements.—Extracts.—Dr. Sommer’s
  edition, 1889-91

                                                                    xxxi


                       §3. AN ESSAY ON CHIVALRY.

Origin of Chivalry.—Contest of Civilization with Barbarism.—The
  Chevalier and the Knight.—His education.—Amadis and
  Oriana.—The Black Prince.—Birth not essential to
  Knighthood.—The Lady.—Queen Philippa.—Decay of
  Chivalry.—Knights of Malta.—Modern Manners

                                                                 xxxviii


                        THE BOOK OF KING ARTHUR


         PREFACE OF WILLIAM CAXTON                            1

         THE TABLE OR RUBRYSSHE OF THE CONTENTS OF CHAPTERS   3

         THE BOOK OF KING ARTHUR, BOOKS I TO XXI             25

         NOTES                                              488

         GLOSSARY AND INDEX                                 493

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                             INTRODUCTION.


               §1. THE AUTHORSHIP AND MATTER OF THE BOOK.


                          ORIGIN OF THE BOOK.

We owe this our English Epic of Le Morte Darthur to Sir Thomas Malory,
and to William Caxton the first English printer. Caxton’s Preface shows
(what indeed would have been certain from his appeal to the ‘Knights of
England’ at the end of ‘The Order of Chivalry’) that however strongly
he, ‘William Caxton, simple person,’ may have been urged to undertake
the work by ‘divers gentlemen of this realm of England,’ he was not
less moved by his own love and reverence for ‘the noble acts of
chivalry,’ and his deep sense of his duty and responsibility in
printing what he believed would be for the instruction and profit of
his readers, ‘of whatever estate or degree.’ But to Sir Thomas Malory
he gives all the honour of having provided him with the copy which he
printed. And ever since, for more than four hundred years, successive
generations have approved the fitness of Caxton’s choice. For it is
Malory’s book, and not the older forms of King Arthur’s story which we
still read for enjoyment, and for the illustration of which scholars
edit those earlier books. Only a true poem, the offspring of genius,
could have so held, and be still holding its ground, age after age. It
may be said that it is chiefly with boys, and with men who have formed
the taste by their boyish reading, that the book is so popular. But is
not this so with the Iliad too? Men of mature intellect and taste read
and re-read the Iliad with ever new discoveries, appreciation, and
enjoyment; but it may be questioned whether there are many, or even
any, of them who did not begin those studies at school, and learn to
love Homer before they knew that he was worthy of their love. And they
who have given most of such reading, in youth and in manhood, to
Malory’s Morte Darthur will be the most able and ready to recognise its
claim to the character of an Epic poem.


                             MALORY A POET.

Malory wrote in prose, but he had ‘the vision and the faculty divine’
of the poet, though ‘wanting the accomplishment of verse’; and, great
as that want is, we may apply Milton’s test of ‘simple, sensuous, and
passionate,’ and we shall find no right to these names more real than
is Malory’s. Every incident, the description of every event, is
‘simple,’ that is to say, complete in itself, while making a part of
the whole story. The story is ‘sensuous,’ like that of Homer, and as
every true poem must be, it is a living succession of concrete images
and pictures, not of abstractions or generalized arguments and
reasonings. These are the characteristics of the book, from its opening
story of Igraine, which ‘befell in the days of Uther Pendragon,’ down
to the death of the last four remaining knights who ‘went into the Holy
Land, there as Jesus Christ was quick and dead,’ and there ‘did many
battles upon the miscreants or Turks, and there they died on a Good
Friday for God’s sake.’ And for ‘passion,’ for that emotion which the
poet first feels in a special manner, and then awakens in his hearers,
though they could not have originated it in themselves, with the
adventures of the Round Table and the San Greal, or the deaths of
Arthur, of Guenever, and of Launcelot, we may compare the wrath of
Achilles, its cause and its consequences, or the leave-taking of Hector
and Andromache. It would, indeed, be hard to find anywhere a pathos
greater than that of Malory’s description of the death or ‘passing’ of
Arthur, the penitence of Guenever, and her parting with Launcelot, or
the lament of Launcelot over the King and Queen, and of Sir Ector over
Launcelot himself. The first is too long to quote, but I may say that
Malory has re-cast the old story, and all the poetry is his own. I give
the two last:—

  ‘Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I trust I do not displease God, for He
  knoweth mine intent, for my sorrow was not, nor is not, for any
  rejoicing of sin, but my sorrow may never have end. For when I
  remember of her beauty, and of her noblesse, that was both with her
  king and with her; so when I saw his corpse and her corpse so lie
  together, truly mine heart would not serve to sustain my careful
  body. Also when I remember me, how by my default, mine orgule, and
  my pride, that they were both laid full low, that were peerless
  that ever was living of christian people, wit you well, said Sir
  Launcelot, this remembered, of their kindness and mine unkindness,
  sank so to my heart, that I might not sustain myself.’

And again:—

  ‘Ah, Launcelot, he said, thou were head of all christian knights;
  and now I dare say, said Sir Ector, thou Sir Launcelot, there thou
  liest, that thou were never matched of earthly knight’s hand; and
  thou were the courtiest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were
  the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou
  were the truest lover of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and
  thou were the kindest man that ever strake with sword; and thou
  were the goodliest person ever came among press of knights; and
  thou was the meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall
  among ladies; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe
  that ever put spear in the rest[1].’

The former passage is all Malory’s own: the beauty of the latter is
enhanced, if we set by its side the old version which he follows:—

             ‘Alas, sir [said] Bors, that I was born,
             That ever I should see this indeed,
             The beste knight his life hath lorn,
             That ever in stoure [fight] bestrode a steed,
             Jesu, that crowned was with thorn,
             In heaven his soul foster and feed[2].’

Humour is akin to passion; and it may not be out of place to notice
here Malory’s vein of humour, as shown, for instance, in the way in
which he tells the adventures of La Cote Male Taile, and of Beaumains;
the pranks of the braver knights with Dinadan and Dagonet; the story of
Arthur’s wedding feast, when a lady who ‘cried and made great dole,’
was forcibly carried out of the hall by a strange knight, and Arthur
‘was glad, for she made such a noise,’ and was thereupon rebuked by
Merlin for thinking so lightly of his royal and knightly duties; or
that of the usurper Mordred and the Bishop of Canterbury, when after
each had defied the other, the bishop ‘did the curse in the most
orgulous wise that might be done,’ and then retired to live ‘in poverty
and holy prayers, for well he understood that mischievous war was at
hand.’


                         THE BOOK EPIC IN PLAN.

In the Drama the action is present, actually unwinding itself and going
on before our eyes. The Epic is the story of the past, a cycle of
events completed, while through the one and the other may be traced a
thread of destiny and providence, leading either to a happy triumph
over circumstances, or to a tragic doom, which, too, is in the end, a
triumph also. Thomas Hughes, the early Elizabethan dramatist, in his
‘Misfortunes of Arthur,’ concentrated and deepened the horror of such a
tragedy by transferring the guilt of Launcelot to Mordred the son of
Arthur and his unknown sister. He would better have recognised and
followed the finer art of Malory. For though the motive of Malory’s
epic is less gross and exaggerated than that of Hughes’s drama, the
thread of guilt and doom which runs from first to last through the
former is not less real than in the latter. The crime of Uther
Pendragon, with which the story opens, leads to the concealment of
Arthur’s parentage from himself, and this to his illicit love for her
whom he does not know to be his sister, and so to the birth of Mordred.
Then comes the prophetic doom:—‘Ye have done of late a thing that God
is displeased with you: and your sister shall have a child that shall
destroy you and all the knights of your realm.’ Arthur tries in vain to
prevent the fulfilment of this doom by the only cruel deed of his life:
and then—after another warning of the woe which his marriage with
Guinevere will bring on him, through her guilty love for
Launcelot—these germs of tragic destiny remain hidden through long
years of prosperity. Arthur, aided by his fellowship of the Round
Table, reduces universal anarchy into order: and not only ‘gets into
his hand’ all England, Wales, and Scotland, but by his march to Rome
makes himself emperor, and the head of all the kingdoms as well as of
all the chivalry of Christendom. Still the fame and the honour of the
king and his knights of the Round Table open continually into new and
brighter forms, which seem above the reach of any adverse fate, till
the coming of the Sancgreal, into the quest of which all the knights
enter with that self-reliance which had become them so well in the
field of worldly chivalry, but which would be of no avail now. They are
now to be tried by other tests than those by which they had been proved
as ‘earthly knights and lovers,’ tests which even Launcelot, Ector de
Maris, Gawaine, and the other chiefest of the fellowship could not
stand. The quest is achieved by the holy knights alone: two depart from
this life to a higher, while Sir Bors, not quite spotless, yet forgiven
and sanctified, the link between the earthly and the spiritual worlds,
returns to aid in restoring the glory of the feasts and tournaments at
Camelot and Westminster. But the curse is at work: the severance
between good and evil which had been declared through the Sancgreal
cannot be closed again; and the tragic end comes on, in spite of the
efforts—touching from their very weakness—of Arthur and Launcelot to
avert the woe, the one by vainly trying to resist temptation, the other
by refusing to believe evil of his wife and his dearest friend. The
black clouds open for a moment as the sun goes down; and we see Arthur
in the barge which bears him to the Holy Isle; Guenever, the nun of
Almesbury, living in fasting, prayers, and almsdeeds; and Launcelot
with his fellowship, once knights but now hermit-priests, ‘doing bodily
all manner of service.’

Nor are the marks of harmony and unity less plain in the several
characters than in the events of the story. Arthur is a true knight,
sharing the characteristics of his nobler knights, yet he differs from
them all in showing also that he is, and feels himself to be, a king;
as when—with an imperiousness which reminds us of Froissart’s story of
Edward III refusing to listen to Sir Walter of Manny’s remonstrances on
behalf of the burgesses of Calais—he tells Sir Launcelot that he
‘takes no force whom he grieves,’ or insists on his entering the lists
against a tired knight whom he is not willing to see victorious over
the whole field; or as when he sadly regrets that he cannot do battle
for his wife, though he believes her innocent, but must be a rightful
judge according to the laws. There are many others of the Round Table
who are ‘very perfect gentle knights, yet we feel that Launcelot stands
distinct among them all in the pre-eminence of his knightliness,
notwithstanding his one great sin. Thus, to take one of many instances,
who but Launcelot would have borne the taunts and the violence of
Gawaine with his humble patience and ever-renewed efforts for a
reconciliation, when he was leaving the realm, and when he was besieged
in Joyous Gard. Modern critics of great name agree in censuring Sir
Thomas Malory for departing from the old authorities who represented
Gawaine as the very counterpart of Launcelot in knightly character: but
I rather see a proof of Malory’s art in giving us a new Gawaine with a
strongly individual character of his own. Gawaine’s regard for his
mother’s honour, his passion for Ettard, and his affection for his
brothers, are fierce impulses driving him to unknightly and unworthy
deeds, yet he is far from being represented as a mere savage. If Malory
depicts him thirsting to revenge upon Launcelot the unintentional
killing of Gaheris and Gareth, he depicts also his long previous
affection for Launcelot and his opposition to the hostility of his
other brother, Mordred, against him; his devotion to his uncle Arthur;
his hearty repentance towards Launcelot at the last; and his entreaty
that he would ‘see his tomb, and pray some prayer more or less for his
soul.’ Nor must we forget that it was by the prayer of those ladies for
whom Gawaine had ‘done battle in a rightwise quarrel,’ that his ghost
was permitted to give Arthur a last warning. Distinct again from the
character of this fierce knight is that of the Saracen Palamides, whose
unquestionable courage and skill in deeds of chivalry also want—though
in another way than Gawaine’s—the gentleness, the meekness, and the
delicate sense of honour of the Christian knight. Sir Dinadan again,
who can give and take hard knocks if need be, though he has no great
bodily strength, and who is always bantering the good knights who know
and esteem him with his humorous protests against love and arms, is a
distinctly drawn character. So is Merlin, half Christian, half
magician, but always with dog-like loyalty to the house of Uther
Pendragon. So is the Bishop of Canterbury, who appears at intervals in
the story. So are many others whose names I might recite. The dignity
of queen Guenever towards her husband and her court is not less marked
than her guilty passion for Launcelot, and the unreasoning jealousy it
excites in her. The wife-like simplicity of Igraine, the self-surrender
beyond all limit, though from different impulses, of the two Elaines,
the pertness of the damsel Linet, and the piety and self-sacrifice of
Sir Percivale’s sister, will occur to the reader among the distinctive
characteristics of the different ladies and damsels who live and move,
each in her own proper form, in the story. Sir Thomas Malory, as we
know, found many of these men and women already existing in the old
romances as he represents them to us; but we may believe that those
earlier books were to him something of what the pages of Plutarch and
Holinshed were to Shakespeare.


                   MALORY’S USE OF THE OLD ROMANCES.

It has been too commonly assumed that, because Caxton says that Sir
Thomas Malory took his work ‘out of certain books of French and reduced
it into English,’ he was a mere compiler and translator. But the book
itself shows that he was its author—its ‘maker,’ as he would have
called it. Notwithstanding his occasionally inartificial manner of
connecting the materials drawn from the old romances, there is an epic
unity and harmony, ‘a beginning, a middle, and an end,’ which, if they
have come by chance and not of design, have come by that chance which
only befalls an Homeric or a Shakespeare-like man. If more instances
and proofs are needed than have been already given, let us turn to the
opening chapters of the book. If we compare these with the old romances
which supplied the materials for them, we see at once how Malory has
converted prose into poetry, giving life and beauty to the clods of
earth, and transmuting by his art the legends which he yet faithfully
preserves. For the long and repulsive narrative of Merlin’s origin[3]
he substitutes a slight allusion to it: without disguising what he
probably believed to be at least an half historical record of Arthur’s
birth, he gives a grace and dignity to the story by the charms of the
mother’s character, the finer touches of which are wanting in the
original: and so through the whole of this part of the story.

Twenty-three years ago, I ventured to assert Malory’s claim to epic
genius: and now this claim may be farther tested, and as I think,
established, by help of the learned researches of Dr. Sommer. Of these
I shall state some details, in speaking of the text and its several
editions, here giving the result so far as it bears on the present
point. We may now see how Malory’s ‘Morte Darthur’ was fused into its
actual form out of crude materials of ten times its bulk, and that
while he often translated or transcribed the French or English romances
as they lay before him, on the other hand he not only re-wrote, in
order to bring into its present shape the whole story, but also varied
both the order and the substance of the incidents that so he might give
them that epic character, and that beauty in the details, which his
book shows throughout. Malory was no doubt a ‘finder’ as well as a
‘maker,’ but so, I repeat, was Shakespeare, and so was every other
great poet. But the quarry and the building are not the same thing,
though the one supplies the rough stones with which the other is raised
up. We see that there is much that is rude and inartificial in Malory’s
art. He has built a great, rambling, mediæval castle, the walls of
which enclose rude and even ruinous work of earlier times, and not a
Greek Parthenon nor even an Italian palace of the Renaissance. Still,
it is a grand pile, and tells everywhere of the genius of its builder.
And I ask, as Carlyle once asked me, Who built St. Paul’s? Was it Wren,
or the hodman who carried up the bricks? But while supporting my
conclusions as to Malory’s art by the evidence of Dr. Sommer’s facts,
it is right to add that the conclusions are my own rather than those of
this learned critic. His estimate of Malory’s genius in the choice and
treatment of his materials falls far short of mine: and I can believe
that Malory may have judged rightly, for his own purpose, when he did
not take that form of a legend which was in itself the most beautiful.


                    MALORY’S HISTORY AND GEOGRAPHY.

The most recent critics are disposed to prefer Hume’s and Gibbon’s
belief to Milton’s scepticism as to the actual existence of Arthur. But
upon this question I do not enter. Malory’s historical chapters, as
they may be called, seem to be mainly taken from the _Historia
Brithonum_ of Geoffrey of Monmouth, though much of them is also to be
found in the romances[4]. The details of Arthur’s march to Rome are so
accurate that I think that Malory may have had actual knowledge of the
road, which indeed must have been familiar to many men—soldiers,
priests, and merchants—in the days of Edward IV. But of the rest of
the history and the geography of the book before us we can only say
that they are something

                  ‘Apart from place, withholding time,
                  But flattering the golden prime’

of the great hero of English romance. We cannot bring within any limits
of history the events which here succeed each other, when the Lords and
Commons of England, after the death of King Uther at St. Alban’s,
assembled at the greatest church of London, guided by the joint policy
of the magician Merlin and the Christian bishop of Canterbury, and
elected Arthur to the throne; when Arthur made Carlion, or Camelot, or
both, his head-quarters in a war against Cornwall, Wales, and the
North, in which he was victorious by help of the king of France; when
he met the demand for tribute by the Roman emperor Lucius with a
counter-claim to the empire for himself as the real representative of
Constantine, held a parliament at York to make the necessary
arrangements, crossed the sea from Sandwich to Barflete in Flanders,
met the united forces of the Romans and Saracens in Burgundy, slew the
emperor in a great battle, together with his allies, the Sowdan of
Syria, the king of Egypt, and the king of Ethiopia, sent their bodies
to the Senate and Podestà of Rome as the only tribute he would pay, and
then followed over the mountains through Lombardy and Tuscany to Rome,
where he was crowned emperor by the Pope, ‘sojourned there a time,
established all his lands from Rome unto France, and gave lands and
realms unto his servants and knights,’ and so returned home to England,
where he seems thenceforth to have devoted himself wholly to his duties
as the head of Christian knighthood.

With the exception just mentioned, the geography is fanciful enough;
and we need the magic of Merlin, or of some conjuror-poet like him of
Horace, to set us with the required disregard of time successively in
Carleon, Carlisle, Winchester, London, St. Alban’s, and Camelot. The
story opens within a night’s ride of the castle of Tintagil. Thence we
pass to St. Alban’s, to London, and to Carlion. This last is, no doubt,
Caerleon-upon-Usk; but it seems through this, as in other romances, to
be interchangeable in the author’s mind with Carlisle, or (as written
in its Anglo-Norman form) Cardoile, which latter in the History of
Merlin is said to be in Wales, while elsewhere Wales and Cumberland are
confounded in like manner. So of Camelot, where Arthur chiefly held his
court, Caxton in his Preface speaks as though it were in Wales,
probably meaning Caerleon, where the Roman amphitheatre is still called
Arthur’s Round Table. Malory himself, though at page 49 he seems to
connect Camelot with Avelion, or Glastonbury, yet farther on, page 63,
says that Camelot is Winchester, where, too, there is a Round Table,
mentioned by Caxton, and still to be seen,—an oaken board with the
knights’ names on it. And yet at the time these authorities wrote
Camelot itself existed in Somersetshire with its proper name, and with
all the remains of an important town and fortress, and, doubtless, the
traditions of Arthur which Leland found there, and which in great part
at least remain to this day. Leland calls it Camallate or Camalat,
‘sometime a famous town or castle, upon a very torre or hill,
wonderfully enstrengthened of nature[5].’ Four ditches and as many
walls surrounded a central space of about thirty acres where
foundations and remains of walls might be seen, and whence Roman
pavements, urns, coins, and other relics have been found up to the
present time. I find it called the Castle of Camellek in maps of the
dates of 1575 and 1610, and in that of the 1727 edition of Camden’s
Magna Britannica, the text of which says ‘the inhabitants call it King
Arthur’s Palace.’ But soon after that date a learned antiquarian[6]
writes that the name had been superseded by that of Cadbury Castle,
which trilingual appellation may seem to indicate the Roman, British,
and Saxon possessors by whom it was probably held in succession. The
neighbouring villages which, according to Leland, bore ‘the name of
Camalat with an addition, as Queen-Camel,’ still exist as Queen-Camel,
or East Camel, and West Camel, and near by runs the river Camel,
crossed by Arthur’s Bridge. Arthur’s well still springs from the hill
side; and if Arthur’s Hunting Causeway in the field below, Arthur’s
Round Table and Arthur’s Palace within the camp, cannot still, as of
old, be pointed out to the visitor, the peasant girl will still tell
him that within that charmed circle they who look may see through
golden gates a king sitting in the midst of his court. Drayton
describes the river Ivel in Somersetshire as

   ‘The nearest neighbouring flood to Arthur’s ancient seat,
   Which made the Britaines name thro’ all the world so great.
   Like Camelot what place was ever yet renown’d?
   Where, as at Caerleon, oft he kept the Table Round,
   Most famous for the sports at Pentecost so long,
   From whence all knightly deeds and brave atchievements sprong[7].’

These old legendary traditions, pleasant to hear or to know of, have
been collected by another Somersetshire antiquarian, the late Rev. J.
H. Bennett, Rector of South Cadbury[8]. Together with the legends told
by Leland and others, and those which he himself gathered on the spot,
Mr. Bennett has given a carefully detailed topographical description of
the old town and fortress of Camelot, strong by nature and strengthened
by art, where the Britons made their last stand against the Saxons; and
he has shewn how its strategical position was connected, in fact as
well as in romance, with the Isle of Avallon, the Monastery of
Glastonbury, and the Nunnery of Almesbury. He thinks that during the
hundred years which followed the taking of Sarum by the Saxons A. D.
551, during which (except in the capture of Bath in 577 A. D.) they
made no further progress in the conquest of Somersetshire, Camelot
became the capital of the South British kingdoms, and stemmed the tide
of war in this direction by its great line of strongholds; and he thus
suggests that we may have here the historical circumstances which
connected or helped to connect, the legends of the great British hero
with Camelot. Leland, who wrote his _Itinerary_ early in Henry VIII’s
reign, mentions, among other relics found at Camelot, a silver
horseshoe, and Mr. Bennett gives us the words of one of the Cadbury
peasants who told him ‘folks do say that on the night of the full moon
King Arthur and his men ride round the hill, and their horses are shod
with silver, and a silver shoe has been found in the track where they
do ride, and when they have ridden round the hill they stop to water
their horses at the wishing well.’ But more than three hundred years
before Leland wrote, this still living legend had been recorded by
Gervase of Tilbury, who, in his _Otia Imperialia_ (date about 1212)
says that in the woods of Britain the foresters, as the common people
call the keepers of the woods and wild game, tell that on alternate
days, about noon, or at midnight when the moon is full and shining,
they often see an array of hunters with dogs and sound of horns, who,
in answer to the enquirers, say that they are of the household and
fellowship of Arthur. And, what is still more curious, Gervase, in the
same place, gives a legend of Arthur, of Mount Etna, which singularly
corresponds with that just mentioned as still living among the mounds
of ancient Camelot. He tells that the horse of the Bishop of Catania
had run away from his groom, and when the groom was following him up
the precipitous side of the mountain, he came upon an open place where
was the Great Arthur, resting upon a couch. Arthur ordered the horse to
be brought back and restored to the bishop, sent him presents, and
related how he had lain there, all those years, suffering from wounds
he had received in the battle with his nephew Mordred, and Childeric
the leader of the Saxons[9]. The British story of Arthur and the
Knights of the Round Table had spread through Italy by the side of the
French romances of Roland and Charlemagne[10] but this curious transfer
of an incident from Camelot in Somersetshire, to Mount Etna in Sicily
seems as if it must have been due to some Norman troubadour who had
actually passed from one land to the other, and given the proper local
colouring to the story in its new home as the bee carries fertility
from one garden to another. Scotland, too, among the stories by which
she claimed her part in Arthur and his knights, had a tale how ‘Arthour
Knycht he raid on nycht with gylten spur and candel lycht[11].’

Legend tells that Glastonbury—founded by Joseph of Arimathea, and his
burial-place, though his body was vainly sought in Edward III’s
reign—possesses the coffin of Arthur. It is said that Henry II found
the bodies of Arthur and Guenever there, and that Guenever had yellow
hair. Their skulls were afterwards taken for relics by Edward
Longshanks and Eleanor.

Almesbury, where Guenever died a nun, is a town in Wiltshire, seven and
a half miles from Salisbury, where may still be seen the ruins of its
celebrated abbey. The name was originally Ambrosebury, then Ambresbury,
and lastly Amesbury, as it is now spelt.

The ruins of the castle of Tintagil, too, may still be seen in Cornwall.

Joyous Gard, Launcelot’s favourite castle, is sometimes identified with
Berwick. Malory tells us that ‘some men say it was Anwick, and some men
say it was Bamborow.’ Bamborow, or Bamborough, is in Northumberland,
sixteen miles southeast of Berwick. The castle, founded in the middle
of the sixth century, which is the supposed time of Arthur’s reign,
stands on a high rock projecting into the North Sea. It now contains a
granary, hospital, and other endowments made for the poor in 1715 by
Lord Crewe, bishop of Durham. Did he think of his predecessor
Launcelot, and his doles of ‘flesh, fish, wine and ale, and twelve
pence to any man and woman, come who would?’

The names of some other places in this book are given in the Glossary.


                             THE SANGREAL.

Let us turn to the Sangreal, or Holy Grail, the Quest of which forms so
important a part of Malory’s book. The word ‘Grail’ means a dish, a
drinking vessel, or a tureen, in the Romance language, and is probably
derived from the Low Latin ‘gradalis’ or ‘grasalis’; and this from the
Greek ‘crater’: and the old writers describe it sometimes as a shallow
vessel for holding food, and sometimes as a cup[12]. The legend of the
Grail is traced back to Pagan times, where it appears as a miraculously
food-producing vessel, of which we perhaps see a survival in the coming
of the Sangreal to Launcelot and King Pelles, and at the feast of
Pentecost which led to the Quest:—

‘Then there entered into the hall the holy Grail covered with white
samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it. And there was
all the hall full filled with good odours, and every knight had such
meats and drinks as he best loved in this world: and when the holy
Grail had been borne through the hall, then the holy vessel departed
suddenly, that they wist not where it became.’

But in the Christian form into which the legend passed, the Grail
became either the dish which held the paschal lamb at the Last Supper,
the vessel in which Joseph of Arimathea had received the Saviour’s
blood, or the sacramental cup itself. Mr. Alfred Nutt has treated the
whole subject with exhaustive learning in his ‘Studies of the Legend of
the Holy Grail,’ and his article ‘Grail, the Holy’ in Chambers’
Encyclopaedia. But when I say that one only of the many stories of
which Mr. Nutt gives an account is a poem of 60,000 verses, I shall not
be expected to attempt any summary of his book. I shall content myself
with the more popular account of the Sangreal, in its immediate
relation to Malory’s Morte Darthur. According to the romances of Le S.
Graal, Lancelot du Lac, Perceforest, and Morte Arthur, the Sangreal, or
Holy Graal, was the dish which held the paschal lamb of the Last
Supper. Joseph of Arimathea having gone into the house where the Supper
had been eaten, took away the dish, and in it received the blood from
the wounds of Jesus; and this dish, ‘with part of the blood of our
Lord,’ he brought with him into England, and with it converted many
heathens; and it was kept in a tower expressly built for it at
Corbenicy. The romance of Merlin says that ‘this vessel was brought to
this said knight [Joseph of Arimathea] by our Lord Jesu Christ while he
was in prison xl. winter, him to comfort,’ but does not mention its
earlier history.

When Caxton replied to the ‘noble and divers gentlemen of this realm of
England’ who urged him to print the history of Arthur, that many
persons held the opinion that there was no such Arthur, ‘one in
special’ insisted that this was mere blindness, since Arthur’s
sepulchre was to be seen at Glastonbury, Gawaine’s skull at Dover, the
Round Table at Winchester, as well as many other relics. And if this
noble gentleman had only known it, he might have added that the Holy
Grail itself was to be seen in the Cathedral Church of Genoa. There it
is still shewn. It is an hexagonal dish, about seventeen inches across,
and was long supposed to be a single emerald, which stone it resembles
in colour and brilliancy. It is called ‘Sagro Catino,’ with a tradition
which makes it to be the Holy Grail we have just described, and with
the addition that it was brought to Solomon by the Queen of Sheba. It
was taken, on the capture of Caesarea, by the Genoese under Guglielmo
Embriaco in 1101 A. D. Like the other plunder of Italian cities it was
taken to Paris by Napoleon I, and restored after the peace of 1815, but
was broken in pieces on the road from careless packing. It is now kept
together by a wire frame: and when I saw it in the Cathedral treasury a
few years since I was gravely told that it was broken in its return
from the Paris ‘Exposition’ of Napoleon III[13].


           INFLUENCE OF THE BOOK ON ENGLISH LETTERS AND LIFE.

The influence of Sir Thomas Malory’s book upon English literature, and
so upon English life, upon our thoughts, morals, and manners, has been
great and important. I have spoken of its claims to be considered an
Epic poem; but it is not the less true, that it is our first great work
of English prose, the first in which the writing of prose was shown to
be one of the fine arts for England. Malory’s style is often
inartificial: he is not always able to master the huge masses of his
materials, and fails to fuse and mould them into a perfect whole. But
we must confess the like of Milton, whose grand periods of magnificent
English are often followed by others which are confused and cumbrous in
form, if not in thought. It has taken many workmen, through many
generations, to make our prose writing what it is: but there is an
infant beauty in Malory’s style which is full of promise of the perfect
manly form that is to be. The passages which I have already quoted are
instances of this inartificial beauty of style. The thoughts and images
spontaneously utter themselves in words without any attempt at
rhetorical balance and arrangement. Thus in the lament of Sir Ector
over Sir Launcelot, Malory does not ask himself whether there is a
logical connection between courtesy and bearing a shield, or between
true friendship and bestriding a horse, as a modern writer would have
done, and so brought those sentences into a more finished though more
monotonous correspondence with the rest. The flow of feeling is true,
direct, and simple, and that is enough. Dr. Sommer, in his notes on the
language of ‘Le Morte Darthur,’ points to the indications, in grammar,
spelling, and other usages of words, of its transitional place between
the language of Chaucer and that of Shakespeare; while Southey says
that it was composed in the best possible time for making it what it
is: and Mr. J. A. Symonds (whom I am permitted to name) says:—‘The
Morte Darthur was written at a lucky moment in our literary history,
when the old Saxon fountain of speech was yet undefiled, and when
printing had not introduced stereotyped forms or enforced the laws of a
too scrupulous grammar; at the same time the language is truly
English—rich in French and Latin words, as well as Saxon, and not so
archaic as to be grotesque or repulsive[14].

And if in these things Malory was happy in the opportuneness of the
times in which he wrote, not less was he so in that he lived in a day
in which (as we see from Caxton’s Preface) men could still believe in
the marvellous adventures of knight-errantry. A hundred years later,
the spirit of chivalry had so departed from the old forms that Spenser
could only use them as materials for allegory, while Cervantes, himself
full of the old spirit, could only treat the belief in knight-errantry
as the fantasy of a crazed though generous mind. But Malory was still
able to embody the ideals of chivalry in actual and serious personages,
and so to influence the national character and manners of his
countrymen in the best way. His book is a possession for all times. The
old stock is still putting out new leaves and fruits for ourselves.


                       THE MORALITY OF THE BOOK.

In morals as well as in language (though more obscurely, since the
subject of morals is so much more complicated than that of philology),
we may find signs of a transition from the times of Chaucer to those of
Shakespeare, and of progress no less than transition. The suppression
of the Lollards—hated alike by the Church and the feudal lords, the
War of the Roses, and the licentiousness of the court and courtiers,
must, in the days of Edward IV, in which Malory wrote, have cut the
moral and social life of the country down to its roots. Yet even in
Malory’s book there are signs of the new moral life which was coming,
and which in the days of the Reformation reached a power and expansion
never before known. It would be absurd to pretend that Malory had
greatly advanced in morality from the position of Chaucer and his age
towards that of the Elizabethan period. Roger Ascham, indeed, while
admitting that ‘ten Morte Arthurs do not the tenth part so much harm as
one of these books made in Italy and translated in England,’ protests
against the demoralising effect of the literature of which he takes
this book as the example, ‘the whole pleasure of which,’ he says,
‘standeth in two special points—in open manslaughter and bold bawdray.
In which book those be counted the noblest knights that do kill most
men without any quarrel, and commit foulest adulteries by subtlest
shifts[15].’ I remember Dante’s story of the sin and doom of Paolo and
Francesca—

               ‘Galeotto fu il libro, e chi lo scrisse’—

and recognise a real though only half truth in Ascham’s strictures. But
he greatly over-states the evil, while he altogether omits to recognise
the good in the book. Caxton’s estimate of the moral purport of the
whole book, gives not merely the other side, but both sides of the
case. Much more than half the ‘open manslaughter’ is done in putting
down cruel oppressors and bringing back kingdoms from anarchy to law
and good government; and the occasions call forth all the knightly
virtues of gentleness, forbearance, and self-sacrifice, as well as
those of courage and hardihood. And though it is far from possible to
deny the weight of Ascham’s other charge, yet we must not, in forming
our estimate of the book, forget the silent yet implied judgment which
is passed upon lawless love by its tragic end, nor the ideal presented
in the lives of the maiden knights, Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale. For
the purpose of a due estimate of Malory’s ‘Morte Darthur,’ we may
fairly take Caxton’s Preface as an integral part of the book. The
Preface gives the tone, the motive, to the whole book. The morality of
‘Morte Darthur’ is low in one essential thing, and this alike in what
it says and in what it omits: and Lord Tennyson shows us how it should
be raised. The ideal of marriage, in its relation and its contrast with
all other forms of love and chastity, is brought out in every form,
rising at last to tragic grandeur, in the _Idylls of the King_. It is
not in celibacy, though spiritual and holy as that of Galahad or
Percivale, but in marriage, as the highest and purest realisation of
the ideal of human conditions and relations, that we are to rise above
the temptations of a love like that of Launcelot or even of Elaine; and
Malory’s book does not set this ideal of life before us with any power
or clearness. In no age or country has the excellence of marriage, as
the highest condition of man’s life, been wholly unknown: but Luther
and the Reformation brought it first into the full light of day, when
he, a monk, married a nun, and thus in the name of God, declared that
the vows of marriage were more sacred and more binding than those of
the convent, and that the one might be lawfully set aside by the other.
And we know how this ideal of love in marriage is worked out by
Shakespeare. With Shakespeare it is marriage which explains, justifies,
forgives, glorifies, and blesses every prosperous and happy condition
of life, and gives an abiding peace as well as dignity to the closing
scenes of his deepest tragedies. Marriage not only sheds its radiance
upon the loves of Ferdinand and Miranda, and of Rosalind and Orlando,
but on all around them: marriage justifies the boldness of Helena as
the love of Elaine, touching as its self-surrender is, cannot do: it
secures forgiveness to the weak and foolish Leontes, and even to the
worthless Angelo; it is to the husband of Desdemona that we find
ourselves constrained to accord the pardon and the sympathy which she
herself had given him. And no one will know Hamlet as he is, nor fully
understand his tragic destiny, unless he sees what it might have been,
as his mother saw it, when she exclaims:—

                    ‘Sweets to the sweet, farewell!
          I hoped thou shouldst have been my Hamlet’s wife;
          I thought thy bridal bed to have deck’d, sweet maid,
          And not have strew’d thy grave.’

But this is Shakespeare’s Ophelia, not the preposterous misconception
of Tieck and Goethe, who should have been warned by Polonius not ‘to
cast beyond themselves in their opinions.’

If Morte Arthur does not deserve the unqualified denunciation of the
learned Ascham, it cannot be denied that it exhibits a picture of a
society far lower than our own in morals, and depicts it with far less
repugnance to its evil elements, on the part either of the author or
his personages, than any good man would now feel. Still—with the
exception of stories like those of the birth of Arthur and Galahad,
which show not only another state of manners from our own, but also a
really different standard of morals from any which we should now hold
up—the writer does for the most part endeavour, though often in but an
imperfect and confused manner, to distinguish between vice and virtue,
and honestly to reprobate the former; and thus shows that his object is
to recognize and support the nobler elements of the social state in
which he lived, and to carry them towards new triumphs over the evil.
And even where, as in the story of Tristram, there is palliation rather
than reprobation of what Sir Walter Scott justly calls ‘the extreme
ingratitude and profligacy of the hero,’ still the fact that such
palliation, by representing King Mark as the most worthless of men, was
thought necessary in the later, though not in the earlier, romance on
the same subject, shows an upward progress in morals; while a real
effort to distinguish virtue from vice is to be seen in the story of
Launcelot, with his sincere though weak struggles against temptation,
and his final penitence under the punishment of the woes which his
guilt has brought on all dear to him as well as to himself. Or if we
look at the picture which Chaucer’s works give us of the co-existence
in one mind—and that one of the noblest of its age—of the most
virtuous Christian refinement and the most brutish animal coarseness,
and then see how in the pages of Malory, inferior as we must hold him
to be to Chaucer, the brutish vice has dwindled to half its former
size, and is far more clearly seen to be vice, while the virtue, if not
more elevated in itself, is more avowedly triumphant over the evil, we
find the same upward progress. And I cannot doubt that it was helped on
by this book, and that notwithstanding Ascham’s condemnation of Morte
Arthur, Caxton was right in believing that he was serving God and his
countrymen by printing it; and that he justly estimated its probable
effect when he says, ‘Herein may be seen noble chivalry, courtesy,
humanity, friendliness, hardiness, love, friendship, cowardice, murder,
hate, virtue, sin. Do after the good, and leave the evil, and it shall
bring you to good fame and renommée.... All is written for our
doctrine, and for to beware that we fall not to vice nor sin, but to
exercise and follow virtue, by which we may come and attain to good
fame and renommé in this life, and after this short and transitory life
to come unto everlasting bliss in heaven; the which He grant us that
reigneth in heaven, the blessed Trinity. Amen.’


                       SPENSER, MILTON, TENNYSON.

It can hardly be doubted that Spenser, while drawing largely from
Geoffrey of Monmouth, was acquainted with Malory’s story of Arthur, if
not with the earlier romances also. We might have known this with
certainty, if Spenser had completed his great design which he sketched
in his letter to Sir Walter Raleigh, prefixed to the first three books
of the _Faerie Queene_, and after labouring ‘to pourtrait in Arthur
before he was king, the image of a brave knight, perfected in the
twelve Morall Vertues,’ he might have been ‘perhaps encouraged to frame
the other part of Politick Vertues in his person, after that he came to
be King.’ He farther identifies his hero as the son of the Lady
Igraine, and the infant charge of Merlin, and his description of the
Redcross Knight and his claim to the adventure of Una, must forcibly
recall Malory’s story of Beaumains and the lady Linet, notwithstanding
the differences between the two. Beyond this, there is the evidence of
general literary probability. Spenser’s ideals of knighthood and
knight-errantry are so much in harmony with those of Malory, while they
rise into a far higher moral life, that it does not seem unreasonable
to suppose a relation between the two, and to believe that we owe to
Malory the transmission from the earlier romances of all that was worth
preserving in these to the generation which could give birth to the
_Faerie Queene_.

And while Spenser strove to carry forward the national life of his
countrymen by presenting the noblest ideals of chivalry under the old
forms of romance, Shakespeare was embodying them in the new forms
destined thenceforth to take the place of the old, and showing us in a
Ferdinand, a Prince Henry, or a Hamlet, the ideals of the _Gentleman_,
while the Sydneys and the Raleighs were presenting the counterpart in
actual life. Ben Jonson, too, though he makes fun of ‘the whole sum of
Errant Knighthood’ in his _Execration upon Vulcan_, elsewhere describes
the old training of pages and squires in chivalry, as ‘the noblest way
of breeding up our youth in all the blazon of a gentleman.’

Of Milton’s debt to Malory there is no less probability. He no doubt
knew the other legends of Arthur, but Malory’s book must surely have
had some part in taking that hold on his imagination, and exercising
that influence in the formation of his character and life, of which he
himself tells us. In his poem addressed to Giovanni Battista Manso,
Marquis of Villa, the friend of Tasso, and of himself when he visited
Naples, he says:—

   ‘O mihi si mea sors talem concedat amicum;
   Phoebaeos decorasse viros qui tam bene nôrit,
   Si quando indigenas revocabo in carmina reges,
   Arturumque etiam sub terris bella moventem;
   Aut dicam invictae sociali foedere mensae
   Magnanimos Heroas, et (O modo spiritus adsit)
   Frangam Saxonicas Britonem sub Marte phalanges.’—_Mansus_ 78[16].

The like hope and purpose of writing an Epic poem of British story is
to be found in the _Epitaphium Damonis_. And in his defence of his life
in the ‘Apology for Smectymnuus,’ he says:—

‘Next, (for hear me out now, readers), that I may tell ye whither my
younger feet wandered; I betook me among those lofty fables and
romances, which recount in solemn cantos the deeds of knighthood
founded by our victorious kings, and from thence had in renown over all
christendom. There I read it in the oath of every knight, that he
should defend to the expence of his best blood, or of his life, if it
so befel him, the honour and chastity of virgin or matron; from whence
even then I learned what a noble virtue chastity sure must be, to the
defence of which so many worthies, by such a dear adventure of
themselves, had sworn; and if I found in the story afterward, any of
them, by word or deed breaking that oath, I judged it the same fault of
the poet, as that which is attributed to Homer, to have written
indecent things of the gods; only this my mind gave me, that every free
and gentle spirit, without that oath, ought to be born a knight, nor
needed to expect the gilt spur, or the laying of a sword upon his
shoulder to stir him up both by his counsel and his arms, to secure and
protect the weakness of any attempted chastity. So that even these
books, which to many others have been the fuel of wantonness and loose
living; I cannot think how, unless by divine indulgence, proved to me
so many incitements, as you have heard, to the love and steadfast
observation of virtue.’

In a word, not the fears of Ascham but the hopes of Caxton were now
fulfilled in Milton’s study of the old romances.

And though it were idle and mistaken to wish that the poet had finally
chosen the Death of Arthur rather than Paradise Lost, the lovers of the
story of the Round Table may be forgiven if they wish it were possible
to call up him who left untold that story as it would have been seen in
the light of his genius.

Such a transformation has, indeed, been effected for us by Lord
Tennyson in his _Idylls of the King_. He who has been familiar with the
old Morte Arthur from his boyhood, must consent to let the poet
transport him into a quite new region of the imagination, and must in a
manner and for the time forget the old before he can read the _Idylls
of the King_ without a somewhat sad feeling that these are not the old
knights whom he has always known. I have already likened Malory’s work
to a mediæval castle, and, if I may be allowed to vary my parable a
little, I would say this: There are some of us who in their childhood
lived in, or can at least remember, some old house, with its tower and
turret stairs, its hall with the screen, and the minstrel’s gallery,
and the armour where it was hung up by him who last wore it: the
panelled chambers, the lady’s bower, and the chapel, and all the quaint
rambling passages and steps which lead from one to another of these.
And when in after years he comes to this same house, and finds that it
has all been remodelled, enlarged, furnished and beautified to meet the
needs and the tastes of modern life, he feels that this is not the very
home of his childhood, and that a glory has departed from the scenes he
once knew: and yet, if the changes have been made with true judgment,
and only with a rightful recognition of the claim that the modern life
should have full scope for itself while preserving all that was
possible of the old, though not letting itself be sacrificed or even
cramped and limited, for its sake: if he is thus reasonable, he will
acknowledge that it was well that the old order should yield place to
the new, or at least make room for it at its side. And such are the
thoughts and sentiments with which the lover of the old Morte Arthur
will, if he be also a student of the growth of our national character
and life, read the new _Idylls of the King_.


                           SIR THOMAS MALORY.

Of Sir Thomas Malory himself we know nothing more than can be inferred
by probable conjecture from his book. His name occurs in it three
times, and with the three variations of Malorye, Malory, and Maleore.
These variations are not singular, for the spelling of proper as well
as of common names was very much at the fancy of the writer; and we
know that Shakespeare, Marvell, and Pym, wrote their own names in
various forms. Sir Thomas Malory tells us that his book was ended in
the ninth year of the reign of Edward IV, or 1470 A.D.; and at that
time there was an old and important Yorkshire family of the name at
Hutton Coniers and High Studley, near Ripon; for Leland, early in the
next century, speaks of the ancestors of Malory[17], and in 1427 and
1472 the death or burial of two persons of the same name is recorded at
Ripon[18]. Andrew Mallorie of Middlesex _armiger_ is among the
contributors to the funds for defence against the Spanish Armada
(1588)[19]. At the beginning of the seventeenth century we find Sir
John Mallory of Studley, and son of Sir William Mallory, M.P. for
Thirsk and Ripon, and a subscriber to the second Virginia Charter[20]:
in 1622 Burton speaks of the pedigree, arms, and lands of Sir Thomas
Malory in Kirby-Malory, Winwick, Newbould, and Swinford in
Leicestershire[21]; and about the same time two scholars of the name
were elected to Winchester College[22]; and reasonable conjecture may
connect our author with these Malorys, although no links of actual
pedigree have been found.

The _Biographia Britannica_ (article ‘Caxton’) says:—

‘If this Sir Thomas Malory was a Welshman, as Leland and others after
him assert, he was probably a Welsh Priest; as appears not only by the
legendary vein which runs through all the stories he has thus extracted
and wove together, but by his conclusion of the work itself, in these
words: “Pray for me, whyle I am on lyve, that God sende me good
delyveraunce; and when I am deed, I praye you all, praye for my soule;
for this booke was ended the 9th yeer of the reygne of Kyng Edward the
Fourth, by Syr Thomas Maleore, Knyght, as Jesu helpe him for his grete
myght, as he is the _servaunte_ of Jesu, bothe day and nyght.”’

But no references are given as to where this supposed assertion by
‘Leland and others’ is to be found; in fact, it is not to be found in
any of Leland’s writings. And the origin of the statement remained an
unexplained puzzle, until Dr. Sommer has now apparently discovered the
key to it in a passage which he quotes from Bale’s _Illustrium Maioris
Britanniæ Scriptorum_, &c., first edition, folio 208. In this passage,
Bale, after praising Thomas Mailorius and his history of King Arthur,
goes on to say, ‘_Est Mailoria in finibus Cambriæ regio_,’ on the
authority of Leland[23]. I have not myself verified these references,
but I infer from what Dr. Sommer tells us, that Bale, perhaps writing
from an imperfect recollection, supposed that he had the authority of
Leland for a connection between Mailorius, and the Welsh place of the
like name: and then the writer of the _Biographia Britannica_, still
more inaccurately, converted the possible suggestion of Bale into the
direct statement that Leland had asserted Malory to be a Welshman,
while Bale himself is referred to as ‘the others.’ Nor is there any
reason to suppose from Malory’s own book that he was a Welshman. Though
Caxton tells us that there were books in Welsh about Arthur and his
Knights, Malory never quotes any but the French and English books. He
shows no acquaintance with Welsh legends or traditions, unless it be
with those in Geoffrey of Monmouth, who wrote in Latin, nor of any
local knowledge of Welsh places. Then as to the fanciful and
inconsequent conjecture that he was a priest, he himself tells us that
he was a knight, and thus implies that he was not a priest, while the
words that ‘he is the servant of Jesu by day and by night,’ which
suggested the notion that he was a priest, are evidently put into that
form in order to give a rhythmical ending to the book. Nor did the
priest’s usual title of ‘Sir’ make him a knight. What we may say of Sir
Thomas Malory is that he was probably of an old English family: that he
was a knight both in rank and in temper and spirit, and a lover alike
of the gentle and the soldierly virtues of knighthood. He was a man of
genius, and a devout Christian: he wrote for gentlewomen as well as
gentlemen, believing that they would read his book ‘from the beginning
to the ending,’ and that it would call forth in them a sympathy which
would properly express itself in prayers for the pious writer.


                            WILLIAM CAXTON.

Of William Caxton we know more. A native of Kent, he became an
apprentice, freeman, and livery man of the London Guild of Mercers, and
was for many years resident in the English factory at Bruges, which was
under their chief authority, though it represented and controlled all
English trading interests in the Low Countries. Such factories were the
usual, and indeed essential means of carrying on trade with foreign
nations in the Middle Ages. Thus charters were granted by Henry IV and
his successors to ‘Merchant Adventurers’ trading in Flanders, which, in
giving them a corporate character, enabled them to treat with the
authorities of the country more effectually than would have been
possible to private individuals, and also to exercise needful control
over, and give protection to, their own countrymen in the place. Though
these Merchant Adventurers included many of the City Guilds, the
majority were Mercers, and the factory at Bruges, while called ‘the
English Nation,’ and its house ‘the English House,’ was practically
under the management of the London Mercers’ Guild. Mr. Blades has given
an engraving from _Flandria Illustrata_ of the ‘Domus Anglorum’ at
Bruges as it was in Caxton’s time; and he thus describes the mode of
life of its inhabitants:—

  ‘A great similarity prevailed in the internal management of all
  foreign guilds, arising from the fact that foreigners were regarded
  by the natives with jealousy and suspicion. The laws which governed
  the Esterlings in London, who lived in a strongly-built enclosure,
  called the Steel Yard, the site of which is now occupied by the
  City station of the South Eastern Railway Company, were much the
  same as those under which the English Nation lived in Bruges and
  other cities. The foreign merchant had, in Caxton’s time, to brave
  a large amount of popular dislike, and to put up with great
  restraints on his liberty. Not only did he trade under harassing
  restrictions, but he resigned all hopes of domestic ties and family
  life. As in a monastery, each member had his own dormitory, whilst
  at meal-times there was a common table. Marriage was out of the
  question, and concubinage was followed by expulsion. Every member
  was bound to sleep in the house, and to be in-doors by a fixed time
  in the evening, and for the sake of good order no woman of any
  description was allowed within the walls[24].’

To this house of the English in Bruges Caxton went to live in the year
1441, being then probably about twenty years of age. In 1462 he was
acting as ‘Governor of the English Nation in the Low Countries,’ and
certainly in full possession of that office and title two or three
years later. And in 1465 he was appointed by Edward IV one of two
envoys with the title of Ambassadors, to negociate a renewal of the
existing treaty of trade with the Duke of Burgundy. We do not know at
what time he began to combine his literary studies or his acquaintance
with the new art of printing with the prosecution of his official
duties: but he tells us that in 1471, at the request of Margaret,
sister of Edward IV and wife of the Duke of Burgundy, he completed his
translation of the _Recuyell of the Histories of Troye_ which he had
begun, but laid aside unfinished some time before. And then, in order
to meet the desire of many friends to have copies of this translation,
he printed such copies for their use.

He was now in the service of Margaret, and married; and about the year
1476, after thirty-five years’ residence abroad, he returned to
England, there to introduce the Printing Press, and to make himself
famous to all ages by so doing. Caxton was not only a printer, but a
translator, an editor, and the publisher of the books which he printed
in unfailing succession, during the remaining fifteen years of his
life. He was the first of that honourable order of publishers who from
his day to our own still share with authors the gratitude of men for
that inestimable boon, the Printed Book. There are still publishers
among us who, like Caxton, are themselves authors and editors of no
unimportant ability: and not only to them, but also to those who aspire
only to be the publishers of other men’s books, do we owe—what even
the art of printing could have done little towards giving us—that
broad spreading[25] of knowledge which has become to us like the common
light of day in which we live and move, only half conscious of its
blessings. Mr. Blades justly defends Caxton against Gibbon’s censure of
him because he did not print the ancient classics. He did far better.
He printed and published translations from those classics for men who
could not read the originals; and it was surely no loss, but the
greatest gain, to Englishmen that he enabled them to read Chaucer’s
_Canterbury Tales_ and the _Polychronicon of English History_ (which
latter he carried down to his own time) rather than if he had printed
Virgil and Livy in the original Latin. He laid the foundations of
popular English literature in the best possible way. He taught his
countrymen to read, by giving them a large and judiciously selected
succession, year by year, of books which they could and would read. He
gave them books of piety and devotion, poetry and history, of chivalry
and romance, of morals and manners, including his own translations of
Cicero’s _Old Age and Friendship_; of proverbs, fables, and classical
legends; of statutes of the realm; and the _Game of Chess_, an allegory
of civil government. We cannot read down the list of ninety-nine books,
including several second and third editions, which Caxton printed,
without wonder and respect for the genius and the judgment of the man
whose choice of subjects was so wide, so high-minded, moral, religious,
and generous, and at the same time so popular. He was indeed, in all
senses, the first of English publishers. He died in 1491, occupied (as
his chief workman and successor, Wynkyn de Worde, tells us) on the last
day of his life in finishing his translation of the _Lives of the
Fathers_ from the French. Mr. Blades conjectures, with apparent
probability, that his wife was the Mawde Caxton whose burial is
recorded in the parish books of St. Margaret’s in 1489, and he adds:—

‘If so, it will explain, in a most interesting manner, the reason why
he in that year suspended printing the _Fayts of Arms_ until he had
finished a new undertaking, _The Arte and Crafte to Die Well_.’

The operation of the silent but never-failing laws which govern the
growth and progress of our national life, seems to be sustained and
directed in certain epochs of our history by great men who have yet
themselves been made what they are by those very laws. Among such laws
are the ideals of chivalry in its twofold aspect of self-sacrifice and
of self-assertion. And not least among the men who have given to the
spirit of chivalry its special English forms in which the sense of duty
and zeal in the redress of wrongs are characteristic, stand Sir Thomas
Malory and William Caxton.


                §2. THE TEXT, AND ITS SEVERAL EDITIONS.

The first edition of Le Morte Darthur was printed by Caxton at
Westminster in 1485, as he tells us in the colophon. Two copies only
are known: they are folio, black letter, with wide margin, and among
the finest specimens of Caxton’s printing. One belongs to Mrs. Abby E.
Pope, of Brooklyn, United States, by whom it was bought for £1950 at
the sale of the Osterley library in 1885[26]; and the other to Earl
Spencer. The Osterley copy, which is perfect, has the autograph
‘Oxford’ on the first leaf; it was sold with the Harleian Library to
Osborne the bookseller, and apparently bought of him for £5 5_s._ by
Bryan Fairfax, who sold his library to Mr. Child, maternal ancestor of
the Earl of Jersey[27]. The Althorp copy, which was bought at Mr.
Lloyd’s sale in 1816 for £320, had eleven leaves deficient; but these
were supplied by Mr. Whittaker in fac-simile from the Osterley copy
with remarkable skill[28], though on collation with the original I have
found many mistakes. This edition, like all Caxton’s books but one, has
no title-page; the Prohem or Preface begins at the top of the first
page[29].

The two next editions of Morte Arthur were printed by Wynkyn de Worde,
the chief workman and successor of Caxton, in 1498 and 1529. Only one
copy of each is known. That of 1498 is in the Althorp Library: it wants
some pages, but contains the Preface, which is a reprint of that of
Caxton, though it here follows instead of preceding the Table of
Contents. This edition, which has numerous woodcuts, is not an exact
reprint of Caxton’s; there are differences of spelling and occasionally
of a word; and the passage in the last chapter but one, beginning ‘Oh
ye mighty and pompous lords,’ and ending with ‘turn again to my
matter,’ which is not in Caxton’s edition, appears here, as in all
later editions[30]. The edition of 1529 is in the British Museum, and
wants the Title, Preface, and part of the Table of Contents.

In 1557 the book was reprinted by William Copland, with the title of
‘The story of the most noble and worthy kynge Arthur, the whiche was
one of the worthyes chrysten, and also of his noble and valiaūte
knyghtes of the rounde Table. Newly imprynted and corrected mccccclvij.
¶ Imprynted at London by Wyllyam Copland.’ And on the title-page, above
the last line, is a woodcut of St. George and the Dragon, of which that
on the title-page of Southey’s edition is a bad copy. A copy of this
edition is in the British Museum, with a note that this is the only one
with a title which the annotator has seen.

A folio and a quarto edition were published by Thomas East, without
date, but probably about 1585, the former of which is in the British
Museum.

The next, and last black-letter, edition is that of William Stansby, in
1634, which has been reprinted by Mr. Wright, and which contains the
woodcut of the Round Table with Arthur in the middle and his knights
around, a copy of which is familiar to many of us in one of the small
editions of 1816. From the fact of an omission in this edition which
exactly corresponds with a complete leaf in East’s folio, Mr. Wright
concludes that the one was printed from the other. Each succeeding
edition departs more than the previous one from the original of Caxton;
but if we compare this of 1634 with Caxton’s, we find the variations
almost infinite. Besides remodelling the preface, dividing the book
into three parts, and modernising the spelling and many of the words,
there are a number of more or less considerable variations and
additions, of which Mr. Wright has given some of the more important in
his notes, but which I estimate at above twenty thousand in the whole;
and which have probably arisen in the minor instances from the printer
reading a sentence and then printing it from recollection, without
farther reference to his ‘copy,’ but in the others from a desire to
improve the original simplicity by what the editor calls ‘a more
eloquent and ornated style and phrase.’

No new edition seems to have been published till 1816, when two
independent editions appeared, one in two, and the other in three 24mo
volumes. Both are modernised for popular use, and are probably the
volumes through which most of my own generation made their first
acquaintance with King Arthur and his knights; but neither has any
merit as to its editing.

In 1817 Messrs. Longmans and Co. published an edition in two volumes
quarto, with an introduction and notes by Southey, who says,’The
present edition is a reprint with scrupulous exactness from the first
edition by Caxton, in Earl Spencer’s library[31].’ As it appears from a
note[32] that he had nothing to do with the superintendence of the
press, which was undertaken by Mr. Upcott, he was probably unaware that
eleven leaves were, as I have mentioned above, then wanting in the copy
from which this reprint was made. These had not then been restored in
fac-simile; for Earl Spencer’s copy contains a note, signed by Messrs.
Longmans and dated 1816, which gives a list of the pages then wanting;
and, in fact, the substitutes for them which actually appear in
Southey’s edition differ widely from the restored, or the original,
text. Thus in chapter xii. of the last book, besides the interpolation
of the long passage ‘O ye myghty and pompous lordes,’ &c., which is not
in Caxton, there are in the first eleven lines thirty-five variations
of spelling and punctuation, besides the introduction of the words ‘but
continually mourned un—’ and ‘needfully as nature required,’ which are
not in Caxton, and the change of Caxton’s ‘on the tombe of kyng Arthur
& quene Guenever’ into ‘on kynge Arthur’s & quene Gwenever’s tombe.’
And thus throughout the pages in question—seventeen in number[33]—the
spelling constantly, and words and even sentences occasionally, differ
from the real text of Caxton[34].

When at page 113 of volume i. the editor introduces the words ‘certayne
cause’ to complete the sense, he is careful to call attention, in a
foot-note, to the fact that these words are not in the original, but
taken from the ‘second edition,’ by which I presume he means that of
1498. But when he subsequently supplies seventeen pages which were also
not in his original, he gives no hint of the fact; and his reticence
was so successful that for fifty years the interpolations passed as
genuine among learned critics, who quoted from them passages wholly
spurious as Caxton’s genuine text. It was only in 1867 that, in
collating Earl Spencer’s copy with the edition of Southey, I discovered
that these passages—to which my attention was directed by Messrs.
Longman’s note above mentioned—did not correspond with Caxton’s text,
as represented by Whittaker’s restorations: and on afterwards collating
them with the Osterley text itself I found the like result. It remained
to trace them to their real sources. This was not so easy as might be
supposed, for though it was evident that Mr. Upcott must have had
recourse to one or other of the existing editions, the interpolated
passages in fact agree exactly with none of them. But a careful
collation of the last four chapters of the book (which include more
than half the interpolations, and may be taken as a fair specimen of
the whole) with the old texts, leaves no doubt that, with the exception
of the first thirty-six lines of chapter x, they were taken, like the
two words mentioned above, from the first edition of Wynkyn de Worde,
but with the spelling occasionally altered, and here and there a small
word put in, left out, or changed. These alterations throw an ingenious
disguise over the whole; but if we penetrate through this we find that
in these four chapters there are only thirteen words differing from
those in Wynkyn de Worde’s first edition, and these unimportant; while
in his second edition, and in those of Copland and East, the variations
from Mr. Upcott’s text of the same chapters are respectively
fifty-seven, fifty-six, and fifty in number, and many of them important
in kind: and if we go to the edition of 1634 we find the differences
still greater, except as to those thirty-six lines, which are supplied
from this edition, as they were wanting in the other copy. But the
colophon, or concluding paragraph of the book, Mr. Upcott could not
take from any of the editions which followed that of Caxton; for though
Wynkyn de Worde might, and in fact did, supply at least one or two of
the first words, the latter part of his colophon relates to his own
edition, and departs widely from that of Caxton, while those in the
later editions are still more unlike; and yet Mr. Upcott’s colophon is
a tolerable, though not an exact, representation of that of Caxton. But
his other materials can be ascertained beyond a doubt. They are, the
colophon as given by Ames, and repeated by Dibdin in a modernised and
otherwise inexact form[35], and that which first appeared in the
Catalogue of the Harleian Library[36], and was thence copied in the
article on Caxton in the _Biographia Britannica_, and also in Herbert’s
Additions to Ames. The colophons of Ames and of the Harleian Catalogue
have important variations from each other and from that of Caxton; and
as Mr. Upcott adopts some portions of each which are not found either
in the other, or in Caxton, we see the manner in which the paragraph in
question was compounded. Each stone of the ingeniously fitted mosaic
may be referred to the place from which it was taken. We cannot indeed
choose positively between Ames and Dibdin, or among the Harleian
Catalogue, the Biographia, and Herbert; but as the two paragraphs which
are required in addition to that of Wynkyn de Worde are both found in
Herbert’s Ames, it seems most probable that Mr. Upcott had recourse to
that work, though another combination would have served the purpose
equally well. That the interpolated passages are not taken from the
Osterley Caxton itself, even in the roughest and most careless manner,
is quite evident[37].

In 1858 and 1866 Mr. Wright published successive editions reprinted
from that of 1634. His learned introduction and notes are of
considerable interest; but nothing can justify the reprinting the most
corrupt of all the old editions when the first and best was within
reach, though perhaps at greater cost.

In 1868 was published the first edition of the present volume, with the
purpose of giving the original text in a form available for ordinary
readers, and especially for boys, from whom the chief demand for this
book will always come. It is a reprint of the original Caxton with the
spelling modernised, and those few words which are unintelligibly
obsolete replaced by others which, though not necessarily unknown to
Caxton, are still in use, yet with all old forms retained which do not
interfere with this requirement of being readable. For when, as indeed
is oftenest the case, the context makes even an obsolete phrase
probably, if not precisely, known, I have left it in the text, and
given its meaning in the Glossary, in which I have chiefly followed
Roquefort, Halliwell, and Wright. In the Glossary I have also added a
few geographical notes for those readers who may care for them. And for
the like reason—of making the book readable—such phrases or passages
as are not in accordance with modern manners have been also omitted or
replaced by others which either actually occur or might have occurred
in Caxton’s text elsewhere. I say manners, not morals, because I do not
profess to have remedied the moral defects of the book which I have
already spoken of. Lord Tennyson has shown us how we may deal best with
this matter, in so far as Sir Thomas Malory has himself failed to treat
it rightly; and I do not believe that when we have excluded what is
offensive to modern manners there will be found anything practically
injurious to the morals of English boys, for whom I have chiefly
undertaken this work, while there is much of moral worth which I know
not where they can learn so well as from the ideals of magnanimity,
courage, courtesy, reverence for women, gentleness, self-sacrifice,
chastity, and other manly virtues, exhibited in these pages.

The omissions, not many, nor in any sense constituting an abridgment of
the original, were thought desirable to fit the book for popular
reading. And if any one blames the other departures from the exact form
of that original, I would ask him to judge from the specimens of the
old type and spelling which I have given at the end of each book, and
of the volume, whether a literal and verbal reproduction of the whole
would not be simply unreadable except by students of old English[38].
And if some departure from the original was necessary, it was
reasonable to carry it so far as, though no farther than, my purpose
required. And, subject to these conditions, the present volume is in
fact a more accurate reproduction of Caxton’s text than any other
except those of Southey and Dr. Sommer. I have, indeed, made use of
Southey’s text for this edition, having satisfied myself by occasional
collation with the Althorp and Osterley Caxtons that it is a
sufficiently accurate reprint excepting as to the passages above
mentioned; and these have been taken by me from the original in the way
I have said.

In 1862, 1868, 1871, 1880, abridgments of Malory’s book were edited by
J. T. King, E. Conybeare, B. M. Ranking, and S. Lanier, respectively.
And in 1886 Mr. Ernest Rhys edited a reprint of fourteen of the
twenty-one books, from the version of Mr. Wright, with further
modernisations and an introduction.

In 1889, 1890, and 1891, Dr. H. Oskar Sommer edited, and Mr. Nutt
published, in three volumes, what will henceforth be the best, if not
quite the best possible, edition of Caxton’s original text, for the
scholar and the student. It would be hard to over-rate the industry,
the learning, and the munificent public spirit of these worthy
representatives of Sir Thomas Malory and William Caxton. The first
volume gives the text of the Althorp copy, page for page, line for
line, word for word, and letter for letter, with no change but that of
Roman for black letter type. It is, indeed, too scrupulously exact, for
it reproduces the mistakes in Whittaker’s fac-simile pages which now
form part of the Althorp copy, only correcting these by collations with
the Osterley original, given in the second volume. Whittaker has no
more authority than any other mere copyist; and the direct correction
of his mistakes would have made Dr. Sommer’s reprint a perfect
representation of the original while making a reprint of the collations
unnecessary. Besides these collations, and others of the second edition
of Wynkyn de Worde with the text of Caxton, Dr. Sommer’s second volume
contains a complete bibliography of the original text and all its after
editions; an Index of names of persons and places; a Glossary, or
indeed dictionary, of words, whether obsolete or still in use; and an
Essay on the language of the book.

In the third volume, after a graceful essay by Mr. Andrew Lang on the
literary merits of Malory, Dr. Sommer gives us a series—an original
and very important series—of ‘Studies on the Sources’; and he prints
from MSS. in the British Museum the only two of those ‘sources’ which
had not been so made accessible already, either by ancient or modern
editors. Into this hitherto chaotic mass of mediæval romances, French
and English, prose or verse, Dr. Sommer has now first brought light and
order. With an almost inconceivable amount of thoughtful and learned
labour, he has collated the various manuscripts with the printed
editions and with Malory’s book, in a detail which, great as it is,
represents, as he tells us, a still more minute investigation of which
he only gives the main results. With the exception of the story of
Beaumains, which is an enlarged narration of that of La Cote Male
Taile, and subject to the changes made by Malory’s own genius, all the
adventures and incidents of Malory’s Morte Darthur are now shown to be
found in one or more of these ‘sources,’ often translated literally
from French, or transferred word for word from the English, yet still
oftener so compressed and fused into a new shape that the finished work
is but a tenth of the bulk of the original matter. Dr. Sommer arranges
these sources into the four groups of the Merlin, the Lancelot, the
Tristan, and the Prophecies of Merlin, and shows the relations of each
group to the corresponding portions of Malory. He thinks, with M.
Gaston Paris, that Malory had a now lost form of the ‘Lancelot,’
comparable to the ‘Suite de Merlin’ discovered only fifteen years
since; and indeed believes that he has found some pages of this missing
‘Lancelot’ imbedded in a ‘Tristan’ MS. in the British Museum. But the
work of this learned critic must be studied in itself, not in a
summary. Of the light which these investigations throw upon the genius
of Malory, and on the character of his art, I have already spoken.

There is no title-page, as I have already mentioned, to the Caxton,
that which is given by several bibliographers being only an extract,
not very critically selected, from Caxton’s preface. But it is stated
in Caxton’s colophon that the book was ‘entytled le morte Darthur,’ and
he explains that it was so ‘entitled’ notwithstanding it treated of
Arthur’s birth, life, and acts as well as death, and also of the
adventures of his knights of the Round Table. And the concluding words
of Malory, ‘Here is the end of the death of Arthur,’ taken with their
context, point to the same title. It was indeed before Malory’s time,
and has been ever since, the traditional title of this story. We have
Mort Artus and Morte Arthure in the earlier times; Ascham, in Henry
VIII’s reign, calls this book La Morte d’Arthure; Tyrwhitt, Mort
d’Arthur; and Walter Scott and Southey, Morte Arthur, which last
probably many of us are familiar with as the old name which we heard
from our own fathers.


                       §3. AN ESSAY ON CHIVALRY.

St. Augustine replied to the enquiry, What is time? by saying, ‘I know
when you do not ask me:’ and a like answer suggests itself to us if we
try to find an adequate reply to the question, What is Chivalry? For
chivalry is one of those words, like love, duty, patriotism, loyalty,
which make us feel their meaning, and the reality of what they mean,
though their ideal and comprehensive character hinders us from readily
putting it into the forms of a definition. When the alchemist in the
Eastern tale compounds, with all the resources of his art, the
universal solvent before the expectant eyes of his pupil, the pupil,
seeing the mysterious fluid lie quietly in the crucible, exclaims, with
not unreasonable doubt, ‘O Sage, be not deceived: how can that which
dissolves all things be itself contained in a ladle?’ And how shall
chivalry, sparkling and flashing everywhere as it runs through that
great complicated tissue of human life which we call modern
civilisation,—how shall chivalry, the humaniser of society, be brought
within the limits of a definition?

Chivalry, indeed, exists for us in spirit rather than in outward and
visible form. It no longer comes to us with the outward symbols of
war-horse, and armour, and noble birth, and strength of arm, and
high-flown protestations of love and gallantry; yet we never fail to
know and feel its presence, silent and unobtrusive as it now is: we
recognise the lady and the gentleman not less surely now than they did
in old times; and we acknowledge their rights and their power over us
now no less than then. And if the spirit of chivalry does live among us
still, we may read its past history by its present light, and say in
Spenser’s words,—

                     ‘By infusion sweete
           Of thine own spirit which doth in me survive,
           I follow still the footing of thy feete,
           That with thy meaning so I may the rather meete.’

Let us then look back to those times when chivalry had an outward,
visible form, and was embodied in its own proper institutions, with
orders, and statutes, and courts of its own jurisdiction, and rituals,
and customs, like those of other great social institutions and members
of the body politic.

The deluge of the Teutonic nations which broke up the old Roman
civilisation threatened for some centuries to overwhelm Europe with
mere barbarism. We know now that the germs of a far higher and better
civilisation were everywhere ready to burst into life as soon as the
fury of that deluge had spent itself; but for a long period the evil
seemed mightier than the good. From time to time the clear head, the
noble heart and conscience, and the strong arm of an Alfred, a
Charlemagne, or an Otho, might bring a temporary calm and order into
the storm; but when the personal influences of such great men were
withdrawn, society relapsed again and again into ever new anarchy, and
war—at once the effect and the cause of anarchy—savage, cruel war
became the business of all men throughout Europe. The selfish, the
rapacious, and the unscrupulous fought for power, and plunder, and love
of fighting; and while violence could only be resisted by violence, and
each man had to defend himself, his family, and his possessions as best
he could, with no effectual aid from law and government, there was a
constant tendency to increasing barbarism and brutish, or worse than
brutish, instead of human, existence.

But man differs from the brutes in this, that while he can fall lower
than they, he can also rise higher, and that even the passions and the
impulses which he has in common with them may be subdued, and refined,
and modified, till they become the servants and instruments of his
human life, and the means by which all that is properly spiritual in
his being may be reflected and symbolised upon this earth in outward,
visible form. The nobler races of men—the historical races, as they
have been called—constantly show this aptitude for contending with
these downward tendencies of our nature, and for advancing, through the
conquest of them, to new and higher life.

And so it was in the Middle Ages. The Church was, no doubt, the great
civiliser of the nations: still, whatever aid the State derived from
the Church, it then, no less than now, had a position and processes of
its own, by which it did its own work of civilisation too. And its
first great work for controlling the universal anarchy of which I have
spoken was the extension and firm establishment of that
half-patriarchal, half-military organisation which we call the Feudal
System. Every man who was not rich and powerful enough to be a lord
became—willingly or unwillingly—a vassal; and all men, from the king
downwards, were bound to each other for reciprocal service and
protection—a service and protection partly military, but partly
patriarchal, since they were rendered not by men strangers to each
other except for what Mr. Carlyle calls ‘the nexus of cash payment,’
but united by ties of family, and neighbourhood, and clanship, and by
the interests and sympathies that grow out of these. But the protector
of his own vassals easily became the invader of the rights and ravager
of the possessions of his neighbour and his vassals; and so the old
evils of anarchy and violence grew afresh out of the remedy which had
been devised to meet them. The ‘monarchies sank into impotence; petty,
lawless tyrants trampled all social order under foot,’ says a learned
historian of this period, ‘and all attempts after scientific
instruction and artistic pleasures were as effectually crushed by this
state of general insecurity as the external well-being and material
life of the people. This was a dark and stormy period for Europe,
merciless, arbitrary, and violent. It is a sign of the prevailing
feeling of misery and hopelessness that, when the first thousand years
of our æra were drawing to their close, the people in every country in
Europe looked with certainty for the destruction of the world. Some
squandered their wealth in riotous living, others bestowed it for the
good of their souls on churches and convents; weeping multitudes lay
day and night around the altars; some looked forward with dread, but
most with secret hope, towards the burning of the earth and the falling
in of heaven. Their actual condition was so miserable that the idea of
destruction was relief, spite of all its horrors[39].’

The palliatives with which men tried to meet the evils of the times
indicate the greatness of the evils, but also the moral feeling which
was the promise of better things. Such was the so-called ‘Peace of the
King,’ by which private wars were not to be entered on till forty days
after the committal of the alleged crime which was to be avenged; and
the ‘Truce of God,’ by which all these acts of private hostility were
suspended from Thursday to Monday in each week. And at the Council of
Cleremont, held by Urban II in November, 1095, a severe censure was
pronounced against the licence of private war; the Truce of God was
confirmed; women and priests were placed under the safeguard of the
Church; and a protection of three years was extended to husbandmen and
merchants, the defenceless victims of military rapine. We are reminded
of the law of Moses, which provided Cities of Refuge for the man who
accidentally and without malice killed his neighbour, but who could not
look for protection from the vengeance of the family of the slain man
except within those special safeguards. In each case there is the same
unreasoning rage of the half-civilised man brought face to face with
the demands of religion and civil law: and each is obliged to yield
something to the other till the better cause has had time to prepare
and strengthen itself for a more complete triumph.

Chivalry, then, was the offspring of the same spirit which dictated the
Peace of the King, the Truce of God, and the decrees of the Council of
Cleremont. Chivalry has another name—Knighthood—and the two are
wanted to express all that we mean by either[40]. The chevalier was the
soldier who rode the war-horse: he whose birth entitled him, and whose
wealth gave him the means, to ride at the head of his vassals and
retainers to the war: all ideas of lordship, and mastery, and outward
dignity and power, are here embodied before us. But this ‘chevalier,’
this ‘ritter,’ or rider of the war-horse, was also to be a ‘knecht,’ or
servant: ‘He that will be chief among you, let him be your servant.’
The knight was to obey, no less than to command; he was to exert his
strength and power, not for selfish ends, but in the service of others;
and especially in the service of the poor, the weak, and the oppressed,
who could not help or defend themselves. It was, indeed, no new
discovery in the world, that such are the duties of him who possesses
power, and above all the power of the sword; and they who have tried to
trace the origin of chivalry to some particular place and time have had
to go to the Germans of Tacitus, to the Crusaders, to the Saracens, to
the Romans, the Greeks, the Trojans, the Hebrews, only to come to the
conclusion that chivalry belongs in its spirit to man as man; though
the form in which that spirit was clothed in Europe in the Middle Ages
has an individuality of which some of the sources may be ascertained,
and though from that time forward its power has been established, and
extended, in a manner, and with a greatness unknown to the ancients.

In those days society was essentially military. In this our own time
the main offices, interests, and occupations of the great body politic
are non-military, and the army is but a small portion of the nation,
specially trained for a minor, though indispensable, function therein.
Peace, for its own sake, and for the sake of the objects which can only
be obtained by the arts and with the opportunities of peace, is the end
and aim of every civilised nation now; and war is only an occasional
means to secure that end. But in the Middle Ages war was, or seemed to
be, the chief end of life to the greater part of every nation, and
especially to all who possessed rank, and wealth, and power, and were
in fact the leaders of the nation. And therefore chivalry, the spirit
which was to humanise those warriors, needed to be warlike too, and
thus to sympathise with those to whom it addressed itself.

Much, too, of its special form it no doubt owed to that wonderful race
of heroes, the Normans. The romantic love of adventure; the religious
and the martial enthusiasm; the desire to revenge injuries, and to win
wealth and power; the delight in arms and horses, in the luxury of
dress, and in the exercises of hunting and hawking; the eloquence and
sagacity in council; the patience with which when need was they could
endure the inclemency of every climate, and the toil and abstinence of
a military life; and the gentleness, the affability and the gallantry,
which were the characteristics of the Norman race; these must have been
more or less impressed on men’s minds wherever the Norman sway or
influence extended, from England to Sicily, and must have reproduced
something of themselves in the social habits and manners of the times.
When we read the description of William of the Iron Arm, the first
Norman count of Apulia, so strong, so brave, so affable, so generous,
and so sage above other men—a lion in battle, a lamb in society, and
an angel in council—we are reminded of the heroes of chivalry in the
days of its greatest refinement, the Black Prince, Sir John Chandos,
and Sir Walter of Manny, as they still live in the pages of Froissart;
or their counterparts in romance, King Arthur, Sir Launcelot, Amadis of
Gaul, or Palmerin of England.

The Normans, the latest of the Northern races who descended, full of
wild life, from their mountains and forests, upon the comparatively
civilised plains of Europe, may have brought a newer and fresher
feeling for those old manners and customs which Tacitus describes as
characterising the Germans of his time, and which are with so much
probability connected with the chivalry of the Middle Ages. In ancient
Germany, and in Scandinavia, it was the custom for each youth, when he
was of an age to bear arms, to be presented with a sword, a shield, and
a lance, by his father, or some near relation, in an assembly of the
chiefs of the nation; and from that time he became a member of the
commonwealth, and ranked as a citizen. He then entered the train of
some chief, of whom he and his brother youths became the followers and
companions, forming one brotherhood, though not without ranks and
degrees, while a generous spirit of equality ran through all.

In ancient Germany, too, women were held in a peculiar reverence,
beyond what was known in the other—and otherwise more
civilized—nations of antiquity; and the presence of women in the hour
of battle with their husbands, brothers, and fathers, was regarded by
those warriors as an incentive to courage, and a pledge of victory,
which (as they boasted) their Roman foes were unable to appeal to for
themselves. And this old Teutonic reverence for women conspired with
the new Christian reverence for the Virgin Mary as the type and
representative at once of her sex and of the Church, to supply the
purer and nobler elements of the gallantry which forms so large a part,
not only of the romance, but of the actual history, of chivalry.

But Christianity exercised not only an indirect, but also a direct and
avowed action upon the forms of chivalry, as they attained to their
full proportions. Knighthood was certainly a feature and distinction of
society before the days of Charlemagne, who in permitting the governor
of Friesland to make knights by girding them with a sword, and giving
them a blow, adds ‘as is the custom.’ But no ritual of the Church as
yet consecrated that custom. Charlemagne girt the sword on his son
Louis the Good without religious ceremonies; and a century later the
Saxon king of England, Edward the Elder, clothed Athelstan in a
soldier’s dress of scarlet, and girded him with a girdle ornamented
with precious stones and a sword with sheath of gold, but without
religious rites. But in the next century, in the reign of Edward the
Confessor, we read that Hereward, a noble Anglo-Saxon youth, was
knighted by the Abbot of Peterborough, with confession, absolution, and
prayer that he might be a true knight. And this the historian describes
as the custom of the English, as indeed it was, or soon became, that of
all Europe; the Normans resisting the innovation longest, but at last
adopting it with their wonted ardour. The candidate for knighthood
confessed his sins on the eve of his consecration (for such it now
was), and passed the night in prayer and fasting in the church: the
godfathers, the bath, the white garment, and the tonsure (sometimes
limited indeed to a single lock) were the symbols of the new and holy
state of life to which he was now called: next morning he heard mass,
offered his sword on the altar, where it was blessed by the priest; and
he was created a knight—either by the priest of highest rank present,
or by some knight, who, in virtue of his knighthood, was qualified to
confer the sacred office he had himself received—in the name of God,
of St. George, and of Saint Michael the Archangel. He swore, and
received the holy communion in confirmation of his oath, to fulfil the
duties of his profession; to speak the truth; to maintain the right; to
protect women, the poor, and the distressed; to practise courtesy; to
pursue the infidels; to despise the allurements of ease and safety, and
to maintain his honour in every perilous adventure. And the Council of
Cleremont, of which I have already spoken—as if in order to give the
sanction of the Church in a still more formal and comprehensive manner
to the whole system of chivalry—decreed that every person of noble
birth, on attaining the age of twelve years, should take a solemn oath
before the bishop of his diocese to defend to the uttermost the
oppressed, the widow, and the orphans; that women of noble birth, both
married and single, should enjoy his especial care; and that nothing
should be wanting in him to render travelling safe, and to destroy
tyranny.

Thus, as has been justly observed, all the humanities of chivalry were
sanctioned by legal and ecclesiastical power: it was intended that they
should be spread over the whole face of Christendom, in order to check
the barbarism and ferocity of the times. While the form of chivalry was
martial, its objects became to a great extent religious and social:
from a mere military array chivalry obtained the name of the Order, the
Holy Order, and a character of seriousness and solemnity was given to
it; and it was accounted an honourable office above all offices,
orders, and acts of the world, except the order of priesthood.

The education for knighthood usually began at a still earlier age than
that mentioned in the Canons of Cleremont. The castles of the princes
and nobles were the schools of those days, at least for the youth of
their own class. Every feudal lord had his court, to which he drew the
sons and daughters of the poorer gentry of his domains; and if he were
a knight distinguished for his merits, his castle was also frequented
by the children of men of equal rank and reputation with himself: for
the prudent and careful father would often have some brother in arms
whom he thought better fitted than himself to educate his children in
the accomplishments and duties of his station. So, long after, Ben
Jonson, looking back on those old times, and picturing them in their
ideal aspect, says, that then

                            ‘Goodness gave the greatness,
              And greatness worship: every house became
              An academy of honour.’

And that this method of education

                            ‘By a line
            Of institution from our ancestors,
            Hath been deriv’d down to us, and receiv’d
            In a succession, for the noblest way
            Of breeding up our youth in letters, arms,
            Fair mien, discourses, civil exercises,
            And all the blazon of a gentleman.
            Where can he learn to vault, to ride, to fence,
            To move his body gracefuller, to speak
            His language purer, or to tune his mind
            Or manners more to the harmony of nature,
            Than in these nurseries of nobility?’

The boy of gentle birth, when he thus began his education, was called
by the names of Childe, or Damoiseau, or Valet, said to be a
contraction of Vassalet or little Vassal, and also Page, though this
last name was originally appropriated to the youths of inferior rank.
He usually entered the castle which was to be his school about the age
of seven or eight. He was to learn modesty, obedience, and address in
arms and horsemanship, and was duly exercised in the use of his
weapons, beginning with such as were suited to his strength. He was
instructed how to guide a horse with grace and dexterity, how to use
the bow and the sword, and how to manage the lance,—an art which was
taught him by making him ride against a wooden figure, which, if not
struck in true knightly fashion, was so contrived as to turn round and
give the awkward cavalier a blow with its wooden sword. He attended his
lord in the chase, and learnt all its arts; he attended him also in
many offices which we should now call menial, but which were then held
to be the proper symbols of modesty and obedience for the youth of
highest birth and rank. Thus the Black Prince was held to show the
highest respect to the French king, his prisoner, by personal
attendance on him. In the words of Froissart: ‘The same day of the
battle, at night, the prince made a supper in his lodging to the French
king, and to the most part of the great lords that were prisoners ...
and always the prince served before the king as humbly as he could, and
would not sit at the king’s board for any desire that the king could
make; but he said he was not sufficient to sit at the table with so
great a prince as the king was.’

And not the least important of the youth’s duties were those towards
the ladies of the house in which he lived. He was to wait on them
rather as attending a sort of superior beings to whom adoration and
obsequious service were due, than as ministering to the convenience of
human creatures like himself. The most modest demeanour, the most
profound respect, were to be observed in the presence of these fair
idols. And as not only the youths, but the maidens—the damoiselles no
less than the damoiseaux—were sent to the courts of the barons and
their ladies for education, it would often happen that this veneration
in which the boy was so early trained towards the ladies of maturer
years, would find an object in some young maiden whose more suitable
age might lead him, as he grew up, from mere boyish regard to that
passionate and abiding devotion which was the duty of every true knight
to his lady, and by the strength of which he held that all his power
for good was to be maintained. Here is a description of the beginning
of the loves of Amadis and Oriana, which is as charming as it is
simple; and which, though we find it in the pages of a romance, we
cannot doubt is a picture of actual life and manners. ‘Oriana,’ says
the old book, ‘was about ten years old, the fairest creature that ever
was seen; wherefore she was called the one “without a peer”.... The
child of the sea (that is, Amadis) was now twelve years old, but in
stature and size he seemed fifteen, and he served the queen; but, now
that Oriana was there, the queen gave her the child of the sea, that he
should serve her, and Oriana said that “it pleased her;” and that word
which she said, the child kept in his heart, so that he never lost it
from his memory, and in all his life he was never weary of serving her,
and his heart was surrendered to her; and this love lasted as long as
they lasted, for as well as he loved her did she also love him. But the
child of the sea, who knew nothing of her love, thought himself
presumptuous to have placed his thoughts on her, and dared not speak to
her; and she, who loved him in her heart, was careful not to speak more
with him than with another: but their eyes delighted to reveal to the
heart what was the thing on earth that they loved best. And now the
time came that he thought he could take arms if he were knighted; and
this he greatly desired, thinking that he would do such things that, if
he lived, his mistress should esteem him.’

Such was the beginning of the loves of Amadis and Oriana, so famous in
romance, and so generally held by knights and ladies to be a model for
themselves. Constancy, such as that of Amadis, was a virtue of the true
lover which those times of long inevitable separations and absences
demanded in forms hardly known in our days; and in proportion was it
insisted upon, and held in honour. So Spenser says:

            ‘Young knight whatever, that dost arms profess,
            And through long labours huntest after fame,
            Beware of fraud, beware of fickleness,
            In choice and change of thy dear loved dame;
            Lest thou of her believe too lightly blame,
            And rash misweening do thy heart remove;
            For unto knight there is no greater shame,
            Than lightness and inconstancy in love.’

The peerless Amadis passed with more than ordinary rapidity to the rank
of knighthood. The youth more usually remained an esquire—the next
step to that of page—till he was twenty. He attended the knight to
whose person he was attached, dressed and undressed him, trained his
horses, kept his arms bright and burnished, and did the honours of the
household to the strangers who visited it; so that Spenser takes the
squire as the type of such courtesy. Here is Chaucer’s description of
the squire:

     ‘With him there was his son, a youngé squire,
     A lover and a lusty bachelor,
     With lockés curl’d as they were laid in press;
     Of twenty years of age he was, I guess.
     Of his statúre he was of even length,
     And wonderly deliver, and great of strength;
     And he had been some time in chevachie (military expeditions),
     In Flanders, in Artois, and Picardie,
     And borne him well, as of so little space,
     In hope to standen in his lady’s grace.
     Embroider’d was he, as it were a mead
     All full of freshé flowers, white and red;
     Singing he was, or fluting, all the day;
     He was as fresh as is the month of May;
     Short was his gown, with sleevés long and wide:
     Well could he sit on horse, and fairé ride;
     He couldé songés make, and well indite,
     Just, and eke dance, and well pourtray and write:
     So hot he lovéd, that by nightertale
     He slept no more than doth the nightingale.
     Courteous he was; slowly and serviceable;
     And carv’d before his father at the table.’

I have already spoken of the religious rites with which the esquire was
admitted into the order of knighthood, and of the solemn and noble
engagements into which he then entered. He had next to ‘win his spurs,’
as it was called; a phrase happily illustrated in the story of Edward
III and the Black Prince, which Froissart thus relates:—

  ‘This battle between Broy and Cressy, this Saturday, was right
  cruel and fell, and many a feat of arms done that day came not to
  my knowledge.... In the morning, the day of the battle, certain
  Frenchmen and Almagnes perforce opened the archers of the prince’s
  battle (_division_ as we should now say), and came and fought with
  the men of arms, hand to hand. Then the second battle of the
  Englishmen came to succour the prince’s battle, the which was time,
  for they had as then much ado. And they with the prince sent a
  messenger to the king, who was on a little windmill hill: then the
  knight said to the king, “Sir, the earl of Warwick, and the earl of
  Oxford, Sir Reynold Cobham, and other, such as lie about the prince
  your son, are fiercely fought withal, and are sore handled,
  wherefore they desire you that you and your battle will come and
  aid them, for if the Frenchmen increase, as they doubt they will,
  your son and they shall have much ado.” Then the king said, “Is my
  son dead, or hurt, or on the earth felled?” “No, sir,” quoth the
  knight, “but he is hardly matched, wherefore he hath need of your
  aid.” “Well,” said the king, “return to him, and to them that sent
  you hither, and say to them, that they send no more to me for any
  adventure that falleth, as long as my son is alive: and also say to
  them, that they suffer him this day to win his spurs; for, if God
  be pleased, I will this day’s work be his, and the honour thereof,
  and to them that be about him.” Then the knight returned again to
  them, and showed the king’s words, the which greatly encouraged
  them, and repented in that they had sent to the king as they did.’
  Brave knights, to be ‘greatly encouraged’ by such stern though
  manly words. We are reminded of the not less brave and knightly
  demeanour of Sir Colin Halket and his men at Waterloo, when the
  Duke of Wellington rode up and asked how they were, and the general
  replied that two-thirds of the brigade were down, and the remainder
  so exhausted that the relief of fresh troops, for however short a
  time, was most desirable. But when the duke said that no relief was
  possible, that all depended on _them_, the answer which the officer
  made for himself and his men was, ‘Enough, my lord, we stand here
  till the last man falls.’

Thenceforth the knight’s career depended, he would not have said on
himself, but on God and his lady: and if we may judge by the ordinary
language of the romances, his lady was often the object of actual
adoration, little differing from that he would have addressed to the
saints in the hour of danger or of triumph. Philosophic divines teach
us that although the worship of the saints may become in practice a
gross and degrading superstition, it has in it an element of true, and
in itself ennobling, faith in ideals of humanity more or less perfectly
revealed in human form: and so while we smile at the fictions of
extravagant fancy in which the mediæval knight was wont to clothe his
love, and his professions of love, for his mistress, we cannot
reasonably doubt that in the main, and for that time of youthful
imaginations rather than of sober reasonings, the knight was right.
When I think of what society was, and what it would still be, without
the humanizing influences of womanhood and ladyhood, and what it is by
means of these, I say that the tree may be judged by its fruits, and
that it is from a right noble stock, rightly and wisely cultivated in
the main, in those old days, that we are still gathering such noble
fruits. Much evil there was along with the good; and, what is worse,
much confusion between good and evil. I need not tell the reader of
chivalry romances, or of Lord Tennyson’s reproductions of some of their
incidents in modern form of thought as well as language, how painfully
this confusion defaces many of the fairest characters and most
interesting tales of chivalry, while the historical records of the
times in which those romances were written and read show that the
actual state of morals and manners exhibited the like confusions of
good and evil, in the ideals as well as in the conduct of life. But, as
I have already observed, we see, at least in the romance before us, the
good contending with, and mastering the evil, and this not least in the
end of the story of the guilty loves of Guenever and Launcelot, the
knight whose fame in romance perhaps surpasses that of Amadis, though
even mediæval morality was obliged to censure the constancy of
Launcelot’s love, while it might unhesitatingly extol that of Amadis.

Lord Tennyson has, I may assume, made every one familiar with the
retirement of queen Guenever to the nunnery of Almesbury, and with the
death of Arthur; and I venture for the completion of this sketch to
show, though from the present volume, how the old story which the poet
chiefly follows relates the death and draws the character of Launcelot.
Launcelot, when he heard of those events, went to Almesbury, and after
taking leave of the queen, resolved to follow her example; and became a
hermit and penitent, taking up his abode in a forest where was an
hermitage and a chapel that stood between two cliffs; and there he
served God day and night with prayers and fastings. Thus he, and other
knights who followed his example, ‘endured great penance six years, and
then Sir Launcelot took the habit of priesthood, and a twelvemonth he
sang mass.’ At the end of that time a vision directed him to take the
body of queen Guenever, now dead at Almesbury, and bury her with king
Arthur at Glastonbury. Then the story goes on:—‘And when she was put
in the earth Sir Launcelot swooned and lay long still, while the hermit
came out and awaked him, and said, Ye be to blame, for ye displease God
with such manner of sorrow making. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I trust I
do not displease God, for He knoweth mine intent, for my sorrow was
not, nor is not, for any rejoicing of sin, but my sorrow may never have
end. For when I remember of her beauty, and of her noblesse, that was
both with her king and with her; so when I saw his corpse and her
corpse so lie together, truly mine heart would not serve to sustain my
careful body. Also when I remember me how by my default, and mine
orgule, and my pride, that they were both laid full low, that were
peerless that ever was living of christian people, wit ye well, said
Sir Launcelot, this remembered, of their kindness and mine unkindness,
sank so to my heart, that all my natural strength failed me, so that I
might not sustain myself.’ The story goes on to say that there he
wasted away, praying night and day at the tomb of the king and queen.
He died, and was taken to his own castle of Joyous Gard to be buried.
‘And right thus as they were at their service there came Sir Ector de
Maris, that had seven year sought all England, Scotland, and Wales,
seeking his brother Sir Launcelot. And when Sir Ector heard such noise
and light in the quire of Joyous Gard he alight, and put his horse from
him, and came into the quire, and there he saw men sing and weep. And
all they knew Sir Ector, but he knew not them. Then went Sir Bors unto
Sir Ector, and told him how there lay his brother Sir Launcelot dead.
And then Sir Ector threw his shield, sword, and helm from him; and when
he beheld Sir Launcelot’s visage he fell down in a swoon; and when he
awaked it were hard for any tongue to tell the doleful complaints that
he made for his brother. Ah, Launcelot, he said, thou were head of all
Christian knights! And now, I dare say, said Sir Ector, thou Sir
Launcelot, there thou liest, that thou were never matched of earthly
knight’s hands; and thou were the courtiest knight that ever bare
shield; and thou were the truest friend to thy lover that ever bestrode
horse; and thou were the truest lover, of a sinful man, that ever loved
woman; and thou were the kindest man that ever strake with sword; and
thou were the goodliest person ever came among press of knights; and
thou was the meekest man and the gentlest that ever ate in hall among
ladies; and thou were the sternest knight to thy mortal foe that ever
put spear in the rest.’

Let me compare with this Chaucer’s description of the knight of his
times:—

            ‘A knight there was, and that a worthy[41] man,
            That from the timé that he first began
            To riden out, he loved chivalry,
            Truth and honóur, freedom and courtesy.
            Full worthy was he in his lordés war,
            And thereto had he ridden, no man farre,
            As well in Christendom as in Heatheness,
            And ever honoured for his worthiness.
            At Alisandre he was when it was won:
            Full oftentime he had the board begun
            Aboven allé natións in Prusse[42]:
            In Lethowe had he reyséd[43], and in Russe,
            No Christian man so oft, of his degree:
            In Gernade at the siege eke had he be
            Of Algesir, and ridden in Belmarie:
            At Leyés was he, and at Satalie,
            When they were won; and in the Greaté Sea
            At many a noble army had he be.
            At mortal battles had he been fifteen,
            And foughten for our faith at Tramissene
            In listés thriés, and aye slain his foe.
            This ilké worthy knight had been also
            Sometimé with the lord of Palathie
            Against another heathen in Turkey;
            And evermore he had a sovereign prise[44],
            And though that he was worthy he was wise,
            And of his port as meek as is a maid.
            He never yet no villainy ne said
            In all his life unto no manner wight:
            He was a very perfect gentle knight.’

In an age when all men, not of the clergy, were divided between the two
classes of freemen or gentlemen, and serfs or villains, and the
villains were in habits and in human culture little better than the
domestic animals of which they shared the labours, the knight almost
inevitably belonged to the class of free, or gentle, birth. Still, in
theory always, and to a great extent in practice, it was not his birth,
but his personal merit, which qualified him for knighthood. The
personal merit would oftener exist, and still oftener come to light,
where it had the advantages and aids of education and general social
culture. But if it was recognised in the villain, or man of no rights
of birth, he might be, and often was, knighted, and was thereby
immediately enfranchised, and accounted a gentleman, in law no less
than in name. Thus Froissart tells us of Sir Robert Sale, the governor
of Norwich, that ‘he was no gentleman born, but he had the grace to be
reputed sage and valiant in arms, and for his valiantness King Edward
made him knight.’ He was governor during the popular insurrection of
which Wat Tyler and Jack Straw were the London leaders; and he was
invited to put himself at the head of one of the risings by men who
urged upon him—‘Sir Robert, ye are a knight and a man greatly beloved
in this country, and renowned a valiant man; and though ye be thus, yet
we know you well: ye be no gentleman born, but son to a villain, such
as we be: therefore come you with us, and be our master, and we shall
make you so great a lord that one quarter of England shall be under
your obeisance.’ He refused, and they killed him. The same king also
knighted the man-at-arms, son of a tanner, who was afterwards famous as
Sir John Hawkwood. And the courtly as well as knightly Chaucer, who
must more or less have reflected the feeling of the royal and noble
personages among whom he lived, goes farther, and asserts that not only
does virtue make the gentleman, but also baseness of mind the villain
or churl:—

                   ‘But understand in thine intent,
                   That this is not mine intendement,
                   To clepen no wight in no age
                   Only gentle for his lineage;
                   But whoso that is virtuous,
                   And in his port nought outrageous,
                   Though he be not gentle born,
                   Thou may’st well see this in soth,
                   That he is gentle because he doth
                   As longeth to a gentleman;
                   Of them none other deem I can:
                   For certainly, withouten drede,
                   A churl is deemed by his deed,
                   Of high or low, as you may see,
                   Or of what kindred that he be.’

Akin to this recognition of gentleness of mind and manners, as that
which made a gentleman, was the sense of brotherhood among knights and
gentlemen, which led them to trust in each other’s honour, even when
they were fighting under the banners of hostile kings. The chronicles
are full of the instances of such consideration of the English and
French knights for each other in the wars between the two nations; and
it is not without probability that to these and suchlike manifestations
of the spirit of chivalry have been traced the courtesy and humanity
which characterise modern warfare in a degree unknown to the ancients.

Much indeed of barbarism and cruelty there was in the usages of war in
the best times of chivalry, even of the knights among themselves, and
still more when they came, with passions infuriated by resistance, upon
the people of lower rank than themselves. Edward III of England, and
the knights whom he gathered round him, are held alike by contemporary
historians and romance writers, and by those of modern times, to have
best exhibited the characteristics of chivalry in its day of greatest
refinement as well as splendour; yet no one can read the chronicles of
even the admiring Froissart without seeing how much savage passion and
cruelty was often mingled with their better dispositions: though we do
see also that the cruelty was not because, but in spite of their
chivalry. Froissart laments bitterly the iniquity of the massacre by
the Black Prince of the people of Limoges, men, women, and children,
more than three thousand. And when Edward III, before him, intended, as
would seem, to have treated the town of Calais in like manner, not only
did the French knights who had offered to surrender declare that they
would ‘endure as much pain as knights ever did, rather than the poorest
lad in the town should have any more evil than the greatest of us
all’—showing that they made no selfish distinction between the noble
and the villain—but the English knights, headed by Sir Walter of
Manny, that flower of knighthood, protested to the utmost against their
king’s purpose. And when he had yielded so far to their urgency as to
say that he would be content with the lives of the six chief burgesses,
Sir Walter of Manny again remonstrated, saying, ‘Ah, noble king, for
God’s sake refrain your courage: ye have the name of sovereign
noblesse: therefore now do not a thing that should blemish your renown,
nor to give cause to some to speak of you villainy [to charge you with
conduct unworthy of a knight and gentleman]; every man will say it is a
great cruelty to put to death such honest persons, who by their own
wills put themselves into your grace to save their company. Then the
king wryed away from him, and commanded to send for the hangman, and
said, “They of Calais had caused many of my men to be slain, wherefore
these shall die in likewise.”’

It needed a stronger influence than that of Sir Walter of Manny to save
their lives: and this brings me to speak of the LADY of the mediæval
times; the LADY, who was the counterpart of the KNIGHT, and without
whom he could never have existed. Here, indeed, I meet a difficulty
which reminds me of what Coleridge says of the female characters of
Shakspeare, that their truth to nature, and therefore their beauty,
consists in the absence of strongly marked features. It is impossible
to read the poems, romances, or chronicles of the mediæval times,
without feeling all through how important a part the lady plays
everywhere; and yet it is far from easy to draw her from her retirement
and bring distinctly before ourselves what she did, and get a picture
of her as definite as we can do of the knight. Still I must try to
trace the outlines of such a picture of one lady:—Philippa, queen of
Edward III, whom Froissart calls ‘the most gentle queen, most liberal,
and most courteous that ever was queen in her days;’ and who was the
very type and representative of the lady, in the highest and best
sense, in an age in which the ladies—such as the princess Blanche, the
good queen Ann, the countess of Salisbury, Jane de Montfort, and the
wife of Charles de Blois—were renowned for their gentle or their
heroic characters.

When Isabel, queen of Edward II, visited Hainault with her son,
afterwards Edward III, we are told that William, earl of Hainault, ‘had
four fair daughters, Margaret, Philippa, Jane, and Isabel: among whom
the young Edward set most his love and company on Philippa; and also
the young lady in all honour was more conversant with him than any of
her sisters.’ Queen Isabel had come to ask for aid against her enemies,
and Froissart gives an account of the discussion between the earl and
his council, who objected on prudential grounds to interfering with the
quarrels of the English, and the earl’s brother, Sir John Hainault, who
maintained that ‘all knights ought to aid to their powers all ladies
and damsels chased out of their own countries, being without counsel or
comfort.’ The earl finally yielded, saying, ‘My fair brother, God
forbid that your good purpose should be broken or let. Therefore, in
the name of God, I give you leave; and kissed him, straining him by the
hand in sign of great love.’ The whole passage is too long to quote,
but thus much gives a lively picture of the temper of the home and
court in which the young Philippa was brought up.

Her marriage with Edward, then only fifteen years old, was agreed on,
and sanctioned by the Pope. I am sorry to say that the chronicler gives
no account of the lady’s bridal outfit[45], except in the general
terms, that ‘there was devised and purveyed for their apparel, and for
all things honourable that belonged to such a lady, who should be queen
of England.’ They were married, and she arrived in England and was
crowned, ‘with great justs, tourneys, dancing, carolling, and great
feasts, the which endured the space of three weeks.’ And then ‘this
young queen Philippa abode still in England, with small company of any
persons of her own country, saving one who was named Walter of Manny,
who was her carver, and after did so many great prowesses in divers
places, that it were hard to make mention of them.’ If we couple this
statement, that she retained hardly any of her own people, with that
which Froissart makes in reviewing her whole life, that ‘she loved
always her own nation where she was born,’ we have pleasing thoughts
suggested of the cheerful acceptance of new duties in a foreign land by
the young wife; while, if I had space to describe in detail the noble
life of Sir Walter of Manny, the reader would agree with me that his
habitual presence in the English court must have done much to make both
Edward and the Black Prince, as well as the rest of the princes and
nobles, what they were, as knights and gentlemen.

The next glimpse we get of the queen is when she appears, accompanied
with three hundred ladies and damsels ‘of noble lineage, and apparelled
accordingly, at the yearly feast at Windsor, in honour of the order and
brotherhood of the Knights of the Blue Garter, there established on St.
George’s day.’ Again, when the king of Scots had advanced to Newcastle,
while king Edward lay before Calais, we see the queen arriving to meet
the English army, and going from division to division, ‘desiring them
to do their devoir’—duty was then, as now, the English soldier’s
word—‘to defend the honour of her lord the king of England, and, in
the name of God, every man to be of good heart and courage; promising
them that to her power she would remember them as well or better as
though her lord the king were there personally. Then the queen departed
from them, recommending them to God and St. George.’ She does not seem,
like some of the ladies of that generation, to have considered the
field to be her place while the battle was going on; but after it was
won she returned, and with her council made all necessary arrangements
and plans. Shortly after she joined her husband while he lay before
Calais, ‘bringing many ladies and damsels with her, as well to
accompany her, as to see their husbands, fathers, brethren, and other
friends that lay at siege there before Calais, and had done a long
time.’ And I think we may attribute it as well to the general
humanising influence of all those ladies, as to the personal persuasion
of Philippa, that Calais did not suffer the same horrors of war as did
Limoges at the hands of the Black Prince. To what I have already quoted
from Froissart as to this story, I must now add what he tells us of
Philippa, after Edward had refused to hear Sir Walter of Manny. ‘Then
the queen kneeled down, and sore weeping, said, “Ah, gentle sir, sith I
passed the sea in great peril, I have desired nothing of you; therefore
now I humbly require you, in the honour of the Son of the Virgin Mary,
and for the love of me, that ye will take mercy of these six
burgesses.” The king beheld the queen, and stood still in a study a
space, and then said, “Ah dame, I would ye had been as now in some
other place; ye make such request to me that I cannot deny you;
wherefore I give them to you, to do your pleasure with them.”’

And lastly, as a counterpart to the picture I have already given of the
death of the knight of romance, here is the account of the death of her
who was the lady of the brightest day of historical chivalry:—

‘In the mean season there fell in England a heavy case and a common:
howbeit it was right piteous for the king, his children, and all his
realm; for the good queen of England—that so many good deeds had done
in her time, and so many knights succoured, and ladies and damosels
comforted, and had so largely departed of her goods to her people, and
naturally loved always the nation of Haynault, the country where she
was born—she fell sick in the castle of Windsor, the which sickness
continued on her so long, that there was no remedy but death; and the
good lady, when she knew that there was no remedy but death, she
desired to speak with the king her husband, and when he was before her,
she put out of her bed her right hand, and took the king by his right
hand, who was right sorrowful at his heart. Then she said, “Sir, we
have in peace, joy, and great prosperity, used all our time together:
sir, now I pray you at our departing, that ye will grant me three
desires.” The king, right sorrowfully weeping, said, “Madam, desire
what ye will, I grant it.” The three requests of the dying woman
were—that the king should pay all that she owed to any man; that he
should fulfil all the promises she had made to the churches where she
had “had her devotion,” and that “it might please him to take none
other sepulture, whensoever it should please God to call him out of
this transitory life, but beside her in Westminster.” The king, all
weeping, said, “Madam, I grant all your desire.” Then the good lady and
queen made on her the sign of the cross, and commended the king her
husband to God, and her youngest son Thomas, who was there beside her;
and anon after she yielded up the spirit, which I believe surely the
holy angels received with great joy up to heaven; for in all her life
she did neither in thought nor deed thing to lose her soul, as far as
any creature could know. Thus the good queen of England died in the
year of our Lord 1369, in the vigil of our Lady, in the midst of
August.’

We have all pictured to ourselves, again and again, how the lady sat in
her bower with her embroidery and her missal or romance, and saw from
her lattice window her knight going from the castle with lance and
pennon, hoping to meet his foe: how the minstrel recited in the castle
hall the feats of arms of this or that hero in some distant
battle-field; and how the matron or the maiden heard those feats, and
thought with silent joy that it was her lord, her husband, or her
lover, whose deeds were thus winning the praises of the troubadour, and
the applause of the listening knights and squires. We have all seen in
imagination the tournament, with the pomp and splendour of its mimic
contests: contests which surpassed the Olympic and Corinthian games of
classic antiquity, not only in their gorgeous show, but still more in
the presence of the ladies, noble in birth, and fame, and beauty; whose
scarf, or glove, the combatants wore as the token of that favour which
was their highest incentive to distinguish themselves; and from whose
hands the conqueror received the prize of skill and bravery: while the
honourably vanquished might be sure that he would have the hardly less
welcome lot of being cared for by the same ladies, who never shrank
from this their acknowledged and well-fulfilled duty of tending the
wounded knight.

Perhaps too we have listened in fancy to the proceedings of the
so-called Courts of Parliaments of Love, in which the ladies were wont
to hear questions of gallantry gravely argued on both sides by poets
pleading in verse, and then to give their judgments according to the
logical and metaphysical rules which the schoolmen applied to
theological enquiries. But I can now but remind my reader that such
things were; and must hasten forward, leaving ungathered flowers that
would make many a wreath and nosegay.

The golden age of chivalry was the period from about the middle of the
eleventh to the end of the fourteenth century. We may say with Gibbon,
that the Crusades were at once a cause and an effect of chivalry. In
the Crusades the spirit of knighthood, with all its characteristic
features, actuated vast bodies of men of every rank and nation, and
found a foe believed by all Christendom to be to it what the individual
robber and plunderer was to the knight errant who went forth in his own
country to defend or rescue the widow and orphan and their possessions,
or the traveller along the road which passed the castle of some
powerful though unworthy baron. The chivalry at home was kept alive,
and raised to its highest energy, both in man and woman, by the
chivalry in the Holy Land. It is in this period that the chief
institutions of chivalry took their rise, or reached their full form;
while their ruder features were gradually softened with the increasing
refinement of the times, till they presented that aspect with which we
find them in the days of Edward III and the Black Prince, as drawn by
Froissart or Chaucer, or in the romances which were then written or
remodelled out of older materials, and which show that even in the
estimation of other nations the English court then afforded the pattern
of knighthood for Christendom.

Thenceforward the outward forms of chivalry began to decay; very
gradually indeed, and not without apparent resuscitations from time to
time. But no real revival was possible; for the immortal spirit was
seeking new habitations for itself, more fitted to the new world which
was succeeding to that of the Middle Ages. And perhaps Cervantes, by
helping to tear up with his merciless satire the last remnants of an
honest faith in the old forms of chivalry, did as real, though we
cannot say as genial, a service to the cause of chivalry itself, as
Spenser did in endeavouring to preserve its spirit by transferring it
to the region of allegory. The last expiring token of the old spirit in
the old forms which I have found, is in the records of the Knights of
Malta—the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem—when the news
of the great earthquake in Sicily, in 1783, arrived at Malta. Then
those poor feeble-minded sybarites remembered for a moment their
manhood and their knighthood, and their vows as Hospitallers; they
manned their galleys, and, with food and clothing and medicines, and
the consolations of their faith, were speedily seen, in their
half-military, half-priestly garb—the armour covered by the black robe
with the white cross—at the bedsides of the wounded and the dying, as
they lay amid the still tottering ruins of their devastated houses. In
a very few years, in that same generation, the Order had passed away
for ever; but it is pleasant to him who stands in the palace of the
Grand Masters among the trophies of their former greatness, or treads
the aisles of the cathedral of St. John, where every step is upon the
emblazoned gravestone of a knight, to think of this, and not of any
less worthy deed, as their last act.

                ‘The knight’s bones are dust,
                And his good sword rust:
                His soul is with the saints, I trust:’—

but he has left to us an imperishable and a rich inheritance, won for
us by him. To him we owe our MANNERS—all that world of existence
implied in the names LADY and GENTLEMAN. Through the Middle Ages it was
‘Our Lady,’ the Virgin mother who embodied and represented to all men
and women, from the prince to the peasant, their ideals of womanhood
and ladyhood. In modern times St. Paul has been held to be the model of
a gentleman; in whose acts and writings are found all the principles,
maxims, and spirit of a character entirely chivalrous, in the amplest
sense of the term: while one of our old dramatists has ventured, in
words of touching tenderness and reverence, to point to a yet higher
realisation of that ideal;—

                                ‘The best of men
            That e’er wore earth about him, was a sufferer,
            A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil spirit;
            The first true gentleman that ever breathed.’

And it was the transference of these Christian ethics, into the
practice of common daily, worldly life, in rude, half-barbarous times,
which we owe to the knights and ladies of the Middle Ages; a
transference effected slowly, and with much mixture of evil with the
good: nor is the work nearly completed yet; but the worth of it can
hardly be overrated.

This is not indeed all, but there is much truth in the old motto,
‘Manners makyth man.’ Manners, like laws, create a region and
atmosphere of virtue within which all good more easily lives and grows,
and evil finds it harder to maintain itself. How large a portion of the
small, spontaneous kindnesses of hourly life, in which, after all, so
much of our happiness consists, are not only unknown, but impossible,
where habitual, unaffected politeness is wanting.

But manners are good, not only as affording a fairer field for the
exercise of the higher virtues, but good in themselves. They are a real
part of the beauty and grace of our human life. Courtesy, and
self-possession, and deference and respect for others; modesty and
gentleness towards all men, and recognition in all of the true gold of
humanity, whether it bear the guinea stamp or no; love of truth and
honour; and not only readiness, but eagerness to help the weak, and
defend their cause against the strong; and all these irradiated and
glorified, as often as may be, by that sentiment which

               ‘——gives to every power a double power,
               Above their functions and their offices;’—

these are the things which make the lady and the gentleman.

And if it should seem as though the chivalry of our own times is
reduced to something less noble than that of old, when men risked life,
and things dearer than life, in defending the weak and attacking the
oppressor in his strongholds—when the hardness of the actual fight
against evil-doers was not exaggerated in the romances which pictured
the knights contending with dragons and enchanters and giants—we must
remember that our nineteenth century world is yet far from cleared of
the monstrous powers of evil, which still oppress and devour the weak;
and that a battle, not really less resolute, nor, if need be, less
desperate, than those of old, is still carried on by those who, under
the modest guise of common life, are fighting in the true spirit of
chivalry—uniting the most adventurous enthusiasm with the most patient
endurance, and both with the gentlest service of the poor, the weak,
and the oppressed; and, what is most worthy of admiration, the service
of the morally poor, and weak, and oppressed, who, but for such
deliverers, must remain in a house of bondage darker than can be built
or barred by earthly hands.

But whether we are content with the chivalry of manners, or aspire to a
place in the brotherhood of the chivalry of action, our principles, our
maxims, and our examples have come down to us as an inheritance from
the past:—an inheritance common to all who care to claim it; and won
for us by the old knights, fighting in the name of God and of their
ladies[46].

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                              THE BOOK OF

                              KING ARTHUR

                            AND OF HIS NOBLE

                      KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                       PREFACE OF WILLIAM CAXTON.


After that I had accomplished and finished divers histories, as well of
contemplation as of other historial and worldly acts of great
conquerors and princes, and also certain books of ensamples and
doctrine, many noble and divers gentlemen of this realm of England came
and demanded me many and ofttimes, wherefore that I have not do made
and imprint the noble history of the Saint Greal, and of the most
renowned Christian king, first and chief of the three best Christian,
and worthy, king Arthur, which ought most to be remembered amongst us
Englishmen tofore all other Christian kings; for it is notoriously
known through the universal world, that there be nine worthy and the
best that ever were, that is to wit, three Paynims, three Jews, and
three Christian men. As for the Paynims, they were tofore the
Incarnation of Christ, which were named, the first Hector of Troy, of
whom the history is comen both in ballad and in prose, the second
Alexander the Great, and the third Julius Cæsar, Emperor of Rome, of
whom the histories be well known and had. And as for the three Jews,
which also were tofore the incarnation of our Lord, of whom the first
was duke Joshua which brought the children of Israel into the land of
behest, the second David king of Jerusalem, and the third Judas
Machabeus. Of these three the Bible rehearseth all their noble
histories and acts. And since the said incarnation have been three
noble Christian men, stalled and admitted through the universal world
into the number of the nine best and worthy. Of whom was first the
noble Arthur, whose noble acts I purpose to write in this present book
here following. The second was Charlemain, or Charles the Great, of
whom the history is had in many places, both in French and in English.
And the third and last was Godfrey of Boloine, of whose acts and life I
made a book unto the excellent prince and king of noble memory, king
Edward the Fourth. The said noble gentlemen instantly required me to
imprint the history of the said noble king and conqueror king Arthur,
and of his knights, with the history of the Saint Greal, and of the
death and ending of the said Arthur; affirming that I ought rather to
imprint his acts and noble feats, than of Godfrey of Boloine, or any of
the other eight, considering that he was a man born within this realm,
and king and emperor of the same: and that there be in French divers
and many noble volumes of his acts, and also of his knights. To whom I
answered that divers men hold opinion that there was no such Arthur,
and that all such books as been made of him, be but feigned and fables,
because that some chronicles make of him no mention, nor remember him
nothing, nor of his knights. Whereto they answered, and one in special
said, that in him that should say or think that there was never such a
king called Arthur, might well be aretted great folly and blindness.
For he said that there were many evidences of the contrary. First ye
may see his sepulchre in the monastery of Glastingbury. And also in
Policronicon, in the fifth book the sixth chapter, and in the seventh
book the twenty-third chapter, where his body was buried, and after
found, and translated into the said monastery. Ye shall see also in the
history of Bochas in his book _De Casu Principum_ part of his noble
acts, and also of his fall. Also Galfridus in his British book
recounteth his life: and in divers places of England many remembrances
be yet of him, and shall remain perpetually, and also of his knights.
First in the abbey of Westminster, at St. Edward’s shrine, remaineth
the print of his seal in red wax closed in beryl, in which is written,
_Patricius Arthurus Britannie, Gallie, Germanie, Dacie, Imperator_.
Item in the castle of Dover ye may see Gawaine’s scull, and Cradok’s
mantle: at Winchester the Round Table: in other places Launcelot’s
sword and many other things. Then all these things considered, there
can no man reasonably gainsay but that there was a king of this land
named Arthur. For in all places, Christian and heathen, he is reputed
and taken for one of the nine worthy, and the first of the three
Christian men. And also, he is more spoken of beyond the sea, more
books made of his noble acts, than there be in England, as well in
Dutch, Italian, Spanish, and Greekish, as in French. And yet of record
remain in witness of him in Wales, in the town of Camelot, the great
stones and the marvellous works of iron lying under the ground, and
royal vaults, which divers now living have seen. Wherefore it is a
marvel why he is no more renowned in his own country, save only it
accordeth to the Word of God, which saith that no man is accepted for a
prophet in his own country. Then all these things aforesaid alleged, I
could not well deny but that there was such a noble king named Arthur,
and reputed one of the nine worthy, and first and chief of the
Christian men. And many noble volumes be made of him and of his noble
knights in French, which I have seen and read beyond the sea, which be
not had in our maternal tongue. But in Welsh be many and also in
French, and some in English but no where nigh all. Wherefore, such as
have late been drawn out briefly into English I have after the simple
conning that God hath sent to me, under the favour and correction of
all noble lords and gentlemen, enprised to imprint a book of the noble
histories of the said king Arthur, and of certain of his knights, after
a copy unto me delivered, which copy Sir Thomas Malorye did take out of
certain books of French, and reduced it into English. And I, according
to my copy, have down set it in print, to the intent that noble men may
see and learn the noble acts of chivalry, the gentle and virtuous deeds
that some knights used in those days, by which they came to honour, and
how they that were vicious were punished and oft put to shame and
rebuke; humbly beseeching all noble lords and ladies, with all other
estates of what estate or degree they been of, that shall see and read
in this said book and work, that they take the good and honest acts in
their remembrance, and to follow the same. Wherein they shall find many
joyous and pleasant histories, and noble and renowned acts of humanity,
gentleness, and chivalry. For herein may be seen noble chivalry,
courtesy, humanity, friendliness, hardiness, love, friendship,
cowardice, murder, hate, virtue, and sin. Do after the good and leave
the evil, and it shall bring you to good fame and renommee. And for to
pass the time this book shall be pleasant to read in, but for to give
faith and belief that all is true that is contained herein, ye be at
your liberty: but all is written for our doctrine, and for to beware
that we fall not to vice nor sin, but to exercise and follow virtue, by
the which we may come and attain to good fame and renown in this life,
and after this short and transitory life to come unto everlasting bliss
in heaven; the which He grant us that reigneth in heaven, the blessed
Trinity. Amen.

Then to proceed forth in this said book, the which I direct unto all
noble princes, lords and ladies, gentlemen or gentlewomen, that desire
to read or hear read of the noble and joyous history of the great
conqueror and excellent king, King Arthur, sometime king of this noble
realm, then called Britain; I, William Caxton, simple person, present
this book following, which I have enprised to imprint: and treateth of
the noble acts, feats of arms of chivalry, prowess, hardiness,
humanity, love, courtesy, and very gentleness, with many wonderful
histories and adventures. And for to understand briefly the content of
this volume, I have divided it into XXI Books, and every book
chaptered, as hereafter shall by God’s grace follow. The First Book
shall treat how Uther Pendragon gat the noble conqueror king Arthur,
and containeth xxviii chapters. The Second Book treateth of Balin the
noble knight, and containeth xix chapters. The Third Book treateth of
the marriage of king Arthur to queen Guenever, with other matters, and
containeth xv chapters. The Fourth Book, how Merlin was assotted, and
of war made to king Arthur, and containeth xxix chapters. The Fifth
Book treateth of the conquest of Lucius the emperor, and containeth xii
chapters. The Sixth Book treateth of Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel, and
marvellous adventures, and containeth xviii chapters. The Seventh Book
treateth of a noble knight called Sir Gareth, and named by Sir Kay
Beaumains, and containeth xxxvi chapters. The Eighth Book treateth of
the birth of Sir Tristram the noble knight, and of his acts, and
containeth xli chapters. The Ninth Book treateth of a knight named by
Sir Kay Le Cote male taille, and also of Sir Tristram, and containeth
xliv chapters. The Tenth Book treateth of Sir Tristram, and other
marvellous adventures, and containeth lxxxviii chapters. The Eleventh
Book treateth of Sir Launcelot and Sir Galahad, and containeth xiv
chapters. The Twelfth Book treateth of Sir Launcelot and his madness,
and containeth xiv chapters. The Thirteenth Book treateth how Galahad
came first to king Arthur’s court, and the quest how the Sangreal was
begun, and containeth xx chapters. The Fourteenth Book treateth of the
quest of the Sangreal, and containeth x chapters. The Fifteenth Book
treateth of Sir Launcelot, and containeth vi chapters. The Sixteenth
Book treateth of Sir Bors and Sir Lionel his brother, and containeth
xvii chapters. The Seventeenth Book treateth of the Sangreal, and
containeth xxiii chapters. The Eighteenth Book treateth of Sir
Launcelot and the queen, and containeth xxv chapters. The Nineteenth
Book treateth of queen Guenever and Launcelot, and containeth xiii
chapters. The Twentieth Book treateth of the piteous death of Arthur,
and containeth xxii chapters. The Twenty-first Book treateth of his
last departing, and how Sir Launcelot came to revenge his death, and
containeth xiii chapters. The sum is twenty-one books, which contain
the sum of five hundred and seven chapters, as more plainly shall
follow hereafter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                         The Table or Rubrysshe
                                 of the
                          Content of Chapters.


               Shortly of the First Book of King Arthur.


First how Uther Pendragon sent for the duke of Cornwall and Igraine his
  wife, and of their departing suddenly again. Chap. i.

How Uther Pendragon made war on the duke of Cornwall, and how by the
  means of Merlin he made the duchess his queen. Chap. ii.

Of the birth of king Arthur, and of his nouriture, and of the death of
  king Uther Pendragon; and how Arthur was chosen king; and of wonders
  and marvels of a sword that was taken out of a stone by the said
  Arthur. Chap. iii.

How king Arthur pulled out the sword divers times. Chap. iv.

How king Arthur was crowned and how he made officers. Chap. v.

How king Arthur held in Wales, at a Pentecost, a great feast, and what
  kings and lords came to his feast. Chap. vi.

Of the first war that king Arthur had, and how he won the field. Chap.
  vii.

How Merlin counselled king Arthur to send for king Ban and king Bors,
  and of their counsel taken for the war. Chap. viii.

Of a great tourney made by king Arthur and the two kings Ban and Bors,
  and how they went over the sea. Chap. ix.

How eleven kings gathered a great host against king Arthur. Chap. x.

Of a dream of the king with the hundred knights. Chap. xi.

How the eleven kings with their host fought against Arthur and his
  host, and many great feats of the war. Chap. xii.

Yet of the same battle. Chap. xiii.

Yet more of the same battle. Chap. xiv.

Yet more of the said battle, and how it was ended by Merlin. Chap. xv.

How king Arthur, king Ban, and king Bors rescued king Leodegrance, and
  other incidents. Chap. xvi.

How king Arthur rode to Carlion, and of his dream, and how he saw the
  questing beast. Chap. xvii.

How king Pellinore took Arthur’s horse and followed the questing beast,
  and how Merlin met with Arthur. Chap. xviii.

How Ulfius appeached queen Igraine, Arthur’s mother, of treason; and
  how a knight came and desired to have the death of his master
  revenged. Chap. xix.

How Griflet was made knight and justed with a knight. Chap. xx.

How twelve knights came from Rome and asked truage for this land of
  Arthur, and how Arthur fought with a knight. Chap. xxi.

How Merlin saved Arthur’s life, and threw an enchantment upon king
  Pellinore, and made him to sleep. Chap. xxii.

How Arthur by the mean of Merlin got Excalibur his sword of the Lady of
  the Lake. Chap. xxiii.

How tidings came to Arthur that king Ryons had overcome eleven kings,
  and how he desired Arthur’s beard to trim his mantle. Chap. xxiv.

How all the children were sent for that were born on May-day, and how
  Mordred was saved. Chap. xxv.


                            The Second Book.

Of a damsel which came girded with a sword, for to find a man of such
  virtue to draw it out of the scabbard. Chap. i.

How Balin, arrayed like a poor knight, pulled out the sword, which
  afterward was cause of his death. Chap. ii.

How the Lady of the Lake demanded the knight’s head that had won the
  sword, or the maiden’s head. Chap. iii.

How Merlin told the adventure of this damsel. Chap. iv.

How Balin was pursued by Sir Lanceor, knight of Ireland, and how he
  justed and slew him. Chap. v.

How a damsel which was love to Lanceor, slew herself for love, and how
  Balin met with his brother Balan. Chap. vi.

How a dwarf reproved Balin for the death of Lanceor, and how king Mark
  of Cornwall found them, and made a tomb over them. Chap. vii.

How Merlin prophesied that two the best knights of the world should
  fight there, which were Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram. Chap. viii.

How Balin and his brother, by the counsel of Merlin, took king Ryons
  and brought him to king Arthur. Chap. ix.

How king Arthur had a battle against Nero and king Lot of Orkney; and
  how king Lot was deceived by Merlin, and how twelve kings were slain.
  Chap. x.

Of the interment of twelve kings, and of the prophecy of Merlin how
  Balin should give the dolorous stroke. Chap. xi.

How a sorrowful knight came tofore Arthur, and how Balin fetched him,
  and how that knight was slain by a knight invisible. Chap. xii.

How Balin and the damsel met with a knight which was in like wise
  slain, and how the damsel bled for the custom of a castle. Chap. xiii.

How Balin met with that knight named Garlon at a feast, and there he
  slew him to have his blood to heal therewith the son of his host.
  Chap. xiv.

How Balin fought with king Pellam, and how his sword brake, and how he
  gat a spear, wherewith he smote the dolorous stroke. Chap. xv.

How Balin was delivered by Merlin, and saved a knight that would have
  slain himself for love. Chap. xvi.

How that knight slew his love, and a knight with her; and after how he
  slew himself with his own sword, and how Balin rode toward a castle
  where he lost his life. Chap. xvii.

How Balin met with his brother Balan, and how each of them slew other
  unknown, till they were wounded to death. Chap. xviii.

How Merlin buried them both in one tomb, and of Balin’s sword. Chap.
  xix.


              Here follow the Chapters of the Third Book.

How king Arthur took a wife, and wedded Guenever daughter to
  Leodegrance, king of the land of Cameliard, with whom he had the
  Round Table. Chap. i.

How the knights of the Round Table were ordained and their sieges
  blessed by the bishop of Canterbury. Chap. ii.

How a poor man riding upon a lean mare desired of king Arthur to make
  his son knight. Chap. iii.

How Sir Tor was known for son of king Pellinore, and how Gawaine was
  made knight. Chap. iv.

How at the feast of the wedding of king Arthur to Guenever, a white
  hart came into the hall, and thirty couple hounds, and how a brachet
  pinched the hart, which was taken away. Chap. v.

How Sir Gawaine rode for to fetch again the hart, and how two brethren
  fought each against other for the hart. Chap. vi.

How the hart was chased into a castle, and there slain; and how Gawaine
  slew a lady. Chap. vii.

How four knights fought against Sir Gawaine and Gaheris, and how they
  were overcome and their lives saved at the request of four ladies.
  Chap. viii.

How Sir Tor rode after the knight with the brachet, and of his
  adventure by the way. Chap. ix.

How Sir Tor found the brachet with a lady, and how a knight assailed
  him for the said brachet. Chap. x.

How Sir Tor overcame the knight, and how he lost his head at the
  request of a lady. Chap. xi.

How king Pellinore rode after the lady and the knight that led her
  away, and how a lady desired help of him, and how he fought with two
  knights for that lady, of whom he slew that one at the first stroke.
  Chap. xii.

How king Pellinore gat the lady, and brought her to Camelot to the
  court of king Arthur. Chap. xiii.

How on the way he heard two knights as he lay by night in a valley, and
  of other adventures. Chap. xiv.

How when he was come to Camelot he was sworn upon a book to tell the
  truth of his quest. Chap. xv.


              Here follow the Chapters of the Fourth Book.

How Merlin was assotted, and doted on one of the ladies of the lake,
  and how he was shut in a rock under a stone, and there died. Chap. i.

How five kings came into this land to war against king Arthur, and what
  counsel Arthur had against them. Chap. ii.

How king Arthur had ado with them, and overthrew them, and slew the
  five kings, and made the remnant to flee. Chap. iii.

How the battle was finished or he came, and how the king founded an
  abbey where the battle was. Chap. iv.

How Sir Tor was made knight of the Round Table, and how Bagdemagus was
  displeased. Chap. v.

How king Arthur, king Uriens, and Sir Accolon of Gaul chased an hart,
  and of their marvellous adventure. Chap. vi.

How Arthur took upon him to fight, to be delivered out of prison, and
  also for to deliver twenty knights that were in prison. Chap. vii.

How Accolon found himself by a well, and he took upon him to do battle
  against Arthur. Chap. viii.

Of the battle between king Arthur and Accolon. Chap. ix.

How king Arthur’s sword that he fought with brake, and how he recovered
  of Accolon his own sword Excalibur, and overcame his enemy. Chap. x.

How Accolon confessed the treason of Morgan le fay, king Arthur’s
  sister, and how she would have done slay him. Chap. xi.

How Arthur accorded the two brethren, and delivered the twenty knights,
  and how Sir Accolon died. Chap. xii.

How Morgan would have slain Sir Uriens her husband, and how Sir Ewain
  her son saved him. Chap. xiii.

How queen Morgan le fay made great sorrow for the death of Accolon, and
  how she stole away the scabbard from Arthur. Chap. xiv.

How Morgan le fay saved a knight that should have been drowned, and how
  king Arthur returned home again. Chap. xv.

How the damsel of the lake saved king Arthur from a mantle which should
  have burnt him. Chap. xvi.

How Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewain met with twelve fair damsels, and how
  they complained on Sir Marhaus. Chap. xvii.

How Sir Marhaus justed with Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewain, and overthrew
  them both. Chap. xviii.

How Sir Marhaus, Sir Gawaine, and Sir Ewain met three damsels, and each
  of them took one. Chap. xix.

How a knight and a dwarf strove for a lady. Chap. xx.

How king Pelleas suffered himself to be taken prisoner because he would
  have a sight of his lady, and how Sir Gawaine promised him for to get
  to him the love of his lady. Chap. xxi.

How Sir Gawaine came to the lady Ettard, and how Sir Pelleas found them
  sleeping. Chap. xxii.

How Sir Pelleas loved no more Ettard, by the mean of the damsel of the
  lake, whom he loved ever after. Chap. xxiii.

How Sir Marhaus rode with the damsel, and how he came to the duke of
  the South Marches. Chap. xxiv.

How Sir Marhaus fought with the duke and his six sons, and made them to
  yield them. Chap. xxv.

How Sir Ewain rode with the damsel of sixty year of age, and how he gat
  the prize at tourneying. Chap. xxvi.

How Sir Ewain fought with two knights, and overcame them. Chap. xxvii.

How at the year’s end all three knights with their three damsels met at
  the fountain. Chap. xxviii.


                 Of the Fifth Book the Chapters follow.

How twelve aged ambassadors of Rome came to king Arthur to demand
  truage for Britain. Chap. i.

How the kings and lords promised to king Arthur aid and help against
  the Romans. Chap. ii.

How king Arthur held a parliament at York, and how he ordained how the
  realm should be governed in his absence. Chap. iii.

How king Arthur being shipped, and lying in his cabin, had a marvellous
  dream, and of the exposition thereof. Chap. iv.

How a man of the country told to him of a marvellous giant, and how he
  fought and conquered him. Chap. v.

How king Arthur sent Sir Gawaine and other to Lucius, and how they were
  assailed and escaped with worship. Chap. vi.

How Lucius sent certain spies in a bushment, for to have taken his
  knights, being prisoners, and how they were letted. Chap. vii.

How a senator told to Lucius of their discomfiture, and also of the
  great battle between Arthur and Lucius. Chap. viii.

How Arthur, after he had achieved the battle against the Romans,
  entered into Almaine, and so into Italy. Chap. ix.

Of a battle done by Gawaine against a Saracen, which after was yielden
  and became Christian. Chap. x.

How the Saracens came out of a wood for to rescue their beasts, and of
  a great battle. Chap. xi.

How Sir Gawaine returned to king Arthur with his prisoners, and how the
  king won a city, and how he was crowned emperor. Chap. xii.


              Here follow the Chapters of the Sixth Book.

How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel departed from the court for to seek
  adventures, and how Sir Lionel left him sleeping, and was taken.
  Chap. i.

How Sir Ector followed for to seek Sir Launcelot, and how he was taken
  by Sir Turquine. Chap. ii.

How four queens found Launcelot sleeping, and how by enchantment he was
  taken and led into a castle. Chap. iii.

How Sir Launcelot was delivered by the mean of a damsel. Chap. iv.

How a knight found Sir Launcelot, and how Sir Launcelot fought with the
  knight. Chap. v.

How Sir Launcelot was received of king Bagdemagus’s daughter, and he
  made his complaint to her father. Chap. vi.

How Sir Launcelot behaved him in a tournament, and how he met with Sir
  Turquine leading Sir Gaheris. Chap. vii.

How Sir Launcelot and Sir Turquine fought together. Chap. viii.

How Sir Turquine was slain, and how Sir Launcelot bad Sir Gaheris
  deliver all the prisoners. Chap. ix.

How Sir Launcelot rode with the damsel and slew a knight that
  distressed all ladies, and also a villain that kept a bridge. Chap. x.

How Sir Launcelot slew two giants, and made a castle free. Chap. xi.

How Sir Launcelot rode disguised in Sir Kay’s harness, and how he smote
  down a knight. Chap. xii.

How Sir Launcelot jousted against four knights of the Round Table, and
  overthrew them. Chap. xiii.

How Sir Launcelot followed a brachet into a castle, where he found a
  dead knight, and how he after was required of a damsel to heal her
  brother. Chap. xiv.

How Sir Launcelot came into the Chapel Perilous, and gat there of a
  dead corpse a piece of the cloth and a sword. Chap. xv.

How Sir Launcelot, at the request of a lady, recovered a falcon, by
  which he was deceived. Chap. xvi.

How Sir Launcelot overtook a knight which chased his wife to have slain
  her, and how he said to him. Chap. xvii.

How Sir Launcelot came to king Arthur’s court, and how there were
  recounted all his noble feats and acts. Chap. xviii.


             Here follow the Chapters of the Seventh Book.

How Beaumains came to king Arthur’s court, and demanded three petitions
  of king Arthur. Chap. i.

How Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine were wroth because Sir Kay mocked
  Beaumains, and of a damsel which desired a knight for to fight for a
  lady. Chap. ii.

How Beaumains desired the battle, and how it was granted to him, and
  how he desired to be made knight of Sir Launcelot. Chap. iii.

How Beaumains departed, and how he gat of Sir Kay a spear and a shield,
  and how he justed and fought with Sir Launcelot. Chap. iv.

How Beaumains told to Sir Launcelot his name, and how he was dubbed
  knight of Sir Launcelot, and after overtook the damsel. Chap. v.

How Sir Beaumains fought and slew two knights at a passage. Chap. vi.

How Beaumains fought with the knight of the black lands, and fought
  with him till he fell down and died. Chap. vii.

How the brother of the knight that was slain met with Beaumains, and
  fought with Beaumains till he was yielden. Chap. viii.

How the damsel ever rebuked Beaumains, and would not suffer him to sit
  at her table, but called him kitchen boy. Chap. ix.

How the third brother, called the red knight, jousted and fought
  against Beaumains, and how Beaumains overcame him. Chap. x.

How Sir Beaumains suffered great rebukes of the damsel, and he suffered
  it patiently. Chap. xi.

How Sir Beaumains fought with Sir Persant of inde, and made him to be
  yielden. Chap. xii.

Of the goodly communication between Sir Persant and Beaumains, and how
  he told him that his name was Sir Gareth. Chap. xiii.

How the lady that was besieged had word from her sister how she had
  brought a knight to fight for her, and what battles he had achieved.
  Chap. xiv.

How the damsel and Beaumains came to the siege, and came to a sycamore
  tree, and there Beaumains blew an horn, and then the knight of the
  red lands came to fight with him. Chap. xv.

How the two knights met together, and of their talking, and how they
  began their battle. Chap. xvi.

How after long fighting Beaumains overcame the knight and would have
  slain him, but at the request of the lords he saved his life, and
  made him to yield him to the lady. Chap. xvii.

How the knight yielded him, and how Beaumains made him to go unto king
  Arthur’s court, and to cry Sir Launcelot mercy. Chap. xviii.

How Beaumains came to the lady, and when he came to the castle the
  gates were closed against him, and of the words that the lady said to
  him. Chap. xix.

How Sir Beaumains rode after to rescue his dwarf, and came into the
  castle where he was. Chap. xx.

How Sir Gareth, otherwise called Beaumains, came to the presence of his
  lady, and how they took acquaintance, and of their love. Chap. xxi.

How at night came an armed knight, and fought with Sir Gareth, and he,
  sore hurt in the thigh, smote off the knight’s head. Chap. xxii.

How the said knight came again the next night, and was beheaded again.
  And how at the feast of Pentecost all the knights that Sir Gareth had
  overcome came and yielded them to king Arthur. Chap. xxiii.

How king Arthur pardoned them, and demanded of them where Sir Gareth
  was. Chap. xxiv.

How the queen of Orkney came to this feast of Pentecost, and Sir
  Gawaine and his brethren came to ask her blessing. Chap. xxv.

How king Arthur sent for the lady Liones, and how she let cry a tourney
  at her castle, where as came many knights. Chap. xxvi.

How king Arthur went to the tournament with his knights, and how the
  lady received him worshipfully, and how the knights encountered.
  Chap. xxvii.

How the knights bare them in battle. Chap. xxviii.

Yet of the said tournament. Chap. xxix.

How Sir Gareth was espied by the heralds, and how he escaped out of the
  field. Chap. xxx.

How Sir Gareth came to a castle where he was well lodged, and how he
  justed with a knight and slew him. Chap. xxxi.

How Sir Gareth fought with a knight that held within his castle thirty
  ladies, and how he slew him. Chap. xxxii.

How Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth fought each against other, and how they
  knew each other by the damsel Linet. Chap. xxxiii.

How Sir Gareth acknowledged that they loved each other to king Arthur,
  and of the appointment of their wedding. Chap. xxxiv.

Of the great royalty, and what officers were made at the feast of the
  wedding, and of the justs at the feast. Chap. xxxv.


              Here follow the Chapters of the Eighth Book.

How Sir Tristram de Liones was born, and how his mother died at his
  birth, wherefore she named him Tristram. Chap. i.

How the step-mother of Sir Tristram had ordained poison for to have
  poisoned Sir Tristram. Chap. ii.

How Sir Tristram was sent into France, and had one to govern him named
  Gouvernail, and how he learned to harp, hawk, and hunt. Chap. iii.

How Sir Marhaus came out of Ireland for to ask truage of Cornwall, or
  else he would fight therefore. Chap. iv.

How Tristram enterprized the battle to fight for the truage of
  Cornwall, and how he was made knight. Chap. v.

How Sir Tristram arrived into the island for to furnish the battle with
  Sir Marhaus. Chap. vi.

How Sir Tristram fought against Sir Marhaus, and achieved his battle,
  and how Sir Marhaus fled to his ship. Chap. vii.

How Sir Marhaus, after that he was arrived in Ireland, died of the
  stroke that Tristram had given to him, and how Tristram was hurt.
  Chap. viii.

How Sir Tristram was put to the keeping of La Beale Isoud, for to be
  healed of his wound. Chap. ix.

How Sir Tristram won the degree at a tournament in Ireland, and there
  made Palamides to bear no harness in a year. Chap. x.

How the queen espied that Sir Tristram had slain her brother, Sir
  Marhaus, by his sword, and in what jeopardy he was. Chap. xi.

How Sir Tristram departed from the king and La Beale Isoud out of
  Ireland for to come into Cornwall. Chap. xii.

How Sir Tristram and king Mark hurt each other for the love of a
  knight’s wife. Chap. xiii.

How Sir Tristram came to the lady, and how her husband fought with Sir
  Tristram. Chap. xiv.

How Sir Bleoberis demanded the fairest lady in king Mark’s court, whom
  he took away, and how he was fought with. Chap. xv.

How Sir Tristram fought with two knights of the Round Table. Chap. xvi.

How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Bleoberis for a lady, and how the lady
  was put to choice to whom she would go. Chap. xvii.

How the lady forsook Sir Tristram and abode with Sir Bleoberis, and how
  she desired to go to her husband. Chap. xviii.

How king Mark sent Sir Tristram for La Beale Isoud toward Ireland, and
  how by fortune he arrived into England. Chap. xix.

How king Anguish of Ireland was summoned to come to king Arthur’s court
  for treason. Chap. xx.

How Sir Tristram rescued a child from a knight, and how Gouvernail told
  him of king Anguish. Chap. xxi.

How Sir Tristram fought for Sir Anguish and overcame his adversary, and
  how his adversary would never yield him. Chap. xxii.

How Sir Blamor desired Tristram to slay him, and how Sir Tristram
  spared him, and how they took appointment. Chap. xxiii.

How Sir Tristram demanded La Beale Isoud for king Mark, and how Sir
  Tristram and Isoud drank the love drink. Chap. xxiv.

How Sir Tristram and Isoud were in prison, and how he fought for her
  beauty, and smote off another lady’s head. Chap. xxv.

How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Breunor, and at the last smote off his
  head. Chap. xxvi.

How Sir Galahad fought with Sir Tristram, and how Sir Tristram yielded
  him and promised to fellowship with Launcelot. Chap. xxvii.

How Sir Launcelot met with Sir Carados bearing away Sir Gawaine, and of
  the rescue of Sir Gawaine. Chap. xxviii.

Of the wedding of king Mark to La Beale Isoud, and of Bragwaine her
  maid, and of Palamides. Chap. xxix.

How Palamides demanded queen Isoud, and how Lambegus rode after to
  rescue her, and of the escape of Isoud. Chap. xxx.

How Sir Tristram rode after Palamides, and how he found him and fought
  with him, and by the mean of Isoud the battle ceased. Chap. xxxi.

How Sir Tristram brought queen Isoud home, and of the debate of king
  Mark and Sir Tristram. Chap. xxxii.

How Sir Lamorak justed with thirty knights, and Sir Tristram at the
  request of king Mark smote his horse down. Chap. xxxiii.

How Sir Lamorak sent an horn to king Mark in despite of Sir Tristram,
  and how Sir Tristram was driven into a chapel. Chap. xxxiv.

How Sir Tristram was holpen by his men, and of queen Isoud, which was
  put in a lazarcote, and how Tristram was hurt. Chap. xxxv.

How Sir Tristram served in war the king Howell of Britain and slew his
  adversary in the field. Chap. xxxvi.

How Sir Suppinabiles told Sir Tristram how he was defamed in the court
  of king Arthur, and of Sir Lamorak. Chap. xxxvii.

How Sir Tristram and his wife arrived in Wales, and how he met there
  with Sir Lamorak. Chap. xxxviii.

How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Nabon and overcame him, and made Sir
  Lamorak lord of the isle. Chap. xxxix.

How Sir Lamorak departed from Sir Tristram, and how he met with Sir
  Frol, and after with Sir Launcelot. Chap. xl.

How Sir Lamorak slew Sir Frol, and of the courteous fighting with Sir
  Belliance his brother. Chap. xli.


              Here follow the Chapters of the Ninth Book.

How a young man came into the court of king Arthur, and how Sir Kay
  called him in scorn La Cote Male Taile. Chap. i.

How a damsel came unto the court and desired a knight to take on him an
  inquest, which La Cote Male Taile emprized. Chap. ii.

How La Cote Male Taile overthrew Sir Dagonet the king’s fool, and of
  the rebuke that he had of the damsel. Chap. iii.

How La Cote Male Taile fought against an hundred knights, and how he
  escaped by the mean of a lady. Chap. iv.

How Sir Launcelot came to the court and heard of La Cote Male Taile,
  and how he followed after him, and how La Cote Male Taile was
  prisoner. Chap. v.

How Sir Launcelot fought with six knights, and after with Sir Brian,
  and how he delivered the prisoners. Chap. vi.

How Sir Launcelot met with the damsel named Maledisant, and named her
  the damsel Bienpensant. Chap. vii.

How La Cote Male Taile was taken prisoner, and after rescued by Sir
  Launcelot, and how Sir Launcelot overcame four brethren. Chap. viii.

How Sir Launcelot made La Cote Male Taile lord of the castle of
  Pendragon, and after was made knight of the Round Table. Chap. ix.

How La Beale Isoud sent letters unto Sir Tristram by her maid
  Bragwaine, and of divers adventures of Sir Tristram. Chap. x.

How Sir Tristram met with Sir Lamorak de Galis, and how they fought,
  and after accorded never to fight together. Chap. xi.

How Sir Palamides followed the questing beast, and how he smote down
  both Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak with one spear. Chap. xii.

How Sir Lamorak met with Sir Meliagance, and fought together for the
  beauty of queen Guenever. Chap. xiii.

How Sir Meliagance told for what cause they fought, and how Sir Lamorak
  justed with king Arthur. Chap. xiv.

How Sir Kay met with Sir Tristram, and after of the shame spoken of the
  knights of Cornwall, and how they justed. Chap. xv.

How king Arthur was brought into the Forest Perilous, and how Sir
  Tristram saved his life. Chap. xvi.

How Sir Tristram came to La Beale Isoud, and how Kehydius began to love
  La Beale Isoud, and of a letter that Tristram found. Chap. xvii.

How Sir Tristram departed from Tintagil, and how he sorrowed, and was
  so long in a forest till he was out of his mind. Chap. xviii.

How Sir Tristram soused Dagonet in a well, and how Palamides sent a
  damsel to seek Tristram, and how Palamides met with king Mark. Chap.
  xix.

How it was noised how Sir Tristram was dead, and how La Beale Isoud
  would have slain herself. Chap. xx.

How king Mark found Sir Tristram naked, and made him to be borne home
  to Tintagil, and how he was there known by a brachet. Chap. xxi.

How king Mark, by the advice of his council, banished Sir Tristram out
  of Cornwall the term of ten year. Chap. xxii.

How a damsel sought help to help Sir Launcelot against thirty knights,
  and how Sir Tristram fought with them. Chap. xxiii.

How Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan came to a lodging where they must just
  with two knights. Chap. xxiv.

How Sir Tristram justed with Sir Kay and Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and
  how Sir Gawaine turned Sir Tristram from Morgan le Fay. Chap. xxv.

How Sir Tristram and Sir Gawaine rode to have fought against the thirty
  knights, but they durst not come out. Chap. xxvi.

How damsel Bragwaine found Tristram sleeping by a well, and how she
  delivered letters to him from Beale Isoud. Chap. xxvii.

How Sir Tristram had a fall of Sir Palamides, and how Launcelot
  overthrew two knights. Chap. xxviii.

How Sir Launcelot justed with Palamides and overthrew him, and after he
  was assailed with twelve knights. Chap. xxix.

How Sir Tristram behaved him the first day of the tournament, and there
  he had the prize. Chap. xxx.

How Sir Tristram returned against king Arthur’s party, because he saw
  Sir Palamides on that party. Chap. xxxi.

How Sir Tristram found Palamides by a well, and brought him with him to
  his lodging. Chap. xxxii.

How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Palamides, and how he justed with king
  Arthur, and other feats. Chap. xxxiii.

How Sir Launcelot hurt Sir Tristram, and how after Sir Tristram smote
  down Sir Palamides. Chap. xxxiv.

How the prize of the third day was given to Sir Launcelot, and Sir
  Launcelot gave it unto Sir Tristram. Chap. xxxv.

How Sir Palamides came to the castle where Sir Tristram was, and of the
  quest that Sir Launcelot and ten knights made for Sir Tristram. Chap.
  xxxvi.

How Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan were taken and put in
  prison. Chap. xxxvii.

How king Mark was sorry for the good renown of Sir Tristram: some of
  Arthur’s knights justed with knights of Cornwall. Chap. xxxviii.

Of the treason of king Mark, and how Sir Gaheris smote him down, and
  Andred his cousin. Chap. xxxix.

How after that Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan had been
  long in prison they were delivered. Chap. xl.

How Sir Dinadan rescued a lady from Sir Breuse Saunce Pite, and how Sir
  Tristram received a shield of Morgan le Fay. Chap. xli.

How Sir Tristram took with him the shield, and also how he slew the
  paramour of Morgan le Fay. Chap. xlii.

How Morgan le Fay buried her paramour, and how Sir Tristram praised Sir
  Launcelot and his kin. Chap. xliii.

How Sir Tristram at a tournament bare the shield that Morgan le Fay had
  delivered him. Chap. xliv.


              Here follow the Chapters of the Tenth Book.

How Sir Tristram justed and smote down king Arthur, because he told him
  not the cause why he bare that shield. Chap. i.

How Sir Tristram saved Sir Palamides’ life, and how they promised to
  fight together within a fortnight. Chap. ii.

How Sir Tristram sought a strong knight that had smitten him down, and
  many other knights of the Round Table. Chap. iii.

How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and Sir Dodinas
  le Savage. Chap. iv.

How Sir Tristram met at the perron with Sir Launcelot, and how they
  fought together unknown. Chap. v.

How Sir Launcelot brought Sir Tristram to the court, and of the great
  joy that the king and other made for the coming of Sir Tristram.
  Chap. vi.

How for despite of Sir Tristram king Mark came with two knights into
  England, and how he slew one of the knights. Chap. vii.

How king Mark came to a fountain where he found Sir Lamorak complaining
  for the love of king Lot’s wife. Chap. viii.

How king Mark, Sir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan came to a castle, and how
  king Mark was known there. Chap. ix.

How Sir Berluse met with king Mark, and how Sir Dinadan took his part.
  Chap. x.

How king Mark mocked Sir Dinadan, and how they met with six knights of
  the Round Table. Chap. xi.

How the six knights sent Sir Dagonet to just with king Mark, and how
  king Mark refused him. Chap. xii.

How Sir Palamides by adventure met king Mark flying, and how he
  overthrew Dagonet and other knights. Chap. xiii.

How king Mark and Sir Dinadan heard Sir Palamides making great sorrow
  and mourning for La Beale Isoud. Chap. xiv.

How king Mark had slain Sir Amant wrongfully tofore king Arthur, and
  Sir Launcelot fetched king Mark to king Arthur. Chap. xv.

How Sir Dinadan told Sir Palamides of the battle between Sir Launcelot
  and Sir Tristram. Chap. xvi.

How Sir Lamorak justed with divers knights of the castle, wherein was
  Morgan le Fay. Chap. xvii.

How Sir Palamides would have justed for Sir Lamorak with the knights of
  the castle. Chap. xviii.

How Sir Lamorak justed with Sir Palamides and hurt him grievously.
  Chap. xix.

How it was told Sir Launcelot that Dagonet chased king Mark, and how a
  knight overthrew him and six knights. Chap. xx.

How king Arthur let do cry a justs, and how Sir Lamorak came in and
  overthrew Sir Gawaine and many other. Chap. xxi.

How king Arthur made king Mark to be accorded with Sir Tristram, and
  how they departed toward Cornwall. Chap. xxii.

How Sir Percivale was made knight of king Arthur, and how a dumb maid
  spake, and brought him to the Round Table. Chap. xxiii.

How Sir Lamorak visited king Lot’s wife, and how Sir Gaheris slew her
  which was his own mother. Chap. xxiv.

How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred met with a knight fleeing, and how
  they both were overthrown, and of Sir Dinadan. Chap. xxv.

How king Arthur, the queen, and Launcelot received letters out of
  Cornwall, and of the answer again. Chap. xxvi.

How Sir Launcelot was wroth with the letter that he received from king
  Mark, and of Dinadan, which made a lay of king Mark. Chap. xxvii.

How Sir Tristram was hurt, and of a war made to king Mark; and of Sir
  Tristram, how he promised to rescue him. Chap. xxviii.

How Sir Tristram overcame the battle, and how Elias desired a man to
  fight body for body. Chap. xxix.

How Sir Elias and Sir Tristram fought together for the truage, and how
  Sir Tristram slew Elias in the field. Chap. xxx.

How at a great feast that king Mark made, an harper came and sang the
  lay that Dinadan had made. Chap. xxxi.

How king Mark slew by treason his brother Boudwin, for good service
  that he had done to him. Chap. xxxii.

How Anglides, Boudwin’s wife, escaped with her young son, Alisander le
  Orphelin, and came to the castle of Arundel. Chap. xxxiii.

How Anglides gave the bloody doublet to Alisander her son the same day
  that he was made knight, and the charge withal. Chap. xxxiv.

How it was told to king Mark of Alisander, and how he would have slain
  Sir Sadok for saving of his life. Chap. xxxv.

How Sir Alisander wan the prize at a tournament, and of Morgan le Fay;
  and how he fought with Sir Malgrin and slew him. Chap. xxxvi.

How queen Morgan le Fay had Alisander in her castle, and how she healed
  his wounds. Chap. xxxvii.

How Alisander was delivered from the queen Morgan le Fay by the means
  of a damsel. Chap. xxxviii.

How Alisander met with Alice la Beale Pilgrim, and how he justed with
  two knights; and after of him and of Sir Mordred. Chap. xxxix.

How Sir Galahalt did do cry a justs in Surluse, and queen Guenever’s
  knights should just against all that would come. Chap. xl.

How Sir Launcelot fought in the tournament, and how Sir Palamides did
  arms there for a damsel. Chap. xli.

How Sir Galahalt and Palamides fought together, and of Sir Dinadan and
  Sir Galahalt. Chap. xlii.

How Sir Archad appealed Sir Palamides of treason, and how Sir Palamides
  slew him. Chap. xliii.

Of the third day, and how Sir Palamides justed with Sir Lamorak, and
  other things. Chap. xliv.

Of the fourth day, and of many great feats of arms. Chap. xlv.

Of the fifth day, and how Sir Lamorak behaved him. Chap. xlvi.

How Sir Palamides fought with Corsabrin for a lady, and how Palamides
  slew Corsabrin. Chap. xlvii.

Of the sixth day, and what then was done. Chap. xlviii.

Of the seventh battle, and how Sir Launcelot, being disguised like a
  maid, smote down Sir Dinadan. Chap. xlix.

How by treason Sir Tristram was brought to a tournament for to have
  been slain, and how he was put in prison. Chap. l.

How king Mark let do counterfeit letters from the Pope, and how Sir
  Percivale delivered Sir Tristram out of prison. Chap. li.

How Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud came into England, and how Sir
  Launcelot brought them to Joyous Gard. Chap. lii.

How by the counsel of La Beale Isoud Sir Tristram rode armed, and how
  he met with Sir Palamides. Chap. liii.

Of Sir Palamides, and how he met with Sir Bleoberis and with Sir Ector,
  and of Sir Percivale. Chap. liv.

How Sir Tristram met with Sir Dinadan, and of their devices, and what
  he said to Sir Gawaine’s brethren. Chap. lv.

How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Agravaine and Sir Gaheris, and how Sir
  Dinadan was sent for by La Beale Isoud. Chap. lvi.

How Sir Dinadan met with Sir Tristram, and with justing with Sir
  Palamides Sir Dinadan knew him. Chap. lvii.

How they approached the castle Lonazep, and of other devices of the
  death of Sir Lamorak. Chap. lviii.

How they came to Humber bank, and how they found a ship there, wherein
  lay the body of king Hermance. Chap. lix.

How Sir Tristram with his fellowship came and were with an host which
  after fought with Sir Tristram; and other matters. Chap. lx.

How Palamides went for to fight with two brethren for the death of king
  Hermance. Chap. lxi.

The copy of the letter written for to revenge the king’s death, and how
  Sir Palamides fought for to have the battle. Chap. lxii.

Of the preparation of Sir Palamides and the two brethren that should
  fight with him. Chap. lxiii.

Of the battle between Sir Palamides and the two brethren, and how the
  two brethren were slain. Chap. lxiv.

How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides met Breuse Saunce Pite, and how Sir
  Tristram and La Beale Isoud went unto Lonazep. Chap. lxv.

How Sir Palamides justed with Sir Galihodin and after with Sir Gawaine,
  and smote them down. Chap. lxvi.

How Sir Tristram and his fellowship came unto the tournament of
  Lonazep; and of divers justs and matters. Chap. lxvii.

How Sir Tristram and his fellowship justed, and of the noble feats that
  they did in that tourneying. Chap. lxviii.

How Sir Tristram was unhorsed and smitten down by Sir Launcelot, and
  after that Sir Tristram smote down king Arthur. Chap. lxix.

How Sir Tristram changed his harness and it was all red, and how he
  demeaned him, and how Sir Palamides slew Launcelot’s horse. Chap. lxx.

How Sir Launcelot said to Sir Palamides, and how the prize of that day
  was given unto Sir Palamides. Chap. lxxi.

How Sir Dinadan provoked Sir Tristram to do well. Chap. lxxii.

How king Arthur and Sir Launcelot came to see La Beale Isoud, and how
  Palamides smote down king Arthur. Chap. lxxiii.

How the second day Palamides forsook Sir Tristram, and went to the
  contrary part against him. Chap. lxxiv.

How Sir Tristram departed out of the field, and awaked Sir Dinadan, and
  changed his array into black. Chap. lxxv.

How Sir Palamides changed his shield and his armour for to hurt Sir
  Tristram, and how Sir Launcelot did to Sir Tristram. Chap. lxxvi.

How Sir Tristram departed with La Beale Isoud, and how Sir Palamides
  followed and excused him. Chap. lxxvii.

How king Arthur and Sir Launcelot came into their pavilions as they sat
  at supper, and of Palamides. Chap. lxxviii.

How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides did the next day, and how king
  Arthur was unhorsed. Chap. lxxix.

How Sir Tristram turned to king Arthur’s side, and how Sir Palamides
  would not. Chap. lxxx.

How Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector reported to queen Guenever of the
  beauty of La Beale Isoud. Chap. lxxxi.

How Palamides complained by a well, and how Epinogris came and found
  him, and of their both sorrows. Chap. lxxxii.

How Sir Palamides brought to Sir Epinogris his lady, and how Sir
  Palamides and Sir Safire were assailed. Chap. lxxxiii.

How Sir Palamides and Sir Safire conducted Sir Epinogris to his castle,
  and of other adventures. Chap. lxxxiv.

How Sir Tristram made him ready to rescue Sir Palamides, but Sir
  Launcelot rescued him or he came. Chap. lxxxv.

How Sir Tristram and Sir Launcelot, with Palamides, came to Joyous
  Gard, and of Palamides and Sir Tristram. Chap. lxxxvi.

How there was a day set between Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides for to
  fight, and how Sir Tristram was hurt. Chap. lxxxvii.

How Sir Palamides kept his day to have foughten but Sir Tristram might
  not come, and other things. Chap. lxxxviii.


             Here follow the Chapters of the Eleventh Book.

How Sir Launcelot rode on his adventure, and how he helped a dolorous
  lady from her pain, and how that he fought with a dragon. Chap. i.

How Sir Launcelot came to Pelles, and of the Sangreal, and how he begat
  Galahad on Elaine, king Pelles’ daughter. Chap. ii.

How Sir Launcelot was displeased when he knew that he had been
  deceived, and how Galahad was born. Chap. iii.

How Sir Bors came to dame Elaine and saw Galahad, and how he was fed
  with the Sangreal. Chap. iv.

How Sir Bors made Sir Pedivere to yield him, and of marvellous
  adventures that he had, and how he achieved them. Chap. v.

How Sir Bors departed; and how Sir Launcelot was rebuked of the queen
  Guenever, and of his excuse. Chap. vi.

How dame Elaine, Galahad’s mother, came in great estate to Camelot, and
  how Sir Launcelot behaved him there. Chap. vii.

How dame Brisen by enchantment brought Sir Launcelot to Elaine, and how
  queen Guenever rebuked him. Chap. viii.

How dame Elaine was commanded by queen Guenever to avoid the court, and
  how Sir Launcelot became mad. Chap. ix.

What sorrow queen Guenever made for Sir Launcelot, and how he was
  sought by knights of his kin. Chap. x.

How a servant of Sir Aglovale’s was slain, and what vengeance Sir
  Aglovale and Sir Percivale did therefore. Chap. xi.

How Sir Percivale departed secretly from his brother, and how he loosed
  a knight bound with a chain; and of other things. Chap. xii.

How Sir Percivale met with Sir Ector, and how they fought long, and
  each had almost slain other. Chap. xiii.

How by miracle they were both made whole by the coming of the holy
  vessel of Sangreal. Chap. xiv.


             Here follow the Chapters of the Twelfth Book.

How Sir Launcelot in his madness took a sword and fought with a knight,
  and after lept into a bed. Chap. i.

How Sir Launcelot was carried in an horse-litter, and how Sir Launcelot
  rescued Sir Bliaunt his host. Chap. ii.

How Sir Launcelot fought against a boar and slew him, and how he was
  hurt and brought to an hermitage. Chap. iii.

How Sir Launcelot was known by dame Elaine, and was borne into a
  chamber, and after healed by the Sangreal. Chap. iv.

How Sir Launcelot, after that he was whole and had his mind, he was
  ashamed, and how that Elaine desired a castle for him. Chap. v.

How Sir Launcelot came into the Joyous Isle, and there he named himself
  le Chevalier Mal Fet. Chap. vi.

Of a great tourneying in the Joyous Isle, and how Sir Percivale and Sir
  Ector came thither and Sir Percivale fought with him. Chap. vii.

How each of them knew other, and of their courtesy; and how his brother
  Ector came unto him, and of their joy. Chap. viii.

How Sir Bors and Sir Lionel came to king Brandegore, and how Sir Bors
  took his son Heline le Blank, and of Sir Launcelot. Chap. ix.

How Sir Launcelot, with Sir Percivale and Sir Ector, came to the court,
  and of the great joy of him. Chap. x.

How La Beale Isoud counselled Sir Tristram to go unto the court to the
  great feast of Pentecost. Chap. xi.

How Sir Tristram departed unarmed and met with Sir Palamides, and how
  they smote each other, and how Palamides forbare him. Chap. xii.

How Sir Tristram gat him harness of a knight which was hurt, and how he
  overthrew Sir Palamides. Chap. xiii.

How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides fought long together, and after
  accorded; and how Sir Tristram made him to be christened. Chap. xiv.


            Here follow the Chapters of the Thirteenth Book.

How at the Vigil of the feast of Pentecost entered into the hall before
  king Arthur a damsel, and desired Sir Launcelot for to come and dub a
  knight, and how he went with her. Chap. i.

How the letters were found written in the Siege Perilous, and of the
  marvellous adventure of the sword in a stone. Chap. ii.

How Sir Gawaine assayed to draw out the sword, and how an old man
  brought in Galahad. Chap. iii.

How the old man brought Galahad to the Siege Perilous, and set him
  therein, and how all the knights marvelled. Chap. iv.

How king Arthur shewed the stone hoving on the water to Galahad, and
  how he drew out the sword. Chap. v.

How king Arthur had all the knights together for to just in the meadow
  beside Winchester or they departed. Chap. vi.

How the queen desired to see Galahad; and after all the knights were
  replenished with the holy Sangreal, and how all they avowed the
  enquest of the same. Chap. vii.

How great sorrow was made of the king and ladies for the departing of
  the knights, and how they departed. Chap. viii.

How Galahad gat him a shield, and how they sped that presumed to take
  down the said shield. Chap. ix.

How Galahad departed with the shield, and how king Evelake had received
  this shield of Joseph of Aramathye. Chap. x.

How Joseph made a cross on the white shield with his blood, and how
  Galahad was by a monk brought to a tomb. Chap. xi.

Of the marvel that Sir Galahad saw and heard in the tomb, and how he
  made Melias knight. Chap. xii.

Of the adventure that Melias had, and how Galahad revenged him, and how
  Melias was carried into an abbey. Chap. xiii.

How Galahad departed, and how he was commanded to go to the castle of
  maidens to destroy the wicked custom. Chap. xiv.

How Sir Galahad fought with the knights of the castle, and destroyed
  the wicked custom. Chap. xv.

How Sir Gawaine came to the abbey for to follow Galahad, and how he was
  shriven to a hermit. Chap. xvi.

How Sir Galahad met with Sir Launcelot and with Sir Percivale, and
  smote them down, and departed from them. Chap. xvii.

How Sir Launcelot, half sleeping and half waking, saw a sick man borne
  in a litter, and how he was healed with the Sangreal. Chap. xviii.

How a voice spake to Sir Launcelot, and how he found his horse and his
  helm borne away, and after went afoot. Chap. xix.

How Sir Launcelot was shriven, and what sorrow he made; and of good
  ensamples which were shewed to him. Chap. xx.


            Here follow the Chapters of the Fourteenth Book.

How Sir Percivale came to a recluse and asked counsel, and how she told
  him that she was his aunt. Chap. i.

How Merlin likened the Round Table to the world, and how the knights
  that should achieve the Sangreal should be known. Chap. ii.

How Sir Percivale came into a monastery where he found king Evelake,
  which was an old man. Chap. iii.

How Sir Percivale saw many men of arms bearing a dead knight, and how
  he fought against them. Chap. iv.

How a yeoman desired him to get again an horse, and how Sir Percivale’s
  hackney was slain, and how he gat an horse. Chap. v.

Of the great danger that Sir Percivale was in by his horse, and how he
  saw a serpent and a lion fight. Chap. vi.

Of the vision that Sir Percivale saw, and how his vision was expounded,
  and of his lion. Chap. vii.

How Sir Percivale saw a ship coming to him-ward, and how the lady of
  the ship told him of her disheritance. Chap. viii.

How Sir Percivale promised her help, and how he required her of love,
  and how he was saved from the fiend. Chap. ix.

How Sir Percivale for penance rove himself through the thigh; and how
  she was known for the devil. Chap. x.


     Here followeth the Fifteenth Book, which is of Sir Launcelot.

How Sir Launcelot came into a chapel, where he found dead, in a white
  shirt, a man of religion of an hundred winter old. Chap. i.

Of a dead man, how men would have hewen him, and it would not be; and
  how Sir Launcelot took the hair of the dead man. Chap. ii.

Of a vision that Sir Launcelot had, and how he told it to an hermit,
  and desired counsel of him. Chap. iii.

How the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot his vision, and told him that
  Sir Galahad was his son. Chap. iv.

How Sir Launcelot justed with many knights, and he was taken. Chap. v.

How Sir Launcelot told his vision unto a woman, and how she expounded
  it to him. Chap. vi.


            Here follow the Chapters of the Sixteenth Book.

How Sir Gawaine was nigh weary of the quest of Sangreal, and of his
  marvellous dream. Chap. i.

Of the vision of Sir Ector, and how he justed with Sir Uwaine les
  Avoutres, his sworn brother. Chap. ii.

How Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector came to an hermitage to be confessed, and
  how they told to the hermit their visions. Chap. iii.

How the hermit expounded their vision. Chap. iv.

Of the good counsel that the hermit gave to them. Chap. v.

How Sir Bors met with an hermit, and how he was confessed to him, and
  of his penance enjoined to him. Chap. vi.

How Sir Bors was lodged with a lady, and how he took on him for to
  fight against a champion for her land. Chap. vii.

Of a vision which Sir Bors had that night, and how he fought and
  overcame his adversary. Chap. viii.

How the lady was restored to her lands by the battle of Sir Bors, and
  of his departing, and how he met Sir Lionel taken and beaten with
  thorns, and also of a maid which should have been dishonoured. Chap.
  ix.

How Sir Bors left to rescue his brother, and rescued the damsel; and
  how it was told him that Lionel was dead. Chap. x.

How Sir Bors told his dream to a priest which he had dreamed, and of
  the counsel that the priest gave to him. Chap. xi.

How the devil in a woman’s likeness would have tempted Sir Bors, and
  how by God’s grace he escaped. Chap. xii.

Of the holy communication of an abbot to Sir Bors, and how the abbot
  counselled him. Chap. xiii.

How Sir Bors met with his brother Sir Lionel, and how Sir Lionel would
  have slain Sir Bors. Chap. xiv.

How Sir Colgrevance fought against Sir Lionel for to save Sir Bors, and
  how the hermit was slain. Chap. xv.

How Sir Lionel slew Sir Colgrevance, and how after he would have slain
  Sir Bors. Chap. xvi.

How there came a voice which charged Sir Bors to touch not him, and of
  a cloud that came between them. Chap. xvii.


           Here follow the Chapters of the Seventeenth Book.

How Sir Galahad fought at a tournament, and how he was known of Sir
  Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris. Chap. i.

How Sir Galahad rode with a damsel, and came to the ship whereas Sir
  Bors and Sir Percivale were in. Chap. ii.

How Sir Galahad entered into the ship, and of a fair bed therein, with
  other marvellous things, and of a sword. Chap. iii.

Of the marvels of the sword and of the scabbard. Chap. iv.

How king Pelles was smitten through both thighs because he drew the
  sword, and other marvellous histories. Chap. v.

How Solomon took David’s sword by the counsel of his wife, and of other
  matters marvellous. Chap. vi.

A wonderful tale of king Solomon and his wife. Chap. vii.

How Galahad and his fellows came to a castle, and how they were fought
  withal, and how they slew their adversaries, and other matters. Chap.
  viii.

How the three knights, with Percivale’s sister, came into the waste
  forest, and of an hart and four lions and other things. Chap. ix.

How they were desired of a strange custom, the which they would not
  obey; and how they fought and slew many knights. Chap. x.

How Sir Percivale’s sister bled a dish full of blood for to heal a
  lady; wherefore she died; and how that the body was put in a ship.
  Chap. xi.

How Galahad and Percivale found in a castle many tombs of maidens that
  had bled to death. Chap. xii.

How Sir Launcelot entered into the ship where Sir Percivale’s sister
  lay dead; and how he met with Sir Galahad his son. Chap. xiii.

How a knight brought unto Sir Galahad an horse, and had him come from
  his father Sir Launcelot. Chap. xiv.

How Sir Launcelot was tofore the door of the chamber wherein the holy
  Sangreal was. Chap. xv.

How Sir Launcelot had lain fourteen days and as many night as a dead
  man, and other divers matters. Chap. xvi.

How Sir Launcelot returned towards Logris, and of other adventures
  which he saw in the way. Chap. xvii.

How Galahad came to king Mordrains, and of other matters and
  adventures. Chap. xviii.

How Sir Percivale and Sir Bors met with Sir Galahad, and how they came
  to the castle of Carbonek, and other matters. Chap. xix.

How Galahad and his fellows were fed of the holy Sangreal, and how our
  Lord appeared to them, and other things. Chap. xx.

How Galahad anointed with the blood of the spear the maimed king, and
  of other adventures. Chap. xxi.

How they were fed with the Sangreal while they were in prison, and how
  Galahad was made king. Chap. xxii.

Of the sorrow that Percivale and Bors made when Galahad was dead; and
  of Percivale how he died, and other matters. Chap. xxiii.


            Here follow the Chapters of the Eighteenth Book.

Of the joy of king Arthur and the queen had of the achievement of the
  Sangreal; and how Launcelot fell to his old love again. Chap. i.

How the queen commanded Sir Launcelot to avoid the court, and of the
  sorrow that Launcelot made. Chap. ii.

How at a dinner that the queen made there was a knight poisoned, which
  Sir Mador laid on the queen. Chap. iii.

How Sir Mador appeached the queen of treason, and there was no knight
  would fight for her at the first time. Chap. iv.

How the queen required Sir Bors to fight for her, and how he granted
  upon condition; and how he warned Sir Launcelot thereof. Chap. v.

How at the day Sir Bors made him ready for to fight for the queen; and
  when he should fight how another discharged him. Chap. vi.

How Sir Launcelot fought against Sir Mador for the queen, and how he
  overcame Sir Mador and discharged the queen. Chap. vii.

How the truth was known by the maiden of the lake, and of divers other
  matters. Chap. viii.

How Sir Launcelot rode to Astolat, and received a sleeve to bear upon
  his helm at the request of a maid. Chap. ix.

How the tourney began at Winchester, and what knights were at the
  justs, and other things. Chap. x.

How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine entered in the field against them of
  king Arthur’s court, and how Launcelot was hurt. Chap. xi.

How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of the field, and in
  what jeopardy Launcelot was. Chap. xii.

How Launcelot was brought to an hermit for to be healed of his wound,
  and of other matters. Chap. xiii.

How Sir Gawaine was lodged with the lord of Astolat, and there had
  knowledge that it was Sir Launcelot that bare the red sleeve. Chap.
  xiv.

Of the sorrow that Sir Bors had for the hurt of Launcelot; and of the
  anger that the queen had because Launcelot bore the sleeve. Chap. xv.

How Sir Bors sought Launcelot and found him in the hermitage, and of
  the lamentation between them. Chap. xvi.

How Sir Launcelot armed him to assay if he might bear arms, and how his
  wound burst out again. Chap. xvii.

How Sir Bors returned and told tidings of Sir Launcelot, and of the
  tourney, and to whom the prize was given. Chap. xviii.

Of the great lamentation of the fair maid of Astolat when Launcelot
  should depart, and how she died for his love. Chap. xix.

How the corpse of the maid of Astolat arrived tofore king Arthur, and
  of the burying, and how Sir Launcelot offered the mass-penny. Chap.
  xx.

Of great justs done all a Christmas, and of a great justs and tourney
  ordained by king Arthur, and of Sir Launcelot. Chap. xxi.

How Launcelot after that he was hurt of a gentlewoman came to an
  hermit, and of other matters. Chap. xxii.

How Sir Launcelot behaved him at the justs, and other men also. Chap.
  xxiii.

How king Arthur marvelled much of the justing in the field, and how he
  rode and found Sir Launcelot. Chap. xxiv.

How true love is likened to summer. Chap. xxv.


            Here follow the Chapters of the Nineteenth Book.

How queen Guenever rode on Maying with certain knights of the Round
  Table and clad all in green. Chap. i.

How Sir Meliagraunce took the queen and all her knights, which were
  sore hurt in fighting. Chap. ii.

How Sir Launcelot had word how the queen was taken, and how Sir
  Meliagraunce laid a bushment for Launcelot. Chap. iii.

How Sir Launcelot’s horse was slain, and how Sir Launcelot rode in a
  cart for to rescue the queen. Chap. iv.

How Sir Meliagraunce required forgiveness of the queen, and how she
  appeased Sir Launcelot, and other matters. Chap. v.

How Sir Launcelot came in the night to the queen, and how Sir
  Meliagraunce appeached the queen of treason. Chap. vi.

How Sir Launcelot answered for the queen, and waged battle against Sir
  Meliagraunce. And how Sir Launcelot was taken in a trap. Chap. vii.

How Sir Launcelot was delivered out of prison by a lady, and took a
  white courser, and came for to keep his day. Chap. viii.

How Sir Launcelot came the same time that Sir Meliagraunce abode him in
  the field, and dressed him to battle. Chap. ix.

How Sir Urre came into Arthur’s court for to be healed of his wounds,
  and how king Arthur would begin to handle him. Chap. x.

How king Arthur handled Sir Urre, and after him many other knights of
  the Round Table. Chap. xi.

How Sir Launcelot was commanded by Arthur to handle his wounds, and
  anon he was all whole, and how they thanked God. Chap. xii.

How there was a party made of an hundred knights against an hundred
  knights, and of other matters. Chap. xiii.


Here followeth the Book of the Piteous History which is of the Morte or
     Death of king Arthur, and the Chapters of the Twentieth Book.

How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred were busy upon Sir Gawaine for to
  disclose the love between Sir Launcelot and queen Guenever. Chap. i.

How Sir Agravaine disclosed their love to king Arthur, and how king
  Arthur gave them licence to take him. Chap. ii.

How Sir Launcelot was espied in the queen’s chamber, and how Sir
  Agravaine and Sir Mordred came with twelve knights to slay him. Chap.
  iii.

How Sir Launcelot slew Sir Colgrevance, and armed him in his harness,
  and after slew Sir Agravaine and twelve of his fellows. Chap. iv.

How Sir Launcelot came to Sir Bors and told him how he had sped, and in
  what adventure he had been, and how he escaped. Chap. v.

Of the counsel and advice which was taken by Sir Launcelot and by his
  friends for to save the queen. Chap. vi.

How Sir Mordred rode hastily to the king to tell him of the affray and
  death of Sir Agravaine and the other knights. Chap. vii.

How Sir Launcelot and his kinsmen rescued the queen from the fire, and
  how he slew many knights. Chap. viii.

Of the sorrow and lamentation of king Arthur for the death of his
  nephews and other good knights, and also for the queen his wife.
  Chap. ix.

How king Arthur at the request of Sir Gawaine concluded to make war
  against Sir Launcelot, and laid siege to his castle called Joyous
  Gard. Chap. x.

Of the communication between king Arthur and Sir Launcelot, and how
  king Arthur reproved him. Chap. xi.

How the cousins and kinsmen of Sir Launcelot excited him to go out to
  battle, and how they made them ready. Chap. xii.

How Sir Gawaine justed and smote down Sir Lionel, and how Sir Launcelot
  horsed king Arthur. Chap. xiii.

How the pope sent down his bulls to make peace, and how Sir Launcelot
  brought the queen to king Arthur. Chap. xiv.

Of the deliverance of the queen to the king by Sir Launcelot, and what
  language Sir Gawaine had to Sir Launcelot. Chap. xv.

Of the communication between Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot, with much
  other language. Chap. xvi.

How Sir Launcelot departed from the king and from Joyous Gard over
  seaward, and what knights went with him. Chap. xvii.

How Sir Launcelot passed over the sea, and how he made great lords of
  the knights that went with him. Chap. xviii.

How king Arthur and Sir Gawaine made a great host ready to go over sea
  to make war on Sir Launcelot. Chap. xix.

What message Sir Gawaine sent to Sir Launcelot, and king Arthur laid
  siege to Benwick, and other matters. Chap. xx.

How Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot did battle together, and how Sir
  Gawaine was overthrown and hurt. Chap. xxi.

Of the sorrow that king Arthur made for the war, and of another battle
  where also Sir Gawaine had the worse. Chap. xxii.


           Here follow the Chapters of the Twenty-first Book.

How Sir Mordred presumed and took on him to be king of England, and
  would have married the queen, his uncle’s wife. Chap. i.

How after that king Arthur had tidings he returned and came to Dover,
  where Sir Mordred met him to let his landing, and of the death of Sir
  Gawaine. Chap. ii.

How after Sir Gawaine’s ghost appeared to king Arthur, and warned him
  that he should not fight that day. Chap. iii.

How by misadventure of an adder the battle began, where Mordred was
  slain, and Arthur hurt to the death. Chap. iv.

How king Arthur commanded to cast his sword Excalibur into the water,
  and how he was delivered to ladies in a barge. Chap. v.

How Sir Bedivere found him on the morrow dead in an hermitage, and how
  he abode there with the hermit. Chap. vi.

Of the opinion of some men of the death of king Arthur; and how queen
  Guenever made her a nun in Almesbury. Chap. vii.

How when Sir Launcelot heard of the death of king Arthur, and of Sir
  Gawaine, and other matters, he came into England. Chap. viii.

How Sir Launcelot departed to seek the queen Guenever, and how he found
  at Almesbury. Chap. ix.

How Sir Launcelot came to the hermitage where the archbishop of
  Canterbury was, and how he took the habit on him. Chap. x.

How Sir Launcelot went with his seven fellows to Almesbury, and found
  there queen Guenever dead, whom they brought to Glastonbury. Chap. xi.

How Sir Launcelot began to sicken, and after died, whose body was borne
  to Joyous Gard for to be buried. Chap. xii.

How Sir Ector found Sir Launcelot his brother dead. And how Constantine
  reigned next after Arthur, and of the end of this Book. Chap. xiii.

                          Explicit the Table.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                              THE BOOK OF

                              KING ARTHUR

                            AND OF HIS NOBLE

                      KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.




                     The First Book of King Arthur.


                                CHAP. I.

_First how Uther Pendragon sent for the duke of Cornwall and Igraine
  his wife, and of their departing suddenly again._

It befell in the days of Uther Pendragon, when he was king of all
England, and so reigned, that there was a mighty duke in Cornwall that
held war against him long time. And the duke was named the duke of
Tintagil. And so by means king Uther sent for this duke, charging him
to bring his wife with him, for she was called a fair lady, and a
passing wise, and her name was called Igraine. So when the duke and his
wife were come unto the king, by the means of great lords they were
accorded both: the king liked and loved this lady well, and he made
them great cheer out of measure, and desired to have had her love. But
she was a passing good woman, and would not assent unto the king. And
then she told the duke her husband, and said, I suppose that we were
sent for that I should be dishonoured, wherefore, husband, I counsel
you that we depart from hence suddenly, that we may ride all night to
our own castle. And in like wise as she said so they departed, that
neither the king nor none of his council were ware of their departing.
All so soon as king Uther knew of their departing so suddenly, he was
wonderly wroth. Then he called to him his privy council, and told them
of the sudden departing of the duke and his wife. Then they advised the
king to send for the duke and his wife by a great charge: and if he
will not come at your summons, then may ye do your best; then have ye
cause to make mighty war upon him. So that was done, and the messengers
had their answers, and that was this, shortly, that neither he nor his
wife would not come at him. Then was the king wonderly wroth. And then
the king sent him plain word again, and bade him be ready and stuff him
and garnish him, for within forty days he would fetch him out of the
biggest castle that he hath. When the duke had this warning, anon he
went and furnished and garnished two strong castles of his, of the
which the one hight Tintagil and the other castle hight Terrabil. So
his wife, dame Igraine, he put in the castle of Tintagil, and himself
he put in the castle of Terrabil, the which had many issues and
posterns out. Then in all haste came Uther with a great host, and laid
a siege about the castle of Terrabil. And there he pight many
pavilions, and there was great war made on both parties, and much
people slain. Then for pure anger and for great love of fair Igraine
the king Uther fell sick. So came to the king Uther Sir Ulfius, a noble
knight, and asked the king why he was sick. I shall tell thee, said the
king; I am sick for anger and for love of fair Igraine, that I may not
be whole. Well, my lord, said Sir Ulfius, I shall seek Merlin, and he
shall do you remedy that your heart shall be pleased. So Ulfius
departed, and by adventure he met Merlin in a beggar’s array, and there
Merlin asked Ulfius whom he sought? and he said he had little ado to
tell him. Well, said Merlin, I know whom thou seekest, for thou seekest
Merlin; therefore seek no further, for I am he, and if king Uther will
well reward me, and be sworn unto me to fulfil my desire, that shall be
his honour and profit more than mine, for I shall cause him to have all
his desire. All this will I undertake, said Ulfius, that there shall be
nothing reasonable but thou shalt have thy desire. Well, said Merlin,
he shall have his intent and desire. And therefore, said Merlin, ride
on your way, for I will not be long behind.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Uther Pendragon made war on the duke of Cornwall, and how by the
  means of Merlin he made the duchess his queen._

Then Ulfius was glad, and rode on more than a pace till that he came to
Uther Pendragon, and told him he had met with Merlin. Where is he? said
the king. Sir, said Ulfius, he will not dwell long. Therewithal Ulfius
was ware where Merlin stood at the porch of the pavilion’s door. And
then Merlin was bound to come to the king. When king Uther saw him he
said he was welcome. Sir, said Merlin, I know all your heart every
deal; so ye will be sworn unto me, as ye be a true king anointed, to
fulfil my desire, ye shall have your desire. Then the king was sworn
upon the four Evangelists. Sir, said Merlin, this is my desire: after
ye shall win Igraine ye shall have a child by her, and when that is
born that it shall be delivered to me for to nourish there as I will
have it; for it shall be your worship and the child’s avail, as mickle
as the child is worth. I will well, said the king, as thou wilt have
it. Now make you ready, said Merlin: this night shall you see Igraine
in the castle of Tintagil, and ye shall be like the duke her husband,
Ulfius shall be like Sir Brastias, a knight of the duke’s, and I will
be like a knight that hight Sir Jordanus, a knight of the duke’s. But
wait ye make not many questions with her nor with her men, but say you
are diseased, and so hie you to bed, and rise not on the morn till I
come to you, for the castle of Tintagil is but ten mile hence. So this
was done as they had devised. But the duke of Tintagil espied how the
king rode from the siege of Terrabil, and therefore that night he
issued out of the castle at a postern, for to have distressed the
king’s host. And so, through his own issue, the duke himself was slain
or ever the king came at the castle of Tintagil. So after the death of
the duke king Uther came to the castle, more than three hours after his
death; and there he found Igraine. And or day came Merlin came to the
king and bade him make him ready, and so he kissed the lady Igraine and
departed in all haste. But when the lady heard tell of the duke her
husband, and by all record he was dead or ever king Uther came to her,
then she marvelled who that might be that came to her in likeness of
her lord; so she mourned privily and held her peace. Then all the
barons by one assent prayed the king of accord between the lady Igraine
and him. The king gave them leave, for fain would he have been accorded
with her. So the king put all the trust in Ulfius to entreat between
them; so, by the entreat, at the last the king and she met together.
Now will we do well, said Ulfius: our king is a lusty knight and
wifeless, and my lady Igraine is a passing fair lady; it were great joy
unto us all and it might please the king to make her his queen. Unto
that they were all well accorded, and moved it to the king: and anon,
like a lusty knight, he assented thereto with good will, and so in all
haste they were married in a morning with great mirth and joy.

And king Lot of Lothian and of Orkney then wedded Margawse that was
Gawaine’s mother: and king Nentres of the land of Garlot wedded Elaine.
All this was done at the request of king Uther. And the third sister,
Morgan le Fay, was put to school in a nunnery: and there she learned so
much that she was a great clerk of nigromancy. And after she was wedded
to king Uriens of the land of Gore, that was Sir Ewaine’s le
Blanchemains father.


                               CHAP. III.

_Of the birth of king Arthur, and of his nouriture; and of the death of
  king Uther Pendragon; and how Arthur was chosen king; and of wonders
  and marvels of a sword that was taken out of a stone by the said
  Arthur._

Then the time came that the queen Igraine should bear a child. So it
fell within half a year, as king Uther was with his queen, he asked
her, by the faith she owed unto him, whose was the child that should be
born: then was she sore abashed to give answer. Dismay you not, said
the king, but tell me the truth, and I shall love you the better, by
the faith of my body. Sir, said she, I shall tell you the truth. The
same night that my lord was dead, the hour of his death, as his knights
record, there came into my castle of Tintagil a man like my lord in
speech and countenance, and two knights with him in likeness of his two
knights Brastias and Jordans, and so I welcomed him as I ought to
welcome my lord: and thus, as I shall answer unto God, this child was
begotten. That is truth, said the king, as you say, for it was I myself
that came in the likeness, and therefore dismay you not, for I am
father to the child. And there he told her all the cause how it was by
Merlin’s counsel. Then the Queen made great joy when she knew who was
the father of her child. Soon came Merlin unto the king and said, Sir,
ye must purvey you for the nourishing of your child. As thou wilt, said
the king, be it. Well, said Merlin, I know a lord of yours in this
land, that is a passing true man and a faithful, and he shall have the
nourishing of your child, and his name is Sir Ector, and he is a lord
of fair livelihood in many parts in England and Wales. And this lord,
Sir Ector, let him be sent for, for to come and speak with you, and
desire him yourself, as he loveth you, that he will put his own child
to nourishing to another woman, and that his wife nourish yours. And
when the child is born let it be delivered unto me at yonder privy
postern unchristened. So like as Merlin devised it was done. And when
Sir Ector was come he made affiance to the king for to nourish the
child like as the king desired; and there the king granted Sir Ector
great rewards. Then when the lady was delivered, the king commanded two
knights and two ladies to take the child bound in a cloth of gold, and
that ye deliver him to what poor man ye meet at the postern gate of the
castle. So the child was delivered unto Merlin, and so he bare it forth
unto Sir Ector, and made an holy man to christen him, and named him
Arthur: and so Sir Ector’s wife nourished him with her own breast.

Then within two years king Uther fell sick of a great malady. And in
the meanwhile his enemies usurped upon him, and did a great battle upon
his men, and slew many of his people. Sir, said Merlin, ye may not lie
so as ye do, for ye must to the field, though ye ride on an
horse-litter; for ye shall never have the better of your enemies but if
your person be there, and then shall ye have the victory. So it was
done as Merlin had devised, and they carried the king forth in a
horse-litter with a great host towards his enemies. And at St. Albans
there met with the king a great host of the North. And that day Sir
Ulfius and Sir Brastias did great deeds of arms, and king Uther’s men
overcame the Northern battle, and slew many people, and put the remnant
to flight. And then the king returned unto London, and made great joy
of his victory. And then he fell passing sore sick, so that three days
and three nights he was speechless; wherefore all the barons made great
sorrow, and asked Merlin what counsel were best. There is none other
remedy, said Merlin, but God will have his will. But look ye all barons
be before king Uther to-morn, and God and I shall make him to speak. So
on the morn all the barons with Merlin came tofore the king: then
Merlin said aloud unto king Uther, Sir, shall your son Arthur be king
after your days, of this realm, with all the appurtenance? Then Uther
Pendragon turned him and said in hearing of them all, I give him God’s
blessing and mine, and bid him pray for my soul, and righteously and
worshipfully that he claim the crown upon forfeiture of my blessing.
And therewith he yielded up the ghost. And then was he interred as
longed to a king. Wherefore the queen, fair Igraine, made great sorrow
and all the barons. Then stood the realm in great jeopardy long while,
for every lord that was mighty of men made him strong, and many wend to
have been king. Then Merlin went to the archbishop of Canterbury, and
counselled him for to send for all the lords of the realm, and all the
gentlemen of arms, that they should to London come by Christmas upon
pain of cursing: and for this cause—that Jesus, that was born on that
night, that he would of his great mercy shew some miracle, as he was
come to be king of mankind, for to shew some miracle who should be
rightwise king of this realm. So the archbishop by the advice of Merlin
sent for all the lords and gentlemen of arms, that they should come by
Christmas even unto London. And many of them made them clean of their
life, that their prayer might be the more acceptable unto God. So in
the greatest church of London (whether it were Paul’s or not, the
French book maketh no mention) all the estates were long or day in the
church for to pray. And when matins and the first mass was done, there
was seen in the churchyard against the high altar a great stone four
square, like unto a marble stone, and in the midst thereof was like an
anvil of steel a foot on high, and therein stack a fair sword naked by
the point, and letters there were written in gold about the sword that
said thus: Whoso pulleth out this sword of this stone and anvil is
rightwise king born of all England. Then the people marvelled, and told
it to the archbishop. I command, said the archbishop, that ye keep you
within your church, and pray unto God still; that no man touch the
sword till the high mass be all done. So when all masses were done all
the lords went to behold the stone and the sword. And when they saw the
scripture, some assayed—such as would have been king. But none might
stir the sword nor move it. He is not here, said the archbishop, that
shall achieve the sword, but doubt not God will make him known. But
this is my counsel, said the archbishop, that we let purvey ten
knights, men of good fame, and they to keep this sword. So it was
ordained, and then there was made a cry, that every man should assay
that would, for to win the sword. And upon New Year’s Day the barons
let make a justs and a tournament, that all knights that would just or
tourney there might play: and all this was ordained for to keep the
lords together and the commons, for the archbishop trusted that God
would make him known that should win the sword. So upon New Year’s Day
when the service was done the barons rode to the field, some to just,
and some to tourney; and so it happed that Sir Ector, that had great
livelihood about London, rode unto the justs, and with him rode Sir Kay
his son and young Arthur that was his nourished brother, and Sir Kay
was made knight at Allhallowmas afore. So as they rode to the
justs-ward Sir Kay had lost his sword, for he had left it at his
father’s lodging, and so he prayed young Arthur to ride for his sword.
I will well, said Arthur, and rode fast after the sword; and when he
came home the lady and all were out to see the justing. Then was Arthur
wroth, and said to himself, I will ride to the churchyard and take the
sword with me that sticketh in the stone, for my brother Sir Kay shall
not be without a sword this day. So when he came to the churchyard Sir
Arthur alighted, and tied his horse to the stile, and so he went to the
tent, and found no knights there, for they were at the justing; and so
he handled the sword by the handles, and lightly and fiercely pulled it
out of the stone, and took his horse and rode his way till he came to
his brother Sir Kay, and delivered him the sword. And as soon as Sir
Kay saw the sword he wist well it was the sword of the stone, and so he
rode to his father Sir Ector, and said: Sir, lo here is the sword of
the stone; wherefore I must be king of this land. When Sir Ector beheld
the sword he returned again and came to the church, and there they
alighted all three and went into the church, and anon he made Sir Kay
to swear upon a book how he came to that sword. Sir, said Sir Kay, by
my brother Arthur, for he brought it to me. How gat ye this sword? said
Sir Ector to Arthur. Sir, I will tell you: when I came home for my
brother’s sword, I found nobody at home to deliver me his sword, and so
I thought my brother Sir Kay should not be swordless, and so I came
hither eagerly and pulled it out of the stone without any pain. Found
ye any knights about this sword? said Sir Ector. Nay, said Arthur. Now,
said Sir Ector to Arthur, I understand ye must be king of this land.
Wherefore I, said Arthur, and for what cause? Sir, said Ector, for God
will have it so: for there should never man have drawn out this sword
but he that shall be rightwise king of this land. Now let me see
whether ye can put the sword there as it was, and pull it out again.
That is no mastery, said Arthur: and so he put it into the stone.
Therewith Sir Ector assayed to pull out the sword and failed.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How king Arthur pulled out the sword divers times._

Now assay, said Sir Ector to Sir Kay. And anon he pulled at the sword
with all his might, but it would not be. Now shall ye assay, said Sir
Ector to Arthur. I will well, said Arthur, and pulled it out easily.
And therewithal Sir Ector kneeled down to the earth, and Sir Kay. Alas,
said Arthur, mine own dear father and brother, why kneel ye to me. Nay,
nay, my lord Arthur, it is not so: I was never your father nor of your
blood, but I wote well ye are of an higher blood than I wend ye were.
And then Sir Ector told him all, how he was betaken him for to nourish
him, and by whose commandment, and by Merlin’s deliverance. Then Arthur
made great dole when he understood that Sir Ector was not his father.
Sir, said Ector unto Arthur, will ye be my good and gracious lord when
ye are king? Else were I to blame, said Arthur, for ye are the man in
the world that I am most beholding to, and my good lady and mother your
wife, that as well as her own hath fostered me and kept. And if ever it
be God’s will that I be king, as ye say, ye shall desire of me what I
may do, and I shall not fail you: God forbid I should fail you. Sir,
said Sir Ector, I will ask no more of you but that you will make my
son, your foster-brother Sir Kay, seneschal of all your lands. That
shall be done, said Arthur, and more by the faith of my body, that
never man shall have that office but he while he and I live.
Therewithal they went unto the archbishop, and told him how the sword
was achieved, and by whom. And on Twelfth Day all the barons came
thither, and to assay to take the sword who that would assay. But there
afore them all there might none take it out but Arthur, wherefore there
were many lords wroth, and said it was great shame unto them all and
the realm, to be over governed with a boy of no high blood born. And so
they fell out at that time that it was put off till Candlemas, and then
all the barons should meet there again. But always the ten knights were
ordained to watch the sword day and night, and so they set a pavilion
over the stone and the sword, and five always watched. So at Candlemas
many more great lords came thither for to have won the sword, but there
might none prevail. And right as Arthur did at Christmas he did at
Candlemas, and pulled out the sword easily, whereof the barons were
sore aggrieved, and put it off in delay till the high feast of Easter.
And as Arthur sped afore, so did he at Easter: yet there were some of
the great lords had indignation that Arthur should be their king, and
put it off in a delay till the feast of Pentecost. Then the archbishop
of Canterbury by Merlin’s providence let purvey then of the best
knights that they might get, and such knights as king Uther Pendragon
loved best and most trusted in his days, and such knights were put
about Arthur, as Sir Baudwin of Britain, Sir Kay, Sir Ulfius, Sir
Brastias. All these, with many other, were always about Arthur, day and
night, till the feast of Pentecost.


                                CHAP. V.

_How King Arthur was crowned, and how he made officers._

And at the feast of Pentecost all manner of men assayed to pull at the
sword that would assay, but none might prevail but Arthur; and he
pulled it out afore all the lords and commons that were there,
wherefore all the commons cried at once, We will have Arthur unto our
king; we will put him no more in delay, for we all see that it is God’s
will that he shall be our king, and who that holdeth against it we will
slay him. And therewithal they kneeled down all at once, both rich and
poor, and cried Arthur mercy, because they had delayed him so long. And
Arthur forgave them, and took the sword between both his hands, and
offered it upon the altar where the archbishop was, and so was he made
knight of the best man that was there. And so anon was the coronation
made, and there was he sworn unto his lords and the commons for to be a
true king, to stand with true justice from thenceforth the days of this
life. Also then he made all lords that held of the crown to come in,
and to do service as they ought to do. And many complaints were made
unto Sir Arthur of great wrongs that were done since the death of king
Uther, of many lands that were bereaved lords, knights, ladies, and
gentlemen. Wherefore king Arthur made the lands to be given again unto
them that owned them. When this was done that the king had stablished
all the countries about London, then he let make Sir Kay seneschal of
England; and Sir Baudwin of Britain was made constable; and Sir Ulfius
was made chamberlain; and Sir Brastias was made warden to wait upon the
north from Trent forwards, for it was that time for the most part the
king’s enemies. But within few years after, Arthur won all the north,
Scotland, and all that were under their obeisance. Also Wales, a part
of it held against Arthur, but he overcame them all as he did the
remnant through the noble prowess of himself and his knights of the
Round Table.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How king Arthur held in Wales at a Pentecost a great feast, and what
  kings and lords came to his feast._

Then the king removed into Wales, and let cry a great feast, that it
should be holden at Pentecost, after the incoronation of him at the
city of Carlion. Unto the feast came king Lot of Lothian and of Orkney
with five hundred knights with him. Also there came to the feast king
Uriens of Gore with four hundred knights with him. Also there came to
that feast king Nentres of Garloth with seven hundred knights with him.
Also there came to the feast the king of Scotland with six hundred
knights with him, and he was but a young man. Also there came to the
feast a king that was called the king with the hundred knights, but he
and his men was passing well beseen at all points. Also there came the
king of Carados with five hundred knights. And king Arthur was glad of
their coming, for he wend that all the kings and knights had come for
great love, and for to have done him worship at his feast, wherefore
the king made great joy, and sent the kings and knights great presents.
But the kings would none receive, but rebuked the messengers
shamefully, and said they had no joy to receive no gifts of a beardless
boy that was come of low blood, and sent him word they would have none
of his gifts, but that they were come to give him gifts with hard
swords betwixt the neck and the shoulders: and therefore they came
thither, so they told to the messengers plainly, for it was great shame
to all them to see such a boy to have a rule of so noble a realm as
this land was. With this answer the messengers departed, and told to
king Arthur this answer. Wherefore, by the advice of his barons, he
took him to a strong tower with five hundred good men with him: and all
the kings aforesaid in a manner laid a siege tofore him, but king
Arthur was well victualled. And within fifteen days there came Merlin
among them into the city of Carlion. Then all the kings were passing
glad of Merlin, and asked him, For what cause is that boy Arthur made
your king? Sirs, said Merlin, I shall tell you the cause. For he is
king Uther Pendragon’s son, born in wedlock of Igraine, the duke’s wife
of Tintagil. After the death of the duke thirteen days king Uther
Pendragon wedded fair Igraine. And who saith nay, he shall be king, and
overcome all his enemies; and, or he die, he shall be long king of all
England, and have under his obeisance Wales, Ireland, and Scotland, and
more realms than I will now rehearse. Some of the kings had marvel of
Merlin’s words, and deemed well that it should be as he said: and some
of them laughed him to scorn, as king Lot: and more other called him a
witch. But then were they accorded with Merlin that king Arthur should
come out and speak with the kings, and to come safe and go safe, such
assurance was there made. So Merlin went unto king Arthur and told him
how he had done, and bade him fear not, but come out boldly and speak
with them, and spare them not, but answer them as their king and
chieftain, for ye shall overcome them all whether they will or nill.


                               CHAP. VII.

_Of the first war that king Arthur had, and how he won the field._

Then king Arthur came out of his tower, and had under his gown a
jesseraunt of double mail, and there went with him the archbishop of
Canterbury, and Sir Baudwin of Britain, and Sir Kay, and Sir Brastias:
these were the men of most worship that were with him. And when they
were met there was no meekness, but stout words on both sides: but
always king Arthur answered them, and said that he would make them to
bow and he lived. Wherefore they departed with wrath, and king Arthur
bade keep them well, and they bade the king keep him well. So the king
returned him to the tower again, and armed him and all his knights.
What will ye do? said Merlin to the kings: ye were better for to stint,
for ye shall not here prevail though ye were ten so many. Be we well
advised to be afraid of a dream-reader? said king Lot. With that Merlin
vanished away, and came to king Arthur, and bade him set on them
fiercely; and in the meanwhile there were three hundred good men of the
best that were with the kings that went straight unto king Arthur, and
that comforted him greatly. Sir, said Merlin to Arthur, fight not with
the sword that ye had by miracle, till that ye see ye go unto the
worse, then draw it out and do your best. So forthwithal king Arthur
set upon them in their lodging. And Sir Baudwin, Sir Kay, and Sir
Brastias slew on the right hand and on the left hand that it was
marvellous: and always king Arthur on horseback laid on with a sword,
and did marvellous deeds of arms, that many of the kings had great joy
of his deeds and hardiness. Then king Lot brake out on the back side,
and the king with the hundred knights, and king Carados, and set on
Arthur fiercely behind him. With that Sir Arthur turned with his
knights and smote behind and before, and ever Sir Arthur was in the
foremost press till his horse was slain underneath him. And therewith
king Lot smote down king Arthur. With that his four knights received
him, and set him on horseback. Then he drew his sword Excalibur, but it
was so bright in his enemies’ eyes, that it gave light like thirty
torches. And therewith he put them on back, and slew much people. And
then the commons of Carlion arose with clubs and staves, and slew many
knights; but all the kings held them together with their knights that
were left alive, and so fled and departed. And Merlin came unto Arthur,
and counselled him to follow them no farther.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How Merlin counselled king Arthur to send for king Ban and king Bors,
  and of their counsel taken for the war._

So after the feast and tourney king Arthur drew him unto London, and so
by the counsel of Merlin the king let call his barons to council. For
Merlin had told the king that the six kings that made war upon him
would in all haste be awroke on him and on his lands. Wherefore the
king asked counsel at them all. They could no counsel give, but said
they were big enough. Ye say well, said Arthur; I thank you for your
good courage; but will ye all that love me speak with Merlin: ye know
well that he hath done much for me, and he knoweth many things, and
when he is afore you I would that ye prayed him heartily of his best
advice. All the barons said they would pray him and desire him. So
Merlin was sent for, and fair desired of all the barons to give them
best counsel. I shall say you, said Merlin, I warn you all, your
enemies are passing strong for you, and they are good men of arms as be
on live, and by this time they have gotten to them four kings more, and
a mighty duke; and unless that our king have more chivalry with him
than he may make within the bounds of his own realm, and he fight with
them in battle he shall be overcome and slain. What were best to do in
this cause? said all the barons. I shall tell you, said Merlin, mine
advice: There are two brethren beyond the sea, and they be kings both,
and marvellous good men of their hands; and that one hight king Ban of
Benwick, and that other hight king Bors of Gaul, that is France. And on
these two kings warreth a mighty man of men, the king Claudas, and
striveth with them for a castle; and great war is betwixt them: but
this Claudas is so mighty of goods, whereof he getteth good knights,
that he putteth these two kings the most part to the worse. Wherefore
this is my counsel, that our king and sovereign lord send unto the
kings Ban and Bors by two trusty knights with letters well devised,
that if they will come and see king Arthur and his court, and so help
him in his wars, that he will be sworn unto them to help them in their
wars against king Claudas. Now what say ye unto this counsel? said
Merlin. This is well counselled, said the king and all the barons.
Right so in all haste there were ordained to go two knights on the
message unto the two kings. So were there made letters in the pleasant
wise according unto king Arthur’s desire. Ulfius and Brastias were made
the messengers, and rode forth well horsed and well armed, and as the
guise was that time, and so passed the sea and rode toward the city of
Benwick. And there besides were eight knights who espied them, and at a
straight passage they met with Ulfius and Brastias, and would have
taken them prisoners. So they prayed them that they might pass, for
they were messengers unto king Ban and Bors sent from king Arthur.
Therefore, said the eight knights, ye shall die, or be prisoners, for
we be knights of king Claudas. And therewith two of them dressed their
spears, and Ulfius and Brastias dressed their spears, and ran together
with great might, and Claudas’s knights brake their spears, and theirs
to-held, and bare the two knights out of their saddles to the earth,
and so left them lying, and rode their ways. And the other six knights
rode afore to a passage to meet with them again, and so Ulfius and
Brastias smote other two down, and so passed on their ways. And at the
fourth passage there met two for two, and both were laid to the earth:
so there was none of the eight knights but he was sore hurt or bruised.
And when they came to Benwick it fortuned there were both kings Ban and
Bors. And when it was told the kings that there were come messengers,
there were sent to them two knights of worship, the one hight Lionses,
lord of the country of Payarne, and Sir Phariance a worshipful knight.
Anon they asked from whence they came, and they said from king Arthur
king of England: so they took them in their arms, and made great joy
each of other. But anon as the two kings wist they were messengers of
Arthur’s, there was made no tarrying, but forthwith they spake with the
knights and welcomed them in the faithfullest wise, and said they were
most welcome unto them before all the kings living. And therewith they
kissed the letters and delivered them; and when Ban and Bors understood
the letters, then were they more welcome than they were before. And
after the haste of the letters they gave them this answer, that they
would fulfil the desire of king Arthur’s writing, and let Ulfius and
Brastias tarry there as long as they would, they should have such cheer
as might be made them in those marches. Then Ulfius and Brastias told
the king of the adventure at their passages of the eight knights. Ha,
ha, said Ban and Bors, they were my good friends. I would I had wist of
them, they should not have escaped so. So Ulfius and Brastias had good
cheer and great gifts as much as they might bear away, and had their
answer by mouth and by writing, that those two kings would come unto
Arthur in all the haste that they might.

So the two knights rode on afore, and passed the sea, and came to their
lord and told him how they had sped, whereof king Arthur was passing
glad. At what time suppose ye the two kings will be here? Sir, said
they, afore Allhallowmas. Then the king let purvey for a great feast,
and let cry a great justs. And by Allhallowmas the two kings were come
over the sea with three hundred knights well arrayed both for the peace
and for the war. And king Arthur met with them ten mile out of London,
and there was great joy as could be thought or made. And on
Allhallowmas at the great feast sat in the hall the three kings, and
Sir Kay the seneschal served in the hall, and Sir Lucas the butler,
that was duke Corneus’s son, and Sir Griflet that was the son of
Cardol, these three knights had the rule of all the service that served
the kings. And anon as they had washed and risen, all knights that
would just made them ready. By then they were ready on horseback there
were seven hundred knights. And Arthur, Ban, and Bors, with the
archbishop of Canterbury, and Sir Ector, Kay’s father, they were in a
place covered with cloth of gold, like an hall, with ladies and
gentlewomen, for to behold who did best, and thereon to give judgment.


                               CHAP. IX.

_Of a great tourney made by king Arthur and the two kings Ban and Bors,
  and how they went over the Sea._

And king Arthur and the two kings let part the seven hundred knights in
two parties. And there were three hundred knights of the realm of
Benwick and of Gaul turned on the other side. Then they dressed their
shields, and began to couch their spears many good knights. So Griflet
was the first that met with a knight, one Ladinas, and they met so
eagerly that all men had wonder; and they so fought that their shields
fell to pieces, and horse and man fell to the earth, and both the
French knight and the English knight lay so long, that all men wend
they had been dead. When Lucas the butler saw Griflet so lie, he horsed
him again anon, and they two did marvellous deeds of arms with many
bachelors. Also Sir Kay came out of an embushment with five knights
with him, and they six smote other six down. But Sir Kay did that day
marvellous deeds of arms, that there was none did so well as he that
day. Then there came Ladinas and Grastian, two knights of France, and
did passing well, that all men praised them. Then came there Sir
Placidas, a good knight, and met with Sir Kay and smote him down, horse
and man, wherefore Sir Griflet was wroth, and met with Sir Placidas so
hard that horse and man fell to the earth. But when the five knights
wist that Sir Kay had a fall they were wroth out of wit, and therewith
each of them five bare down a knight. When king Arthur and the two
kings saw them begin to wax wroth on both parts, they leapt on small
hackneys, and let cry that all men should depart unto their lodging.
And so they went home and unarmed them, and so to even-song and supper.
And after the three kings went into a garden, and gave the prize unto
Sir Kay, and to Lucas the butler, and unto Sir Griflet. And then they
went unto council, and with them Gwenbaus, the brother unto Sir Ban and
Bors, a wise clerk, and thither went Ulfius, and Brastias, and Merlin.
And after they had been in council they went unto bed. And on the morn
they heard mass, and to dinner, and so to their council, and made many
arguments what were best to do. At the last they were concluded, that
Merlin should go with a token of king Ban, (and that was a ring,) unto
his men and king Bors’s: and Gracian and Placidas should go again and
keep their castles and their countries, as king Ban of Benwick and king
Bors of Gaul had ordained them; and so they passed the sea and came to
Benwick. And when the people saw king Ban’s ring, and Gracian and
Placidas, they were glad, and asked how the kings fared, and made great
joy of their welfare and according. And according unto the sovereign
lords’ desire, the men of war made them ready in all haste possible, so
that they were fifteen thousand on horse and foot, and they had great
plenty of victual with them by Merlin’s provision. But Gracian and
Placidas were left to furnish and garnish the castles for dread of king
Claudas. Right so Merlin passed the sea, well victualled both by water
and by land. And when he came to the sea he sent home the footmen
again, and took no more with him but ten thousand men on horseback, the
most part men of arms, and so shipped and passed the sea into England,
and landed at Dover: and through the wit of Merlin he led the host
northward, the priviest way that could be thought, unto the forest of
Bedegraine, and there in a valley he lodged them secretly.

Then rode Merlin unto king Arthur and the two kings and told them how
he had sped, whereof they had great marvel, that man on earth might
speed so soon, and go and come. So Merlin told them ten thousand were
in the forest of Bedegraine, well armed at all points. Then was there
no more to say, but to horseback went all the host as Arthur had afore
purveyed. So with twenty thousand he passed by night and day. But there
was made such an ordinance afore by Merlin, that there should no man of
war ride nor go in no country on this side Trent water, but if he had a
token from king Arthur, where through the king’s enemies durst not
ride, as they did tofore, to espy.


                                CHAP. X.

_How eleven kings gathered a great host against king Arthur._

And so within a little space the three kings came unto the castle of
Bedegraine, and found there a passing fair fellowship and well beseen,
whereof they had great joy, and victual they wanted none.

This was the cause of the northern host: that they were reared for the
despite and rebuke that the six kings had at Carlion. And those six
kings by their means gat unto them five other kings, and thus they
began to gather their people, and how they sware that for weal nor woe
they should not leave each other till they had destroyed Arthur. And
then they made an oath. The first that began the oath was the duke of
Cambenet, that he would bring with him five thousand men of arms, the
which were ready on horseback. Then sware king Brandegoris of
Stranggore that he would bring five thousand men of arms on horseback.
Then sware king Clariance of Northumberland that he would bring three
thousand men of arms. Then sware the king of the hundred knights, that
was a passing good man and a young, that he would bring four thousand
men on horseback. Then there swore king Lot, a passing good knight and
Sir Gawaine’s father, that he would bring five thousand men of arms on
horseback. Also there swore king Urience, that was Sir Uwaine’s father,
of the land of Gore, and he would bring six thousand men of arms on
horseback. Also there swore king Idres of Cornwall, that he would bring
five thousand men of arms on horseback. Also there swore king Cradelmas
to bring five thousand men of arms on horseback. Also there swore king
Agwisance of Ireland, to bring five thousand men of arms on horseback.
Also there swore king Nentres to bring five thousand men of arms on
horseback. Also there swore king Carados to bring five thousand men of
arms on horseback. So their whole host was of clean men of arms on
horseback fifty thousand; and afoot ten thousand of good mens’ bodies.
Then were they soon ready and mounted upon horse, and sent forth their
fore-riders: for these eleven kings in their way laid siege unto the
castle of Bedegraine; and so they departed and drew toward Arthur, and
left few to abide at the siege, for the castle of Bedegraine was holden
of king Arthur, and the men that were therein were Arthur’s.


                               CHAP. XI.

_Of a dream of the king with the hundred knights._

So by Merlin’s advice there were sent fore-riders to skim the country,
and they met with the fore-riders of the north, and made them to tell
which way the host came, and then they told it to Arthur, and by king
Ban and Bors’s counsel they let burn and destroy all the country afore
them where they should ride.

The king with the hundred knights dreamed a wonder dream two nights
afore the battle, that there blew a great wind, and blew down their
castles and their towns, and after that came a water and bare it all
away. All that heard of the dream said it was a token of great battle.
Then, by counsel of Merlin, when they wist which way the eleven kings
would ride and lodge that night, at midnight they set upon them, as
they were in their pavilions. But the scout-watch by their host cried,
Lords! at arms! for here be your enemies at your hand!


                               CHAP. XII.

_How the eleven kings with their host fought against Arthur and his
  host, and many great feats of the war._

Then king Arthur and king Ban and king Bors, with their good and trusty
knights, set on them so fiercely that they made them overthrow their
pavilions on their heads; but the eleven kings by manly prowess of arms
took a fair field. But there was slain that morrow tide ten thousand
good men’s bodies. And so they had afore them a strong passage, yet
were they fifty thousand of hardy men. Then it drew toward day. Now
shall ye do by mine advice, said Merlin unto the three kings: I would
that king Ban and king Bors with their fellowship of ten thousand men
were put in a wood here beside in an embushment, and keep them privy,
and that they be laid or the light of the day come, and that they stir
nor till ye and your knights have fought with them long: and when it is
daylight dress your battle even afore them and the passage, that they
may see all your host, for then they will be the more hardy when they
see you but about twenty thousand, and be the gladder to suffer you and
your host to come over the passage. All the three kings and the whole
barons said that Merlin said passingly well, and it was done anon as
Merlin had devised. So on the morn, when either host saw other, the
host of the north was well comforted. Then to Ulfius and Brastias were
delivered three thousand men of arms, and they set on them fiercely in
the passage, and slew on the right hand and on the left hand, that it
was wonder to tell. When that the eleven knights saw that there was so
few a fellowship did such deeds of arms, they were ashamed, and set on
them again fiercely, and there was Sir Ulfius’s horse slain under him,
but he did marvellously well on foot. But the duke Eustace of Cambenet,
and king Clariance of Northumberland, were alway grievous on Sir
Ulfius. When Brastias saw his fellow fared so withal, he smote the duke
with a spear, that horse and man fell down. That saw king Clariance,
and returned to Brastias, and either smote other so that horse and man
went to the earth, and so they lay long astonied, and their horses’
knees brast to the hard bone. Then came Sir Kay the seneschal with six
fellows with him, and did passing well. With that came the eleven
kings, and there was Griflet put to the earth, horse and man, and Lucas
the butler, horse and man, by king Brandegoris and king Idres and king
Agwisance. Then waxed the meddle passing hard on both parties. When Sir
Kay saw Griflet on foot he rode on king Nentres and smote him down, and
led his horse to Sir Griflet and horsed him again. Also Sir Kay with
the same spear smote down king Lot, and hurt him passing sore. That saw
the king with the hundred knights, and ran unto Sir Kay and smote him
down and took his horse, and gave him to king Lot, whereof he said
gramercy. When Sir Griflet saw Sir Kay and Lucas the butler on foot, he
took a sharp spear great and square and rode to Pinel, a good man of
arms, and smote horse and man down, and then he took his horse and gave
him unto Sir Kay. When king Lot saw king Nentres on foot he ran unto
Melot de la Roche and smote him down horse and man, and gave king
Nentres the horse and horsed him again. Also the king of the hundred
knights saw king Idres on foot; then he ran unto Gwimiart de Bloi, and
smote him down horse and man, and gave king Idres the horse and horsed
him again; and king Lot smote down Clariance de la Forest Savage, and
gave the horse unto duke Eustace. And so when they had horsed the kings
again they drew them all eleven kings together, and said they would be
revenged of the damage they had taken that day. The meanwhile came in
Sir Ector with an eager countenance, and found Ulfius and Brastias on
foot in great peril of death, that were foul bruised under the horse
feet. Then king Arthur as a lion ran unto king Cradelment of North
Wales, and smote him through the left side, that the horse and the king
fell down; and then he took the horse by the rein and led him unto
Ulfius, and said, Have this horse, mine old friend, for great need hast
thou of horse. Gramercy, said Ulfius. Then Sir Arthur did so
marvellously in arms that all men had wonder. When the king with the
hundred knights saw king Cradelment on foot he ran unto Sir Ector, that
was well horsed, Sir Kay’s father, and smote horse and man down, and
gave the horse unto the king and horsed him again. And when king Arthur
saw the king ride on Sir Ector’s horse he was wroth, and with his sword
he smote the king on the helm, that a quarter of the helm and shield
fell down, and the sword carved down unto the horse’s neck, and so the
king and the horse fell down to the ground. Then Sir Kay came to Sir
Morganore, seneschal with the king of the hundred knights, and smote
him down horse and man, and led the horse unto his father Sir Ector:
then Sir Ector ran unto a knight, hight Lardans, and smote horse and
man down, and led the horse unto Sir Brastias that great need had of an
horse, and was greatly bruised. When Brastias beheld Lucas the butler,
that lay like a dead man under the horse feet, and ever Sir Griflet did
marvellously for to rescue him, and there were always fourteen knights
on Sir Lucas, then Brastias smote one of them on the helm that it went
to the teeth, and he rode to another and smote him that the arm flew
into the field. Then he went to the third, and smote him on the
shoulder that shoulder and arm flew in the field. And when Griflet saw
rescues he smote a knight on the temples, that head and helm went to
the earth, and Griflet took the horse of that knight and led him unto
Sir Lucas, and bad him mount upon the horse and revenge his hurts. For
Brastias had slain a knight tofore, and horsed Griflet.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_Yet of the same battle._

Then Lucas saw king Agwisance, that late had slain Moris de la Roche,
and Lucas ran to him with a short spear that was great, that he gave
him such a fall that the horse fell down to the earth. Also Lucas found
there on foot Bloias de la Flandres and Sir Gwinas, two hardy knights,
and in that woodness that Lucas was in he slew two bachelors, and
horsed them again. Then waxed the battle passing hard on both parties,
but Arthur was glad that his knights were horsed again, and then they
fought together that the noise and sound rang by the water and the
wood. Wherefore king Ban and king Bors made them ready and dressed
their shields and harness, and they were so courageous that many
knights shook and trembled for eagerness. All this while Lucas, and
Gwinas, and Briant, and Bellias of Flanders, held strong meddle against
six kings, that was king Lot, king Nentres, king Brandegoris, king
Idres, king Uriens, and king Agwisance. So with the help of Sir Kay and
of Sir Griflet they held these six kings hard, that unneth they had any
power to defend them. But when Sir Arthur saw the battle would not be
ended by no manner he fared wood as a lion, and steered his horse here
and there, on the right hand and on the left hand, that he stinted not
till he had slain twenty knights. Also he wounded king Lot sore on the
shoulder, and made him to leave that ground, for Sir Kay and Griflet
did with king Arthur there great deeds of arms. Then Ulfius, Brastias,
and Sir Ector, encountered against the duke Eustace, and king
Cradelment, and king Cradelmas, and king Clariance of Northumberland,
and king Carados, and against the king with the hundred knights. So
these knights encountered with these kings that they made them to avoid
the ground. Then king Lot made great dole for his damages and his
fellows, and said unto the eleven kings. But if ye will do as I devise
we shall be slain and destroyed: let me have the king with the hundred
knights, and king Agwisance, and king Idres, and the duke of Cambenet,
and we five kings will have fifteen thousand men of arms with us, and
we will go apart while ye six kings hold the meddle with twelve
thousand, and when we see that ye have foughten with them long then
will we come on fiercely, and else shall we never match them, said king
Lot, but by this mean. So they departed as they here devised, and six
kings made their party strong against Arthur, and made great war long.
In the meanwhile brake the embushment of king Ban and Bors, and Lionses
and Phariance had the advant guard, and they two knights met with king
Idres and his fellowship, and there began a great meddle of breaking of
spears and smiting of swords with slaying of men and horses, and king
Idres was near at discomfiture.

That saw Agwisance the king, and put Lionses and Phariance in point of
death: for the duke of Cambenet came on withal with a great fellowship,
so these two knights were in great danger of their lives that they were
fain to return, but always they rescued themselves and their fellowship
marvellously. When king Bors saw those knights put aback it grieved him
sore; then he came on so fast that his fellowship seemed as black as
Inde. When king Lot had espied king Bors he knew him well; then he
said, O defend us from death and horrible maims, for I see well we be
in great peril of death; for I see yonder a king, one of the most
worshipfulest men, and one of the best knights of the world, is
inclined unto his fellowship. What is he? said the king with the
hundred knights. It is, said king Lot, king Bors of Gaul; I marvel how
they came into this country without witting of us all. It was by
Merlin’s advice, said the knight. As for him, said king Carados, I will
encounter with king Bors, if ye will rescue me when need is. Go on,
said they all, we will do all that we may. Then king Carados and his
host rode on a soft pace till that they came as nigh king Bors as a bow
draught: then either battle let their horses run as fast as they might.
And Bleoberis that was god-son unto king Bors he bare his chief
standard, that was a passing good knight. Now shall we see, said king
Bors, how these northern Britons can bear their arms. And king Bors
encountered with a knight, and smote him throughout with a spear that
he fell dead unto the earth, and after drew his sword and did
marvellous deeds of arms, that all parties had great wonder thereof;
and his knights failed not but did their part, and king Carados was
smitten to the earth. With that came the king with the hundred knights
and rescued king Carados mightily by force of arms, for he was a
passing good knight of a king, and but a young man.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_Yet more of the same battle._

By then came into field king Ban as fierce as a lion, with bands of
green and thereupon gold. Ha, ha, said king Lot, we must be
discomfited, for yonder I see the most valiant knight of the world, and
the man of the most renown: for such two brethren as is king Ban and
king Bors are not living, wherefore we must needs void or die; and but
if we avoid manly and wisely there is but death. When king Ban came
into the battle, he came in so fiercely that the strokes resounded
again from the wood and the water; wherefore king Lot wept for pity and
dole that he saw so many good knights take their end. But through the
great force of king Ban they made both the northern battles that were
parted to hurtle together for great dread, and the three kings with
their knights slew on ever, that it was pity to behold that multitude
of the people that fled. But king Lot and the king of the hundred
knights and king Morganore gathered the people together passing
knightly, and did great prowess of arms, and held the battle all that
day like hard. When the king of the hundred knights beheld the great
damage that king Ban did, he thrust unto him with his horse, and smote
him on high upon the helm a great stroke, and astonied him sore. Then
king Ban was wroth with him, and followed on him fiercely: the other
saw that, and cast up his shield and spurred his horse forward, but the
stroke of king Ban fell down and carved a cantel of the shield, and the
sword slid down by the hauberk behind his back, and cut through the
trapping of steel, and the horse even in two pieces, that the sword
felt the earth. Then the king of the hundred knights voided the horse
lightly, and with his sword he broched the horse of king Ban through
and through. With that king Ban voided lightly from the dead horse, and
then king Ban smote at the other so eagerly and smote him on the helm,
that he fell to the earth. Also in that ire he felled king Morganore,
and there was great slaughter of good knights and much people. By then
came into the press king Arthur, and found king Ban standing among dead
men and dead horses, fighting on foot as a wood lion, that there came
none nigh him as far as he might reach with his sword but that he
caught a grievous buffet; whereof king Arthur had great pity. And
Arthur was so bloody that by his shield there might no man know him,
for all was blood and brains on his sword. And as Arthur looked by him
he saw a knight that was passing well horsed, and therewith Sir Arthur
ran to him and smote him on the helm that his sword went unto his
teeth, and the knight sank down to the earth dead, and anon Arthur took
the horse by the rein and led him unto king Ban, and said, Fair brother
have this horse, for ye have great need thereof, and me repenteth sore
of your great damage. It shall be soon revenged, said king Ban, for I
trust mine use is not such but some of them may sore repent this. I
will well, said Arthur, for I see your deeds full actual; nevertheless,
I might not come at you at that time. But when king Ban was mounted on
horseback, then there began new battle the which was sore and hard, and
passing great slaughter. And so through great force king Arthur, and
king Ban, and king Bors made their knights a little to withdraw them.
But always the eleven kings with their chivalry never turned back, and
so withdrew them to a little wood, and so over a little river, and
there they rested them, for on the night they might have no rest in the
field. And then the eleven kings and knights put them on a heap all
together, as men adread and out of all comfort. But there was no man
might pass them, they held them so hard together, both behind and
before, that king Arthur had marvel of their deeds of arms, and was
passing wroth. Ah, Sir Arthur, said king Ban and king Bors, blame them
not, for they do as good men ought to do. For by my faith, said king
Ban, they are the best fighting men and knights of most prowess that
ever I saw or heard speak of, and those eleven kings are men of great
worship, and if they were belonging unto you there were no king under
the heaven had such eleven knights, and of such worship. I may not love
them, said Arthur, they would destroy me. That wot we well, said king
Ban and king Bors, for they are your mortal enemies, and that hath been
proved aforehand, and this day they have done their part, and that is
great pity of their wilfulness.

Then all the eleven kings drew them together, and then said king Lot:
Lords, ye must other ways than ye do, or else the great loss is behind:
ye may see what people we have lost, and what good men we lose, because
we wait always upon these footmen, and ever in saving of one of the
footmen we lose ten horsemen for him; therefore this is mine advice,
let us put our footmen from us, for it is near night, for the noble
Arthur will not tarry on the footmen, for they may save themselves, the
wood is near hand. And when we horsemen be together, look every each of
you kings let make such ordinance that none break upon pain of death.
And who that seeth any man dress him to flee, lightly that he be slain,
for it is better that we slay a coward than through a coward all we to
be slain. How say ye? said king Lot, answer me, all ye kings. It is
well said, quoth king Nentres; so said the king of the hundred knights;
the same said the king Carados, and king Uriens; so did king Idres, and
king Brandegoris; and so did king Cradelmas, and the duke of Cambenet;
the same said king Clariance, and king Agwisance;—and sware they would
never fail other, neither for life nor for death. And whoso that fled,
but did as they did, should be slain. Then they amended their harness,
and righted their shields, and took new spears and set them on their
thighs, and stood still as it had been a plump of wood.


                               CHAP. XV.

_Yet more of the said battle, and how it was ended by Merlin._

When Sir Arthur and King Ban and Bors beheld them and all their
knights, they praised them much for their noble cheer of chivalry, for
the hardiest fighters that ever they heard or saw. With that there
dressed them a forty noble knights, and said unto the three kings they
would break their battle: these were their names: Lionses, Phariance,
Ulfius, Brastias, Ector, Kay, Lucas the butler, Griflet la Fise de
Dieu, Mariet de la Roche, Guynas de Bloy, Briant de la Forest Savage,
Bellaus, Morians of the Castle of Maidens, Flannedrius of the Castle of
Ladies, Annecians that was king Bors’s godson, a noble knight, Ladinas
de la Rouse, Emerause, Caulas, and Graciens le Castlein, one Bloise de
la Case, and Sir Colgrevaunce de Gorre. All these knights rode on afore
with spears on their thighs, and spurred their horses mightily as the
horses might run. And the eleven kings with part of their knights
rushed with their horses as fast as they might with their spears, and
there they did on both parties marvellous deeds of arms. So came into
the thick of the press Arthur, Ban, and Bors, and slew down right on
both hands, that their horses went in blood up to the fetlocks. But
ever the eleven kings and their host were ever in the visage of Arthur.
Wherefore Ban and Bors had great marvel, considering the great
slaughter that there was, but at the last they were driven aback over a
little river. With that came Merlin on a great black horse, and said
unto Arthur: Thou hast never done: hast thou not done enough? of
three-score thousand this day hast thou left on live but fifteen
thousand, and it is time to say Ho! For God is wroth with thee that
thou wilt never have done, for yonder eleven kings at this time will
not be overthrown, but and thou tarry on them any longer thy fortune
will turn and they shall increase. And therefore withdraw you unto your
lodging, and rest you as soon as ye may, and reward your good knights
with gold and with silver, for they have well deserved it; there may no
riches be too dear for them, for of so few men as ye have there were
never men did more of prowess than they have done to day, for ye have
matched this day with the best fighters of the world. That is truth,
said king Ban and Bors. Also said Merlin, withdraw you where ye list,
for this three year I dare undertake they shall not dare you; and by
then ye shall hear new tidings. And then Merlin said unto Arthur: These
eleven kings have more on hand than they are ware of, for the Saracens
are landed in their countries, more than forty thousand that burn and
slay, and have laid siege at the castle Wandesborow, and made great
destruction; therefore dread you not this three year. Also Sir, all the
goods that be gotten at this battle let it be searched: and when ye
have it in your hands let it be given freely unto these two kings, Ban
and Bors, that they may reward their knights withal; and that shall
cause strangers to be of better will to do you service at need. Also ye
be able to reward your own knights of your own goods whensoever it
liketh you. It is well said, quoth Arthur, and as thou hast devised so
shall it be done. When it was delivered to Ban and Bors, they gave the
goods as freely to their knights as it was given them.

Then Merlin took his leave of Arthur and of the two kings, for to go
and see his master Bleise that dwelt in Northumberland, and so he
departed and came to his master, that was passing glad of his coming.
And there he told how Arthur and the two kings had sped at the great
battle, and how it was ended, and told the names of every king and
knight of worship that was there. And so Bleise wrote the battle, word
by word, as Merlin told him, how it began, and by whom, and in likewise
how it was ended, and who had the worse. All the battles that were done
in Arthur’s days Merlin did his master Bleise do write. Also, he did do
write all the battles that every worthy knight did of Arthur’s court.
After this Merlin departed from his master and came to king Arthur,
that was in the castle of Bedegraine, that was one of the castles that
stood in the forest of Sherwood. And Merlin was so disguised that king
Arthur knew him not, for he was all befurred in black sheepskins, and a
great pair of boots, and a bow and arrows, in a russet gown, and
brought wild geese in his hand, and it was on the morn after Candlemas
Day, but king Arthur knew him not. Sir, said Merlin unto the king, will
ye give me a gift? Wherefore said king Arthur should I give thee a
gift, churl? Sir, said Merlin, ye were better to give me a gift that is
not in your hand, than to lose great riches; for here, in the same
place where the great battle was, is great treasure hid in the earth.
Who told thee so, churl? said Arthur. Merlin told me so, said he. Then
Ulfius and Brastias knew him well enough, and smiled. Sir, said these
two knights, it is Merlin that so speaketh unto you. Then king Arthur
was greatly abashed, and had marvel of Merlin, and so had king Ban and
king Bors, and so they had great disport at him.

So, in the mean while, there came a damsel which was an earl’s
daughter, and his name was Sanam, and her name was Lionors, a passing
fair damsel, and so she came thither for to do homage, as other lords
did after the great battle. And king Arthur set his love greatly upon
her, and so did she upon him, and she bare a child and his name was
Borre, that was after a good knight, and of the Table Round. Then there
came word that the king Rience of North Wales made great war upon king
Leodegrance of Cameliard, for the which thing Arthur was wroth, for he
loved him well and hated king Rience, for he was always against him. So
by ordinance of the three kings that was sent home to Benwick, all they
would depart for dread of king Claudas; Phariance, and Antemes, and
Gratian, and Lionses of Payarne, with the leaders of those that should
keep the kings’ lands.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How king Arthur, king Ban, and king Bors rescued king Leodegrance, and
  other incidents._

And then king Arthur and king Ban and king Bors departed with their
fellowship, a twenty thousand, and came within six days into the
country of Cameliard, and there rescued king Leodegrance and slew there
much people of king Rience unto the number of ten thousand men, and put
him to flight. And then had these three kings great cheer of king
Leodegrance that thanked them of their great goodness, that they would
revenge him of his enemies. And there had Arthur the first sight of
Guenever, the king’s daughter of Cameliard, and ever after he loved
her. After they were wedded, as it telleth in the book. So, briefly to
make an end, they took their leave to go into their own countries, for
king Claudas did great destruction on their lands. Then said Arthur, I
will go with you. Nay, said the kings, ye shall not at this time, for
ye have much to do yet in these lands, therefore we will depart, and
with the great goods that we have gotten in these lands by your gifts,
we shall wage good knights, and withstand the king Claudas’s malice,
for, by the grace of God, and we have need we will send to you for your
succour; and if ye have need, send for us, and we will not tarry, by
the faith of our bodies. It shall not, said Merlin, need that these two
kings come again in the way of war: but I know well king Arthur may not
be long from you, for within a year or two ye shall have great need,
and then shall he revenge you on your enemies, as ye have done on his.
For these eleven kings shall die all in a day, by the great might and
prowess of arms of two valiant knights (as it telleth after) their
names being Balin le Savage, and Balan his brother, which be marvellous
good knights as be any living.

Now turn we to the eleven kings, that returned unto a city that hight
Sorhaute, the which city was within king Uriens, and there they
refreshed them as well as they might, and made leeches search their
wounds, and sorrowed greatly for the death of their people. With that
there came a messager and told how there was come into their lands
people that were lawless as well as Saracens a forty thousand, and have
burnt and slain all the people that they may come by without mercy and
have laid siege on the castle of Wandesborow. Alas! said the eleven
kings, here is sorrow on sorrow, and if we had not warred against
Arthur as we had done, he would soon revenge us: as for king
Leodegrance, he loveth king Arthur better than us, and as for king
Rience he hath enough to do with king Leodegrance, for he hath laid
siege unto him. So they consented together to keep all the marches of
Cornwall, of Wales, and of the North. So first they put king Idres in
the city of Nauntes in Britain with four thousand men of arms, to watch
both the water and the land. Also they put in the city of Windesan king
Nentres of Garlot with four thousand knights, to watch both on water
and on land. Also they had of other men of war more than eight
thousand, for to fortify all the fortresses in the marches of Cornwall.
Also they put more knights in all the marches of Wales and Scotland
with many good men of arms. And so they kept them together the space of
three years, and ever allied them with mighty kings, and dukes, and
lords. And to them fell king Rience of North Wales, the which was a
mighty man of men, and Nero that was a mighty man of men. And all this
while they furnished them and garnished them of good men of arms and
victual, and of all manner of habiliment that pretendeth to the war, to
avenge them for the battle of Bedegraine, as it telleth in the book of
adventures following.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How king Arthur rode to Carlion, and of his dream, and how he saw the
  questing beast._

Then after the departing of king Ban and of king Bors king Arthur rode
unto Carlion. And thither came to him Lot’s wife of Orkney, in manner
of a messenger, but she was sent thither to espy the court of king
Arthur; and she came richly beseen with her four sons, Gawaine,
Gaheris, Agravaine, and Gareth, with many other knights and ladies, and
she was a passing fair lady, wherefore the king cast great love unto
her, and so was Mordred born, and she was his sister, on the mother
side Igraine. So there she rested her a month, and at the last
departed. Then the king dreamed a marvellous dream whereof he was sore
adread. But all this time king Arthur knew not that king Lot’s wife was
his sister. Thus was the dream of Arthur. Him thought that there was
come into this land griffons and serpents, and him thought they burnt
and slew all the people in the land, and then him thought he fought
with them, and they did him passing great harm and wounded him full
sore, but at the last he slew them. When the king awaked he was passing
heavy of his dream, and so to put it out of thoughts he made him ready
with many knights to ride on hunting. As soon as he was in the forest
the king saw a great hart afore him. This hart will I chase, said king
Arthur, and so he spurred the horse and rode after long, and so by fine
force oft he was like to have smitten the hart, till the king had
chased the hart so long that his horse had lost his breath, and fell
down dead. Then a yeoman fetched the king another horse. So the king
saw the hart embushed and his horse dead; he sat him down by a
fountain, and there he fell in great thoughts; and as he sat so him
thought he heard a noise of hounds, to the sum of thirty. And with that
the king saw coming toward him the strangest beast that ever he saw or
heard of; so the beast went to the well and drank, and the noise was in
the beast’s belly like unto the questing of thirty couple hounds; but
all the while the beast drank there was no noise in the beast’s belly,
and therewith the beast departed with a great noise, whereof the king
had great marvel. And so he was in great thought, and therewith he fell
on sleep. Right so there came a knight afoot unto Arthur, and said,
Knight, full of thought and sleepy, tell me if thou sawest a strange
beast pass this way. Such one saw I, said king Arthur, that is past two
miles: what would you with the beast? said Arthur. Sir, I have followed
that beast long time, and have killed my horse; so would I had another
to follow my quest. Right so came one with the king’s horse, and when
the knight saw the horse he prayed the king to give him the horse, For
I have followed this quest this twelvemonth, and either I shall achieve
him or bleed of the best blood of my body. Pellinore that time king
followed the questing beast, and after his death Sir Palomides followed
it.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How king Pellinore took Arthur’s horse and followed the questing
  beast, and how Merlin met with Arthur._

Sir knight, said the king, leave that quest and suffer me to have it,
and I will follow it another twelve month. Ah fool, said the knight
unto Arthur, it is in vain thy desire, for it shall never be achieved
but by me, or my next kin. Therewith he stert unto the king’s horse,
and mounted into the saddle, and said, Gramercy, this horse is mine
own. Well, said the king, thou mayest take my horse by force, but and I
might prove thee whether thou wert better on horseback or I. Well, said
the knight, seek me here when thou wilt, and here nigh this well thou
shalt find me; and so passed on his way. Then the king sat in a study,
and bad his men fetch his horse as fast as ever they might. Right so
came by him Merlin like a child of fourteen year of age, and saluted
the king, and asked him why he was so pensive? I may well be pensive,
said the king, for I have seen the marvellest sight that ever I saw.
That know I well, said Merlin, as well as thyself, and of all thy
thoughts; but thou art but a fool to take thought, for it will not
amend thee. Also I know what thou art, and who was thy father, and of
whom thou wert born; king Uther Pendragon was thy father, and had thee
of Igraine. That is false, said king Arthur; how shouldest thou know
it? for thou art not so old of years to know my father. Yes, said
Merlin, I know it better than ye or any man living. I will not believe
thee, said Arthur, and was wroth with the child. So departed Merlin;
and came again in the likeness of an old man of fourscore years of age,
whereof the king was right glad, for he seemed to be right wise.

Then said the old man, Why are ye so sad? I may well be heavy, said
Arthur, for many things. Also here was a child, and told me many things
that me seemeth he should not know, for he was not of age to know my
father. Yes, said the old man, the child told you truth, and more would
he have told you and ye would have suffered him. But ye have done a
thing late that God is displeased with you, and your sister shall have
a child that shall destroy you and all the knights of your realm. What
are ye, said Arthur, that tell me these tidings? I am Merlin, and I was
he in the child’s likeness. Ah, said king Arthur, ye are a marvellous
man, but I marvel much of thy words that I must die in battle. Marvel
not, said Merlin, for it is God’s will your body to be punished for
your foul deeds. But I may well be sorry, said Merlin, for I shall die
a shameful death, to be put in the earth quick, and ye shall die a
worshipful death. And as they talked this, came one with the king’s
horse, and so the king mounted on his horse and Merlin on another, and
so rode unto Carlion. And anon the king asked Ector and Ulfius how he
was born. And they told him that Uther Pendragon was his father, and
queen Igraine his mother: then he said to Merlin, I will that my mother
be sent for, that I may speak with her, and if she say so herself, then
will I believe it. In all haste the queen was sent for, and she came
and brought with her Morgan le Fay her daughter, that was as fair a
lady as any might be. And the king welcomed Igraine in the best manner.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How Ulfius appeached queen Igraine, Arthur’s mother, of treason: and
  how a knight came and desired to have the death of his master
  revenged._

Right so came Ulfius and said openly, that the king and all might hear
that were feasted that day, Ye are the falsest lady of the world, and
the most traitress unto the king’s person. Beware, said Arthur, what
thou sayest; thou speakest a great word. I am well ware, said Sir
Ulfius, what I speak, and here is my glove to prove it upon any man
that will say the contrary, that this queen Igraine is causer of your
great damage, and of your great war. For, and she would have uttered it
in the life of king Uther Pendragon of the birth of you, ye had never
had half the mortal wars that ye have had: for the most part of your
barons of your realm knew never whose son ye were, nor of whom ye were
born. And she that bear you should have made it known openly in
excusing of her worship and yours, and in likewise to all the realm;
wherefore I prove her false to God and to you and to all your realm,
and who will say the contrary I will prove it upon his body.

Then spake Igraine and said, I am a woman, and I may not fight, but
rather than I should be dishonoured there would some good man take my
quarrel. More she said, Merlin knoweth well, and ye Sir Ulfius, how
king Uther came to me in the castle of Tintagel, in the likeness of my
lord that was dead three hours tofore. And after my lord was dead king
Uther wedded me, and by his commandment when the child was born it was
delivered unto Merlin, and nourished by him, and so I saw the child
never after, nor wot not what is his name, for I knew him never yet.
And there Ulfius said to the queen, Merlin is more to blame than ye.
Well I wot, said the queen, that I bare a child by my lord king Uther,
but I wot not where he is become. Then Merlin took the king by the
hand, saying, This is your mother. And therewith Sir Ector bare witness
how he nourished him by Uther’s commandment. And, therewith king Arthur
took his mother queen Igraine in his arms and kissed her and either
wept upon other. And then the king let make a feast that lasted eight
days. Then on a day there came into the court a squire on horseback,
leading a knight before him wounded to the death, and told him how
there was a knight in the forest had reared up a pavilion by a well,
and hath slain my master, a good knight, his name was Miles; wherefore
I beseech you that my master may be buried, and that some knight may
revenge my master’s death. Then the noise was great of that knight’s
death in the court, and every man said his advice: then came Griflet
that was but a squire, and he was but young, of the age of king Arthur;
so he besought the king for all his service that he had done him to
give him the order of knighthood.


                               CHAP. XX.

_How Griflet was made knight, and justed with a knight._

Thou art full young and tender of age, said Arthur, for to take so high
an order on thee. Sir, said Griflet, I beseech you make me knight. Sir,
said Merlin, it were great pity to lose Griflet, for he will be a
passing good man when he is of age, abiding with you the term of his
life. And if he adventure his body with yonder knight at the fountain
it is in great peril if ever he come again, for he is one of the best
knights of the world, and the strongest man of arms. Well, said king
Arthur. So at the desire of Griflet the king made him knight. Now, said
Arthur unto Sir Griflet, since I have made you knight, thou must give
me a gift. What ye will, said Griflet. Thou shalt promise me by the
faith of thy body, when thou hast justed with the knight at the
fountain, whether it fall ye be on foot or on horseback, that right so
ye shall come again unto me without making any more debate. I will
promise you, said Griflet, as you desire. Then took Griflet his horse
in great haste, and dressed his shield, and took a spear in his hand,
and so he rode a great wallop till he came to the fountain, and thereby
he saw a rich pavilion, and thereby under a cloth stood a fair horse
well saddled and bridled, and on a tree a shield of divers colours, and
a great spear. Then Griflet smote on the shield with the butt of his
spear that the shield fell down to the ground. With that the knight
came out of the pavilion and said, Fair knight, why smote ye down my
shield? For I will just with you, said Griflet. It is better ye do not,
said the knight, for ye are but young, and late made knight, and your
might is nothing to mine. As for that, said Griflet, I will just with
you. That is me loth, said the knight, but since I must needs I will
dress me thereto: of whence be ye? said the knight. Sir, I am of
Arthur’s court. So the two knights ran together, that Griflet’s spear
all to-shivered, and therewithal he smote Griflet through the shield
and the left side, and brake the spear, that the truncheon stack in his
body, that horse and knight fell down.


                               CHAP. XXI.

_How twelve knights came from Rome and asked truage for this land of
  Arthur, and how Arthur fought with a knight._

When the knight saw him lie so on the ground he alighted, and was
passing heavy, for he wend he had slain him, and then he unlaced his
helm and gat him wind, and so with the truncheon he set him on his
horse and gat him wind, and so betook him to God, and said he had a
mighty heart, and if he might live he would prove a passing good
knight. And so Sir Griflet rode to the court, where great dole was made
for him. But through good leeches he was healed and saved.

Right so came into the court twelve knights, and were aged men, and
they came from the emperor of Rome, and they asked of Arthur truage for
this realm, other else the emperor would destroy him and his land.
Well, said king Arthur, ye are messagers, therefore may ye say what ye
will, other else ye should die therefore. But this is mine answer; I
owe the emperor no truage, nor none will I hold him; but on a fair
field I shall give him my truage, that shall be with a sharp spear or
else with a sharp sword, and that shall not be long, by my father’s
soul, Uther Pendragon. And therewith the messagers departed passingly
wroth, and king Arthur as wroth, for in evil time came they then, for
the king was passingly wroth for the hurt of Sir Griflet. And so he
commanded a privyman of his chamber, that or it be day his best horse
and armour, with all that belongeth unto his person, be without the
city or to-morrow day. Right so, or to-morrow day, he met with his man
and his horse, and so mounted up, and dressed his shield, and took his
spear, and bade his chamberlain tarry there till he came again.

And so Arthur rode a soft pace till it was day, and then was he aware
of three churls chasing Merlin, and would have slain him. Then the king
rode unto them and bade them, Flee churls! Then were they afeard when
they saw a knight, and fled. O Merlin, said Arthur, here haddest thou
been slain for all thy crafts, had I not been. Nay, said Merlin, not
so, for I could save myself an I would, and thou art more near thy
death than I am, for thou goest to the death-ward, and God be not thy
friend. So as they went thus talking they came to the fountain, and the
rich pavilion there by it. Then king Arthur was ware where sat a knight
armed in a chair. Sir knight, said Arthur, for what cause abidest thou
here, that there may no knight ride this way but if he just with thee,
said the king: I rede thee leave that custom, said Arthur. This custom,
said the knight, have I used and will use maugre who saith nay; and who
is grieved with my custom let him amend it that will. I will amend it,
said Arthur. I shall defend thee, said the knight. Anon he took his
horse, and dressed his shield, and took a spear, and they met so hard
either in other’s shields that they all to-shivered their spears.
Therewith Arthur anon pulled out his sword. Nay, not so, said the
knight, it is fairer that we twain run more together with sharp spears.
I will well, said Arthur, and I had any more spears. I have enow, said
the knight. So there came a squire, and brought two good spears, and
Arthur chose one and he another, so they spurred their horses, and came
together with all their mights, that either brake their spears to their
hands. Then Arthur set hand on his sword. Nay, said the knight, ye
shall do better; ye are a passing good juster as ever I met withal, and
once for the love of the high order of knighthood let us just once
again. I assent me, said Arthur. Anon there were brought two great
spears, and every knight gat a spear, and therewith they ran together
that Arthur’s spear all to-shivered. But the other knight hit him so
hard in midst of the shield that horse and man fell to the earth, and
therewith Arthur was eager, and pulled out his sword, and said, I will
assay thee, Sir knight, on foot, for I have lost the honour on
horseback. I will be on horseback, said the knight. Then was Arthur
wroth, and dressed his shield towards him with his sword drawn. When
the knight saw that, he alight, for him thought no worship to have a
knight at such avail, he to be on horseback, and he on foot, and so he
alight and dressed his shield unto Arthur. And there began a strong
battle with many great strokes, and so hewed with their swords that the
cantels flew in the fields, and much blood they bled both, that all the
place there as they fought was over-bled with blood, and thus they
fought long, and rested them, and then they went to the battle again,
and so hurtled together like two rams that either fell to the earth. So
at the last they smote together, that both their swords met even
together. But the sword of the knight smote king Arthur’s sword in two
pieces, wherefore he was heavy. Then said the knight unto Arthur, Thou
art in my danger whether me list to save thee or slay thee, and but
thou yield thee as overcome and recreant thou shalt die. As for death,
said king Arthur, welcome be it when it cometh; but to yield me unto
thee as recreant I had lever die than to be so shamed. And therewithal
the king leapt unto Pellinore, and took him by the middle, and threw
him down, and rased off his helmet. When the knight felt that he was
adread, for he was a passing big man of might, and anon he brought
Arthur under him, and rased off his helm, and would have smitten off
his head.


                              CHAP. XXII.

_How Merlin saved Arthur’s life, and threw an enchantment upon king
  Pellinore, and made him to sleep._

Therewithal came Merlin, and said, Knight, hold thy hand, for and thou
slay that knight thou puttest this realm in the greatest damage that
ever was realm: for this knight is a man of more worship than thou
wotest of. Why, who is he? said the knight. It is king Arthur. Then
would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, and heaved up his
sword, and therewith Merlin cast an enchantment to the knight, that he
fell to the earth in a great sleep. Then Merlin took up king Arthur,
and rode forth on the knight’s horse. Alas, said Arthur, what hast thou
done, Merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy crafts? There
lived not so worshipful a knight as he was; I had lever than the stint
of my land a year that he were onlive. Care ye not, said Merlin, for he
is wholer than ye, for he is but on sleep, and will awake within three
hours. I told you, said Merlin, what a knight he was; here had ye be
slain had I not been. Also there liveth not a bigger knight than he is
one, and he shall hereafter do you right good service, and his name is
Pellinore, and he shall have two sons that shall be passing good men;
save one, they shall have no fellow of prowess and of good living; and
their names shall be Percivale of Wales and Lamerake of Wales: and he
shall tell you the name of your sister’s son that shall be the
destruction of all this realm.


                              CHAP. XXIII.

_How Arthur by the mean of Merlin gat Excalibur his sword of the Lady
  of the lake._

Right so the king and he departed, and went until an hermit that was a
good man and a great leach. So the hermit searched all his wounds and
gave him good salves; so the king was there three days, and then were
his wounds well amended that he might ride and go, and so departed. And
as they rode, Arthur said, I have no sword. No force, said Merlin,
hereby is a sword that shall be yours and I may. So they rode till they
came to a lake, the which was a fair water and broad, and in the midst
of the lake Arthur was ware of an arm clothed in white samite, that
held a fair sword in that hand. Lo, said Merlin, yonder is that sword
that I spake of. With that they saw a damsel going upon the lake: What
damsel is that? said Arthur. That is the Lady of the lake, said Merlin;
and within that lake is a rock, and therein is as fair a place as any
on earth, and richly beseen, and this damsel will come to you anon, and
then speak ye fair to her that she will give you that sword. Anon
withal came the damsel unto Arthur and saluted him, and he her again.
Damsel, said Arthur, what sword is that, that yonder the arm holdeth
above the water? I would it were mine, for I have no sword. Sir Arthur
king, said the damsel, that sword is mine, and if ye will give me a
gift when I ask it you, ye shall have it. By my faith, said Arthur, I
will give you what gift ye will ask. Well, said the damsel, go ye into
yonder barge and row yourself to the sword, and take it and the
scabbard with you, and I will ask my gift when I see my time. So Sir
Arthur and Merlin alight, and tied their horses to two trees, and so
they went into the ship, and when they came to the sword that the hand
held, Sir Arthur took it up by the handles, and took it with him. And
the arm and the hand went under the water; and so they came unto the
land and rode forth. And then Sir Arthur saw a rich pavilion: What
signifieth yonder pavilion? It is the knight’s pavilion, said Merlin,
that ye fought with last, Sir Pellinore, but he is out, he is not
there; he hath ado with a knight of yours, that hight Egglame, and they
have fought together, but at the last Egglame fled, and else he had
been dead, and he hath chased him even to Carlion, and we shall meet
with him anon in the high way. That is well said, said Arthur, now have
I a sword, now will I wage battle with him and be avenged on him. Sir,
ye shall not so, said Merlin, for the knight is weary of fighting and
chasing, so that ye shall have no worship to have ado with him; also he
will not lightly be matched of one knight living; and therefore it is
my counsel, let him pass, for he shall do you good service in short
time, and his sons after his days. Also ye shall see that day in short
space, ye shall be right glad to give him your sister to wed. When I
see him, I will do as ye advise me, said Arthur. Then Sir Arthur looked
on the sword, and liked it passing well. Whether liketh you better,
said Merlin, the sword or the scabbard? Me liketh better the sword,
said Arthur. Ye are more unwise, said Merlin, for the scabbard is worth
ten of the sword, for while ye have the scabbard upon you ye shall
never lose no blood, be ye never so sore wounded, therefore keep well
the scabbard always with you. So they rode unto Carlion, and by the way
they met with Sir Pellinore; but Merlin had done such a craft that
Pellinore saw not Arthur, and he passed by without any words. I marvel,
said Arthur, that the knight would not speak. Sir, said Merlin, he saw
you not, for and he had seen you ye had not lightly departed. So they
came unto Carlion, whereof his knights were passing glad. And when they
heard of his adventures they marvelled that he would jeopard his person
so alone. But all men of worship said it was merry to be under such a
chieftain that would put his person in adventure as other poor knights
did.


                              CHAP. XXIV.

_How tidings came to Arthur that king Ryons had overcome eleven kings,
  and how he desired Arthur’s beard to trim his mantle._

This meanwhile came a messager from king Ryons of North Wales, and king
he was of all Ireland, and of many Isles. And this was his message,
greeting well king Arthur in this manner wise, saying that king Ryons
had discomfited and overcome eleven kings, and every each of them did
him homage, and that was this—they gave him their beards clean flayed
off, as much as there was; wherefore the messager came for king
Arthur’s beard. For king Ryons had trimmed a mantle with kings’ beards,
and there lacked one place of the mantle, wherefore he sent for his
beard, or else he would enter into his lands, and burn and slay, and
never leave till he have the head and the beard. Well, said Arthur,
thou hast said thy message, the which is the most villainous and
lewdest message that ever man heard sent unto a king: also thou mayest
see my beard is full young yet to make a trimming of it. But tell thou
thy king this: I owe him none homage, nor none of mine elders; but or
it be long he shall do me homage on both his knees, or else he shall
lose his head, by the faith of my body, for this is the most
shamefulest message that ever I heard speak of. I see well thy king met
never yet with worshipful man, but tell him I will have his head
without he do me homage. Then the messager departed. Now is there any
here, said Arthur, that knoweth king Ryons? Then answered a knight that
hight Naram, Sir, I know the king well; he is a passing good man of his
body as few be living, and a passing proud man; and, Sir, doubt ye not
he will make war on you with a mighty puissance. Well, said Arthur, I
shall ordain for him in short time.


                               CHAP. XXV.

_How all the children were sent for that were born on May-day, and how
  Mordred was saved._

Then king Arthur let send for all the children born on May-day of lords
and ladies, for Merlin told king Arthur that he that should destroy him
should be born on May-day, wherefore he sent for them all upon pain of
death. And so there were found many lords’ sons, and all were sent unto
the king, and so was Mordred sent by king Lot’s wife, and all were put
in a ship to the sea, and some were four weeks old, and some less. And
so by fortune the ship drove unto a castle, and was all to-riven, and
destroyed the most part, save that Mordred was cast up, and a good man
found him, and nourished him till he was fourteen year old, and then he
brought him to the court, as it rehearseth afterward toward the end of
the Death of Arthur. So many lords and barons of this realm were
displeased, for their children were so lost, and many put the blame on
Merlin more than on Arthur; so what for dread and for love they held
their peace. But when the messager came to king Ryons then was he wood
out of measure, and purveyed him for a great host, as it rehearseth
after in the book of Balin le Savage that followeth next after, how by
adventure Balin gat the sword.

             Explicit liber primus. Incipit liber secundus.




                            Book the Second.


                                CHAP. I.

_Of a damsel which came girt with a sword for to find a man of such
  virtue to draw it out of the scabbard._

After the death of Uther Pendragon reigned Arthur his son, the which
had great war in his days for to get all England into his hand. For
there were many kings within the realm of England, and in Wales,
Scotland, and Cornwall. So it befel on a time when king Arthur was at
London, there came a knight and told the king tidings how that the king
Ryons of North Wales had reared a great number of people, and were
entered into the land, and burnt and slew the king’s true liege people.
If this be true, said Arthur, it were great shame unto mine estate but
that he were mightily withstood. It is truth, said the knight, for I
saw the host myself. Well, said the king, let make a cry, that all the
lords, knights, and gentlemen of arms, should draw unto a castle,
called Camelot in those days, and there the king would let make a
council general, and a great justs.

So when the king was come thither with all his baronage, and lodged as
they seemed best, there was come a damsel the which was sent on message
from the great lady Lile of Avelion. And when she came before king
Arthur, she told from whom she came, and how she was sent on message
unto him for these causes. Then she let her mantle fall that was richly
furred; and then was she girt with a noble sword, whereof the king had
marvel, and said, Damsel, for what cause are ye girt with that sword?
it beseemeth you not. Now shall I tell you, said the damsel: this sword
that I am girt withal doth me great sorrow and cumberance, for I may
not be delivered of this sword but by a knight, but he must be a
passing good man of his hands and of his deeds, and without villainy or
treachery, and without treason. And if I may find such a knight that
hath all these virtues, he may draw out this sword out of the sheath.
For I have been at king Ryons’; it was told me there were passing good
knights, and he and all his knights have assayed it, and none can
speed. This is a great marvel, said Arthur; if this be sooth, I will
myself assay to draw out the sword, not presuming upon myself that I am
the best knight, but that I will begin to draw at your sword in giving
example to all the barons, that they shall assay every one after other
when I have assayed it. Then Arthur took the sword by the sheath and by
the girdle, and pulled at it eagerly, but the sword would not out. Sir,
said the damsel, ye need not to pull half so hard, for he that shall
pull it out, shall do it with little might. Ye say well, said Arthur:
now assay ye, all my barons, but beware ye be not defiled with shame,
treachery, nor guile. Then it will not avail, said the damsel, for he
must be a clean knight without villainy, and of a gentle stock of
father side and mother side. Most of all the barons of the Round Table
that were there at that time assayed all by row, but there might none
speed; wherefore the damsel made great sorrow out of measure, and said,
Alas! I wend in this court had been the best knights, without treachery
or treason. By my faith, saith Arthur, here are good knights as I deem
any been in the world, but their grace is not to help you, wherefore I
am displeased.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Balin, arrayed like a poor knight, pulled out the sword, which
  afterward was cause of his death._

Then fell it so that time there was a poor knight with king Arthur,
that had been prisoner with him half a year and more, for slaying of a
knight the which was cousin unto king Arthur. The name of this knight
was called Balin, and by good means of the barons he was delivered out
of prison, for he was a good man named of his body, and he was born in
Northumberland. And so he went privily into the court, and saw this
adventure, whereof it raised his heart, and he would assay it as other
knights did, but for he was poor and poorly arrayed he put him not far
in press; but in his heart he was fully assured to do as well, if his
grace happed him, as any knight that there was. And as the damsel took
her leave of Arthur and of all the barons, so departing, this knight
Balin called unto her and said, Damsel, I pray you of your courtesy
suffer me as well to assay as these lords; though that I be so poorly
clothed, in mine heart me seemeth I am fully assured as some of these
other, and me seemeth in my heart to speed right well. The damsel
beheld the poor knight, and saw he was a likely man, but for of his
poor arrayment she thought he should be of no worship without villainy
or treachery. And then she said unto the knight, Sir, it needeth not to
put me to more pain or labour, for it seemeth not you to speed there as
other have failed. Ah, fair damsel, said Balin, worthiness and good
qualities and good deeds are not all only in arrayment, but manhood and
worship is hid within man’s person, and many a worshipful knight is not
known unto all people, and therefore worship and hardiness is not in
arrayment. Ye say sooth, said the damsel, therefore ye shall assay to
do what ye may. Then Balin took the sword by the girdle and sheath and
drew it out easily, and when he looked on the sword it pleased him
much. Then had the king and all the barons great marvel that Balin had
done that adventure, and many knights had great despite of Balin.
Certes, said the damsel, this is a passing good knight, and the best
that ever I found, and most of worship without treason, treachery, or
villainy, and many marvels shall he do. Now, gentle and courteous
knight, give me the sword again. Nay, said Balin, for this sword will I
keep, but it be taken from me by force. Well, said the damsel, ye are
not wise to keep the sword from me, for ye shall slay with the sword
the best friend that ye have, and the man that ye most love in the
world, and the sword shall be your destruction. I shall take the
adventure, said Balin, that God will ordain me, but the sword ye shall
not have at this time, by the faith of my body. Ye shall repent it
within short time, said the damsel, for I would have the sword more for
your avail than for mine, for I am passing heavy for your sake; for ye
will not believe that sword shall be your destruction, and that is
great pity. With that the damsel departed, making great sorrow.

Anon after Balin sent for his horse and his armour, and so would depart
from the court, and took his leave of king Arthur. Nay, said the king,
I suppose ye will not depart so lightly from this fellowship. I suppose
that ye are displeased that I have shewed you unkindness; blame me the
less, for I was misinformed against you, but I wend you had not been
such a knight as ye are of worship and prowess, and if ye will abide in
this court among my fellowship, I shall so advance you as ye shall be
pleased. God thank your highness, said Balin, for your bounty and
highness may no man praise half to the value; but at this time I must
needs depart, beseeching you alway of your good grace. Truly, said the
king, I am right wroth for your departing: I pray you, fair knight,
that ye tarry not long, and ye shall be right welcome to me and to my
barons, and I shall amend all amiss that I have done against you. God
thank your great lordship, said Balin, and therewith made him ready to
depart. Then the most part of the knights of the Round Table said that
Balin did not this adventure all only by might, but by witchcraft.


                               CHAP. III.

_How the Lady of the lake demanded the knight’s head that had won the
  sword, or the maiden’s head._

The meanwhile that this knight was making him ready to depart, there
came into the court a lady that hight the Lady of the lake. And she
came on horseback, richly beseen, and saluted king Arthur; and there
asked him a gift that he promised her when she gave him the sword. That
is sooth, said Arthur, a gift I promised you, but I have forgotten the
name of my sword that ye gave me. The name of it, said the lady, is
Excalibur, that is as much to say as Cut-steel. Ye say well, said the
king, ask what ye will and ye shall have it, and it lie in my power to
give it. Well, said the lady, I ask the head of the knight that hath
won the sword, or else the damsel’s head that brought it; I take no
force though I have both their heads, for he slew my brother, a good
knight and a true, and that gentlewoman was causer of my father’s
death. Truly, said king Arthur, I may not grant neither of their heads
with my worship, therefore ask what ye will else, and I shall fulfil
your desire. I will ask none other thing, said the lady. When Balin was
ready to depart he saw the Lady of the lake that by her means had slain
Balin’s mother, and he had sought her three years, and when it was told
him that she asked his head of king Arthur he went to her straight and
said, Evil be you found, ye would have my head and therefore ye shall
lose yours. And with his sword lightly he smote off her head before
king Arthur. Alas! for shame, said Arthur, why have you done so? ye
have shamed me and all my court, for this was a lady that I was
beholden to, and hither she came under my safe conduct; I shall never
forgive you that trespass. Sir, said Balin, me forthinketh of your
displeasure, for this same lady was the untruest lady living, and by
enchantment and sorcery she hath been the destroyer of many good
knights, and she was causer that my mother was burnt through her
falsehood and treachery. What cause so ever ye had, said Arthur, ye
should have forborne her in my presence; therefore, think not the
contrary, ye shall repent it, for such another despite had I never in
my court: therefore withdraw you out of my court in all haste that ye
may. Then Balin took up the head of the lady, and bare it with him to
his hostry, and there he met with his squire, that was sorry he had
displeased king Arthur, and so they rode forth out of the town. Now,
said Balin, we must part; take thou this head and bear it to my
friends, and tell them how I have sped, and tell my friends in
Northumberland that my most foe is dead. Also tell them how I am out of
prison, and also what adventure befel me at the getting of this sword.
Alas, said the squire, ye are greatly to blame for to displease king
Arthur. As for that, said Balin, I will hie me in all the haste that I
may, to meet with king Ryons and destroy him, or else to die therefore;
and if it may hap me to win him, then will king Arthur be my good and
gracious lord. Where shall I meet with you? said the squire. In king
Arthur’s court, said Balin. So his squire and he departed at that time.
Then king Arthur and all the court made great dole, and had shame of
the death of the Lady of the lake. Then the king buried her richly.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Merlin told the adventure of this damsel._

At that time there was a knight the which was the king’s son of
Ireland, and his name was Lanceor, the which was an orgulous knight,
and counted himself one of the best of the court, and he had great
despite at Balin for the achieving of the sword, that any should be
accounted more hardy, or of more prowess; and he asked king Arthur if
he would give him leave to ride after Balin, and to revenge the despite
that he had done. Do your best, said Arthur, I am right wroth with
Balin, I would he were quit of the despite that he hath done to me and
to my court. Then this Lanceor went to his hostry to make him ready. In
the meanwhile came Merlin unto the court of king Arthur, and there was
told him the adventure of the sword, and the death of the Lady of the
lake. Now shall I say you, said Merlin, this same damsel that here
standeth, that brought the sword unto your court, I shall tell you the
cause of her coming,—she was the falsest damsel that liveth. Say not
so, said they. She hath a brother, a passing good knight of prowess and
a full true man, and this damsel loved another knight that held her to
paramour, and this good knight her brother met with the knight that
held her to paramour, and slew him by force of his hands. When this
false damsel understood this she went to the lady Lile of Avelion, and
besought her of help, to be avenged on her own brother. And so this
lady Lile of Avelion took her this sword, that she brought with her,
and told there should no man pull it out of the sheath but if he be one
of the best knights of this realm, and he should be hardy and full of
prowess, and with that sword he should slay her brother. This was the
cause that the damsel came into this court. I know it as well as ye.
Would she had not come into this court, but she came never in
fellowship of worship to do good, but alway great harm. And that knight
that hath achieved the sword shall be destroyed by that sword, for the
which will be great damage, for there liveth not a knight of more
prowess than he is, and he shall do unto you, my lord Arthur, great
honour and kindness, and it is great pity he shall not endure but a
while, for of his strength and hardiness I know not his match living.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Balin was pursued by Sir Lanceor, knight of Ireland, and how he
  justed and slew him._

So the knight of Ireland armed him at all points, and dressed his
shield on his shoulder, and mounted upon horseback, and took his spear
in his hand, and rode after a great pace as much as his horse might go,
and within a little space on a mountain he had a sight of Balin, and
with a loud voice he cried, Abide knight, for ye shall abide whether ye
will or nill, and the shield that is tofore you shall not help. When
Balin heard the noise he turned his horse fiercely, and said, Fair
knight what will ye with me, will ye just with me? Yea, said the Irish
knight, therefore come I after you. Peradventure, said Balin, it had
been better to have holden you at home, for many a man weneth to put
his enemy to a rebuke, and oft it falleth to himself. Of what court be
ye sent from? said Balin. I am come from the court of king Arthur, said
the knight of Ireland, that come hither for to revenge the despite ye
did this day to king Arthur and to his court. Well, said Balin, I see
well I must have ado with you, that me forthinketh for to grieve king
Arthur, or any of his court; and your quarrel is full simple, said
Balin, unto me, for the lady that is dead did me great damage, and else
would I have been loth as any knight that liveth for to slay a lady.
Make you ready, said the knight Lanceor, and dress you unto me, for
that one shall abide in the field. Then they took their spears, and
came together as much as their horses might drive, and the Irish knight
smote Balin on the shield, that all went shivers of his spear, and
Balin hit him through the shield, and the hauberk perished, and so
pierced through his body and the horse croup, and anon turned his horse
fiercely and drew out his sword, and wist not that he had slain him,
and then he saw him lie as a dead corpse.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How a damsel, which was love to Lanceor, slew herself for love; and
  how Balin met with his brother Balan._

Then he looked by him, and was ware of a damsel that came riding full
fast as the horse might ride, on a fair palfrey. And when she espied
that Lanceor was slain she made sorrow out of measure, and said, O
Balin, two bodies thou hast slain and one heart, and two hearts in one
body, and two souls thou hast lost. And therewith she took the sword
from her love that lay dead, and fell to the ground in a swoon. And
when she arose she made great dole out of measure, the which sorrow
grieved Balin passingly sore, and he went unto her for to have taken
the sword out of her hand, but she held it so fast he might not take it
out of her hand unless he should have hurt her, and suddenly she set
the pommel to the ground, and rove herself through the body. When Balin
espied her deeds, he was passing heavy in his heart, and ashamed that
so fair a damsel had destroyed herself for the love of his death. Alas,
said Balin, me repenteth sore the death of this knight for the love of
this damsel, for there was much true love betwixt them both. And for
sorrow he might no longer hold him, but turned his horse and looked
towards a great forest, and there he was ware, by the arms, of his
brother Balan. And when they were met they put off their helms and
kissed together, and wept for joy and pity. Then Balan said, I little
wend to have met with you at this sudden adventure; I am right glad of
your deliverance out of your dolorous prisonment, for a man told me in
the castle of Four Stones that ye were delivered, and that man had seen
you in the court of king Arthur, and therefore I came hither into this
country, for here I supposed to find you. Anon the knight Balin told
his brother of his adventure of the sword, and of the death of the Lady
of the lake, and how king Arthur was displeased with him: Wherefore he
sent this knight after me that lieth here dead; and the death of this
damsel grieveth me sore. So doth it me, said Balan, but ye must take
the adventure that God will ordain you. Truly, said Balin, I am right
heavy that my lord Arthur is displeased with me, for he is the most
worshipful knight that reigneth now on earth, and his love I will get
or else I will put my life in adventure; for the king Ryons lieth at a
siege at the castle Terrabil, and thither will we draw in all haste, to
prove our worship and prowess upon him. I will well, said Balan, that
we do, and we will help each other as brethren ought to do.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How a dwarf reproved Balin for the death of Lanceor, and how king Mark
  of Cornwall found them, and made a tomb over them._

Now go we hence, said Balin, and well be we met. The meanwhile as they
talked there came a dwarf from the city of Camelot on horseback, as
much as he might, and found the dead bodies, wherefore he made great
dole, and pulled out his hair for sorrow, and said, Which of you
knights have done this deed? Whereby askest thou it, said Balan. For I
would wit it, said the dwarf. It was I, said Balin, that slew this
knight in my defence, for hither came he to chase me, and either I must
slay him or he me; and this damsel slew herself for his love, which
repenteth me, and for her sake I shall owe all women the better love.
Alas, said the dwarf, thou hast done great damage unto thyself, for
this knight that is here dead was one of the most valiantest men that
lived, and trust well, Balin, the kin of this knight will chase you
through the world till they have slain you. As for that, said Balin, I
fear not greatly, but I am right heavy that I have displeased my lord
king Arthur for the death of this knight. So as they talked together
there came a king of Cornwall riding, the which hight king Mark. And
when he saw these two bodies dead, and understood how they were dead by
the two knights above said, then made the king great sorrow for the
true love that was betwixt them, and said, I will not depart till I
have on this earth made a tomb. And there he pight his pavilions, and
sought through all the country to find a tomb, and in a church they
found one was fair and rich, and then the king let put them both in the
earth, and put the tomb upon them, and wrote the names of them both on
the tomb:—How here lieth Lanceor the king’s son of Ireland that at his
own request was slain by the hands of Balin, and how his lady Colombe
slew herself with her love’s sword for dole and sorrow.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How Merlin prophesied that two the best knights of the world should
  fight there, which were Sir Lancelot and Sir Tristram._

The meanwhile as this was adoing, in came Merlin to king Mark, and
seeing all his doing said, Here shall be in this same place the
greatest battle betwixt two knights that was or ever shall be, and the
truest lovers, and yet none of them shall slay other. And there Merlin
wrote their names upon the tomb with letters of gold that should fight
in that place, whose names were Launcelot de Lake, and Tristram. Thou
art a marvellous man, said king Mark unto Merlin, that speakest of such
marvels, thou art a rude man and an unlikely to tell of such deeds;
what is thy name? said king Mark. At this time, said Merlin, I will not
tell, but at that time when Sir Tristram is taken with his sovereign
lady, then ye shall hear and know my name, and at that time ye shall
hear tidings that shall not please you. Then said Merlin to Balin, Thou
hast done thyself great hurt, because thou savedst not this lady that
slew herself, that might have saved her and thou wouldest. By the faith
of my body, said Balin, I might not save her, for she slew herself
suddenly. Me repenteth, said Merlin, because of the death of that lady
thou shalt strike a stroke the most dolorous that ever man struck,
except the stroke of our Lord, for thou shalt hurt the truest knight
and the man of most worship that now liveth, and through that stroke
three kingdoms shall be in great poverty, misery, and wretchedness,
twelve year, and the knight shall not be whole of that wound many
years. Then Merlin took his leave of Balin. And Balin said, If I wist
it were sooth that ye say, I should do such a perilous deed as that I
would slay myself to make thee a liar. Therewith Merlin vanished away
suddenly. And then Balin and his brother took their leave of king Mark.
First, said the king, tell me your name. Sir, said Balan, ye may see he
beareth two swords, thereby ye may call him the knight with the two
swords. And so departed king Mark unto Camelot to king Arthur, and
Balin took the way to king Ryons: and as they rode together they met
with Merlin disguised, but they knew him not. Whither ride you? said
Merlin. We have little to do, said the two knights, to tell thee: But
what is thy name? said Balin. At this time, said Merlin, I will not
tell it thee. It is evil seen, said the two knights, that thou art a
true man that thou wilt not tell thy name. As for that, said Merlin, be
it as it be may, I can tell you wherefore ye ride this way, for to meet
king Ryons, but it will not avail you without ye have my counsel. Ah,
said Balin, ye are Merlin: we will be ruled by your counsel. Come on,
said Merlin, ye shall have great worship, and look that ye do knightly,
for ye shall have great need. As for that, said Balin, dread you not,
we will do what we may.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Balin and his brother by the counsel of Merlin took king Ryons,
  and brought him to king Arthur._

Then Merlin lodged them in a wood among leaves beside the highway, and
took off the bridles of their horses and put them to grass, and laid
them down to rest them till it was nigh midnight. Then Merlin bad them
rise and make them ready, for the king was nigh them, that was stolen
away from his host with a threescore horses of his best knights, and
twenty of them rode tofore, to warn the lady De Vance that the king was
coming. Which is the king? said Balin. Abide, said Merlin, here in a
straight way ye shall meet with him; and therewith he shewed Balin and
his brother where he rode. Anon Balin and his brother met with the
king, and smote him down, and wounded him fiercely, and laid him to the
ground, and there they slew on the right hand and the left hand, and
slew more than forty of his men; and the remnant fled. Then went they
again to king Ryons, and would have slain him had he not yielded him
unto their grace. Then said he thus: Knights full of prowess, slay me
not, for by my life ye may win, and by my death ye shall win nothing.
Then said these two knights, Ye say sooth and truth; and so laid him on
an horse-litter. With that Merlin was vanished, and came to king
Arthur, aforehand, and told him how his most enemy was taken and
discomfited. By whom? said king Arthur. By two knights, said Merlin,
that would please your lordship, and to-morrow ye shall know what
knights they are. Anon after came the knight with the two swords, and
Balan his brother, and brought with them king Ryons of North Wales, and
there delivered him to the porters, and charged them with him; and so
they two returned again in the dawning of the day. King Arthur came
then to king Ryons and said, Sir king ye are welcome: by what adventure
come ye hither? Sir, said king Ryons, I came hither by an hard
adventure. Who won you? said king Arthur. Sir, said the king, the
knight with the two swords and his brother, which are two marvellous
knights of prowess. I know them not, said Arthur, but much I am
beholden to them. Ah, said Merlin, I shall tell you, it is Balin that
achieved the sword, and his brother Balan, a good knight, there liveth
not a better of prowess, and of worthiness; and it shall be the
greatest dole of him that ever I knew of knight, for he shall not long
endure. Alas, said king Arthur, that is great pity, for I am much
beholden unto him, and I have ill deserved it unto him for his
kindness. Nay, said Merlin, he shall do much more for you, and that
shall ye know in haste. But, Sir, are ye purveyed? said Merlin; for
to-morn the host of Nero, king Ryons’s brother, will set on you or noon
with a great host, and therefore make you ready, for I will depart from
you.


                                CHAP. X.

_How king Arthur had a battle against Nero and king Lot of Orkney, and
  how king Lot was deceived by Merlin, and how twelve kings were slain._

Then king Arthur made ready his host in ten battles, and Nero was ready
in the field afore the castle Terrabil with a great host, for he had
ten battles, with many more people than Arthur had. Then Nero had the
vaward with the most party of his people: and Merlin came to king Lot
of the Isle of Orkney, and held him with a tale of prophecy till Nero
and his people were destroyed. And there Sir Kay the seneschal did
passingly well, that the days of his life the worship went never from
him. And Sir Hervis de Revel did marvellous deeds with king Arthur, and
king Arthur slew that day twenty knights and maimed forty. At that time
came in the knight with the two swords, and his brother Balan, but they
two did so marvellously that the king and all the knights marvelled of
them, and all they that beheld them said they were sent from heaven as
angels, or devils from hell: and king Arthur said himself they were the
best knights that ever he saw, for they gave such strokes that all men
had wonder of them. In the meanwhile came one to king Lot, and told him
while he tarried there Nero was destroyed and slain with all his
people. Alas, said king Lot, I am ashamed, for by my default there is
many a worshipful man slain, for and we had been together there had
been none host under the heaven that had been able for to have matched
with us: this deceiver with his prophecy hath mocked me. All that did
Merlin, for he knew well that if king Lot had been with his body there
at the first battle, king Arthur had been slain and all his people
destroyed. And well Merlin knew that one of the kings should be dead
that day; and loth was Merlin that any of them both should be slain,
but of the twain he had lever king Lot had been slain than king Arthur.

Now what is best to do? said king Lot of Orkney, whether is me better
to treat with king Arthur or to fight, for the greater part of our
people are slain and destroyed. Sir, said a knight, set on Arthur, for
they are weary and for-foughten, and we be fresh. As for me, said king
Lot, I would that every knight would do his part as I would do mine.
And then they advanced banners and smote together, and all to-shivered
their spears; and Arthur’s knights, with the help of the knight with
the two swords and his brother Balan, put king Lot and his host to the
worse. But alway king Lot held him in the foremost front, and did
marvellous deeds of arms, for all his host was borne up by his hands,
for he abode all knights. Alas, he might not endure, the which was
great pity, that so worthy a knight as he was should be overmatched,
that of late time afore had been a knight of king Arthur’s, and wedded
the sister of king Arthur, and for the wrong king Arthur did him
therefore king Lot held against Arthur. So there was a knight that was
called the knight with the strange beast, and at that time his right
name was called Pellinore, the which was a good man of prowess, and he
smote a mighty stroke at king Lot as he fought with all his enemies,
and he failed of his stroke, and he smote the horse’s neck, that he
fell to the ground with king Lot; and therewith anon Sir Pellinore
smote him a great stroke through the helm and head unto the brows. And
then all the host of Orkney fled for the death of king Lot; and there
were slain many mothers’ sons. But king Pellinore bare the blame of the
death of king Lot, wherefore Sir Gawaine revenged the death of his
father the tenth year after he was made knight, and slew king Pellinore
with his own hands. Also there were slain at that battle twelve kings
on the side of king Lot with Nero, and all were buried in the church of
Saint Stephen’s, in Camelot; and the remnant of knights and of other
were buried in a great rock.


                               CHAP. XI.

_Of the interment of twelve kings, and of the prophecy of Merlin, and
  how Balin should give the dolorous stroke._

So at the interment came king Lot’s wife Morgause, with her four sons,
Gawaine, Agravaine, Gaheris, and Gareth. Also there came thither king
Uriens, Sir Ewaine’s father, and Morgan le Fay his wife, that was king
Arthur’s sister. All these came to the interment. But of all these
twelve kings king Arthur let make the tomb of king Lot passing richly,
and made his tomb by his own; and then king Arthur let make twelve
images of laton and copper, and over-gilt it with gold, in the sign of
twelve kings, and each one of them held a taper of wax that burnt day
and night: and king Arthur was made in sign of a figure standing above
them with a sword drawn in his hand: and all the twelve figures had
countenance like unto men that were overcome. All this made Merlin by
his subtil craft; and there he told the king, When I am dead these
tapers shall burn no longer; and soon after the adventures of the
Sangreal shall come among you and be achieved. Also he told Arthur how
Balin the worshipful knight shall give the dolorous stroke, whereof
shall fall great vengeance. O where is Balin, and Balan, and Pellinore?
said king Arthur. As for Pellinore, said Merlin, he will meet with you
soon: and as for Balin, he will not be long from you: but the other
brother will depart; ye shall see him no more. By my faith, said
Arthur, they are two marvellous knights, and namely Balin passeth of
prowess of any knight that ever I found, for much beholden am I unto
him; would that he would abide with me. Sir, said Merlin, look ye keep
well the scabbard of Excalibur, for ye shall lose no blood while ye
have the scabbard upon you, though ye have as many wounds upon you as
ye may have. So after, for great trust Arthur betook the scabbard to
Morgan le Fay his sister, and she loved another knight better than her
husband king Uriens or king Arthur, and she would have had Arthur her
brother slain, and therefore she let make another scabbard like it by
enchantment, and gave the scabbard of Excalibur to her love. And the
knight’s name was called Accolon, that after had near slain king
Arthur. After this Merlin told unto king Arthur of the prophecy that
there should be a great battle beside Salisbury, and that Mordred his
sister’s son should be against him. Also he told him that Basdemegus
was his cousin, and germain unto king Uriens.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How a sorrowful knight came tofore king Arthur, and how Balin fetched
  him, and how that knight was slain by a knight invisible._

Within a day or two king Arthur was somewhat sick, and he let pitch his
pavilion in a meadow, and there he laid him down on a pallet to sleep,
but he might have no rest. Right so he heard a great noise of an horse,
and therewith the king looked out at the porch of the pavilion, and saw
a knight coming even by him making great dole. Abide, fair sir, said
Arthur, and tell me wherefore thou makest this sorrow? Ye may little
amend me, said the knight, and so passed forth to the castle of Meliot.
Anon after there came Balin, and when he saw king Arthur he alight off
his horse, and came to the king on foot, and saluted him. By my head,
said Arthur, ye be welcome. Sir, right now came riding this way a
knight making great mourn, for what cause I cannot tell, wherefore I
would desire of you of your courtesy and of your gentleness to fetch
again that knight either by force or else by his good-will. I will do
more for your lordship than that, said Balin: and so he rode more than
a pace, and found the knight with a damsel in a forest, and said, Sir
knight, ye must come with me unto king Arthur, for to tell him of your
sorrow. That will I not, said the knight, for it will scathe me
greatly, and do you none avail. Sir, said Balin, I pray you make you
ready, for ye must go with me, or else I must fight with you and bring
you by force, and that were me loth to do. Will ye be my warrant, said
the knight, and I go with you? Yea, said Balin, or else I will die
therefore. And so he made him ready to go with Balin, and left the
damsel still. And as they were even afore king Arthur’s pavilion there
came one invisible, and smote this knight that went with Balin
throughout the body with a spear. Alas, said the knight, I am slain
under your conduct, with a knight called Garlon: therefore take my
horse, that is better than your’s, and ride to the damsel, and follow
the quest that I was in as she will lead you, and revenge my death when
ye may. That shall I do, said Balin, and that I make a vow unto
knighthood. And so he departed from this knight with great sorrow. So
king Arthur let bury this knight richly, and made a mention on his tomb
how there was slain Herlews le Berbeus, and by whom the treachery was
done,—the knight Garlon. But ever the damsel bare the truncheon of the
spear with her that Sir Herlews was slain withal.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Balin and the damsel met with a knight which was in likewise
  slain, and how the damsel bled for the custom of a castle._

So Balin and the damsel rode into a forest, and there met with a knight
that had been on hunting, and that knight asked Balin for what cause he
made so great sorrow. Me list not to tell you, said Balin. Now, said
the knight, and I were armed as ye be I would fight with you. That
should little need, said Balin; I am not afeard to tell you; and told
him all the cause, how it was. Ah, said the knight, is this all: here I
ensure you by the faith of my body never to depart from you while my
life lasteth. And so they went to the hostry and armed them, and so
rode forth with Balin. And as they came by an hermitage even by a
churchyard, there came the knight Garlon invisible, and smote this
knight, Perin de Mountbeliard, through the body with a spear. Alas,
said the knight, I am slain by this traitor knight that rideth
invisible. Alas, said Balin, it is not the first despite that he hath
done me. And there the hermit and Balin buried the knight under a rich
stone, and a tomb royal. And on the morn they found letters of gold
written, how Sir Gawaine shall revenge his father’s death, king Lot, on
the king Pellinore. Anon after this Balin and the damsel rode till they
came to a castle, and there Balin alighted, and he and the damsel wend
to go into the castle. And anon as Balin came within the castle gate
the portcullis fell down at his back, and there fell many men about the
damsel, and would have slain her. When Balin saw that, he was sore
grieved, for he might not help the damsel. And then he went up into the
tower, and lept over the walls into the ditch, and hurt him not; and
anon he pulled out his sword, and would have foughten with them. And
they all said nay, they would not fight with him, for they did nothing
but the old custom of the castle, and told him how their lady was sick,
and had lain many years, and she might not be whole, but if she had a
dish of silver full of blood of a maid and a king’s daughter; and
therefore the custom of this castle is that there shall no damsel pass
this way, but that she shall bleed of her blood in a silver dish full.
Well, said Balin, she shall bleed as much as she may bleed, but I will
not lose the life of her while my life lasteth. And so Balin made her
to bleed by her good-will, but her blood helped not the lady. And so he
and she rested there all night, and had there right good cheer, and on
the morn they passed on their ways. And as it telleth after in the
Sangreal, that Sir Percivale’s sister helped that lady with her blood,
whereof she died.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How Balin met with that knight named Garlon at a feast, and there he
  slew him, to have his blood to heal therewith the son of his host._

Then they rode three or four days and never met with adventure, and by
hap they were lodged with a gentleman that was a rich man and well at
ease. And as they sat at their supper, Balin heard one complain
grievously by him in a chair. What is this noise? said Balin. Forsooth,
said his host, I will tell you. I was but late at a justing, and there
I justed with a knight that is brother unto king Pellam, and twice
smote I him down; and then he promised to quit me on my best friend,
and so he wounded my son, that cannot be whole till I have of that
knight’s blood, and he rideth alway invisible, but I know not his name.
Ah, said Balin, I know that knight, his name is Garlon, he hath slain
two knights of mine in the same manner, therefore I had rather meet
with that knight than all the gold in this realm, for the despite he
hath done me. Well, said his host, I shall tell you, king Pellam of
Listeneise hath made cry in all this country a great feast that shall
be within these twenty days, and no knight may come there but if he
bring his wife with him, or his love; and that knight, your enemy and
mine, ye shall see that day. Then I promise you, said Balin, part of
his blood to heal your son withal. We will be forward to-morrow, said
his host. So on the morn they rode all three toward Pellam, and they
had fifteen days’ journey or they came thither; and that same day began
the great feast. And so they alight and stabled their horses, and went
into the castle; but Balin’s host might not be let in because he had no
lady. Then Balin was well received, and brought unto a chamber and
unarmed him, and they brought him robes to his pleasure, and would have
had Balin leave his sword behind him. Nay, said Balin, that do I not,
for it is the custom of my country a knight alway to keep his weapon
with him, and that custom will I keep, or else I will depart as I came.
Then they gave him leave to wear his sword, and so he went unto the
castle, and was set among knights of worship, and his lady afore him.
Soon Balin asked a knight, Is there not a knight in this court whose
name is Garlon? Yonder he goeth, said a knight, he with the black face;
he is the marvellest knight that is now living, for he destroyeth many
good knights, for he goeth invisible. Ah, well, said Balin, is that he?
Then Balin advised him long:—If I slay him here I shall not escape,
and if I leave him now peradventure I shall never meet with him again
at such a good time, and much harm he will do and he live. Therewith
this Garlon espied that this Balin beheld him, and then he came and
smote Balin on the face with the back of his hand, and said, Knight,
why beholdest thou me so? for shame, therefore, eat thy meat, and do
that thou came for. Thou sayest sooth, said Balin, this is not the
first despite that thou hast done me, and therefore I will do that I
came for; and rose up fiercely, and clave his head to the shoulders.
Give me the truncheon, said Balin to his lady, wherewith he slew your
knight. Anon she gave it him, for alway she bare the truncheon with
her; and therewith Balin smote him through the body, and said openly,
With that truncheon thou hast slain a good knight, and now it sticketh
in thy body. And then Balin called to him his host, saying, Now may ye
fetch blood enough to heal your son withal.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How Balin fought with king Pellam, and how his sword brake, and how he
  gat a spear wherewith he smote the dolorous stroke._

Anon all the knights arose from the table for to set on Balin. And king
Pellam himself arose up fiercely, and said, Knight, hast thou slain my
brother? thou shalt die therefore or thou depart. Well, said Balin, do
it yourself. Yes, said king Pellam, there shall no man have ado with
thee but myself, for the love of my brother. Then king Pellam caught in
his hand a grim weapon and smote eagerly at Balin, but Balin put the
sword betwixt his head and the stroke, and therewith his sword burst in
sunder. And when Balin was weaponless he ran into a chamber for to seek
some weapon, and so from chamber to chamber, and no weapon he could
find, and alway king Pellam after him. And at the last he entered into
a chamber that was marvellously well dight and richly, and a bed
arrayed with cloth of gold, the richest that might be thought, and one
lying therein, and thereby stood a table of clean gold, with four
pillars of silver that bare up the table, and upon the table stood a
marvellous spear, strangely wrought. And when Balin saw that spear he
gat it in his hand, and turned him to king Pellam, and smote him
passingly sore with that spear, that king Pellam fell down in a swoon,
and therewith the castle roof and walls brake and fell to the earth,
and Balin fell down so that he might not stir foot nor hand. And so the
most part of the castle that was fallen down through that dolorous
stroke lay upon Pellam and Balin three days.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How Balin was delivered by Merlin, and saved a knight that would have
  slain himself for love._

Then Merlin came thither and took up Balin, and gat him a good horse,
for his was dead, and bade him ride out of that country. I would have
my damsel, said Balin. Lo, said Merlin, where she lieth dead. And king
Pellam lay so many years sore wounded, and might never be whole, till
Galahad, the haut prince, healed him in the quest of the Sangreal; for
in that place was part of the blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, that
Joseph of Arimathea brought into this land, and there himself lay in
that rich bed. And that was the same spear that Longius smote our Lord
to the heart; and king Pellam was nigh of Joseph’s kin, and that was
the most worshipful man that lived in those days, and great pity it was
of his hurt, for that stroke turned to great dole, trouble, and grief.

Then departed Balin from Merlin, and said, In this world we meet never
no more. So he rode forth through the fair countries and cities, and
found the people dead, slain on every side. And all that were alive
cried, O Balin, thou hast caused great damage in these countries; for
the dolorous stroke thou gavest unto king Pellam three countries are
destroyed, and doubt not but the vengeance will fall on thee at the
last. When Balin was past those countries he was passing glad. So he
rode eight days or he met with adventure. And at the last he came into
a fair forest in a valley, and was ware of a tower, and there beside he
saw a great horse of war tied to a tree, and there beside sat a fair
knight on the ground and made great mourning; and he was a likely man
and a well made. Balin said, God save you, why be ye so heavy? tell me,
and I will amend it and I may to my power. Sir knight, said he again,
thou doest me great grief, for I was in merry thoughts, and now thou
puttest me to more pain. Balin went a little from him, and looked on
his horse; then heard Balin him say thus: Ah, fair lady, why have ye
broken my promise, for thou promisedst me to meet me here by noon, and
I may curse thee that ever ye gave me this sword, for with this sword I
slay myself,—and pulled it out; and therewith Balin start unto him,
and took him by the hand. Let go my hand, said the knight, or else I
shall slay thee. That shall not need, said Balin, for I shall promise
you my help to get you your lady, and ye will tell me where she is.
What is your name? said the knight. My name is Balin le Savage. Ah,
sir, I know you well enough; ye are the knight with the two swords, and
the man of most prowess of your hands living. What is your name? said
Balin. My name is Garnish of the Mount, a poor man’s son, but by my
prowess and hardiness a duke hath made me knight, and gave me lands;
his name is duke Hermel, and his daughter is she that I love, and she
me as I deemed. How far is she hence? said Balin. But six mile, said
the knight. Now ride we hence, said these two knights. So they rode
more than a pace till they came to a fair castle, well walled and
ditched. I will into the castle, said Balin, and look if she be there.
So he went in, and searched from chamber to chamber, and found her bed,
but she was not there; then Balin looked into a fair little garden, and
under a laurel tree he saw her lie upon a quilt of green samite, and a
knight with her, and under their heads grass and herbs. When Balin saw
her with the foulest knight that ever he saw, and she a fair lady, then
Balin went through all the chambers again, and told the knight how he
found her, as she had slept fast, and so brought him in the place where
she lay fast sleeping.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How that knight slew his love and a knight with her, and after how he
  slew himself with his own sword, and how Balin rode toward a castle
  where he lost his life._

And when Garnish beheld her so lying, for pure sorrow his mouth and
nose burst out on bleeding, and with his sword he smote off both their
heads, and then he made sorrow out of measure and said, Oh Balin, much
sorrow hast thou brought unto me, for hadst thou not shewn me that
sight I should have passed my sorrow. Forsooth, said Balin, I did it to
this intent that it should better thy courage, and that ye might see
and know her falsehood, and to cause you to leave love of such a lady:
truly I did none other but as I would ye did to me. Alas! said Garnish,
now is my sorrow double that I may not endure: now have I slain that I
most loved in all my life. And therewith suddenly he rove himself on
his own sword unto the hilts. When Balin saw that, he dressed him
thenceward, lest folks would say he had slain them, and so he rode
forth, and within three days he came by a cross, and thereon were
letters of gold written that said, It is not for any knight alone to
ride toward this castle. Then saw he an old hoar gentleman coming
toward him that said, Balin le Savage, thou passest thy bounds to come
this way, therefore turn again and it will avail thee. And he vanished
away anon; and so he heard an horn blow as it had been the death of a
beast. That blast, said Balin, is blown for me, for I am the prize, yet
am I not dead. Anon withal he saw an hundred ladies and many knights,
that welcomed him with fair semblance, and made him passing good cheer
unto his sight, and led him into the castle, and there was dancing and
minstrelsy, and all manner of joy. Then the chief lady of the castle
said, Knight with the two swords, ye must have ado with a knight hereby
that keepeth an island, for there may no man pass this way but he must
just or he pass. That is an unhappy custom, said Balin, that a knight
may not pass this way but if he just. Ye shall not have ado but with
one knight, said the lady. Well, said Balin, since I shall, thereto am
I ready, but travelling men are oft weary, and their horses also; but
though my horse be weary my heart is not weary. I would be fain there
my death should be. Sir, said a knight to Balin, me thinketh your
shield is not good, I will lend you a bigger: therefore I pray you: and
so he took the shield that was unknown and left his own, and so rode
unto the island, and put him and his horse in a great boat, and when he
came on the other side he met with a damsel, and she said, O knight
Balin, why have ye left your own shield? alas! ye have put your self in
great danger, for by your shield ye should have been known: it is great
pity of you as ever was of knight, for of thy prowess and hardiness
thou hast no fellow living. Me repenteth, said Balin, that ever I came
within this country, but I may not turn now again for shame, and what
adventure shall fall to me, be it life or death, I will take the
adventure that shall come to me. And then he looked on his armour, and
understood he was well armed, and therewith blessed him, and mounted
upon his horse.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How Balin met with his brother Balan, and how each of them slew other
  unknown, till they were wounded to death._

Then afore him he saw come riding out of a castle a knight, and his
horse trapped all red, and himself in the same colour. When this knight
in the red beheld Balin, him thought it should be his brother Balin
because of his two swords, but because he knew not his shield, he
deemed it was not he. And so they aventred their spears, and came
marvellously fast together, and they smote each other in the shields,
but their spears and their course were so big that it bare down horse
and man, that they lay both in a swoon. But Balin was bruised sore with
the fall of his horse, for he was weary of travel. And Balan was the
first that rose on foot and drew his sword, and went toward Balin, and
he arose and went against him, but Balan smote Balin first, and he put
up his shield, and smote him through the shield and cleft his helm.
Then Balin smote him again with that unhappy sword, and well nigh had
felled his brother Balan, and so they fought there together till their
breaths failed. Then Balin looked up to the castle, and saw the towers
stand full of ladies. So they went to battle again, and wounded each
other dolefully, and then they breathed oft-times, and so went unto
battle, that all the place there as they fought was blood red. And at
that time there was none of them both but they had either smitten other
seven great wounds, so that the least of them might have been the death
of the mightiest giant in this world. Then they went to battle again so
marvellously that doubt it was to hear of that battle for the great
bloodshedding, and their hauberks unnailed, that naked they were on
every side. At the last Balan, the younger brother, withdrew him a
little and laid him down. Then said Balin le Savage, What knight art
thou? for or now I found never no knight that matched me. My name is,
said he, Balan, brother to the good knight Balin. Alas! said Balin,
that ever I should see this day. And therewith he fell backward in a
swoon. Then Balan went on all four feet and hands, and put off the helm
of his brother, and might not know him by the visage it was so full
hewen and bled; but when he awoke he said, O Balan, my brother, thou
hast slain me and I thee, wherefore all the wide world shall speak of
us both. Alas! said Balan, that ever I saw this day, that through
mishap I might not know you, for I espied well your two swords, but
because ye had another shield I deemed you had been another knight.
Alas! said Balin, all that made an unhappy knight in the castle, for he
caused me to leave mine own shield to our both’s destruction, and if I
might live I would destroy that castle for ill customs. That were well
done, said Balan, for I had never grace to depart from them since that
I came hither, for here it happed me to slay a knight that kept this
island, and since might I never depart, and no more should ye brother,
and ye might have slain me as ye have, and escaped yourself with the
life. Right so came the lady of the tower with four knights and six
ladies and six yeomen unto them, and there she heard how they made
their moan either to other, and said, We came both out of one womb, and
so shall we lye both in one pit. So Balan prayed the lady of her
gentleness, for his true service that she would bury them both in that
same place there the battle was done. And she granted them with weeping
it should be done richly in the best manner. Now will ye send for a
priest, that we may receive our sacrament and receive the blessed body
of our Lord Jesus Christ. Yea, said the lady, it shall be done. And so
she sent for a priest and gave them their rites. Now, said Balin, when
we are buried in one tomb, and the mention made over us how two
brethren slew each other, there will never good knight nor good man see
our tomb but they will pray for our souls. And so all the ladies and
gentlewomen wept for pity. Then, anon Balan died, but Balin died not
till the midnight after, and so were they buried both, and the lady let
make a mention of Balan how he was there slain by his brother’s hands,
but she knew not Balin’s name.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How Merlin buried them both in one tomb, and of Balin’s sword._

In the morn came Merlin and let write Balin’s name upon the tomb, with
letters of gold, That here lieth Balin le Savage, that was the knight
with the two swords, and he that smote the dolorous stroke. Also Merlin
let make there a bed, that there should never man lye therein but he
went out of his wit, yet Launcelot de Lake fordid that bed through his
nobleness. And anon after Balin was dead, Merlin took his sword and
took off the pommel, and set on another pommel. So Merlin bad a knight
that stood afore him to handle that sword, and he assayed, and he might
not handle it. Then Merlin laughed. Why laugh ye? said the knight. This
is the cause, said Merlin: there shall never man handle this sword but
the best knight of the world, and that shall be Sir Launcelot, or else
Galahad his son, and Launcelot with this sword shall slay the man that
in the world he loved best, that shall be Sir Gawaine. All this he let
write in the pommel of the sword. Then Merlin let make a bridge of iron
and of steel into that island, and it was but half a foot broad, and
there shall never man pass that bridge, nor have hardiness to go over,
but if he were a passing good man and a good knight without treachery
or villainy. Also the scabbard of Balin’s sword Merlin left it on this
side the island that Galahad should find it. Also Merlin let make by
his subtilty that Balin’s sword was put in a marble stone standing
upright as great as a millstone, and the stone hoved always above the
water, and did many years, and so by adventure it swam down the stream
to the city of Camelot, that is in English Winchester. And that same
day Galahad the haut prince came with king Arthur, and so Galahad
brought with him the scabbard, and achieved the sword that was there in
the marble stone hoving upon the water. And on Whitsunday he achieved
the sword, as it is rehearsed in the book of the Sangreal. Soon after
this was done Merlin came to king Arthur and told him of the dolorous
stroke that Balin gave to king Pellam, and how Balin and Balan fought
together the most marvellous battle that ever was heard of, and how
they were buried both in one tomb. Alas! said king Arthur, this is the
greatest pity that ever I heard tell of two knights, for in the world I
know not such two knights. Thus endeth the tale of Balin and Balan, two
brethren born in Northumberland, good knights.

                          Sequitur iii liber.




                            The Third Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How king Arthur took a wife, and wedded Guenever daughter to
  Leodegrance, king of the land of Cameliard, with whom he had the
  Round Table._

In the beginning of Arthur, after he was chosen king by adventure and
by grace,—for the most part of the barons knew not that he was Uther
Pendragon’s son, but as Merlin made it openly known,—many kings and
lords made great war against him for that cause; but well Arthur
overcame them all; for the most part of the days of his life he was
ruled much by the counsel of Merlin. So it fell on a time king Arthur
said unto Merlin, My barons will let me have no rest, but needs I must
take a wife, and I will none take but by thy counsel and by thine
advice. It is well done, said Merlin, that ye take a wife, for a man of
your bounty and nobleness should not be without a wife. Now is there
any that ye love more than another? Yea, said king Arthur, I love
Guenever, the daughter of king Leodegrance, of the land of Cameliard,
which Leodegrance holdeth in his house the Table Round, that ye told he
had of my father, Uther. And this damsel is the most valiant and
fairest lady that I know living, or yet that ever I could find. Sir,
said Merlin, as of her beauty and fairness she is one of the fairest on
live. But and ye loved her not so well as ye do, I could find you a
damsel of beauty and of goodness that should like you and please you,
and your heart were not set; but there as a man’s heart is set, he will
be loth to return. That is truth, said king Arthur. But Merlin warned
the king covertly that Guenever was not wholesome for him to take to
wife, for he warned him that Launcelot should love her, and she him
again; and so he turned his tale to the adventures of the Sangreal.
Then Merlin desired of the king to have men with him that should
enquire of Guenever, and so the king granted him. And Merlin went forth
to king Leodegrance of Cameliard, and told him of the desire of the
king that he would have unto his wife Guenever his daughter. That is to
me, said king Leodegrance, the best tidings that ever I heard, that so
worthy a king of prowess and noblesse will wed my daughter. And as for
my lands I will give him wist I it might please him, but he hath lands
enough, him needeth none, but I shall send him a gift shall please him
much more, for I shall give him the Table Round, the which Uther
Pendragon gave me, and when it is full complete there is an hundred
knights and fifty. And as for an hundred good knights I have myself,
but I lack fifty, for so many have been slain in my days. And so king
Leodegrance delivered his daughter Guenever unto Merlin, and the Table
Round, with the hundred knights, and so they rode freshly, with great
royalty, what by water and what by land, till that they came nigh unto
London.


                               CHAP. II.

_How the knights of the Round Table were ordained, and their sieges
  blessed by the bishop of Canterbury._

When king Arthur heard of the coming of Guenever and the hundred
knights with the Table Round, then king Arthur made great joy for their
coming, and that rich present, and said openly, This fair lady is
passing welcome unto me, for I have loved her long, and therefore there
is nothing so lief to me. And these knights with the Round Table please
me more than right great riches. And in all haste the king let ordain
for the marriage and the coronation in the most honourablest wise that
could be devised. Now Merlin, said king Arthur, go thou and espy me in
all this land fifty knights which be of most prowess and worship.
Within short time Merlin had found such knights that should fulfil
twenty and eight knights, but no more he could find. Then the bishop of
Canterbury was fetched, and he blessed the sieges with great royalty
and devotion, and there set the eight and twenty knights in their
sieges. And when this was done Merlin said, Fair sirs, ye must all
arise and come to king Arthur for to do him homage; he will have the
better will to maintain you. And so they arose and did their homage.
And when they were gone Merlin found in every siege letters of gold
that told the knights’ names that had sitten therein. But two sieges
were void. And so anon came young Gawaine, and asked the king a gift.
Ask, said the king, and I shall grant it you. Sir, I ask that ye will
make me knight that same day ye shall wed fair Guenever. I will do it
with a good will, said king Arthur, and do unto you all the worship
that I may, for I must by reason you are my nephew, my sister’s son.


                               CHAP. III.

_How a poor man riding upon a lean mare desired king Arthur to make his
  son knight._

Forthwithal there came a poor man into the court, and brought with him
a fair young man of eighteen year of age, riding upon a lean mare. And
the poor man asked all men that he met, Where shall I find king Arthur?
Yonder he is, said the knights, wilt thou anything with him? Yea, said
the poor man, therefore I came hither. Anon as he came before the king,
he saluted him and said: O king Arthur, the flower of all knights and
kings, I beseech Jesu save thee: Sir, it was told me that at this time
of your marriage ye would give any man the gift that he would ask out,
except that were unreasonable. That is truth, said the king, such cries
I let make, and that will I hold, so it impair not my realm nor mine
estate. Ye say well and graciously, said the poor man: Sir, I ask
nothing else but that ye will make my son here a knight. It is a great
thing that thou askest of me: what is thy name? said the king to the
poor man. Sir, my name is Aries the cowherd. Whether cometh this of
thee or of thy son? said the king. Nay Sir, said Aries, this desire
cometh of my son and not of me. For I shall tell you I have thirteen
sons, and all they will fall to what labour I put them to, and will be
right glad to do labour, but this child will do no labour for me, for
anything that my wife or I may do, but always he will be shooting or
casting darts, and glad for to see battles, and to behold knights; and
always day and night he desireth of me to be made a knight. What is thy
name? said the king unto the young man. Sir, my name is Tor. The king
beheld him fast, and saw he was passingly well visaged and passingly
well made of his years. Well, said king Arthur to Aries the cowherd,
fetch all thy sons afore me that I may see them. And so the poor man
did, and all were shapen much like the poor man: but Tor was not like
none of them all in shape nor in countenance, for he was much more than
any of them. Now, said king Arthur unto the cowherd, where is the sword
that he shall be made knight withal? It is here, said Tor. Take it out
of the sheath, said the king, and require me to make you a knight. Then
Tor alight off his mare, and pulled out his sword, kneeling, and
requiring the king that he would make him knight, and that he might be
a knight of the Table Round. As for a knight I will make you; and
therewith smote him in the neck with the sword, saying, Be ye a good
knight, and so I pray to God so ye may be, and if ye be of prowess and
of worthiness ye shall be a knight of the Table Round. Now Merlin, said
Arthur, say whether this Tor shall be a good knight or no. Yea, sir, he
ought to be a good knight, for he is come of as good a man as any is on
live, and of king’s blood. How so, sir? said the king. I shall tell
you, said Merlin: this poor man, Aries the cowherd, is not his father,
he is nothing like to him, for king Pellinore is his father. I suppose
nay, said the cowherd. Fetch thy wife afore me, said Merlin, and she
shall not say nay. Anon, the wife was fetched, which was a fair
house-wife, and there she answered Merlin full womanly. And there she
told the king and Merlin that when she was a maid, and went to milk
kine, There met with me a stern knight, and half by force he held me,
and after that time was born my son Tor, and he took away from me my
greyhound that I had that time with me, and said that he would keep the
greyhound for my love. Ah, said the cowherd, I wend not this, but I may
believe it well, for he had never no taches of me. Sir, said Tor to
Merlin, dishonour not my mother. Sir, said Merlin, it is more for your
worship than hurt, for your father is a good man and a king, and he may
right well advance you and your mother, for ye were begotten or ever
she was wedded. That is truth, said the wife. It is the less grief to
me, said the cowherd.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Tor was known for son of king Pellinore, and how Gawaine was
  made knight._

So on the morn king Pellinore came to the court of king Arthur, which
had great joy of him, and told him of Tor, how he was his son, and how
he had made him knight at the request of the cowherd. When king
Pellinore beheld Tor he pleased him much. So the king made Gawaine
knight, but Tor was the first he made at the feast. What is the cause,
said king Arthur, that there be two places void in the sieges? Sir,
said Merlin, there shall no man sit in those places but they that shall
be of most worship. But in the Siege Perilous there shall no man sit
therein but one, and if there be any so hardy to do it he shall be
destroyed, and he that shall sit there shall have no fellow. And
therewith Merlin took king Pellinore by the hand, and in the one hand
next the two sieges and the Siege Perilous he said, in open audience,
This is your place, and best ye are worthy to sit therein of any that
is here. Thereat sat Sir Gawaine in great envy, and told Gaheris his
brother, Yonder knight is put to great worship, the which grieveth me
sore, for he slew our father king Lot, therefore I will slay him, said
Gawaine, with a sword that was sent me that is passing trenchant. Ye
shall not so, said Gaheris, at this time; for at this time I am but a
squire, and when I am made knight I will be avenged on him; and
therefore brother it is best ye suffer till another time, that we may
have him out of the court, for and we did so we should trouble this
high feast. I will well, said Gawaine, as ye will.


                                CHAP. V.

_How at the feast of the wedding of king Arthur to Guenever, a white
  hart came into the hall, and thirty couple hounds, and how a brachet
  pinched the hart, which was taken away._

Then was the high feast made ready, and the king was wedded at Camelot
unto Dame Guenever in the church of Saint Stephen’s, with great
solemnity. And as every man was set after his degree, Merlin went to
all the knights of the Round Table, and bad them sit still, that none
of them remove. For ye shall see a strange and a marvellous adventure.
Right so as they sat there came running in a white hart into the hall,
and a white brachet next him, and thirty couple of black running hounds
came after with a great cry, and the hart went about the Table Round.
As he went by other boards, the white brachet bit him by the haunch and
pulled out a piece, where through the hart lept a great leap and
overthrew a knight that sat at the board side, and therewith the knight
arose and took up the brachet, and so went forth out of the hall, and
took his horse and rode his way with the brachet. Right so anon came in
a lady on a white palfrey, and cried aloud to king Arthur, Sir, suffer
me not to have this despite, for the brachet was mine that the knight
led away. I may not do therewith, said the king. With this there came a
knight riding all armed on a great horse, and took the lady away with
him with force, and ever she cried and made great dole. When she was
gone the king was glad, for she made such a noise. Nay, said Merlin, ye
may not leave these adventures so lightly, for these adventures must be
brought again or else it would be disworship to you and to your feast.
I will, said the king, that all be done by your advice. Then, said
Merlin, let call Sir Gawaine, for he must bring again the white hart.
Also, sir, ye must let call Sir Tor, for he must bring again the
brachet and the knight, or else slay him. Also let call king Pellinore,
for he must bring again the lady and the knight, or else slay him. And
these three knights shall do marvellous adventures or they come again.
Then were they called all three as it rehearseth afore, and every each
of them took his charge, and armed them surely. But Sir Gawaine had the
first request, and therefore we will begin at him.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Gawaine rode for to fetch again the hart, and how two brethren
  fought each against other for the hart._

Sir Gawaine rode more than a pace, and Gaheris his brother rode with
him instead of a squire, to do him service. So as they rode they saw
two knights fight on horseback passing sore, so Sir Gawaine and his
brother rode betwixt them, and asked them for what cause they fought
so. The one knight answered and said: We fight for a simple matter, for
we two be two brethren, born and begotten of one man and of one woman.
Alas! said Sir Gawaine, why do ye so? Sir, said the elder, there came a
white hart this way this day, and many hounds chased him, and a white
brachet was alway next him, and we understood it was adventure made for
the high feast of king Arthur, and therefore I would have gone after to
have won me worship; and here my younger brother said he would go after
the hart, for he was a better knight than I; and for this cause we fell
at debate, and so we thought to prove which of us both was better
knight. This is a simple cause, said Sir Gawaine; strange men ye should
debate withal, and not brother with brother; therefore but if ye will
do by my counsel I will have ado with you—that is, ye shall yield you
unto me, and that ye go unto king Arthur and yield you unto his grace.
Sir knight, said the two brethren, we are for-foughten, and much blood
have we lost through our wilfulness, and therefore we would be loth to
have ado with you. Then do as I will have you, said Sir Gawaine. We
will agree to fulfil your will; but by whom shall we say that we be
thither sent? Ye may say, by the knight that followeth the quest of the
hart that was white. Now what is your name? said Sir Gawaine. Sorlouse
of the Forest, said the elder. And my name is, said the younger, Brian
of the Forest. And so they departed and went to the king’s court, and
Sir Gawaine on his quest. And as Gawaine followed the hart by the cry
of the hounds, even afore him there was a great river, and the hart
swam over; and as Sir Gawaine would follow after there stood a knight
over the other side, and said, Sir knight, come not over after this
hart, but if thou wilt just with me. I will not fail as for that, said
Sir Gawaine, to follow the quest that I am in, and so made his horse to
swim over the water, and anon they gat their spears and ran together
full hard, but Sir Gawaine smote him off his horse, and then he turned
his horse and bad him yield him. Nay, said the knight, not so, though
thou have the better of me on horseback: I pray thee, valiant knight,
alight afoot, and match we together with swords. What is your name?
said Sir Gawaine. Allardin of the Isles, said the other. Then either
dressed their shields and smote together, but Sir Gawaine smote him so
hard through the helm that it went to the brains, and the knight fell
down dead. Ah! said Gaheris, that was a mighty stroke of a young knight.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How the hart was chased into a castle, and there slain, and how
  Gawaine slew a lady._

Then Gawaine and Gaheris rode more than a pace after the white hart,
and let slip at the hart three couple of greyhounds, and so they chased
the hart into a castle, and in the chief place of the castle they slew
the hart: Sir Gawaine and Gaheris followed after. Right so there came a
knight out of a chamber with a sword drawn in his hand and slew two of
the greyhounds, even in the sight of Sir Gawaine, and the remnant he
chased them with his sword out of the castle. And when he came again,
he said, O my white hart, me repenteth that thou art dead, for my
sovereign lady gave thee to me, and evil have I kept thee, and thy
death shall be dear bought and I live. And anon he went into his
chamber and armed him, and came out fiercely, and there met he with Sir
Gawaine. Why have ye slain my hounds, said Sir Gawaine, for they did
but their kind, and lever I had ye had wroken your anger upon me than
upon a dumb beast. Thou sayst truth, said the knight, I have avenged me
on thy hounds, and so I will on thee or thou go. Then Sir Gawaine
alight afoot, and dressed his shield, and they stroke together
mightily, and clave their shields, and stoned their helms, and brake
their hauberks that the blood ran down to their feet. At the last Sir
Gawaine smote the knight so hard that he fell to the earth; and then he
cried mercy and yielded him, and besought him as he was a knight and
gentleman to save his life. Thou shalt die, said Sir Gawaine, for
slaying of my hounds. I will make amends, said the knight, unto my
power. Sir Gawaine would no mercy have, but unlaced his helm to have
striken off his head; right so came his lady out of a chamber and fell
over him, and so he smote off her head by misadventure. Alas! said
Gaheris, that is foul and shamefully done; that shame shall never from
you. Also, ye should give mercy unto them that ask mercy; for a knight
without mercy is without worship. Sir Gawaine was so astonied at the
death of this fair lady that he wist not what he did, and said unto the
knight, Arise, I will give thee mercy. Nay, nay, said the knight, I
care for no mercy now, for thou hast slain my love and my lady that I
loved best of all earthly things. Me repenteth it, said Sir Gawaine,
for I thought to strike unto thee. But now thou shalt go unto king
Arthur, and tell him of thine adventures, and how thou art overcome by
the knight that went in the quest of the white hart. I take no force,
said the knight, whether I live or die. But so for dread of death he
swore to go unto king Arthur: and he made him to bear one greyhound
before him on his horse, and another behind him. What is your name,
said Sir Gawaine, or we part? My name is, said the knight, Ablamor of
the Marsh. So he departed toward Camelot.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How four knights fought against Sir Gawaine and Gaheris, and how they
  were overcome, and their lives saved at the request of four ladies._

And Sir Gawaine went into the castle, and made him ready to lie there
all night, and would have unarmed him. What will ye do? said Gaheris,
will ye unarm you in this country? ye may think ye have many enemies
here. They had not sooner said that word but there came four knights
well armed, and assailed Sir Gawaine hard, and said unto him, Thou new
made knight, thou hast shamed thy knighthood, for a knight without
mercy is dishonoured. Also thou hast slain a fair lady to thy great
shame to the world’s end, and doubt thou not thou shalt have great need
of mercy or thou depart from us. And therewith one of them smote Sir
Gawaine a great stroke, that nigh he fell to the earth, and Gaheris
smote him again sore, and so they were on the one side and on the
other, that Sir Gawaine and Gaheris were in jeopardy of their lives;
and one with a bow, an archer, smote Sir Gawaine through the arm that
it grieved him wonderly sore. And as they should have been slain, there
came four ladies and besought the knights of grace for Sir Gawaine. And
goodly at the request of the ladies they gave Sir Gawaine and Gaheris
their lives, and made them to yield them as prisoners. Then Gawaine and
Gaheris made great dole. Alas! said Sir Gawaine, mine arm grieveth me
sore, I am like to be maimed; and so made his complaint piteously.
Early on the morrow there came to Sir Gawaine one of the four ladies
that had heard all his complaint, and said, Sir knight, what cheer? Not
good, said he. It is your own default, said the lady, for ye have done
a passing foul deed in the slaying of the lady, the which will be great
villainly unto you. But be ye not of king Arthur’s kin? said the lady.
Yes, truly, said Sir Gawaine. What is your name? said the lady, ye must
tell it me or ye pass. My name is Gawaine, the king Lot of Orkney’s
son, and my mother is king Arthur’s sister. Ah, then are ye nephew unto
king Arthur, said the lady, and I shall so speak for you that ye shall
have conduct to go to king Arthur for his love. And so she departed and
told the four knights how their prisoner was king Arthur’s nephew, and
his name is Sir Gawaine, king Lot’s son of Orkney. And they gave him
the hart’s head, because it was in his quest. Then anon they delivered
Sir Gawaine under this promise, that he should bare the dead lady with
him in this manner: the head of her was hanged about his neck, and the
whole body of her lay before him on his horse mane. Right so rode he
forth unto Camelot. And anon as he was come, Merlin desired of king
Arthur that Sir Gawaine should be sworn to tell of all his adventures,
and how he slew the lady, and how he would give no mercy unto the
knight, where through the lady was slain. Then the king and the queen
were greatly displeased with Sir Gawaine for the slaying of the lady.
And there by ordinance of the queen there was set a quest of ladies on
Sir Gawaine, and they judged him for ever while he lived to be with all
ladies, and to fight for their quarrels; and that ever he should be
courteous, and never to refuse mercy to him that asketh mercy. Thus was
Gawaine sworn upon the four Evangelists that he should never be against
lady nor gentlewoman, but if he fought for a lady and his adversary
fought for another. And thus endeth the adventure of Sir Gawaine, that
he did at the marriage of king Arthur. Amen.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Sir Tor rode after the knight with the brachet, and of his
  adventure by the way._

When Sir Tor was ready he mounted upon his horse’s back, and rode after
the knight with the brachet. So as he rode he met with a dwarf suddenly
that smote his horse on the head with a staff, that he went backward
his spear’s length. Why dost thou so? said Sir Tor. For thou shalt not
pass this way, but if thou just with yonder knights of the pavilions.
Then was Sir Tor ware where two pavilions were, and great spears stood
out, and two shields hung on trees by the pavilions. I may not tarry,
said Sir Tor, for I am in a quest that I must needs follow. Thou shalt
not pass, said the dwarf; and therewithal he blew his horn. Then there
came one armed on horseback, and dressed his shield, and came fast
toward Tor, and he dressed him against him, and so ran together that
Sir Tor bare him from his horse. And anon the knight yielded him to his
mercy: But, sir, I have a fellow in yonder pavilion that will have ado
with you anon. He shall be welcome, said Sir Tor. Then was he ware of
another knight coming with great force, and each of them dressed to
other that marvel it was to see: but the knight smote Sir Tor a great
stroke in the midst of the shield that his spear all to-shivered, and
Sir Tor smote him through the shield so low that it went through the
side of the knight, but the stroke slew him not. And therewith Sir Tor
alight and smote him on the helm a great stroke, and therewith the
knight yielded him, and besought him of mercy. I will well, said Sir
Tor; but thou and thy fellow must go unto king Arthur, and yield you
prisoners unto him. By whom shall we say are we thither sent? Ye shall
say by the knight that went in the quest of the knight that went with
the brachet. Now what be your two names? said Sir Tor. My name is, said
the one, Sir Felot of Langduk. And my name is, said the other, Sir
Petipase of Winchelsea. Now go ye forth, said Sir Tor, and God speed
you and me. Then came the dwarf and said unto Sir Tor: I pray you give
me a gift. I will well, said Sir Tor: ask. I ask no more, said the
dwarf, but that ye will suffer me to do you service, for I will serve
no more recreant knights. Take an horse, said Sir Tor, and ride on with
me. I wot ye ride after the knight with the white brachet, and I shall
bring you where he is, said the dwarf. And so they rode throughout a
forest, and at the last they were ware of two pavilions even by a
priory, with two shields, and the one shield was renewed with white,
and the other shield was red.


                                CHAP. X.

_How Sir Tor found the brachet with a lady, and how a knight assailed
  him for the said brachet._

Therewith Sir Tor alighted and gave the dwarf his glaive, and so came
to the white pavilion, and saw three damsels lie in it on one pallet
sleeping. And so he went to the other pavilion, and there he found a
lady lying sleeping therein. But there was the white brachet, that
bayed at her fast, and therewith the lady awoke and went out of the
pavilion, and all her damsels. But anon as Sir Tor espied the white
brachet he took her by force, and took her to the dwarf. What, will ye
so, said the lady, take my brachet from me? Yea, said Sir Tor, this
brachet have I sought from king Arthur’s court hither. Well, said the
lady, knight, ye shall not go far with her but that ye shall be met,
and grieved. I shall abide what adventure that cometh, by the grace of
God, and so mounted upon his horse and passed on his way toward
Camelot; but it was so near night he might not pass but little farther.
Know ye any lodging? said Tor. I know none, said the dwarf, but here
beside is an hermitage, and there ye must take lodging as ye find. And
within awhile they came to the hermitage and took lodging; and was
there grass, oats, and bread, for their horses; soon it was sped, and
full hard was their supper; but there they rested them all the night
till on the morn, and heard a mass devoutly, and took their leave of
the hermit, and Sir Tor prayed the hermit to pray for him. He said he
would, and betook him to God: and so he mounted on horseback, and rode
towards Camelot a long while. With that they heard a knight call loud
that came after them, and he said, Knight, abide and yield my brachet
that thou tookest from my lady. Sir Tor returned again and beheld him
how he was a seemly knight and well horsed, and well armed at all
points; then Sir Tor dressed his shield, and took his spear in his
hands, and the other came fiercely upon him and smote both horse and
man to the earth. Anon they arose lightly and drew their swords as
eagerly as lions, and put their shields afore them, and smote through
the shields, and the cantels fell off of both parts. Also they hewed
their helms, that the hot blood ran out, and the thick mails of their
hauberks they carved and rove in sunder, that the hot blood ran to the
earth, and both they had many wounds and were passing weary. But Sir
Tor espied that the other knight fainted, and then he sued fast upon
him, and doubled his strokes, and made him go to the earth on the one
side. Then Sir Tor bad him yield him. That will I not, said Abelleus,
while my life lasteth and the soul is within my body, unless that thou
wilt give me the brachet. That will I not do, said Sir Tor, for it was
my quest to bring again thy brachet, thee, or both.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Sir Tor overcame the knight, and how he lost his head at the
  request of a lady._

With that came a damsel riding on a palfrey as fast as she might drive
and cried with a loud voice unto Sir Tor. What will ye with me? said
Sir Tor. I beseech thee, said the damsel, for king Arthur’s love, give
me a gift; I require thee, gentle knight, as thou art a gentleman. Now,
said Sir Tor, ask a gift, and I will give it you. Gramercy, said the
damsel. Now, I ask the head of the false knight Abelleus, for he is the
most outrageous knight that liveth, and the greatest murderer. I am
loth, said Sir Tor, of that gift I have given you; let him make amends
in that he hath trespassed unto you. Now, said the damsel, he may not,
for he slew mine own brother afore mine own eyes, that was a better
knight than he, and he had had grace; and I kneeled half an hour afore
him in the mire for to save my brother’s life, that had done him no
damage, but fought with him by adventure of arms, and so for all that I
could do he struck off his head; wherefore, I require thee, as thou art
a true knight, to give me my gift, or else I shall shame thee in all
the court of king Arthur; for he is the falsest knight living, and a
great destroyer of good knights. Then when Abelleus heard this, he was
more afeard, and yielded him and asked mercy. I may not now, said Sir
Tor, but if I should be found false of my promise, for while I would
have taken you to mercy ye would none ask, but if ye had the brachet
again that was my quest. And therewith he took off his helm, and he
arose and fled, and Sir Tor after him, and smote off his head quite.
Now, sir, said the damsel, it is near night; I pray you come and lodge
with me here at my place, it is here fast by. I will well, said Sir
Tor; for his horse and he had fared evil since they departed from
Camelot, and so he rode with her, and had passing good cheer with her;
and she had a passing fair old knight to her husband that made him
passing good cheer, and well eased both his horse and him. And on the
morn he heard his mass, and brake his fast, and took his leave of the
knight and of the lady, that besought him to tell them his name. Truly,
he said, my name is Sir Tor, that late was made knight, and this was
the first quest of arms that ever I did, to bring again that this
knight Abelleus took away from king Arthur’s court. O fair knight, said
the lady and her husband, and ye come here in our marches, come and see
our poor lodging, and it shall be always at your commandment. So Sir
Tor departed, and came to Camelot on the third day by noon. And the
king and the queen and all the court was passing fain of his coming,
and made great joy that he was come again; for he went from the court
with little succour, but as king Pellinore his father gave him an old
courser, and king Arthur gave him armour and a sword, and else had he
none other succour, but rode so forth himself alone. And then the king
and the queen by Merlin’s advice made him to swear to tell of his
adventures, and so he told and made proofs of his deeds as it is afore
rehearsed, wherefore the king and the queen made great joy. Nay, nay,
said Merlin, these be but jests to that he shall do; he shall prove a
noble knight of prowess, as good as any is living, and gentle and
courteous, and of good parts, and passing true of his promise, and
never shall outrage. Where through Merlin’s words king Arthur gave him
an earldom of lands that fell unto him. And here endeth the quest of
Sir Tor, king Pellinore’s son.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How king Pellinore rode after the lady and the knight that led her
  away, and how a lady desired help of him, and how he fought with two
  knights for that lady, of whom he slew the one at the first stroke._

Then king Pellinore armed him and mounted upon his horse, and rode more
than a pace after the lady that the knight led away. And as he rode in
a forest, he saw in a valley a damsel sit by a well, and a wounded
knight in her arms, and Pellinore saluted her. And when she was ware of
him, she cried over loud, Help me knight, for Christ’s sake, king
Pellinore! And he would not tarry he was so eager in his quest, and
ever she cried an hundred times after help. When she saw he would not
abide, she prayed unto God to send him as much need of help as she had,
and that he might feel it or he died. So as the book telleth, the
knight died that there was wounded, wherefore the lady for pure sorrow
slew herself with his sword. As king Pellinore rode in that valley he
met with a poor man, a labourer: Sawest thou not, said Pellinore, a
knight riding and leading away a lady? Yea, said the poor man, I saw
that knight, and the lady that made great dole. And yonder beneath in a
valley there shall ye see two pavilions, and one of the knights of the
pavilions challenged that lady of that knight, and said she was his
cousin near, wherefore he should lead her no farther. And so they waged
battle in that quarrel; the one said he would have her by force, and
the other said he would have the rule of her because he was her
kinsman, and would lead her to her kin. For this quarrel I left them
fighting, and if ye will ride a pace ye shall find them fighting, and
the lady was beleft with the two squires in the pavilions. I thank
thee, said king Pellinore. Then he rode a wallop till that he had a
sight of the two pavilions, and the two knights fighting. Anon he rode
unto the pavilions, and saw the lady that was his quest, and said, Fair
lady, ye must go with me unto the court of king Arthur. Sir knight,
said the two squires that were with her, yonder are two knights that
fight for this lady, go thither and depart them, and be agreed with
them, and then ye may have her at your pleasure. Ye say well, said king
Pellinore. And anon he rode betwixt them, and departed them, and asked
them the cause why that they fought. Sir knight, said the one, I shall
tell you. This lady is my kinswoman nigh, mine aunt’s daughter, and
when I heard her complain that she was with him maugre her head, I
waged battle to fight with him. Sir knight, said the other, whose name
was Hontzlake of Wentland, and this lady I gat by my prowess of arms
this day at Arthur’s court. That is untruly said, said king Pellinore,
for ye came in suddenly there as we were at the high feast, and took
away this lady or any man might him ready, and therefore it was my
quest for to bring her again and you both, or else the one of us to
abide in the field; therefore the lady shall go with me, or I will die
for it, for I have promised it king Arthur. And therefore fight ye no
more, for none of you shall have no part of her at this time, and if ye
list to fight for her, fight with me, and I will defend her. Well, said
the knights, make you ready, and we shall assail you with all our
power. And as king Pellinore would have put his horse from them, Sir
Hontzlake rove his horse through with a sword, and said: Now art thou
on foot as well we are. When king Pellinore espied that his horse was
slain, lightly he leapt from his horse and pulled out his sword, and
put his shield afore him, and said: Knight, keep well thy head, for
thou shalt have a buffet for the slaying of my horse. So king Pellinore
gave him such a stroke upon the helm that he clave the head down to the
chin, that he fell to the earth dead.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How king Pellinore gat the lady and brought her to Camelot to the
  court of king Arthur._

And then he turned him to the other knight that was sore wounded. But
when he saw the other’s buffet he would not fight, but kneeled down and
said, Take my cousin, the lady, with you at your request, and I require
you, as ye be a true knight, put her to no shame nor villainy. What,
said king Pellinore, will ye not fight for her? No, sir, said the
knight. I will not fight with such a knight of prowess as ye be. Well,
said Pellinore, ye say well, I promise you she shall have no villainy
by me, as I am true knight; but now me lacketh an horse, said
Pellinore, but I will have Hontzlake’s horse. Ye shall not need, said
the knight, for I shall give you such a horse as shall please you, so
that ye will lodge with me, for it is near night. I will well, said
king Pellinore, abide with you all night. And there he had with him
right good cheer, and fared of the best with passing good wine, and had
merry rest that night. And on the morrow he heard a mass, and dined:
and then was brought him a fair bay courser, and king Pellinore’s
saddle set upon him. Now, what shall I call you? said the knight,
inasmuch as ye have my cousin at your desire of your quest. Sir, I
shall tell you; my name is king Pellinore, of the Isles, and knight of
the Table Round. Now I am glad, said the knight, that such a noble man
shall have the rule of my cousin. What is now your name? said
Pellinore, I pray you tell me. Sir, my name is Sir Meliot of Logurs,
and this lady my cousin, hight Nimue, and the knight that was in the
other pavilion is my sworn brother, a passing good knight, and his name
is Brian of the Isles, and he is full loth to do wrong, and full loth
to fight with any man, but if he be sore sought on, so that for shame
he may not leave it. It is marvel, said Pellinore, that he will not
have ado with me. Sir, he will not have ado with no man but if it be at
his request. Bring him to the court, said Pellinore, one of these days.
Sir, we will come together. And ye shall be welcome, said king
Pellinore, to the court of king Arthur, and greatly allowed for your
coming. And so he departed with the lady, and brought her to Camelot.
So as they rode in a valley it was full of stones, and there the lady’s
horse stumbled and threw her down, wherewith her arm was sore bruised,
and near she swooned for pain. Alas! sir, said the lady, mine arm is
out of joint, where through I must needs rest me. Ye shall well, said
king Pellinore. And so he alighted under a fair tree where was fair
grass, and he put his horse thereto, and so laid him under the tree and
slept till it was nigh night. And when he awoke he would have ridden.
Sir, said the lady, it is so dark that ye may as well ride backward as
forward. So they abode still and made there their lodging. Then Sir
Pellinore put off his armour; then a little afore midnight they heard
the trotting of an horse. Be ye still, said king Pellinore, for we
shall hear of some adventure.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How on the way king Pellinore heard two knights, as he lay by night in
  a valley, and of other adventures._

And therewith he armed him. So right even afore him there met two
knights, the one came from Camelot and the other from the north, and
either saluted other. What tidings at Camelot? said the one. By my
head, said the other, there have I been, and espied the court of king
Arthur, and there is such a fellowship they may never be broken, and
well nigh all the world holdeth with Arthur, for there is the flower of
chivalry. Now for this cause I am riding into the north to tell our
chieftains of the fellowship that is withholden with king Arthur. As
for that, said the other knight, I have brought a remedy with me, that
is the greatest poison that ever ye heard speak of, and to Camelot will
I with it, for we have a friend right nigh king Arthur, and well
cherished, that shall poison king Arthur, for so he hath promised our
chieftains, and received great gifts for to do it. Beware, said the
other knight, of Merlin, for he knoweth all things by the devil’s
craft. Therefore will I not let it, said the knight. And so they
departed in sunder. Anon after Pellinore made him ready, and his lady,
and rode toward Camelot. And as they came by the well there as the
wounded knight was and the lady, there he found the knight, and the
lady eaten with lions or wild beasts all save the head, wherefore he
made great sorrow, and wept passing sore, and said: Alas, her life
might I have saved, but I was so fierce in my quest therefore I would
not abide. Wherefore make ye such dole, said the lady. I wot not, said
Pellinore, but my heart mourneth sore for the death of her, for she was
a passing fair lady and a young. Now will ye do by mine advice, said
the lady, take this knight and let him be buried in an hermitage, and
then take the lady’s head and bear it with you unto Arthur. So king
Pellinore took this dead knight on his shoulders and brought him to the
hermitage, and charged the hermit with the corpse, that service should
be done for the soul; and take his harness for your pain. It shall be
done, said the hermit, as I will answer unto God.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How when king Pellinore was come to Camelot he was sworn upon a book
  to tell truth of his quest._

And therewith they departed and came there as the head of the lady lay
with a fair yellow hair, that grieved king Pellinore passingly sore
when he looked on it, for much he cast his heart on the visage. And so
by noon they came to Camelot. And the king and the queen were passing
fain of his coming to the court. And there he was made to swear upon
the four Evangelists to tell the truth of his quest from the one to the
other. Ah, Sir Pellinore, said queen Guenever, ye were greatly to blame
that ye saved not this lady’s life. Madam, said Pellinore, ye were
greatly to blame and ye would not save your own life and ye might; but
saving your pleasure, I was so furious in my quest that I would not
abide, and that repenteth me, and shall the days of my life. Truly,
said Merlin, ye ought sore to repent it, for the lady was your own
daughter, and that knight that was dead was her love, and should have
wedded her, and he was a right good knight of a young man, and would
have proved a good man, and to this court was he coming, and his name
was Sir Miles of the lands, and a knight came behind him and slew him
with a spear, and his name is Loraine le Savage, a false knight and a
coward; and she for great sorrow and dole slew herself with his sword,
and her name was Eleine. And because ye would not abide and help her,
ye shall see your best friend fail you when ye be in the greatest
distress that ever ye were or shall be. And that penance God hath
ordained you for that deed, that he that ye shall most trust to of any
man alive, he shall leave you there as ye shall be slain. Me
forthinketh, said king Pellinore, that this shall betide, but God may
well fordo destiny.

Thus when the quest was done of the white hart, the which followed Sir
Gawaine; and the quest of the brachet followed of Sir Tor, Pellinore’s
son; and the quest of the lady that the knight took away, the which
king Pellinore at that time followed; then the king stablished all his
knights, and them that were of lands not rich he gave them lands, and
charged them never to do outrage, nor murder, and always to flee
treason. Also, by no mean to be cruel, but to give mercy unto him that
asketh mercy, upon pain of forfeiture of their worship and lordship of
king Arthur for evermore; and alway to do ladies, damsels, and
gentlewomen succour upon pain of death. Also, that no man take no
battles in a wrongful quarrel for no law, nor for world’s goods. Unto
this were all the knights sworn of the Table Round, both old and young.
And every year were they sworn at the high feast of Pentecost.

                 Explicit the weddynge of kynge Arthur.
                        Sequitur quartus liber.




                            The Fourth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Merlin was assotted and doted on one of the ladies of the lake,
  and how he was shut in a rock under a stone, and there died._

So after these quests of Sir Gawaine, Sir Tor, and king Pellinore, it
fell so that Merlin fell in a dotage on the damsel that king Pellinore
brought to court, and she was one of the damsels of the lake, that
hight Nimue. But Merlin would let her have no rest, but always he would
be with her. And ever she made Merlin good cheer till she had learned
of him all manner thing that she desired; and he was assotted upon her
that he might not be from her. So on a time he told king Arthur that he
should not dure long, but for all his crafts he should be put in the
earth quick, and so he told the king many things that should befall,
but always he warned the king to keep well his sword and the scabbard,
for he told him how the sword and the scabbard should be stolen by a
woman from him that he most trusted. Also he told king Arthur that he
should miss him:—Yet had ye lever than all your lands to have me
again. Ah, said the king, since ye know of your adventure, purvey for
it, and put away by your crafts that misadventure. Nay, said Merlin, it
will not be. So he departed from the king. And within awhile the damsel
of the lake departed, and Merlin went with her evermore wheresoever she
went. And oft times Merlin would have had her privily away by his
subtle crafts: then she made him to swear that he should never do none
enchantment upon her if he would have his will. And so he sware: so she
and Merlin went over the sea unto the land of Benwick, where as king
Ban was king that had great war against king Claudas, and there Merlin
spake with king Ban’s wife, a fair lady and a good, and her name was
Elaine, and there he saw young Launcelot. There the queen made great
sorrow for the mortal war that king Claudas made on her lord and on her
lands. Take none heaviness, said Merlin, for this same child within
this twenty year shall revenge you on king Claudas, that all
christendom shall speak of it: and this same child shall be the man of
most worship of the world, and his first name is Galahad, that know I
well, said Merlin, and since ye have confirmed him, Launcelot. That is
truth, said the queen, his first name was Galahad. O, Merlin, said the
queen, shall I live to see my son such a man of prowess? Yea, lady, on
my peril ye shall see it, and live many winters after. And so, soon
after the lady and Merlin departed; and by the way Merlin shewed her
many wonders, and came into Cornwall. And always Merlin lay about the
lady to have her love, and she was ever passing weary of him, and fain
would have been delivered of him, for she was afeard of him because he
was a devil’s son, and she could not put him away by no means.

And so on a time it happed that Merlin shewed to her in a rock whereas
was a great wonder, and wrought by enchantment, that went under a great
stone. So by her subtle working, she made Merlin to go under that stone
to let her wit of the marvels there, but she wrought so there for him
that he came never out for all the craft that he could do. And so she
departed and left Merlin.


                               CHAP. II.

_How five kings came into this land to war against king Arthur, and
  what counsel Arthur had against them._

And as king Arthur rode to Camelot, and held there a great feast with
mirth and joy, so soon after he returned unto Cardoile, and there came
unto Arthur new tidings that the king of Denmark, and the king of
Ireland that was his brother, and the king of the Vale, and the king of
Soleise, and the king of the Isle of Longtainse, all these five kings
with a great host were entered into the land of king Arthur, and burnt
and slew clean afore them both cities and castles, that it was pity to
hear. Alas, said Arthur, yet had I never rest one month since I was
crowned king of this land. Now shall I never rest till I meet with
those kings in a fair field, that I make mine avow; for my true liege
people shall not be destroyed in my default, go with me who will, and
abide who that will. Then the king let write unto king Pellinore, and
prayed him in all haste to make him ready with such people as he might
lightliest rear, and hie him after in all haste. All the barons were
privily wroth that the king would depart so suddenly: but the king by
no mean would abide, but made writing unto them that were not there,
and had them hie after him, such as were not at that time in the court.
Then the king came to queen Guenever, and said, Lady, make you ready,
for ye shall go with me, for I may not long miss you, ye shall cause me
to be the more hardy, what adventure so befall me: I will not wit my
lady to be in no jeopardy. Sir, said she, I am at your commandment, and
shall be ready what time so ye be ready. So on the morn the king and
the queen departed with such fellowship as they had, and came into the
north into a forest beside Humber, and there lodged them. When the word
and tiding came to the five kings above said, that king Arthur was
beside Humber in a forest, there was a knight, brother unto one of the
five kings, that gave them this counsel: Ye know well that Sir Arthur
hath the flower of chivalry of the world with him, as it is proved by
the great battle he did with the eleven kings; and therefore hie unto
him night and day till that we be nigh him, for the longer he tarrieth
the bigger he is, and we ever the weaker; and he is so courageous of
himself, that he is come to the field with little people, and therefore
let us set upon him or day, and we shall slay down of his knights there
shall none escape.


                               CHAP. III.

_How king Arthur had ado with them and overthrew them, and slew the
  five kings, and made the remnant to flee._

Unto this counsel these five kings assented, and so they passed forth
with their host through North Wales, and came upon Arthur by night, and
set upon his host as the king and his knights were in their pavilions.
King Arthur was unarmed, and had laid him to rest with his queen
Guenever. Sir, said Sir Kay, it is not good we be unarmed: we shall
have no need, said Sir Gawaine and Sir Griflet, that lay in a little
pavilion by the king. With that they heard a great noise, and many
cried treason, treason! Alas, said king Arthur, we are betrayed! Unto
arms, fellows! then he cried. So they were armed anon at all points.
Then came there a wounded knight unto the king, and said, Sir, save
yourself and my lady the queen, for our host is destroyed, and much
people of ours slain. So anon the king and the queen and the three
knights took their horses, and rode toward Humber to pass over it, and
the water was so rough that they were afeard to pass over. Now may ye
choose, said king Arthur, whether ye will abide and take the adventure
on this side, for and ye be taken they will slay you. It were me lever,
said the queen, to die in the water than to fall in your enemies’
hands, and there be slain. And as they stood so talking, Sir Kay saw
the five kings coming on horseback by themselves alone, with their
spears in their hands even toward them. Lo, said Sir Kay, yonder be the
five kings, let us go to them and match them. That were folly, said Sir
Gawaine, for we are but four and they be five. That is truth, said Sir
Griflet. No force, said Sir Kay, I will undertake for two of them, and
then may ye three undertake for the other three. And therewithal Sir
Kay let his horse run as fast as he might, and struck one of them
through the shield and the body a fathom, that the king fell to the
earth stark dead. That saw Sir Gawaine and ran unto another king so
hard that he smote him through the body. And therewithal king Arthur
ran to another, and smote him through the body with a spear, that he
fell to the earth dead. Then Sir Griflet ran unto the fourth king, and
gave him such a fall that his neck brake. Anon Sir Kay ran unto the
fifth king, and smote him so hard on the helm that the stroke clave the
helm and the head to the earth. That was well stricken, said king
Arthur, and worshipfully hast thou holden thy promise, therefore I
shall honour thee while that I live. And therewithal they set the queen
in a barge into Humber, but always queen Guenever praised Sir Kay for
his deeds, and said, What lady that ye love, and she love you not
again, she were greatly to blame; and among ladies, said the queen, I
shall bear your noble fame, for ye spake a great word, and fulfilled it
worshipfully. And therewith the queen departed. Then the king and the
three knights rode into the forest, for there they supposed to hear of
them that were escaped; and there king Arthur found the most part of
his people, and told them all how the five kings were dead.—And
therefore let us hold us together till it be day, and when their host
have espied that their chieftains be slain, they will make such dole
that they shall no more help themselves. And right so as the king said,
so it was; for when they found the five kings dead, they made such dole
that they fell from their horses. Therewithal came king Arthur but with
a few people, and slew on the left hand and on the right hand, that
well nigh there escaped no man, but all were slain to the number of
thirty thousand. And when the battle was all ended, the king kneeled
down and thanked God meekly. And then he sent for the queen, and soon
she was come, and she made great joy of the overcoming of that battle.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How the battle was finished or king Pellinore came, and how king
  Arthur founded an abbey where the battle was._

Therewithal came one to king Arthur, and told him that king Pellinore
was within three mile with a great host; and he said, Go unto him, and
let him understand how we have sped. So within awhile king Pellinore
came with a great host, and saluted the people and the king: and there
was great joy made on every side. Then the king let search how much
people of his party there was slain: and there were found but little
past two hundred men slain, and eight knights of the Table Round in
their pavilions. Then the king let rear and devise in the same place
there as the battle was done a fair abbey, and endowed it with great
livelihood, and let call it the Abbey of La Beale Adventure. But when
some of them came into their countries whereof the five kings were
kings, and told them how they were slain, there was made great dole.
And when all king Arthur’s enemies, as the king of North Wales, and the
kings of the North, wist of the battle they were passing heavy. And so
the king returned to Camelot in haste. And when he was come to Camelot
he called king Pellinore unto him, and said, Ye understand well, that
we have lost eight knights of the best of the Table Round, and by your
advice we will choose eight again of the best we may find in this
court. Sir, said Pellinore, I shall counsel you after my conceit the
best; there are in your court full noble knights both of old and young,
and therefore by mine advice ye shall choose half of the old and half
of the young. Which be the old? said king Arthur. Sir, said king
Pellinore, me seemeth that king Uriens that hath wedded your sister
Morgan le Fay, and the king of the Lake, and Sir Hervise de Revel, a
noble knight, and Sir Galagars the fourth. This is well devised, said
king Arthur, and right so shall it be. Now, which are the four young
knights? said Arthur. Sir, said Pellinore, the first is Sir Gawaine
your nephew, that is as good a knight of his time as any is in this
land; and the second, as me seemeth, is Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu,
that is a good knight, and full desirous in arms, and who may see him
live he shall prove a good knight; and the third as me seemeth is well
to be one of the knights of the Round Table, Sir Kay the seneschal, for
many times he hath done full worshipfully, and now at your last battle
he did full honourably for to undertake to slay two kings. By my head,
said king Arthur, he is best worthy to be a knight of the Round Table
of any that ye have rehearsed, and he had done no more prowess in his
life days.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Sir Tor was made knight of the Round Table, and how Bagdemagus was
  displeased._

Now, said king Pellinore, I shall put to you two knights, and ye shall
choose which is most worthy, that is Sir Bagdemagus, and Sir Tor, my
son. But because Sir Tor is my son I may not praise him, but else, and
he were not my son, I durst say that of his age there is not in this
land a better knight then he is, nor of better conditions, and loth to
do any wrong, and loth to take any wrong. By my head, said Arthur, he
is a passing good knight, as any ye spake of this day, that wot I well,
said the king, for I have seen him proved, but he saith little, and he
doth much more, for I know none in all this court, and he were as well
born on his mother’s side as he is on your side, that is like him of
prowess and of might; and therefore I will have him at this time, and
leave Sir Bagdemagus till another time. So when they were so chosen by
the assent of all the barons, so were there found in their sieges every
knight’s names that here are rehearsed. And so were they set in their
sieges, whereof Sir Bagdemagus was wonderly wroth, that Sir Tor was
advanced afore him, and therefore suddenly he departed from the court,
and took his squire with him, and rode long in a forest till they came
to a cross, and there alight and said his prayers devoutly. The
meanwhile his squire found written upon the cross, that Bagdemagus
should never return unto the court again till he had won a knight’s
body of the Round Table, body for body. Lo, sir, said his squire, here
I find writing of you, therefore I counsel you return again to the
court. That shall I never, said Bagdemagus, till men speak of me great
worship, and that I be worthy to be a knight of the Round Table. And so
he rode forth. And there by the way he found a branch of an holy herb
that was the sign of the Sangreal, and no knight found such tokens but
he were a good liver. So as Sir Bagdemagus rode to see many adventures,
it happed him to come to the rock there as the lady of the lake had put
Merlin under a stone, and there he heard him make great dole; whereof
Sir Bagdemagus would have holpen him, and went unto the great stone,
and it was so heavy that an hundred men might not lift it up. When
Merlin wist he was there, he bad leave his labour, for all was in vain,
for he might never be holpen but by her that put him there. And so Sir
Bagdemagus departed, and did many adventures, and proved after a full
good knight, and came again to the court, and was made knight of the
Round Table. So on the morn there fell new tidings and other adventures.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How king Arthur, king Uriens, and Sir Accolon of Gaul chased an hart,
  and of their marvellous adventures._

Then it befel that Arthur and many of his knights rode on hunting into
a great forest, and it happed king Arthur, king Uriens, and Sir Accolon
of Gaul followed a great hart, for they three were well horsed, and so
they chased so fast that within awhile they three were then ten mile
from their fellowship. And at the last they chased so sore that they
slew their horses underneath them. Then were they all three on foot,
and ever they saw the hart afore them passing weary and enbushed. What
will ye do? said king Arthur, we are hard bested. Let us go on foot,
said king Uriens, till we may meet with some lodging. Then were they
ware of the hart that lay on a great water bank, and a brachet biting
on his throat, and more other hounds came after. Then king Arthur blew
the prise and dight the hart. Then the king looked about the world, and
saw afore him in a great water a little ship, all apparelled with silk
down to the water, and the ship came right unto them, and landed on the
sands. Then Arthur went to the bank and looked in, and saw none earthly
creature therein. Sirs, said the king, come thence, and let us see what
is in this ship. So they went in all three, and found it richly
behanged with cloth of silk. By then it was dark night, and there
suddenly were about them an hundred torches set upon all the sides of
the ship boards, and it gave great light; and therewithal there came
out twelve fair damsels and saluted king Arthur on their knees, and
called him by his name, and said he was right welcome, and such cheer
as they had he should have of the best. The king thanked them fair.
Therewithal they led the king and his two fellows into a fair chamber,
and there was a cloth laid richly beseen of all that longed unto a
table, and there were they served of all wines and meats that they
could think; of that the king had great marvel, for he fared never
better in his life as for one supper. And so when they had supped at
their leisure, king Arthur was led into a chamber, a richer beseen
chamber saw he never none; and so was king Uriens served, and led into
such another chamber; and Sir Accolon was led into the third chamber,
passing richly and well beseen: and so were they laid in their beds
easily. And anon they fell on sleep, and slept marvellously sore all
that night. And on the morrow king Uriens was in Camelot with his wife,
Morgan le Fay. And when he awoke he had great marvel how he came there,
for on the even afore he was two days’ journey from Camelot. And when
king Arthur awoke he found himself in a dark prison, hearing about him
many complaints of woful knights.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Arthur took upon him to fight to be delivered out of prison, and
  also for to deliver twenty knights that were in prison._

What are ye that so complain? said king Arthur. We be here twenty
knights prisoners, said they, and some of us have lain here seven year,
and some more and some less. For what cause? said Arthur. We shall tell
you, said the knights; This lord of this castle his name is Sir Damas,
and he is the falsest knight that liveth, and full of treason, and a
very coward as any liveth, and he hath a younger brother, a good knight
of prowess, his name is Sir Ontzlake, and this traitor Damas, the elder
brother, will give him no part of his livelihood but as Sir Ontzlake
keepeth through prowess of his hands, and so he keepeth from him a full
fair manor and a rich, and therein Sir Ontzlake dwelleth worshipfully
and is well beloved of all people. And this Sir Damas our master is as
evil beloved, for he is without mercy, and he is a coward, and great
war hath been betwixt them both, but Ontzlake hath ever the better, and
ever he proffereth Sir Damas to fight for the livelihood, body for
body; but if he will not do it to find a knight to fight for him. Unto
that Sir Damas hath granted to find a knight, but he is so evil beloved
and hated, that there is never a knight will fight for him. And when
Damas saw this, that there was never a knight would fight for him, he
hath daily lain await with many knights with him and taken all the
knights in this country to see and espy their adventures: he hath taken
them by force and brought them to his prison. And so he took us
severally as we rode on our adventures, and many good knights have died
in this prison for hunger, to the number of eighteen knights: and if
any of us all that here is or hath been, would have fought with his
brother Ontzlake he would have delivered us, but for because this Damas
is so false and so full of treason, we would never fight for him to die
for it. And we be so lean with hunger that hardly we may stand on our
feet. God deliver you for his mercy, said Arthur. Anon therewithal
there came a damsel unto Arthur, and asked him, What cheer? I cannot
say, said he. Sir, said she, and ye will fight for my lord, ye shall be
delivered out of prison, and else ye escape never with life. Now, said
Arthur, that is hard, yet had I lever to fight with a knight than to
die in prison: with this, said Arthur, that I may be delivered and all
these prisoners I will do the battle. Yes, said the damsel. I am ready,
said Arthur, and I had horse and armour. Ye shall lack none, said the
damsel. Me seemeth, damsel, that I should have seen you in the court of
Arthur. Nay, said the damsel, I came never there, I am the lord’s
daughter of this castle. Yet was she false, for she was one of the
damsels of Morgan le Fay. Anon she went unto Sir Damas, and told him
how he would do battle for him, and so he sent for Arthur. And when he
came he was well , and well made of his limbs, that all knights
that saw him said it were pity that such a knight should die in prison.
So Sir Damas and he were agreed that he should fight for him upon this
covenant, that all other knights should be delivered; and unto that was
Sir Damas sworn unto Arthur, and also to do the battle to the
uttermost. And with that all the twenty knights were brought out of the
dark prison into the hall and delivered. And so they all abode to see
the battle.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How Accolon found himself by a well, and he took upon him to do battle
  against Arthur._

Now turn we unto Accolon of Gaul, that when he awoke he found himself
by a deep well side, within half a foot, in great peril of death. And
there came out of that fountain a pipe of silver, and out of that pipe
ran water all on high in a stone of marble. When Sir Accolon saw this
he blessed him and said: Jesu save my lord king Arthur, and king
Uriens, for these damsels in this ship have betrayed us. They were
devils and no women, and if I may escape this misadventure, I shall
destroy all where I may find these false damsels that use enchantments.

Right with that there came a dwarf with a great mouth and a flat nose,
and saluted Sir Accolon, and said how he came from queen Morgan le Fay;
and she greeteth you well, and biddeth you be of strong heart, for ye
shall fight to morn with a knight at the hour of prime, and therefore
she hath sent you here Excalibur Arthur’s sword, and the scabbard, and
she biddeth you as ye love her, that ye do the battle to the uttermost
without any mercy, like as ye had promised her when ye spake together
in private: and what damsel that bringeth her the knight’s head that ye
shall fight withal, she will make her a queen. Now I understand you
well, said Accolon: I shall hold that I have promised her, now I have
the sword: when saw ye my lady queen Morgan le Fay? Right late, said
the dwarf. Then Accolon took him in his arms, and said, Recommend me
unto my lady queen, and tell her all shall be done that I have promised
her, and else I will die for it. Now I suppose, said Accolon, she hath
made all these crafts and enchantments for this battle. Ye may well
believe it, said the dwarf. Right so there came a knight and a lady
with six squires, and saluted Sir Accolon and prayed him for to arise,
and come and rest him at his manor. And so Accolon mounted upon a void
horse, and went with the knight unto a fair manor by a priory, and
there he had passing good cheer. Then Sir Damas sent unto his brother
Sir Ontzlake, and bade make him ready by to morn at the hour of prime,
and to be in the field to fight with a good knight, for he had found a
good knight that was ready to do battle at all points. When this word
came unto Sir Ontzlake he was passing heavy, for he was wounded a
little tofore through both his thighs with a spear, and made great
dole: but as he was wounded he would have taken the battle on hand. So
it happed at that time, by the means of Morgan le Fay, Accolon was with
Sir Ontzlake lodged; and when he heard of that battle, and how Ontzlake
was wounded, he said he would fight for him, because Morgan le Fay had
sent him Excalibur and the sheath for to fight with the knight on the
morn; this was the cause Sir Accolon took the battle on hand. Then Sir
Ontzlake was passing glad, and thanked Sir Accolon with all his heart
that he would do so much for him. And therewithal Sir Ontzlake sent
word unto his brother Sir Damas that he had a knight that for him
should be ready in the field by the hour of prime. So on the morn Sir
Arthur was armed and well horsed, and asked Sir Damas, When shall we to
the field? Sir, said Sir Damas, ye shall hear mass; and so Arthur heard
a mass. And when mass was done there came a squire on a great horse,
and asked Sir Damas if his knight were ready, for our knight is ready
in the field. Then Sir Arthur mounted upon horseback, and there were
all the knights and commons of that country; and so by all advices
there were chosen twelve good men of the country for to wait upon the
two knights. And right as Arthur was upon horseback there came a damsel
from Morgan le Fay, and brought unto Sir Arthur a sword like unto
Excalibur, and the scabbard, and said unto Arthur, Morgan le Fay
sendeth you here your sword for great love. And he thanked her, and
wend it had been so, but she was false, for the sword and the scabbard
was counterfeit, and brittle, and false.


                               CHAP. IX.

_Of the battle between king Arthur and Accolon._

And then they dressed them on both parts of the field, and let their
horses run so fast that either smote other in the midst of the shield
with their spears’ head, that both horse and man went to the earth; and
then they started up both, and pulled out their swords. The mean while
that they were thus at the battle, came the damsel of the lake into the
field, that put Merlin under the stone, and she came thither for love
of king Arthur, for she knew how Morgan le Fay had so ordained that
king Arthur should have been slain that day, and therefore she came to
save his life. And so they went eagerly to the battle, and gave many
great strokes. But alway king Arthur’s sword bit not like Accolon’s
sword, but for the most part every stroke that Accolon gave wounded he
sore Arthur, that it was marvel he stood; and alway his blood fell from
him fast. When Arthur beheld the ground so sore be-bled he was
dismayed, and then he deemed treason, that his sword was changed; for
his sword bit not steel as it was wont to do, therefore he dread him
sore to be dead, for ever him seemed that the sword in Accolon’s hand
was Excalibur, for at every stroke that Sir Accolon struck he drew
blood on Arthur. Now knight, said Accolon unto Arthur, keep thee well
from me: but Arthur answered not again, and gave him such a buffet on
the helm that he made him to stoop, nigh falling down to the earth.
Then Sir Accolon withdrew him a little, and came on with Excalibur on
high, and smote Sir Arthur such a buffet that he fell nigh to the
earth. Then were they wroth both, and gave each other many sore
strokes, but always Sir Arthur lost so much blood that it was marvel he
stood on his feet, but he was so full of knighthood that knightly he
endured the pain. And Sir Accolon lost not a deal of blood, therefore
he waxed passing light, and Sir Arthur was passing feeble, and wend
verily to have died; but for all that he made countenance as though he
might endure, and held Accolon as short as he might. But Accolon was so
bold because of Excalibur that he waxed passing hardy. But all men that
beheld him said they never saw knight fight so well as Arthur did,
considering the blood that he bled. So was all the people sorry for
him, but the two brethren would not accord; then always they fought
together as fierce knights, and Sir Arthur withdrew him a little for to
rest him, and Sir Accolon called him to battle, and said, It is no time
for me to suffer thee to rest. And therewith he came fiercely upon
Arthur, and Sir Arthur was wroth for the blood that he had lost, and
smote Accolon on high upon the helm so mightily that he made him nigh
to fall to the earth; and therewith Arthur’s sword brast at the cross,
and fell in the grass among the blood, and the pommel and the sure
handles he held in his hands. When Sir Arthur saw that, he was in great
fear to die, but always he held up his shield, and lost no ground, nor
bated no cheer.


                                CHAP. X.

_How king Arthur’s sword that he fought with brake, and how he
  recovered of Accolon his own sword Excalibur, and overcame his enemy._

Then Sir Accolon began with words of treason, and said, Knight, thou
art overcome, and mayest not endure, and also thou art weaponless, and
thou hast lost much of thy blood, and I am full loth to slay thee,
therefore yield thee to me as recreant. Nay, said Sir Arthur, I may not
so, for I have promised to do the battle to the uttermost by the faith
of my body while me lasteth the life, and therefore I had lever to die
with honour than to live with shame; and if it were possible for me to
die an hundred times I had lever to die so oft than yield me to thee;
for though I lack weapon I shall lack no worship, and if thou slay me
weaponless that shall be thy shame. Well, said Accolon, as for the
shame I will not spare: now keep thee from me, for thou art but a dead
man. And therewith Accolon gave him such a stroke that he fell nigh to
the earth, and would have had Arthur to have cried him mercy. But Sir
Arthur pressed unto Accolon with his shield, and gave him with the
pommel in his hand such a buffet that he went three strides aback. When
the damsel of the lake beheld Arthur, how full of prowess his body was,
and the false treason that was wrought for him to have had him slain,
she had great pity that so good a knight and such a man of worship
should be destroyed. And at the next stroke Sir Accolon struck him such
a stroke, that by the damsel’s enchantment the sword Excalibur fell out
of Accolon’s hand to the earth; and therewithal Sir Arthur lightly
leapt to it, and got it in his hand, and forthwithal he knew that it
was his sword Excalibur, and said, Thou hast been from me all too long,
and much damage hast thou done me. And therewith he espied the scabbard
hanging by his side, and suddenly he start to him, and pulled the
scabbard from him, and anon threw it from him as far as he might throw
it. O knight, said Arthur, this day hast thou done me great damage with
this sword; now are ye come unto your death, for I shall not warrant
you but ye shall as well be rewarded with this sword or ever we depart,
as thou hast rewarded me, for much pain have ye made me to endure, and
much blood have I lost. And therewith Sir Arthur rushed on him with all
his might and pulled him to the earth, and then rushed off his helm,
and gave him such a buffet on the head that the blood came out at his
ears, his nose, and his mouth. Now will I slay thee, said Arthur. Slay
me ye may well, said Accolon, and it please you, for ye are the best
knight that ever I found, and I see well that God is with you: but for
I promised to do this battle to the uttermost, said Accolon, and never
to be recreant while I lived, therefore shall I never yield me with my
mouth, but God do with my body what he will. Then Sir Arthur remembered
him, and thought he should have seen this knight. Now tell me, said
Arthur, or I will slay thee, of what country art thou, and of what
court? Sir knight, said Sir Accolon, I am of the court of king Arthur,
and my name is Accolon of Gaul. Then was Arthur more dismayed than he
was beforehand; for then he remembered him of his sister Morgan le Fay,
and of the enchantment of the ship. O Sir knight, said he, I pray you
tell me who gave you this sword, and by whom ye had it.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Accolon confessed the treason of Morgan le Fay, king Arthur’s
  sister, and how she would have done slay him._

Then Sir Accolon bethought him, and said, Woe worth this sword, for by
it have I gotten my death. It may well be, said the king. Now Sir, said
Sir Accolon, I will tell you: This sword hath been in my keeping the
most part of this twelvemonth, and Morgan le Fay, king Uriens’ wife,
sent it me yesterday by a dwarf, to this intent that I should slay king
Arthur her brother. For ye shall understand king Arthur is the man in
the world that she most hateth, because he is most of worship and of
prowess of any of her blood. Also, she loveth me out of measure as
paramour, and I her again. And if she might bring about to slay Arthur
by her crafts, she would slay her husband king Uriens lightly, and then
had she me devised to be king in this land, and so to reign, and she to
be my queen; but that is now done, said Sir Accolon, for I am sure of
my death. Well, said king Arthur, I feel by you ye would have been king
in this land. It had been great damage for to have destroyed your lord,
said Arthur. It is truth, said Sir Accolon, but now I have told you
truth, wherefore I pray you tell me of whence ye are, and of what
court? O Accolon, said king Arthur, now I let thee wit that I am king
Arthur to whom thou hast done great damage. When Accolon heard that he
cried aloud, Fair sweet lord, have mercy on me, for I knew you not. O
Sir Accolon, said king Arthur, mercy shalt thou have, because I feel by
thy words at this time thou knewest not my person. But I understand
well by thy words that thou hast agreed to the death of my person, and
therefore thou art a traitor; but I blame thee the less, for my sister
Morgan le Fay by her false crafts made thee to agree and consent to her
false lusts, but I shall be sore avenged upon her and I live, that all
Christendom shall speak of it. God knoweth I have honoured her and
worshipped her more than all my kin, and more have I trusted her than
mine own wife, and all my kin after. Then Sir Arthur called the keepers
of the field, and said, Sirs, come hither, for here are we two knights
that have fought unto a great damage unto us both, and like each one of
us to have slain other, if it had happed so; and had any of us known
other, here had been no battle, nor stroke stricken. Then all aloud
cried Sir Accolon unto all the knights and men that were then there
gathered together, and said to them in this manner: O lords, this noble
knight that I have fought withal, the which me sore repenteth, is the
most man of prowess, of manhood, and of worship in the world, for it is
himself king Arthur, our alther liege lord, and with mishap and with
misadventure have I done this battle with the king and lord that I am
holden withal.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Arthur accorded the two brethren, and delivered the twenty
  knights, and how Sir Accolon died._

Then all the people fell down on their knees, and cried king Arthur
mercy. Mercy shall ye have, said Arthur: here may ye see what
adventures befall oft time of errant knights, how that I have fought
with a knight of mine own unto my great damage and his both. But sirs,
because I am sore hurt, and he both, and I had great need of a little
rest, ye shall understand the opinion betwixt you two brethren: As to
thee, Sir Damas, for whom I have been champion, and won the field of
this knight, yet will I judge because ye Sir Damas are called an
orgulous knight, and full of villainy, and not worth of prowess of your
deeds, therefore I will that ye give unto your brother all the whole
manor with the appurtenance, under this form, that Sir Ontzlake hold
the manor of you, and yearly to give you a palfrey to ride upon, for
that will become you better to ride on than upon a courser. Also I
charge thee, Sir Damas, upon pain of death, that thou never distress no
knights errant that ride on their adventure. And also that thou restore
these twenty knights that thou hast long kept prisoners of all their
harness that they be content for, and if any of them come to my court
and complain of thee, by my head thou shalt die therefore. Also, Sir
Ontzlake, as to you, because ye are named a good knight, and full of
prowess, and true and gentle in all your deeds, this shall be your
charge: I will give you that in all goodly haste ye come unto me and my
court, and ye shall be a knight of mine, and if your deeds be
thereafter I shall so prefer you, by the grace of God, that ye shall in
short time be in ease for to live as worshipfully as your brother Sir
Damas.—God thank your largeness of your goodness and of your bounty,
and I shall be from henceforth at all times at your commandment: for,
Sir, said Sir Ontzlake, I was hurt but late with an adventurous knight
through both my thighs, which grieved me sore, and else had I done this
battle with you. Would, said Arthur, it had been so, for then had not I
been hurt as I am. I shall tell you the cause why: for I had not been
hurt as I am had not it been mine own sword that was stolen from me by
treason; and this battle was ordained aforehand to have slain me, and
so it was brought to the purpose by false treason, and by false
enchantment. Alas, said Sir Ontzlake, that is great pity, that ever so
noble a man as ye are of your deeds and prowess, that any man or woman
might find in their hearts to work any treason against you. I shall
reward them, said Arthur, in short time by the grace of God. Now tell
me, said Arthur, how far am I from Camelot? Sir, ye are two days’
journey therefrom. I would fain be at some place of worship, said Sir
Arthur, that I might rest me. Sir, said Sir Ontzlake, hereby is a rich
abbey of your elders’ foundation, of Nuns, but three mile hence. So the
king took his leave of all the people, and mounted upon horseback, and
Sir Accolon with him. And when they were come to the abbey, he let
fetch leeches and search his wounds and Accolon’s both, but Sir Accolon
died within four days, for he had bled so much blood that he might not
live, but king Arthur was well recovered. So when Accolon was dead he
let send him on an horse-bier with six knights unto Camelot, and said,
Bear him to my sister Morgan le Fay, and say that I send her him to a
present, and tell her that I have my sword Excalibur, and the scabbard.
So they departed with the body.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Morgan would have slain Sir Uriens her husband, and how Sir Uwaine
  her son saved him._

The mean while Morgan le Fay had wend king Arthur had been dead. So on
a day she espied king Uriens lay in his bed sleeping, then she called
unto her a maiden of her counsel, and said: Go fetch me my lord’s
sword, for I saw never better time to slay him than now. O Madam, said
the damsel, and ye slay my lord, ye can never escape. Care not you,
said Morgan le Fay, for now I see my time in the which it is best to do
it, and therefore hie thee fast, and fetch me the sword. Then the
damsel departed, and found Sir Uwaine sleeping upon a bed in another
chamber, so she went unto Sir Uwaine, and awaked him, and bad him,
Arise, and wait on my lady your mother, for she will slay the king your
father sleeping in his bed, for I go to fetch his sword. Well, said Sir
Uwaine, go on your way, and let me deal. Anon the damsel brought Morgan
the sword with quaking hands, and she lightly took the sword, and
pulled it out, and went boldly unto the bed-side, and awaited how and
where she might slay him best. And as she lift up the sword to smite,
Sir Uwaine lept unto his mother, and caught her by the hand, and said,
Ah, fiend, what wilt thou do? And thou wert not my mother, with this
sword I should smite off thy head. Ah, said Sir Uwaine, men say that
Merlin was begotten of a devil, but I may say an earthly devil bare me.
Oh fair son Uwaine, have mercy upon me; I was tempted with a devil,
wherefore I cry thee mercy; I will never more do so; and save my
worship and discover me not. On this covenant, said Sir Uwaine, I will
forgive it you, so ye will never be about to do such deeds. Nay, son,
said she, and that I make you assurance.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How queen Morgan le Fay made great sorrow for the death of Accolon,
  and how she stole away the scabbard from Arthur._

Then came tidings unto Morgan le Fay that Accolon was dead, and his
body brought unto the church, and how king Arthur had his sword again.
But when queen Morgan wist that Accolon was dead she was so sorrowful
that near her heart to burst. But because she would not it were known,
outward she kept her countenance, and made no semblance of sorrow. But
well she wist, and she abode till her brother Arthur came thither,
there should no gold go for her life.

Then she went unto queen Guenever, and asked her leave to ride into the
country. Ye may abide, said queen Guenever, till your brother the king
come home. I may not, said Morgan le Fay, for I have such hasty tidings
that I may not tarry. Well, said Guenever, ye may depart when ye will.
So early on the morn, or it was day, she took her horse and rode all
that day, and most part of the night, and on the morn by noon she came
to the same abbey of nuns, whereas lay king Arthur, and she, knowing he
was there, asked where he was: and they answered how he had laid him in
his bed to sleep, for he had had but little rest these three nights.
Well, said she, I charge you that none of you awake him till I do. And
then she alight off her horse, and thought for to steal away Excalibur
his sword, and so she went straight unto his chamber, and no man durst
disobey her commandment, and there she found Arthur asleep in his bed,
and Excalibur in his right hand naked. When she saw that, she was
passing heavy that she might not come by the sword without she had
awaked him, and then she wist well she had been dead. Then she took the
scabbard, and went her way on horseback. When the king awoke and missed
his scabbard, he was wroth, and he asked who had been there, and they
said his sister queen Morgan had been there, and had put the scabbard
under her mantle, and was gone. Alas, said Arthur, falsely have ye
watched me. Sir, said they all, we durst not disobey your sister’s
commandment. Ah, said the king, let fetch the best horse that may be
found, and bid Sir Ontzlake arm him in all haste, and take another good
horse and ride with me. So anon the king and Ontzlake were well armed,
and rode after this lady; and so they came by a cross, and found a
cowherd, and they asked the poor man if there came any lady late riding
that way. Sir, said this poor man, right late came a lady riding with a
forty horses, and to yonder forest she rode. Then they spurred their
horses and followed fast, and within awhile Arthur had a sight of
Morgan le Fay; then he chased as fast as he might. When she espied him
following her, she rode a greater pace through the forest till she came
to a plain. And when she saw she might not escape, she rode unto a lake
thereby, and said, Whatsoever becometh of me, my brother shall not have
this scabbard. And then she let throw the scabbard in the deepest of
the water, so it sank, for it was heavy of gold and precious stones.
Then she rode into a valley where many great stones were, and when she
saw that she must be overtaken, she shaped herself, horse and man, by
enchantment, unto a great marble stone. Anon withal came Sir Arthur and
Sir Ontzlake, whereas the king might not know his sister and her men,
and one knight from another. Ah, said the king, here may ye see the
vengeance of God, and now am I sorry that this misadventure is
befallen. And then he looked for the scabbard, but it would not be
found. So he returned to the abbey there he came from. So when Arthur
was gone she turned all into the likeness as she and they were before,
and said, Sirs, now may we go where we will.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How Morgan le Fay saved a knight that should have been drowned, and
  how king Arthur returned home again._

Then said Morgan, Saw ye Arthur my brother? Yea, said her knights,
right well, and that ye should have found and we might have stirred
from one stead, for by his warlike countenance he would have caused us
to have fled. I believe you, said Morgan. Anon after as she rode she
met a knight leading another knight on his horse before him, bound hand
and foot blindfold, to have drowned him in a fountain. When she saw
this knight so bound, she asked him. What will ye do with that knight?
Lady, said he, I will drown him. For what cause? she asked. For I found
him with my wife, and she shall have the same death anon. That were
pity, said Morgan le Fay: now what say ye, knight, is it truth that he
saith of you? she said to the knight that should be drowned. Nay truly,
madam, he saith not right of me. Of whence be ye? said Morgan le Fay,
and of what country? I am of the court of king Arthur, and my name is
Manassen, cousin unto Accolon of Gaul. Ye say well, said she, and for
the love of him ye shall be delivered, and ye shall have your adversary
in the same case ye be in. So Manassen was loosed and the other knight
bound. And anon Manassen unarmed him, and armed himself in his harness,
and so mounted on horseback, and the knight afore him, and so threw him
into the fountain and drowned him. And then he rode unto Morgan again,
and asked her if she would anything unto king Arthur. Tell him that I
rescued thee not for the love of him but for the love of Accolon, and
tell him I fear him not while I can make me and them that be with me in
likeness of stones; and let him wit I can do much more when I see my
time. And so she departed into the country of Gore, and there was she
richly received, and made her castles and towns passing strong, for
always she drad much king Arthur. When the king had well rested him at
the abbey he rode unto Camelot, and found his queen and his barons
right glad of his coming. And when they heard of his strange adventures
as is afore rehearsed, they all had marvel of the falsehood of Morgan
le Fay: many knights wished her burnt. Then came Manassen to the court
and told the king of his adventure. Well, said the king, she is a kind
sister, I shall so be avenged on her and I live, that all christendom
shall speak of it. So on the morn there came a damsel from Morgan to
the king, and she brought with her the richest mantle that ever was
seen in that court, for it was set as full of precious stones as one
might stand by another, and there were the richest stones that ever the
king saw. And the damsel said, Your sister sendeth you this mantle, and
desireth that ye should take this gift of her, and in what thing she
hath offended you she will amend it at your own pleasure. When the king
beheld this mantle it pleased him much, but he said but little.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How the damsel of the lake saved king Arthur from a mantle which
  should have burnt him._

With that came the damsel of the lake unto the king, and said, Sir, I
must speak with you in private. Say on, said the king, what ye will.
Sir, said the damsel, put not on you this mantle till ye have seen
more, and in no wise let it not come on you, nor on no knight of yours,
till ye command the bringer thereof to put it upon her. Well, said king
Arthur, it shall be done as ye counsel me. And then he said unto the
damsel that came from his sister, Damsel, this mantle that ye have
brought me I will see it upon you. Sir, said she, it will not beseem me
to wear a king’s garment. By my head, said Arthur, ye shall wear it or
it come on my back, or any man’s that here is. And so the king made it
to be put upon her, and forthwithal she fell down dead, and never more
spake word after, and burnt to coals. Then was the king wonderly wroth,
more than he was toforehand, and said unto king Uriens, My sister your
wife is alway about to betray me, and well I wot either ye, or my
nephew your son, is of counsel with her to have me destroyed; but as
for you, said the king to king Uriens, I deem not greatly that ye be of
her counsel, for Accolon confessed to me by his own mouth, that she
would have destroyed you as well as me, therefore I hold you excused;
but as for your son Sir Uwaine, I hold him suspected, therefore I
charge you put him out of my court. So Sir Uwaine was discharged. And
when Sir Gawaine wist that, he made him ready to go with him, and said:
Who so banisheth my cousin german shall banish me. So they two departed
and rode into a great forest. And so they came to an abbey of monks,
and there were well lodged. But when the king wist that Sir Gawaine was
departed from the court there was made great sorrow among all the
estates. Now, said Gaheris, Gawaine’s brother, we have lost two good
knights for the love of one. So on the morn they heard their masses in
the abbey, and so they rode forth till they came to a great forest;
then was Sir Gawaine ware in a valley by a turret, of twelve fair
damsels, and two knights armed on great horses, and the damsels went to
and fro by a tree. And then was Sir Gawaine ware how there hung a white
shield on that tree, and ever as the damsels came by it they spit upon
it, and some threw mire upon the shield.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine met with twelve fair damsels, and how
  they complained on Sir Marhaus._

Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine went and saluted them, and asked why
they did that despite to the shield. Sirs, said the damsels, we shall
tell you. There is a knight in this country that owneth this white
shield, and he is a passing good man of his hands, but he hateth all
ladies and gentlewomen, and therefore we do all this despite to the
shield. I shall say you, said Sir Gawaine, it beseemeth evil a good
knight to despise all ladies and gentlewomen, and peradventure though
he hate you he hath some cause, and peradventure he loveth in some
other places ladies and gentlewomen, and to be loved again, and he be
such a man of prowess as ye speak of. Now what is his name? Sir, said
they, his name is Marhaus, the king’s son of Ireland. I know him well,
said Sir Uwaine, he is a passing good knight as any is on live, for I
saw him once proved at a justs where many knights were gathered, and
that time there might no man withstand him. Ah! said Sir Gawaine,
damsels, methinketh ye are to blame, for it is to suppose he that hung
that shield there he will not be long therefrom, and then may those
knights match him on horseback, and that is more your worship than
thus; for I will abide no longer to see a knight’s shield dishonoured.
And therewith Sir Uwaine and Gawaine departed a little from them, and
then were they ware where Sir Marhaus came riding on a great horse
straight towards them. And when the twelve damsels saw Sir Marhaus they
fled into the turret as they were wild, so that some of them fell by
the way. Then the one of the knights of the tower dressed his shield,
and said on high, Sir Marhaus, defend thee. And so they ran together
that the knight brake his spear on Marhaus, and Sir Marhaus smote him
so hard that he brake his neck and the horse’s back. That saw the other
knight of the turret, and dressed him toward Marhaus, and they met so
eagerly together that the knight of the turret was soon smitten down,
horse and man, stark dead.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How Sir Marhaus justed with Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine, and overthrew
  them both._

And then Sir Marhaus rode unto his shield, and saw how it was defouled,
and said, Of this despite I am a part avenged, but for her love that
gave me this white shield I shall wear thee, and hang mine where thou
wast: and so he hanged it about his neck. Then he rode straight unto
Sir Gawaine and to Sir Uwaine, and asked them what they did there. They
answered him that they came from king Arthur’s court for to see
adventures. Well, said Marhaus, here am I ready, an adventurous knight
that will fulfil any adventure that ye will desire. And so departed
from them to fetch his range. Let him go, said Sir Uwaine unto Sir
Gawaine, for he is a passing good knight as any is living: I would not
by my will that any of us were matched with him. Nay, said Sir Gawaine,
not so; it were shame to us were he not assayed, were he never so good
a knight. Well, said Sir Uwaine, I will assay him afore you, for I am
more weaker than ye, and if he smite me down then may ye revenge me. So
these two knights came together with great random, that Sir Uwaine
smote Sir Marhaus that his spear brast in pieces on the shield, and Sir
Marhaus smote him so sore that horse and man he bare to the earth, and
hurt Sir Uwaine on the left side. Then Sir Marhaus turned his horse and
rode toward Gawaine with his spear. And when Sir Gawaine saw that, he
dressed his shield, and they aventred their spears, and they came
together with all the might of their horses, that either knight smote
other so hard in the midst of their shields, but Sir Gawaine’s spear
brake, but Sir Marhaus’s spear held; and therewith Sir Gawaine and his
horse rushed down to the earth. And lightly Sir Gawaine rose upon his
feet, and pulled out his sword, and dressed him toward Sir Marhaus on
foot. And Sir Marhaus saw that, and pulled out his sword, and began to
come to Sir Gawaine on horseback. Sir knight, said Sir Gawaine, alight
on foot, or else I will slay thy horse. Gramercy, said Sir Marhaus, of
your gentleness, ye teach me courtesy, for it is not for one knight to
be on foot and the other on horseback. And therewith Sir Marhaus set
his spear against a tree and alighted, and tied his horse to a tree,
and dressed his shield, and either came unto other eagerly, and smote
together with their swords that their shields flew in cantels, and they
bruised their helms and their hauberks, and wounded either other. But
Sir Gawaine, fro it passed nine of the clock waxed ever stronger and
stronger, till it came to the hour of noon, and thrice his might was
increased. All this espied Sir Marhaus, and had great wonder how his
might increased, and so they wounded other passing sore. And then when
it was past noon, and when it drew toward even-song, Sir Gawaine’s
strength feebled and waxed passing faint, that unnethes he might dure
any longer, and Sir Marhaus was then bigger and bigger. Sir knight,
said Sir Marhaus, I have well felt that ye are a passing good knight,
and a marvellous man of might as ever I felt any, while it lasteth, and
our quarrels are not great, and therefore it were pity to do you hurt,
for I feel ye are passing feeble. Ah, said Sir Gawaine, gentle knight,
ye say the word that I should say. And therewith they took off their
helms and either kissed other, and there they swore together either to
love other as brethren. And Sir Marhaus prayed Sir Gawaine to lodge
with him that night. And so they took their horses and rode toward Sir
Marhaus’s house. And as they rode by the way, Sir knight, said Sir
Gawaine, I have marvel that so valiant a man as ye be love no ladies
nor damsels. Sir, said Sir Marhaus, they name me wrongfully those that
give me that name, but well I wot it be the damsels of the turret that
so name me, and other such as they be. Now shall I tell you for what
cause I hate them. For they be sorceresses and enchanters many of them,
and be a knight never so good of his body and full of prowess as man
may be, they will make him a stark coward to have the better of him,
and this is the principal cause that I hate them; and to all good
ladies and gentlewomen I owe my service as a knight ought to do. As the
book rehearseth in French, there were many knights that overmatched Sir
Gawaine, for all the thrice-might that he had: Sir Launcelot de Lake,
Sir Tristram, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Percivale, Sir Pelleas, and Sir
Marhaus, these six knights had the better of Sir Gawaine. Then within a
little while they came to Sir Marhaus’s place, which was in a little
priory, and there they alight, and ladies and damsels unarmed them and
hastily looked to their hurts, for they were all three hurt. And so
they had all three good lodging with Sir Marhaus, and good cheer: for
when he wist that they were king Arthur’s sister’s sons, he made them
all the cheer that lay in his power. And so they sojourned there a
seven nights, and were well eased of their wounds, and at the last
departed. Now, said Sir Marhaus, we will not part so lightly, for I
will bring you through the forest: and rode day by day well a seven
days or they found any adventure. At the last they came into a great
forest, that was named the country and forest of Arroy, and the country
of strange adventures. In this country, said Sir Marhaus, came never
knight since it was christened, but he found strange adventures. And so
they rode and came into a deep valley full of stones, and thereby they
saw a fair stream of water; above thereby was the head of the stream, a
fair fountain, and three damsels sitting thereby. And then they rode to
them, and either saluted other, and the eldest had a garland of gold
about her head, and she was threescore winter of age or more, and her
hair was white under the garland. The second damsel was of thirty
winter of age, with a circlet of gold about her head. The third damsel
was but fifteen year of age, and a garland of flowers about her head.
When these knights had so beheld them, they asked them the cause why
they sat at that fountain. We be here, said the damsels, for this
cause, if we may see any errant knights, to teach them unto strange
adventures, and ye be three knights that seek adventures, and we be
three damsels, and therefore each one of you must choose one of us. And
when ye have done so we will lead you unto three high ways, and there
each of you shall choose a way, and his damsel with him. And this day
twelvemonth ye must meet here again, and God send you your lives, and
thereto ye must plight your troth. This is well said, said Sir Marhaus.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How Sir Marhaus, Sir Gawaine, and Sir Uwaine met three damsels, and
  each of them took one._

Now shall every each of us choose a damsel. I shall tell you, said Sir
Uwaine: I am the youngest and most weakest of you both, therefore I
will have the eldest damsel, for she hath seen much and can help me
best when I have need, for I have most need of help of you both. Now,
said Sir Marhaus, I will have the damsel of thirty winter age, for she
fallest best to me. Well, said Sir Gawaine, I thank you, for ye have
left me the youngest and the fairest, and she is most liefest to me.
Then every damsel took her knight by the reins of his bridle, and
brought them to the three ways, and there was their oath made to meet
at the fountain that day twelvemonth and they were living, and so they
kissed and departed, and every each knight set his lady behind him. And
Sir Uwaine took the way that lay west, and Sir Marhaus took the way
that lay south, and Sir Gawaine took the way that lay north.

Now will we begin at Sir Gawaine that held that way till he came unto a
fair manor, where dwelled an old knight and a good householder, and
there Sir Gawaine asked the knight if he knew any adventures in that
country. I shall shew you some to-morn, said the old knight, and that
marvellous. So on the morn they rode into the forest of adventures till
they came to a lawn, and thereby they found a cross, and as they stood
and hoved there came by them the fairest knight and the seemliest man
that ever they saw, making the greatest dole that ever man made. And
then he was ware of Sir Gawaine, and saluted him, and prayed God to
send him much worship. As to that, said Sir Gawaine, Gramercy! Also, I
pray to God that he send you honour and worship. Ah, said the knight, I
may lay that aside, for sorrow and shame cometh to me after worship.


                               CHAP. XX.

_How a knight and a dwarf strove for a lady._

And therewith he passed unto the one side of the lawn. And on the other
side Sir Gawaine saw ten knights that hoved still, and made them ready
with their shields and spears against that one knight that came by Sir
Gawaine. Then this one knight aventred a great spear, and one of the
ten knights encountered with him, but this woful knight smote him so
hard that he fell over his horse tail. So this same dolorous knight
served them all, that at the least way he smote down horse and man, and
all he did with one spear. And so when they were all ten on foot they
went to that one knight, and he stood stone still, and suffered them to
pull him down off his horse, and bound him hand and foot, and tied him
under the horse belly, and so led him with them. Oh, said Sir Gawaine,
this is a doleful sight, to see the yonder knight so to be entreated,
and it seemeth by the knight that he suffereth them to bind him so, for
he maketh no resistance. No, said his host, that is truth, for and he
would they all were too weak so to do him. Sir, said the damsel unto
Sir Gawaine, me seemeth it were your worship to help that dolorous
knight, for me thinketh he is one of the best knights that ever I saw.
I would do for him, said Sir Gawaine, but it seemeth that he will have
no help. Then said the damsel, me seemeth ye have no lust to help him.
Thus as they talked they saw a knight on that other side of the lawn,
all armed save the head. And on the other side there came a dwarf on
horseback all armed save the head, with a great mouth and a short nose.
And when the dwarf came nigh he said, Where is the lady should meet us
here? and therewithal she came forth out of the wood. And then they
began to strive for the lady; for the knight said he would have her,
and the dwarf said he would have her. Will we do well? said the dwarf;
yonder is a knight at the cross, let us put it both upon him, and as he
deemeth so shall it be. I will well, said the knight; and so they went
all three unto Sir Gawaine, and told him wherefore they strove. Well
sirs, said he, will ye put the matter into my hand? Yea, they said
both. Now, damsel, said Sir Gawaine, ye shall stand betwixt them both,
and whether ye list better to go to, he shall have you. And when she
was set between them both she left the knight and went to the dwarf.
And the dwarf took her and went his way singing, and the knight went
his way with great mourning. Then came there two knights all armed, and
cried on high, Sir Gawaine, knight of king Arthur, make thee ready in
all haste and just with me. So they ran together that either fell down.
And then on foot they drew their swords and did full actually. In the
meanwhile the other knight went to the damsel and asked her why she
abode with that knight, and if ye would abide with me, I will be your
faithful knight. And with you will I be, said the damsel, for with Sir
Gawaine I may not find in mine heart to be with him: for now here was
one knight discomfited ten knights, and at the last he was cowardly led
away; and therefore let us two go our way whilst they fight. And Sir
Gawaine fought with that other knight long, but at the last they
accorded both. And then the knight prayed Sir Gawaine to lodge with him
that night. So as Sir Gawaine went with this knight he asked him, What
knight is he in this country that smote down the ten knights? For when
he had done so manfully, he suffered them to bind him hand and foot,
and so led him away. Ah! said the knight, that is the best knight I
trow in the world, and the most man of prowess, and he hath been served
so as he was even more than ten times, and his name hight Sir Pelleas,
and he loveth a great lady in this country, and her name is Ettard. And
so when he loved her there was cried in this country a great justs
three days: and all the knights of this country were there and
gentlewomen; and who that proved him the best knight should have a
passing good sword and a circlet of gold, and the circlet the knight
should give it to the fairest lady that was at the justs. And this
knight, Sir Pelleas, was the best knight that was there, and there were
five hundred knights, but there was never man that ever Sir Pelleas met
withal, but he struck him down, or else from his horse. And every day
of three days he struck down twenty knights, therefore they gave him
the prize. And forthwithal he went there as the lady Ettard was, and
gave her the circlet, and said openly she was the fairest lady that
there was, and that would he prove upon any knight that would say nay.


                               CHAP. XXI.

_How king Pelleas suffered himself to be taken prisoner because he
  would have a sight of his lady, and how Sir Gawaine promised him for
  to get to him the love of his lady._

And so he chose her for his sovereign lady, and never to love other but
her. But she was so proud that she had scorn of him, and said she would
never love him, though he would die for her. Wherefore all ladies and
gentlewomen had scorn of her that she was so proud, for there were
fairer than she, and there was none that was there but and Sir Pelleas
would have proffered them love, they would have loved him for his noble
prowess. And so this knight promised the lady Ettard to follow her into
this country, and never to leave her till she loved him. And thus he is
here the most part nigh her, and lodged by a priory, and every week she
sendeth knights to fight with him. And when he hath put them to the
worse, then will he suffer them wilfully to take him prisoner, because
he would have a sight of this lady. And alway she doth him great
despite, for sometimes she maketh her knights to tie him to his horse
tail, and some to bind him under the horse belly. Thus in the most
shamefullest wise that she can think he is brought to her. And all she
doth it for to cause him to leave this country, and to leave his
loving. But all this cannot make him to leave, for and he would have
fought on foot he might have had the better of the ten knights as well
on foot as on horseback. Alas! said Sir Gawaine, it is great pity of
him, and after this night I will seek him to-morrow in this forest, to
do him all the help that I can. So on the morn Sir Gawaine took his
leave of his host Sir Carados, and rode into the forest. And at the
last he met with Sir Pelleas making great moan out of measure, so each
of them saluted other, and asked him why he made such sorrow. And as it
is above rehearsed, Sir Pelleas told Sir Gawaine: But alway I suffer
her knights to fare so with me as ye saw yesterday, in trust at the
last to win her love, for she knoweth well all her knights should not
lightly win me and me list to fight with them to the uttermost.
Wherefore I loved her not so sore I had lever die an hundred times, and
I might die so oft, rather than I would suffer that despite; but I
trust she will have pity upon me at the last, for love causeth many a
good knight to suffer to have his intent, but, alas! I am unfortunate.
And therewith he made so great dole and sorrow that unnethe he might
hold him on horseback. Now, said Sir Gawaine, leave your mourning, and
I shall promise you by the faith of my body, to do all that lieth in my
power to get you the love of your lady, and thereto I will plight you
my troth. Ah, said Sir Pelleas, of what court are ye? tell me, I pray
you, my good friend. And then Sir Gawaine said, I am of the court of
king Arthur, and his sister’s son, and king Lot of Orkney was my
father, and my name is Sir Gawaine. And then he said, My name is Sir
Pelleas, born in the Isles, and of many isles I am lord, and never have
I loved lady nor damsel till now in an unhappy time; and Sir knight,
since ye are so nigh cousin unto king Arthur, and a king’s son,
therefore betray me not but help me, for I may never come by her but by
some good knight, for she is in a strong castle here fast by within
this four mile, and over all this country she is lady of. And so I may
never come to her presence but as I suffer her knights to take me, and
but if I did so that I might have a sight of her, I had been dead long
or this time, and yet fair word had I never of her, but when I am
brought tofore her she rebuketh me in the foulest manner. And then they
take my horse and harness, and put me out of the gates, and she will
not suffer me to eat nor drink, and always I offer me to be her
prisoner, but that she will not suffer me, for I would desire no more
what pains soever I had, so that I might have a sight of her daily.
Well, said Sir Gawaine, all this shall I amend, and ye will do as I
shall devise. I will have your horse and your armour, and so will I
ride to her castle, and tell her that I have slain you, and so shall I
come within her to cause her to cherish me, and then shall I do my true
part that ye shall not fail to have the love of her.


                              CHAP. XXII.

_How Sir Gawaine came to the lady Ettard, and how Sir Pelleas found
  them sleeping._

And therewith Sir Gawaine plight his troth unto Sir Pelleas to be true
and faithful unto him. So each one plight their troth to other, and so
they changed horses and harness, and Sir Gawaine departed and came to
the castle whereas stood the pavilions of this lady without the gate.
And as soon as Ettard had espied Sir Gawaine she fled in toward the
castle. Sir Gawaine spake on high, and bad her abide, for he was not
Sir Pelleas: I am another knight that hath slain Sir Pelleas. Do off
your helm, said the lady Ettard, that I may see your visage. And so
when she saw that it was not Sir Pelleas she made him alight, and led
him unto her castle, and asked him faithfully whether he had slain Sir
Pelleas. And he said her yea, and told her his name was Sir Gawaine of
the court of king Arthur, and his sister’s son. Truly, said she, that
is great pity, for he was a passing good knight of his body, but of all
men on live I hated him most, for I could never be quit of him. And for
ye have slain him I shall be your lady, and to do anything that may
please you. So she made Sir Gawaine good cheer. Then Sir Gawaine said
that he loved a lady, and by no mean she would love him. She is to
blame, said Ettard, and she will not love you, for ye that be so well
born a man, and such a man of prowess, there is no lady in the world
too good for you. Will ye, said Sir Gawaine, promise me to do all that
ye may, by the faith of your body, to get me the love of my lady? Yea,
sir, said she, and that I promise you by the faith of my body. Now,
said Sir Gawaine, it is yourself that I love so well, therefore I pray
you hold your promise. I may not choose, said the lady Ettard, but if I
should be forsworn. And so she granted him to fulfil all his desire.

So it was then in the month of May that she and Sir Gawaine went out of
the castle and supped in a pavilion, and in another pavilion she laid
her damsels, and in the third pavilion she laid part of her knights,
for then she had no dread of Sir Pelleas. And there Sir Gawaine abode
with her in that pavilion two days and two nights. And on the third day
in the morning early Sir Pelleas armed him, for he had never slept
since Sir Gawaine departed from him. For Sir Gawaine had promised him,
by the faith of his body, to come to him unto his pavilion by that
priory within the space of a day and a night. Then Sir Pelleas mounted
upon horseback, and came to the pavilions that stood without the
castle, and found in the first pavilion three knights in three beds,
and three squires lying at their feet. Then went he to the second
pavilion and found four gentlewomen lying in four beds. And then he
went to the third pavilion and found Sir Gawaine with his lady Ettard,
and when he saw that his heart well nigh burst for sorrow, and said:
Alas! that ever a knight should be found so false. And then he took his
horse, and might not abide no longer for pure sorrow. And when he had
ridden nigh half a mile, he turned again and thought to slay them both:
and when he saw them both sleeping fast, unnethe he might hold him on
horseback for sorrow, and said thus to himself, Though this knight be
never so false I will never slay him sleeping; for I will never destroy
the high order of knighthood. And therewith he departed again. And or
he had ridden half a mile he returned again, and thought then to slay
them both, making the greatest sorrow that ever man made. And when he
came to the pavilions he tied his horse to a tree, and pulled out his
sword naked in his hand, and went to them there as they lay, and yet he
thought it were shame to slay them sleeping, and laid the naked sword
overthwart both their throats, and so took his horse and rode his way.
And when Sir Pelleas came to his pavilions he told his knights and his
squires how he had sped, and said thus to them: For your true and good
service ye have done me I shall give you all my goods, for I will go
unto my bed, and never arise until I am dead. And when that I am dead I
charge you that ye take the heart out of my body and bear it her
betwixt two silver dishes, and tell her how I saw her with the false
knight Sir Gawaine. Right so Sir Pelleas unarmed himself and went unto
his bed, making marvellous dole and sorrow.

Then Sir Gawaine and Ettard awoke out of their sleep, and found the
naked sword overthwart their throats. Then she knew well it was Sir
Pelleas’ sword. Alas! said she to Sir Gawaine, ye have betrayed me and
Sir Pelleas both, for ye told me ye had slain him, and now I know well
it is not so, he is on live. And if Sir Pelleas had been as uncourteous
to you as ye have been to him, ye had been a dead knight: but ye have
deceived me and betrayed me falsely, that all ladies and damsels may
beware by you and me. And therewith Sir Gawaine made him ready and went
into the forest. So it happed then that the damsel of the lake Nimue
met with a knight of Sir Pelleas, that went on his foot in the forest
making great dole, and she asked him the cause. And so the woful knight
told her how that his master and lord was betrayed through a knight and
a lady, and how he will never arise out of his bed till he be dead.
Bring me to him, said she, anon, and I will warrant his life, he shall
not die for love, and she that hath caused him so to love she shall be
in as evil plight as he is or it be long, for it is no joy of such a
proud lady that will have no mercy of such a valiant knight. Anon that
knight brought her unto him. And when she saw him lie in his bed, she
thought she saw never so likely a knight: and therewith she threw an
enchantment upon him, and he fell on sleep. And therewhile she rode
unto the lady Ettard, and charged no man to awake him till she came
again. So within two hours she brought the lady Ettard thither, and
both ladies found him on sleep. Lo, said the damsel of the lake, ye
ought to be ashamed for to murder such a knight. And therewith she
threw such an enchantment upon her that she loved him sore, that well
nigh she was out of her mind. Alas! said the lady Ettard, how is it
befallen unto me that I love now him that I have most hated of any men
alive. That is the righteous judgment of God, said the damsel. And then
anon Sir Pelleas awaked, and looked upon Ettard. And when he saw her he
knew her, and then he hated her more than any woman alive, and said:
Away traitress, come never in my sight. And when she heard him say so,
she wept and made great sorrow out of measure.


                              CHAP. XXIII.

_How Sir Pelleas loved no more Ettard by means of the damsel of the
  lake, whom he loved ever after._

Sir knight Pelleas, said the damsel of the lake, take your horse and
come forth with me out of this country, and ye shall love a lady that
shall love you. I will well, said Sir Pelleas, for this lady Ettard
hath done me great despite and shame. And there he told her the
beginning and ending, and how he had purposed never to have arisen till
that he had been dead,—and now I hate her as much as ever I loved her.
Thank me, said the damsel of the lake. Anon Sir Pelleas armed him, and
took his horse, and commanded his men to bring after his pavilions and
his stuff where the damsel of the lake would assign. So the lady Ettard
died for sorrow, and the damsel of the lake rejoiced Sir Pelleas, and
loved together during their life days.


                              CHAP. XXIV.

_How Sir Marhaus rode with the damsel, and how he came to the duke of
  the South Marches._

Now turn we unto Sir Marhaus that rode with the damsel of thirty winter
of age southward. And so they came into a deep forest, and by fortune
they were nighted, and rode long in a deep way, and at the last they
came into a courtelage, and there they asked harbour. But the man of
the courtelage would not lodge them for no treaty that they could
treat. But thus much the good man said: And ye will take the adventure
of your lodging, I shall bring you there ye shall be lodged. What
adventure is that that I shall have for my lodging? said Sir Marhaus.
Ye shall wit when ye come there, said the good man. Sir, what adventure
so it be bring me thither, I pray thee, said Sir Marhaus, for I am
weary, my damsel and my horse. So the good man went and opened the
gate, and within an hour he brought him unto a fair castle. And then
the poor man called the porter, and anon he was let into the castle,
and so told the lord how he brought him a knight errant and a damsel
that would be lodged with him. Let him in, said the lord, it may happen
he shall repent that they took their lodging here. So Sir Marhaus was
let in with torch light, and there was a goodly sight of young men that
welcomed him. And then his horse was led into the stable, and he and
the damsel were brought into the hall, and there stood a mighty duke,
and many goodly men about him. Then this lord asked him what he hight,
and from whence he came, and with whom he dwelt. Sir, said he, I am a
knight of king Arthur’s, and knight of the Table Round, and my name is
Sir Marhaus, and born I am in Ireland. And then said the duke to him,
That me sore repenteth: the cause is this: for I love not thy lord, nor
none of thy fellows of the Table Round, and therefore ease thyself this
night as well as thou mayest, for as to-morn I and my six sons shall
match with you. Is there no remedy but that I must have ado with you
and your six sons at once? said Sir Marhaus. No, said the duke, for
this cause I made mine avow, for Sir Gawaine slew my seven sons in a
recounter, therefore I made mine avow that there should never knight of
king Arthur’s court lodge with me, or come there as I might have ado
with him, but that I would have a revenging of my sons’ death. What is
your name? said Sir Marhaus; I require you tell me, and it please you.
Wit ye well that I am the duke of South Marches. Ah, said Sir Marhaus,
I have heard say that ye have been a long time a great foe unto my lord
Arthur and to his knights. That shall ye feel to-morn, said the duke.
Shall I have ado with you? said Sir Marhaus. Yea, said the duke,
thereof shalt thou not choose, and therefore take you to your chamber,
and ye shall have all that to you belongeth. So Sir Marhaus departed,
and was led to a chamber, and his damsel was led unto her chamber. And
on the morn the duke sent unto Sir Marhaus, and bad make him ready. And
so Sir Marhaus arose and armed him, and then there was a mass sung
afore him, and he brake his fast, and so mounted on horseback in the
court of the castle, there they should do the battle. So there was the
duke already on horseback, clean armed, and his six sons by him, and
every each had a spear in his hand, and so they encountered, where as
the duke and his two sons brake their spears upon him, but Sir Marhaus
held up his spear and touched none of them.


                               CHAP. XXV.

_How Sir Marhaus fought with the duke and his six sons, and made them
  to yield them._

Then came the four sons by couples, and two of them brake their spears,
and so did the other two. And all this while Sir Marhaus touched them
not. Then Sir Marhaus ran to the duke, and smote him with his spear
that horse and man fell to the earth. And so he served his sons. And
then Sir Marhaus alight down, and bad the duke yield him or else he
would slay him. And then some of his sons recovered, and would have set
upon Sir Marhaus. Then Sir Marhaus said to the duke, Cease thy sons, or
else I will do the uttermost to you all. When the duke saw he might not
escape the death, he cried to his sons, and charged them to yield them
to Sir Marhaus. And they kneeled all down and put the pommels of their
swords to the knight, and so he received them. And then they holp up
their father, and so by their common assent promised unto Sir Marhaus
never to be foes unto king Arthur, and thereupon at Whitsuntide after,
to come he and his sons, and put them in the king’s grace. Then Sir
Marhaus departed, and within two days his damsel brought him where as
was a great tournament that the lady de Vawse had cried. And who that
did best should have a rich circlet of gold worth a thousand besaunts.
And there Sir Marhaus did so nobly that he was renowned, and had some
time down forty knights, and so the circlet of gold was rewarded him.
Then he departed from thence with great worship. And so within seven
nights the damsel brought him to an earl’s place, his name was the earl
Fergus, that after was Sir Tristram’s knight. And this earl was but a
young man, and late come into his lands, and there was a giant fast by
him that hight Taulurd, and he had another brother in Cornwall that
hight Taulas, that Sir Tristram slew when he was out of his mind. So
this earl made his complaint unto Sir Marhaus, that there was a giant
by him that destroyed all his lands, and how he durst nowhere ride nor
go for him. Sir, said the knight, whether useth he to fight on
horseback or on foot? Nay, said the earl, there may no horse bear him.
Well, said Sir Marhaus, then will I fight with him on foot. So on the
morn Sir Marhaus prayed the earl that one of his men might bring him
whereas the giant was, and so he was, for he saw him sit under a tree
of holly, and many clubs of iron and gisarms about him. So this knight
dressed him to the giant, putting his shield afore him, and the giant
took an iron club in his hand, and at the first stroke he clave Sir
Marhaus’s shield in two pieces. And there he was in great peril, for
the giant was a wily fighter, but at the last Sir Marhaus smote off his
right arm above the elbow. Then the giant fled, and the knight after
him, and so he drove him into a water, but the giant was so high that
he might not wade after him. And then Sir Marhaus made the earl
Fergus’s man to fetch him stones, and with those stones the knight gave
the giant many sore knocks, till at the last he made him fall down into
the water, and so was he there dead. Then Sir Marhaus went unto the
giant’s castle, and there he delivered twenty-four ladies and twelve
knights out of the giant’s prison, and there he had great riches
without number, so that the days of his life he was never poor man.
Then he returned to the earl Fergus, the which thanked him greatly and
would have given him half his lands, but he would none take. So Sir
Marhaus dwelled with the earl nigh half a year, for he was sore bruised
with the giant, and at the last he took his leave. And as he rode by
the way, he met with Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine, and so by adventure he
met with four knights of king Arthur’s court, the first was Sir
Sagramore le Desirous, Sir Osanna, Sir Dodinas le Savage, and Sir Felot
of Listinoise; and there Sir Marhaus with one spear smote down these
four knights, and hurt them sore. So he departed to meet at his day
afore set.


                              CHAP. XXVI.

_How Sir Uwaine rode with the damsel of threescore years of age, and
  how he got the prize at tourneying._

Now turn we unto Sir Uwaine, that rode westward with his damsel of
threescore winter of age, and she brought him there as was a tournament
nigh the march of Wales. And at that tournament Sir Uwaine smote down
thirty knights, therefore was given him the prize, and that was a
gerfalcon and a white steed trapped with cloth of gold. So then Sir
Uwaine did many strange adventures by the means of the old damsel, and
so she brought him unto a lady that was called the lady of the Rock,
the which was much courteous. So there were in the country two knights
that were brethren, and they were called two perilous knights, the one
hight Sir Edward of the Red Castle, and the other hight Sir Hue of the
Red Castle. And these two brethren had disherited the lady of the Rock
of a barony of lands by their extortion. And as this knight was lodged
with this lady, she made her complaint to him of these two knights.
Madam, said Sir Uwaine, they are to blame, for they do against the high
order of knighthood and the oath that they made; and if it like you I
will speak with them, because I am a knight of king Arthur’s, and I
will entreat them with fairness; and if they will not, I shall do
battle with them, and in the defence of your right. Gramercy! said the
lady, and there as I may not acquit you, God shall. So on the morn the
two knights were sent for, that they should come hither to speak with
the lady of the Rock. And wit ye well they failed not, for they came
with an hundred horse. But when this lady saw them in this manner so
big, she would not suffer Sir Uwaine to go out to them upon no surety
nor for no fair language, but she made him speak with them over a
tower. But finally these two brethren would not be entreated, and
answered that they would keep that they had. Well, said Sir Uwaine,
then will I fight with one of you, and prove that ye do this lady
wrong. That will we not, said they, for and we do battle we two will
fight with one knight at once, and therefore if ye will fight so we
will be ready at what hour ye will assign. And if ye win us in battle
the lady shall have her lands again. Ye say well, said Sir Uwaine,
therefore make you ready, so that ye be here tomorn in the defence of
the lady’s right.


                              CHAP. XXVII.

_How Sir Uwaine fought with two knights, and overcame them._

So was there agreement made on both parties, that no treason should be
wrought on neither party. So then the knights departed and made them
ready. And that night Sir Uwaine had great cheer. And on the morn he
arose early and heard mass, and brake his fast, and so he rode unto the
plain without the gates, where hoved the two brethren abiding him. So
they rode together passing sore, that Sir Edward and Sir Hue brake
their spears upon Sir Uwaine. And Sir Uwaine smote Sir Edward that he
fell over his horse, and yet his spear brast not. And then he spurred
his horse and came upon Sir Hue, and overthrew him; but they soon
recovered and dressed their shields and drew their swords, and bad Sir
Uwaine alight and do his battle to the uttermost. Then Sir Uwaine
avoided his horse suddenly, and put his shield afore him and drew his
sword, and so they dressed together, and either gave other such
strokes, and there these two brethren wounded Sir Uwaine passing
grievously, that the lady of the Rock wend he should have died. And
thus they fought together five hours as men enraged out of reason. And
at the last Sir Uwaine smote Sir Edward upon the helm such a stroke
that his sword carved unto his collarbone, and then Sir Hue abated his
courage. But Sir Uwaine pressed fast to have slain him. That saw Sir
Hue: he kneeled down and yielded him to Sir Uwaine. And he of his
gentleness received his sword, and took him by the hand and went into
the castle together. Then the lady of the Rock was passing glad, and
the other brother made great sorrow for his brother’s death. Then the
lady was restored of all her lands, and Sir Hue was commanded to be at
the court of king Arthur at the next feast of Pentecost. So Sir Uwaine
dwelt with the lady nigh half a year, for it was long or he might be
whole of his great hurts. And so when it drew nigh the term-day that
Sir Gawaine, Sir Marhaus, and Sir Uwaine should meet at the cross way,
then every knight drew him thither to hold his promise that they had
made. And Sir Marhaus and Sir Uwaine brought their damsels with them,
but Sir Gawaine had lost his damsel, as it is afore rehearsed.


                             CHAP. XXVIII.

_How at the year’s end all three knights with their three damsels met
  at the fountain._

Right so at the twelvemonth’s end they met all three knights at the
fountain, and their damsels. But the damsel that Sir Gawaine had could
say but little worship of him. So they departed from the damsels and
rode through a great forest, and there they met with a messager that
came from king Arthur, that had sought them well nigh a twelvemonth
throughout all England, Wales, and Scotland, and charged if ever he
might find Sir Gawaine and Sir Uwaine, to bring them to the court
again. And then were they all glad. And so prayed they Sir Marhaus to
ride with them to the king’s court. And so within twelve days they came
to Camelot; and the king was passing glad of their coming, and so was
all the court. Then the king made them to swear upon a book to tell him
all their adventures that had befallen them that twelvemonth, and so
they did. And there was Sir Marhaus well known; for there were knights
that he had matched aforetime, and he was named one of the best knights
living. Against the feast of Pentecost came the damsel of the lake, and
brought with her Sir Pelleas. And at that high feast there was great
justing of knights, and of all the knights that were at that justs Sir
Pelleas had the prize, and Sir Marhaus was named the next; but Sir
Pelleas was so strong that there might but few knights sit him a buffet
with a spear. And at that next feast Sir Pelleas and Sir Marhaus were
made knights of the Table Round, for there were two sieges void, for
two knights were slain that twelvemonth; and great joy had king Arthur
of Sir Pelleas and of Sir Marhaus. But Pelleas loved never after Sir
Gawaine, but as he spared him for the love of king Arthur. But ofttimes
at justs and tournaments Sir Pelleas quit Sir Gawaine, for so it
rehearseth in the book of French. So Sir Tristram many days after
fought with Sir Marhaus in an island, and there they did a great
battle, but at the last Sir Tristram slew him. So Sir Tristram was
wounded that hardly he might recover, and lay at a nunnery half a year.
And Sir Pelleas was a worshipful knight, and was one of the four that
achieved the Sangreal. And the damsel of the lake made by her means
that never he had ado with Sir Launcelot de Lake, for where Sir
Launcelot was at any justs or any tournament she would not suffer him
to be there that day, but if it were on the side of Sir Launcelot.

             Explicit liber quartus. Incipit liber quintus.




                            The Fifth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How twelve aged ambassadors of Rome came to king Arthur to demand
  truage for Britain._

When king Arthur had after long war rested, and held a royal feast and
Table Round with his allies of kings, princes, and noble knights all of
the Round Table, there came into his hall, he sitting in his throne
royal, twelve ancient men, bearing each of them a branch of olive in
token that they came as ambassadors and messagers from the emperor
Lucius, which was called at that time Dictator or Procuror of the
Public Weal of Rome. Which said messagers, after their entering and
coming into the presence of king Arthur, did to him their obeisance in
making to him reverence, and said to him in this wise: The high and
mighty emperor Lucius sendeth to the king of Britain greeting,
commanding thee to acknowledge him for thy lord, and to send him the
truage due of this realm unto the empire, which thy father and other
tofore thy predecessors have paid as is of record, and thou as rebel
not knowing him as thy sovereign, withholdest and retainest contrary to
the statutes and decrees made by the noble and worthy Julius Cesar,
conqueror of this realm, and first emperor of Rome. And if thou refuse
his demand and commandment, know thou for certain that he shall make
strong war against thee, thy realms and lands, and shall chastise thee
and thy subjects, that it shall be ensample perpetual unto all kings
and princes for to deny their truage unto that noble empire which
domineth upon the universal world. Then when they had shewed the effect
of their message, the king commanded them to withdraw them, and said he
should take advice of council, and give to them an answer. Then some of
the young knights hearing this their message would have run on them to
have slain them, saying that it was a rebuke unto all the knights there
being present to suffer them to say so to the king. And anon the king
commanded that none of them upon pain of death to missay them, nor do
them any harm, and commanded a knight to bring them to their lodging,
and see that they have all that is necessary and requisite for them
with the best cheer, and that no dainty be spared, for the Romans be
great lords, and though their message please me not, nor my court, yet
I must remember mine honour. After this the king let call all his lords
and knights of the Round Table to council upon this matter, and desired
them to say their advice. Then Sir Cador of Cornwall spake first, and
said, Sir, this message liketh me well, for we have many days rested us
and have been idle, and now I hope ye shall make sharp war on the
Romans, where I doubt not we shall get honour. I believe well, said
Arthur, that this matter pleaseth thee well, but these answers may not
be answered, for the demand grieveth me sore; for truly I will never
pay no truage to Rome, wherefore I pray you to counsel me. I have
understood that Belinus and Brenius, kings of Britain, have had the
empire in their hands many days, and also Constantine the son of queen
Heleine, which is an open evidence that we owe no tribute to Rome, but
of right we that be descended of them have right to claim the title of
the empire.


                               CHAP. II.

_How the kings and lords promised to king Arthur aid and help against
  the Romans._

Then answered king Anguish of Scotland, Sir, ye ought of right to be
above all other kings, for unto you is none like nor pareil in all
Christendom, of knighthood ne of dignity, and I counsel you never to
obey the Romans, for when they reigned on us they distressed our
elders, and put this land to great extortions and tallages, wherefore I
make here mine avow to avenge me on them; and for to strengthen your
quarrel I shall furnish twenty thousand good men of war, and wage them
on my costs, which shall await on you with myself, when it shall please
you. And the king of Little Britain granted him to the same thirty
thousand; wherefore king Arthur thanked them. And then every man agreed
to make war, and to aid after their power; that is to wit, the lord of
West Wales promised to bring thirty thousand men, and Sir Uwaine, Sir
Ider his son, with their cousins, promised to bring thirty thousand.
Then Sir Launcelot with all other promised in likewise every man a
great multitude. And when king Arthur understood their courages and
good wills he thanked them heartily, and after let call the ambassadors
to hear their answer. And in presence of all his lords and knights he
said to them in this wise: I will that ye return unto your lord and
Procuror of the Common Weal for the Romans, and say to him, Of his
demand and commandment I set nothing, and that I know of no truage, ne
tribute, that I owe to him, ne to none earthly prince, Christian ne
heathen; but I pretend to have and occupy the sovereignty of the
empire, wherein I am entitled by the right of my predecessors, sometime
kings of this land; and say to him that I am deliberated, and fully
concluded, to go with mine army with strength and power unto Rome by
the grace of God to take possession in the empire, and subdue them that
be rebel. Wherefore I command him, and all them of Rome, that
incontinent they make to me their homage, and to acknowledge me for
their emperor and governor, upon pain that shall ensue. And then he
commanded his treasurer to give them great and large gifts, and to pay
all their expenses, and assigned Sir Cador to convey them out of the
land. And so they took their leave and departed, and took their
shipping at Sandwich, and passed forth by Flanders, Almain, the
mountains, and all Italy, until they came unto Lucius. And after the
reverence made, they made relation of their answer, like as ye tofore
have heard. When the emperor Lucius had well understood their credence,
he was sore moved as he had been all enraged, and said: I had supposed
that Arthur would have obeyed to my commandment, and have served you
himself, as him well beseemed or any other king to do. O sir, said one
of the senators, let be such vain words, for we let you wit that I and
my fellows were full sore afeard to behold his countenance; I fear me
ye have made a rod for yourself, for he intendeth to be lord of this
empire, which sore is to be doubted if he come, for he is all another
man than ye ween, and holdeth the most noble court of the world; all
other kings ne princes may not compare unto his noble maintenance. On
new year’s day we saw him in his estate, which was the royalest that
ever we saw, for he was served at his table with nine kings and the
noblest fellowship of other princes, lords, and knights, that be in the
world, and every knight approved and like a lord, and holdeth Table
Round: and in his person the most manly man that liveth, and is like to
conquer all the world, for unto his courage it is too little: wherefore
I advise you to keep well your marches and straits in the mountains;
for certainly he is a lord to be doubted. Well, said Lucius, before
Easter I suppose to pass the mountains and so forth into France, and
there bereave him his lands with Genoese and other mighty warriors of
Tuscany and Lombardy. And I shall send for them all that be subjects
and allied to the empire of Rome to come to mine aid. And forthwith
sent old wise knights unto these countries following: first, to Ambage
and Arrage, to Alisandrie, to Inde, to Hermonie where as the river of
Euphrates runneth into Asia, to Affrike, and Europe the large, to
Ertaine and Elamie, to Arabie, Egypt, and to Damaske, to Damiete and
Cayer, to Capadoce, to Tarce, Turkey, Pounce, and Pampoille, to Surrie,
and Galacie. And all these were subject to Rome, and many more, as
Greece, Cyprus, Macedone, Calabre, Cateland, Portingale, with many
thousands of Spaniards. Thus all these kings, dukes, and admirals
assembled about Rome with sixteen kings at once, with great multitude
of people. When the emperor understood their coming, he made ready his
Romans and all the people between him and Flanders. Also he had gotten
with him fifty giants which had been born of fiends; and they were
ordained to guard his person, and to break the front of the battle of
king Arthur.

And thus he departed from Rome, and came down the mountains for to
destroy the lands that king Arthur had conquered, and came to Cologne,
and besieged a castle thereby, and won it soon, and stuffed it with two
hundred Saracens or infidels, and after destroyed many fair countries
which Arthur had won of king Claudas. And thus Lucius came with all his
host which were spread out threescore mile in breadth, and commanded
them to meet with him in Burgoyne, for he purposed to destroy the realm
of Little Britain.


                               CHAP. III.

_How king Arthur held a parliament at York, and how he ordained how the
  realm should be governed in his absence._

Now leave we of Lucius the emperor, and speak we of king Arthur, that
commanded all them of his retinue to be ready at the utas of Hilary for
to hold a parliament at York. And at that parliament was concluded to
arrest all the navy of the land, and to be ready within fifteen days at
Sandwich; and there he shewed to his army how he purposed to conquer
the empire which he ought to have of right. And there he ordained two
governors of this realm, that is to say, Sir Bawdwin of Britain, for to
counsel to the best, and Sir Constantine, son to Sir Cador of Cornwall,
which after the death of Arthur was king of this realm. And in the
presence of all his lords he resigned the rule of the realm and
Guenever his queen unto them, wherefore Sir Launcelot was wroth, for he
left Sir Tristram with king Mark for the love of Beale Isould. Then the
queen Guenever made great sorrow for the departing of her lord and
other, and swooned in such wise that the ladies bare her into her
chamber. Thus the king with his great army departed, leaving the queen
and realm in the governance of Sir Bawdwin and Constantine. And when he
was on his horse he said with an high voice, If I die in this journey,
I will that Sir Constantine be mine heir and king crowned of this realm
as next of my blood. And after departed and entered into the sea at
Sandwich with all his army, with a great multitude of ships, galleys,
cogges, and dromons, sailing on the sea.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How king Arthur being shipped and lying in his cabin had a marvellous
  dream, and of the exposition thereof._

And as the king lay in his cabin in the ship, he fell in a slumbering,
and dreamed a marvellous dream: him seemed that a dreadful dragon did
drown much of his people, and he came flying out of the west, and his
head was enamelled with azure, and his shoulders shone as gold, his
belly like mails of a marvellous hue, his tail full of tatters, his
feet full of fine sable, and his claws like fine gold; and an hideous
flame of fire flew out of his mouth, like as the land and water had
flamed all of fire. After him seemed there came out of the orient a
grimly boar all black in a cloud, and his paws as big as a post; he was
rugged looking roughly, he was the foulest beast that ever man saw, he
roared and romed so hideously that it were marvel to hear. Then the
dreadful dragon advanced him, and came in the wind like a falcon,
giving great strokes on the boar, and the boar hit him again with his
grisly tusks that his breast was all bloody, and that the hot blood
made all the sea red of his blood. Then the dragon flew away all on an
height, and came down with such a swough, and smote the boar on the
ridge, which was ten foot large from the head to the tail, and smote
the boar all to powder, both flesh and bones, that it flittered all
abroad on the sea. And therewith the king awoke anon and was sore
abashed of this dream; and sent anon for a wise philosopher, commanding
to tell him the signification of his dream. Sir, said the philosopher,
the dragon that thou dreamedst of betokeneth thine own person that
sailest here, and the colour of his wings be thy realms that thou hast
won, and his tail which is all to-tattered signifieth the noble knights
of the Round Table. And the boar that the dragon slew coming from the
clouds, betokeneth some tyrant that tormenteth the people, or else thou
art like to fight with some giant thyself, being horrible and
abominable, whose peer ye saw never in your days; wherefore of this
dreadful dream doubt thee nothing, but as a conqueror come forth
thyself. Then after this soon they had sight of land, and sailed till
they arrived at Barflete in Flanders, and when they were there he found
many of his great lords ready as they had been commanded to await upon
him.


                                CHAP. V.

_How a man of the country told to him of a marvellous giant, and how he
  fought and conquered him._

Then came to him an husbandman of the country, and told him how there
was in the country of Constantine, beside Britany, a great tyrant which
had slain, murdered, and devoured much people of the country, and had
been sustained seven year with the children of the commons of that
land, insomuch, that all the children be all slain and destroyed, and
now late he hath taken the duchess of Britany as she rode with her
train, and hath led her to his lodging which is in a mountain, for to
keep her to her life’s end; and many people followed her, more than
five hundred, but all they might not rescue her, but they left her
shrieking and crying lamentably, wherefore I suppose that he hath slain
her. She was wife unto thy cousin Sir Howell, whom we call full nigh of
thy blood. Now as thou art a rightful king have pity on this lady, and
revenge us all as thou art a noble conqueror. Alas! said king Arthur,
this is a great mischief, I had lever than the best realm that I have
that I had been a furlong way tofore him, for to have rescued that
lady. Now fellow, said king Arthur, canst thou bring me there as this
giant haunteth? Yea, Sir, said the good man, lo yonder where as thou
seest those two great fires, there thou shalt find him, and more
treasure than I suppose is in all France. When the king had understood
this piteous case he returned into his tent.

Then he called unto him Sir Kay and Sir Bedivere, and commanded them
secretly to make ready horse and harness for himself and them twain,
for after even-song he would ride on pilgrimage with them two only unto
Saint Michael’s mount. And then anon he made him ready and armed him at
all points, and took his horse and his shield. And so they three
departed thence, and rode forth as fast as ever they might till that
they came unto the foot of that mount. And there they alighted, and the
king commanded them to tarry there, for he would himself go up into
that mount. And so he ascended up into that hill till he came to a
great fire, and there he found a careful widow wringing her hands and
making great sorrow, sitting by a grave new made. And then king Arthur
saluted her, and demanded of her wherefore she made such lamentation:
to whom she answered and said, Sir knight, speak soft, for yonder is a
devil: if he hear thee speak he will come and destroy thee; I hold thee
unhappy; what dost thou here in this mountain? for if ye were such
fifty as ye be, ye were not able to make resistance against this devil:
here lieth a duchess dead, the which was the fairest of all the world,
wife to Sir Howell duke of Britany; he hath murdered her. Dame, said
the king, I come from the noble conqueror king Arthur, for to treat
with that tyrant for his liege people. Fie upon such treaties, said the
widow, he setteth not by the king, nor by no man else. But and if thou
have brought Arthur’s wife, dame Guenever, he shall be gladder than
thou hadst given to him half France. Beware, approach him not too nigh,
for he hath vanquished fifteen kings, and hath made him a coat full of
precious stones, embroidered with their beards, which they sent him to
have his love for salvation of their people at this last Christmas. And
if thou wilt, speak with him at yonder great fire at supper. Well, said
Arthur, I will accomplish my message for all your fearful words; and
went forth by the crest of that hill, and saw where he sat at supper
gnawing on a limb of a man, baking his broad limbs by the fire, and
three fair damsels turning three spits, whereon were broached twelve
young children late born, like young birds. When king Arthur beheld
that piteous sight he had great compassion on them so that his heart
bled for sorrow, and hailed him saying in this wise: He that all the
world wieldeth, give thee short life and shameful death, and the devil
have thy soul! Why hast thou murdered these young innocent children,
and murdered this duchess? Therefore arise and dress thee, thou
glutton; for this day shalt thou die of my hand. Then the glutton anon
start up and took a great club in his hand, and smote at the king that
his coronal fell to the earth. And the king hit him again that he
carved his belly that his entrails fell down to the ground. Then the
giant threw away his club, and caught the king in his arms that he
crushed his ribs. Then the three maidens kneeled down and called to
Christ for help and comfort of Arthur. And then Arthur weltered and
wrung that he was other while under and another time above. And so
weltering and wallowing they rolled down the hill till they came to the
sea mark, and ever as they so weltered Arthur smote him with his
dagger, and it fortuned they came to the place here as the two knights
were and kept Arthur’s horse. Then when they saw the king fast in the
giant’s arms they came and loosed him. And then the king commanded Sir
Kay to smite off the giant’s head, and to set it upon a truncheon of a
spear and bear it to Sir Howell, and tell him that his enemy was slain,
and after let this head be bound to a barbican that all the people may
see and behold it; and go ye two up to the mountain and fetch me my
shield, my sword, and the club of iron. And as for the treasure take ye
it, for ye shall find there goods out of number. So I have the kirtle
and the club I desire no more. This was the fiercest giant that ever I
met with, save one in the mount of Arabe which I overcame, but this was
greater and fiercer. Then the knights fetched the club and the kirtle,
and some of the treasure they took to themselves, and returned again to
the host. And anon this was known through all the country, wherefore
the people came and thanked the king. And he said again, Give the
thanks to God, and part the goods among you. And after that, king
Arthur said and commanded his cousin Howell that he should ordain for a
church to be builded on the same hill, in the worship of Saint Michael.
And on the morn the king removed with his great battle and came into
Champayne, and in a valley, and there they pight their tents. And the
king being set at his dinner, there came in two messagers, of whom the
one was marshal of France, and said to the king that the emperor was
entered into France and had destroyed a great part, and was in
Burgoyne, and had destroyed and made great slaughter of people, and
burnt towns and boroughs; wherefore, if thou come not hastily, they
must yield up their bodies and goods.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How king Arthur sent Sir Gawaine and others to Lucius, and how they
  were assailed and escaped with worship._

Then the king did do call Sir Gawaine, Sir Bors, Sir Lionel, and Sir
Bedivere, and commanded them to go straight to Sir Lucius, and say ye
to him that hastily he remove out of my land. And if he will not, bid
him make him ready to battle, and not distress the poor people. Then
anon these noble knights dressed them to horseback. And when they came
to the green wood, they saw many pavilions set in a meadow, of silk of
divers colours, beside a river, and the emperor’s pavilion was in the
middle with an eagle displayed above. To the which tent our knights
rode toward, and ordained Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors to do the message,
and left in a bushment Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere. And then Sir
Gawaine and Sir Bors did their message, and commanded Lucius in
Arthur’s name to avoid his land, or shortly to address him to battle.
To whom Lucius answered and said: Ye shall return to your lord and say
ye to him, that I shall subdue him and all his lands. Then Sir Gawaine
was wroth, and said, I had lever than all France fight against thee.
And so had I, said Sir Bors, lever than all Britany or Burgoyne. Then a
knight named Sir Gainus, high cousin to the emperor, said, Lo, how
these Britons be full of pride and boast, and they brag as though they
bare up all the world. Then Sir Gawaine was sore grieved with these
words, and pulled out his sword and smote off his head. And therewith
turned their horses and rode over waters and through woods till they
came to their bushment where as Sir Lionel and Sir Bedivere were
hoving. The Romans followed fast after on horseback and on foot over a
champaign unto a wood; then Sir Bors turned his horse and saw a knight
come fast on, whom he smote through the body with a spear, that he fell
dead down to the earth. Then came Caliburn, one of the strongest of
Pavie, and smote down many of Arthur’s knights. And when Sir Bors saw
him do so much harm, he addressed toward him, and smote him through the
breast, that he fell down dead to the earth. Then Sir Feldenak thought
to revenge the death of Gainus upon Sir Gawaine, but Sir Gawaine was
ware thereof, and smote him on the head, which stroke stinted not till
it came to his breast. And then he returned and came to his fellows in
the bushment. And there was a recounter, for the bushment brake on the
Romans, and slew and hewed down the Romans, and forced the Romans to
flee and return; whom the noble knights chased unto their tents. Then
the Romans gathered more people, and also footmen came on, and there
was a new battle, and so much people that Sir Bors and Sir Berel were
taken. But when Sir Gawaine saw that, he took with him Sir Idrus the
good knight, and said he would never see king Arthur but if he rescued
them, and pulled out Galatine his good sword, and followed them that
led those two knights away, and he smote him that led Sir Bors, and
took Sir Bors from him, and delivered him unto his fellows. And Sir
Idrus in like wise rescued Sir Berel. Then began the battle to be
great, that our knights were in great jeopardy, wherefore Sir Gawaine
sent to king Arthur for succour, and that he hie him, for I am sore
wounded, and that our prisoners may pay good out of number. And the
messager came to the king, and told him his message. And anon the king
did do assemble his army, but anon or he departed the prisoners were
come, and Sir Gawaine and his fellows gat the field and put the Romans
to flight, and after returned and came with their fellowship in such
wise that no man of worship was lost of them, save that Sir Gawaine was
sore hurt. Then the king did do ransack his wounds, and comforted him.
And thus was the beginning of the first day’s fighting of the Britons
and Romans. And there were slain of the Romans more than ten thousand,
and great joy and mirth was made that night in the host of king Arthur.
And on the morn he sent all the prisoners into Paris, under the guard
of Sir Launcelot, with many knights, and of Sir Cador.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Lucius sent certain spies in a bushment for to have taken his
  knights being prisoners, and how they were letted._

Now turn we to the emperor of Rome which espied that these prisoners
should be sent to Paris, and anon he sent to lie in a bushment certain
knights and princes with sixty thousand men for to rescue his knights
and lords that were prisoners. And so on the morn as Sir Launcelot and
Sir Cador, chieftains and governors of all them that conveyed the
prisoners, as they should pass through a wood, Sir Launcelot sent
certain knights to espy if any were in the woods to let them. And when
the said knights came into the wood, anon they espied and saw the great
enbushment, and returned and told Sir Launcelot that there lay in await
for them threescore thousand Romans. And then Sir Launcelot with such
knights as he had, and men of war to the number of ten thousand, put
them in array, and met with them, and fought with them manly, and slew
and cut to pieces many of the Romans, and slew many knights and
admirals of the party of the Romans and Saracens: there was slain the
king of Lyly and three great lords, Alakuke, Herawd, and Heringdale.
But Sir Launcelot fought so nobly that no man might endure a stroke of
his hand, but where he came he shewed his prowess and might, for he
slew down right on every side. And the Romans and Saracens fled from
him as the sheep from the wolf or from the lion, and put them all that
abode alive to flight. And so long they fought that tidings came to
king Arthur, and anon he made him ready and came to the battle, and saw
his knights how they had vanquished the battle: he embraced them knight
by knight in his arms, and said: Ye be worthy to bear all your honour
and worship, there was never king save myself that had so noble
knights. Sir, said Cador, there was none of us failed other, but of the
prowess and manhood of Sir Launcelot were more than wonder to tell, and
also of his cousins which did this day many noble feats of war. And
also Sir Cador told who of his knights were slain, as Sir Berel and
other Sir Moris and Sir Maurel, two good knights. Then the king wept,
and dried his eyes with a kerchief, and said, Your courage had near
hand destroyed you, for though ye had returned again ye had lost no
worship; for I call it folly, knights to abide when they be
over-matched. Nay, said Sir Launcelot and the other, for once shamed
may never be recovered.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How a senator told to Lucius of their discomfiture, and also of the
  great battle between Arthur and Lucius._

Now leave we king Arthur and his noble knights which had won the field,
and had brought their prisoners to Paris, and speak we of a senator
which escaped from the battle, and came to Lucius the emperor, and said
to him, Sir emperor, I advise thee to withdraw thee: what doest thou
here? thou shalt win nothing in these marches but great strokes out of
all measure. For this day one of Arthur’s knights was worth in the
battle an hundred of ours. Fie on thee, said Lucius, thou speakest
cowardly, for thy words grieve me more than all the loss that I had
this day. And anon he sent forth a king, which hight Sir Leomie, with a
great army, and bad him hie him fast tofore, and he would follow
hastily after. King Arthur was warned privily, and sent his people to
Sessoyne, and took up the towns and castles from the Romans. Then the
king commanded Sir Cador to take the rereward, and to take with him
certain knights of the Round Table,—and Sir Launcelot, Sir Bors, Sir
Kay, Sir Marrok, with Sir Marhaus, shall await on our person. Thus king
Arthur distributed his host in divers parts, to the end that his
enemies should not escape. When the emperor was entered into the vale
of Sessoyne, he might see where king Arthur was embattled and his
banner displayed: and he was beset round about with his enemies, that
needs he must fight or yield him, for he might not flee, but said
openly unto the Romans, Sirs, I admonish you that this day ye fight and
acquit you as men, and remember how Rome domineth, and is chief and
head over all the earth and universal world, and suffer not these
Britons this day to abide against us. And therewith he did command his
trumpets blow the bloody sounds, in such wise that the ground trembled
and shook. Then the battles approached, and shove and shouted on both
sides, and great strokes were smitten on both sides, many men
overthrown, hurt, and slain; and great valiances, prowesses, and feats
of war were that day shewed, which were over long to recount the noble
feats of every man, for they should contain a whole volume. But in
especial king Arthur rode in the battle, exhorting his knights to do
well, and himself did as nobly with his hands as was possible a man to
do; he drew out Excalibur his sword, and awaited ever where as the
Romans were thickest and most grieved his people; and anon he addressed
him on that part, and hewed and slew down right, and rescued his
people, and he slew a great giant named Galapas, which was a man of an
huge quantity and height, he shorted him and smote off both his legs by
the knees, saying, Now art thou better of a size to deal with than thou
were; and after smote off his head. There Sir Gawaine fought nobly, and
slew three admirals in that battle. And so did all the knights of the
Round Table. Thus the battle between king Arthur and Lucius the emperor
endured long. Lucius had on his side many Saracens which were slain.
And thus the battle was great, and oftsides that one party was at a
vantage, and anon at a disadvantage, which endured so long till at the
last king Arthur espied where Lucius the emperor fought and did wonder
with his own hands. And anon he rode to him, and either smote other
fiercely: and at the last Lucius smote Arthur thwart the visage, and
gave him a large wound. And when king Arthur felt himself hurt anon he
smote him again with Excalibur, that it cleft his head from the summit
of his head, and stinted not till it came to his breast. And then the
emperor fell down dead, and there ended his life. And when it was known
that the emperor was slain, anon all the Romans with all their host put
them to flight; and king Arthur with all his knights followed the
chase, and slew down right all them that they might attain. And thus
was the victory given to king Arthur, and the triumph. And there were
slain on the part of Lucius more than an hundred thousand. And after,
king Arthur did do ransack the dead bodies, and did do bury them that
were slain of his retinue, every man according to the state and degree
that he was of. And them that were hurt he let the surgeons do search
their hurts and wounds, and commanded to spare no salves nor medicines
till they were whole.

Then the king rode straight to the place where the emperor Lucius lay
dead, and with him he found slain the Sowdan of Surrey, the king of
Egypt and the king of Ethiope, which were two noble kings, with
seventeen other kings of divers regions, and also sixty senators of
Rome, all noble men, whom the noble king Arthur did do balm and gum
with many good gums aromatic, and after did do cere them in sixty fold
of cered cloth of Sendal, and laid them in chests of lead, because they
should not chafe nor savour; and upon all these bodies their shields
with their arms and banners were set, to the end they should be known
of what country they were. And after, he found three senators that were
onlive, to whom he said, For to save your lives I will that ye take
these dead bodies, and carry them with you unto great Rome, and present
them to the Potestate on my behalf, shewing him my letters, and tell
them that I in my person shall hastily be at Rome. And I suppose the
Romans shall be ware how they shall demand any tribute of me. And I
command you to say when ye shall come to Rome to the Potestate, and all
the Council and Senate, that I send to them these dead bodies for the
tribute that they have demanded. And if they be not content with these,
I shall pay more at my coming, for other tribute owe I none, nor none
other will I pay. And me thinketh this sufficeth for Britain, Ireland,
and all Almaine, with Germany. And furthermore I charge you to say to
them that I command them upon pain of their heads never to demand
tribute ne tax of me ne of my lands.

Then with this charge and commandment the three senators aforesaid
departed with all the said dead bodies lying, the body of Lucius in a
car covered with the arms of the empire all alone, and after alway two
bodies of kings in a chariot, and then the bodies of the senators after
them, and so went toward Rome, and shewed their legation and message to
the Potestate and Senate, recounting the battle done in France, and how
the field was lost, and much people and innumerable slain. Wherefore
they advised them in no wise to move no more war against that noble
conqueror, Arthur;—for his might and prowess is most to be doubted,
seeing the noble kings, and great multitude of knights of the Round
Table, to whom none earthly prince may compare.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Arthur, after he had achieved the battle against the Romans,
  entered into Almaine, and so into Italy._

Now turn we unto king Arthur and his noble knights, which, after the
great battle achieved against the Romans, entered into Loraine,
Brabant, and Flanders, and thence returned into high Almaine, and so
over the mountains into Lombardy, and after into Tuscany, wherein was a
city which in no wise would yield themselves nor obey, wherefore king
Arthur besieged it, and lay long about it, and gave many assaults to
the city. And they within defended them valiantly. Then, on a time, the
king called Sir Florence, a knight, and said to him they lacked
victual, and not far from hence be great forests and great woods,
wherein be many of mine enemies with much cattle: I will that thou make
thee ready, and go thither in foraging, and take with thee Sir Gawaine
my nephew, Sir Wisshard, Sir Clegis, Sir Cleremond, and the captain of
Cardiff, with other, and bring with you all the beasts that ye there
can get. And anon these knights made them ready, and rode over holts
and hills, through forests and woods, till they came into a fair meadow
full of fair flowers and grass. And there they rested them and their
horses all that night. And in the springing of the day in the next morn
Sir Gawaine took his horse and stole away from his fellows to seek some
adventures. And anon he was ware of a man armed, walking his horse
easily by a wood’s side, and his shield laced to his shoulder, sitting
on a strong courser, without any man saving a page bearing a mighty
spear. The knight bare in his shield three griffons of gold in sable
carbuncle the chief of silver. When Sir Gawaine espied this gay knight
he fewtred his spear, and rode straight to him, and demanded him from
whence that he was. That other answered and said he was of Tuscany, and
demanded of Sir Gawaine, What profferest thou proud knight so boldly?
Here gettest thou no prey: thou mayest prove what thou wilt, for thou
shalt be my prisoner or thou depart. Then said Gawaine, Thou vauntest
thee greatly, and speakest proud words; I counsel thee for all thy
boast that thou make thee ready, and take thy gear to thee, tofore
greater grief fall to thee.


                                CHAP. X.

_Of a battle done by Gawaine against a Saracen, which after was yielden
  and became Christian._

Then they took their spears, and ran each at other with all the might
they had, and smote each other through their shields into their
shoulders, wherefore anon they pulled out their swords, and smote great
strokes, that the fire sprang out of their helms. Then Sir Gawaine was
all abashed, and with Galatine, his good sword, he smote through shield
and thick hauberk made of thick mails, and all to-rushed and brake the
precious stones, and made him a large wound, that men might see both
liver and lung. Then groaned that knight, and addressed him to Sir
Gawaine, and with an awk stroke gave him a great wound, and cut a vein,
which grieved Sir Gawaine sore, and he bled sore. Then the knight said
to Sir Gawaine, Bind thy wound or thy bleeding change, for thou
be-bleedest all thy horse and thy fair arms; for all the barbers of
Britain can not stanch thy blood; for whosoever is hurt with this
blade, he shall never be stanched of bleeding. Then answered Gawaine,
It grieveth me but little; thy great words shall not fear me nor lessen
my courage, but thou shalt suffer teen and sorrow or we depart: but
tell me in haste who may stanch my bleeding? That may I do, said the
knight, if I will, and so I will if thou wilt succour and aid me, that
I may be christened and believe on God, and thereof I require thee of
thy manhood, and it shall be great merit for thy soul. I grant, said
Gawaine, so God help me, to accomplish all thy desire: but first tell
me what thou soughtest here thus alone, and of what land and liegiance
thou art. Sir, he said, my name is Priamus, and a great prince is my
father, and he hath been rebel unto Rome, and over ridden many of their
lands. My father is lineally descended of Alexander and of Hector by
right line. And duke Joshua and Maccabæus were of our lineage. I am
right inheritor of Alexandria and Africa, and all the out isles, yet
will I believe on thy Lord that thou believest on; and for thy labour I
shall give thee treasure enough. I was so elate and haughty in my
heart, that I thought no man my peer, nor to me semblable. I was sent
into this war with sevenscore knights, and now I have encountered with
thee which hast given to me of fighting my fill; wherefore sir knight I
pray thee to tell me what thou art? I am no knight, said Gawaine, I
have been brought up in the guardrobe with the noble king Arthur many
years, for to take heed to his armour and his other array, and to point
his paltocks that belong to himself. At Yule last he made me yeoman,
and gave to me horse and harness and an hundred pound in money: and if
fortune be my friend I doubt not but to be well advanced and holpen by
my liege lord. Ah, said Priamus, if his knaves be so keen and fierce,
his knights be passing good. Now, for the king’s love of heaven,
whether thou be a knave or a knight, tell thou me thy name. By heaven,
said Sir Gawaine, now will I say thee sooth: my name is Sir Gawaine,
and known I am in his court and in his chamber, and one of the knights
of the Round Table: he dubbed me a duke with his own hand. Therefore
grudge not if this grace is to me fortuned; it is the goodness of God
that lent to me my strength. Now am I better pleased, said Priamus,
than if thou hadst given me all the province, and Paris the rich. I had
lever to have been torn with wild horses, than any varlet had won such
praise, or any page or pricker should have had prize on me. But now,
sir knight, I warn thee that hereby is a duke of Loraine with all his
army, and the noblest men of Dolphine, and lords of Lombardy, with the
garrison of Godard, and Saracens of Southland, that numbered sixty
thousand of good men of arms; wherefore, but if we hie us hence, it
will harm us both, for we be sore hurt, never like to recover. But take
heed to my page that he no horn blow, for if he do, there be hoving
here fast by an hundred good knights, awaiting on my person, and if
they take thee there shall no ransom of gold ne silver acquit thee.
Then Sir Gawaine rode over a water for to save him, and the knight
followed him, and so rode forth till they came to his fellows which
were in the meadow, where they had been all the night. Anon as Sir
Wisshard was ware of Sir Gawaine and saw that he was hurt, he ran to
him sorrowfully weeping, and demanded of him who had so hurt him. And
Gawaine told how he had fought with that man, and each of them had hurt
other, and how he had salves to heal them; but I can tell you other
tidings, that soon we shall have ado with many enemies. Then Sir
Priamus and Sir Gawaine alighted, and let their horses graze in the
meadow, and unarmed them, and then the blood ran freshly from their
wounds. And Priamus took from his page a phial full of the four waters
that came out of Paradise, and with certain balm anointed their wounds,
and washed them with that water, and within an hour after they were
both as whole as ever they were. And then with a trumpet were they all
assembled to council, and there Priamus told unto them what lords and
knights had sworn to rescue him, and that without fail they should be
assailed with many thousands, wherefore he counselled them to withdraw
them. Then Sir Gawaine said, it were great shame to them to avoid
without any strokes; wherefore I advise to take our arms, and to make
us ready to meet with these Saracens and misbelieving men, and with the
help of God we shall overthrow them, and have a fair day on them. And
Sir Florence shall abide still in this field to keep the post as a
noble knight, and we shall not forsake yonder fellows. Now, said
Priamus, cease your words, for I warn you ye shall find in yonder woods
many perilous knights: they will put forth beasts to call you on: they
be out of number, and ye are not past seven hundred, which be over few
to fight with so many. Nevertheless, said Sir Gawaine, we shall once
encounter them and see what they can do, and the best shall have the
victory.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How the Saracens came out of a wood for to rescue their beasts, and of
  a great battle._

Then Sir Florence called to him Sir Floridas with an hundred knights,
and drove forth the herd of beasts. Then followed him seven hundred men
of arms, and Sir Ferant of Spain on a fair steed came springing out of
the woods, and came to Sir Florence, and asked him why he fled. Then
Sir Florence took his spear, and rode against him, and smote him in the
forehead and brake his neck bone. Then all the other were moved, and
thought to avenge the death of Sir Ferant, and smote in among them, and
there was great fight, and many slain and laid down to ground, and Sir
Florence with his hundred knights always kept the post, and fought
manly. Then when Priamus the good knight perceived the great fight, he
went to Sir Gawaine and bad him that he should go and succour his
fellowship, which were sore bested with their enemies. Sir, grieve you
not, said Sir Gawaine, for their honour shall be theirs: I shall not
once move my horse to themward but if I see more than there be, for
they be strong enough to match them. And with that he saw an earl
called Sir Ethelwold and the duke of Dutchmen come leaping out of a
wood, with many thousands, and Priamus’s knights, and came straight
unto the battle. Then Sir Gawaine comforted his knights, and bad them
not be abashed, for all shall be ours. Then they began to gallop, and
met with their enemies: there were men slain and overthrown on every
side. Then thrust in among them the knights of the Table Round, and
smote down to the earth all them that withstood them, insomuch that
they made them to recoil and flee. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, this
gladdeth my heart, for now be they less in number by twenty thousand.
Then entered into the battle Jubance a giant, and fought and slew
downright, and distressed many of our knights, among whom was slain Sir
Gherard, a knight of Wales. Then our knights took heart to them, and
slew many Saracens. And then came in Sir Priamus with his pennon, and
rode with the knights of the Round Table, and fought so manfully that
many of their enemies lost their lives. And there Sir Priamus slew the
Marquis of Moises land. And Sir Gawaine with his fellows so quit them
that they had the field, but in that fight was Sir Chestelaine, a child
and ward of Sir Gawaine, slain, wherefore was much sorrow made, and his
death was soon avenged. Thus was the battle ended, and many lords of
Lombardy and Saracens left dead in the field.

Then Sir Florence and Sir Gawaine harboured surely their people, and
took great plenty of cattle, of gold and silver and great treasure and
riches, and returned unto king Arthur, which lay still at the siege.
And when they came to the king they presented their prisoners, and
recounted their adventures, and how they had vanquished their enemies.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Gawaine returned to king Arthur with his prisoners, and how
  the king won a city, and how he was crowned emperor._

Now thanked be God, said the noble king Arthur. But what manner man is
he that standeth by himself? he seemeth no prisoner. Sir, said Gawaine,
this is a good man of arms; he hath matched me, but he is yielden unto
God and to me for to become Christian: had not he been we should never
have returned, wherefore I pray you that he may be baptized, for their
liveth not a nobler man nor better knight of his hands. Then the king
let him anon be christened, and did do call him his first name Priamus,
and made him a duke and knight of the Table Round. And then anon the
king let do cry assault to the city, and there was rearing of ladders,
breaking of walls, and the ditch filled, that men with little pain
might enter into the city. Then came out a duchess, and Clarisin the
countess, with many ladies and damsels, and kneeling before king Arthur
required him for the love of God to receive the city and not to take it
by assault, for then should many guiltless be slain. Then the king
availed his visor with a meek and noble countenance, and said, Madam,
there shall none of my subjects misdo you nor your maidens, nor to none
that to you belong, but the duke shall abide my judgment. Then anon the
king commanded to leave the assault; and anon the duke’s eldest son
brought out the keys, and kneeling, delivered them to the king, and
besought him of grace: and the king seized the town by assent of his
lords, and took the duke and sent him to Dover, there for to abide
prisoner the term of his life, and assigned certain rents for the dower
of the duchess and for her children. Then he made lords to rule those
lands, and laws, as a lord ought to do in his own country. And after he
took his journey toward Rome, and sent Sir Floris and Sir Floridas
tofore with five hundred men of arms, and they came to the city of
Urbine, and laid there a bushment as them seemed most best for them,
and rode tofore the town, where anon issued out much people and
skirmished with the fore riders. Then brake out the bushment, and won
the bridge, and after the town, and set upon the walls the king’s
banner. Then came the king upon a hill, and saw the city and his banner
on the walls, by the which he knew that the city was won. And anon he
sent and commanded that none of his liege men should misuse no lady,
wife, nor maid: and when he came into the city he passed to the castle,
and comforted them that were in sorrow, and ordained there a captain, a
knight of his own country. And when they of Milan heard that the same
city was won, they sent to king Arthur great sums of money, and
besought him as their lord to have pity on them, promising to be his
subjects for ever, and yield to him homage and fealty for the lands of
Pleasance and Pavia, Petersaint, and the port of Tremble, and to give
him yearly a million of gold all his lifetime. Then he rideth into
Tuscany, and winneth towns and castles, and wasted all in his way that
to him will not obey, and so to Spolute and Viterbe: and from thence he
rode into the vale of Vicecount among the vines. And from thence he
sent to the senators to wit whether they would know him for their lord.
But soon after on a Saturday came unto king Arthur all the senators
that were left on live, and the noblest cardinals that then dwelled in
Rome, and prayed him of peace, and proffered him full large, and
besought him as governor to give licence for six weeks, for to assemble
together all the Romans, and then to crown him emperor with crism, as
it belongeth to so high a state. I assent, said the king, like as ye
have devised, and at Christmas there to be crowned, and to hold my
Round Table with my knights as me liketh. And then the senators made
things ready for his enthronization. And at the day appointed, as the
romance telleth, he came into Rome, and was crowned emperor by the
Pope’s hand with all the royalty that could be made, and sojourned
there a time, and established all his lands from Rome unto France, and
gave lands and realms unto his servants and knights, to every each
after his desert, in such wise that none complained, rich nor poor. And
he gave to Sir Priamus the duchy of Loraine; and he thanked him, and
said that he would serve him the days of his life: and after made dukes
and earls, and made every man rich. Then after this all his knights and
lords and all the great men of estate assembled them afore him, and
said: Blessed be God, your war is finished, and your conquest achieved,
insomuch that we know none so great nor mighty that dare make war
against you: wherefore we beseech you to return homeward and give us
licence to go home to our wives, from whom we have been long, and to
rest us, for your journey is finished with honour and worship. Then
said the king, Ye say truth, and for to tempt God it is no wisdom, and
therefore make you ready and return we into England. Then was there
trussing of harness and baggage, and great carriage. And after licence
given, he returned and commanded that no man in pain of death should
rob nor take victual, nor other thing by the way, but that he should
pay therefore. And thus he came over the sea, and landed at Sandwich,
against whom queen Guenever his wife came and met him: and he was nobly
received of all his commons in every city and burgh, and great gifts
presented to him at his home coming, to welcome him with.

Thus endeth the fyfthe booke of the conqueste that kynge Arthur hadde
  ageynste Lucius the Emperoure of Rome, and here foloweth the syxth
  book, which is of syr Launcelot du lake.




                            The Sixth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel departed from the court for to seek
  adventures, and how Sir Lionel left him sleeping, and was taken._

Soon after that king Arthur was come from Rome into England, then all
the knights of the Table Round resorted unto the king, and made many
justs and tournaments; and some there were that were but knights which
increased so in arms and worship that they passed all their fellows in
prowess and noble deeds, and that was well proved on many. But in
especial it was proved on Sir Launcelot du Lake; for in all tournaments
and justs and deeds of arms, both for life and death, he passed all
other knights, and at no time he was never overcome but if it were by
treason or enchantment. So Sir Launcelot increased so marvellously in
worship and honour; therefore he is the first knight that the French
book maketh mention of after king Arthur came from Rome. Wherefore
queen Guenever had him in great favour above all other knights, and in
certain he loved the queen again above all other ladies and damsels all
his life, and for her he did many deeds of arms, and saved her from the
fire through his noble chivalry. Thus Sir Launcelot rested him long
with play and game. And then he thought himself to prove himself in
strange adventures: then he bad his nephew Sir Lionel for to make him
ready, for we two will seek adventures. So they mounted on their
horses, armed at all rights, and rode into a deep forest, and so into a
deep plain. And then the weather was hot about noon, and Sir Launcelot
had great lust to sleep. Then Sir Lionel espied a great apple tree that
stood by an hedge, and said, Brother, yonder is a fair shadow, there
may we rest us and our horses. It is well said, fair brother, said Sir
Launcelot, for this seven year I was not so sleepy as I am now. And so
they there alighted, and tied their horses unto sundry trees, and so
Sir Launcelot laid him down under an apple tree, and his helm he laid
under his head. And Sir Lionel waked while he slept. So Sir Launcelot
was asleep passing fast. And in the meanwhile there came three knights
riding, as fast fleeing as ever they might ride. And there followed
them three but one knight. And when Sir Lionel saw him, him thought he
saw never so great a knight nor so well faring a man, neither so well
apparelled unto all rights. So within a while this strong knight had
overtaken one of these knights, and there he smote him to the cold
earth that he lay still. And then he rode unto the second knight, and
smote him so that man and horse fell down. And then straight to the
third knight he rode, and he smote him behind his horse tail a spear’s
length. And then he alight down, and reined his horse on the bridle,
and bound all the three knights fast with the reins of their own
bridles. When Sir Lionel saw him do thus, he thought to assay him, and
made him ready, and stilly and privily he took his horse, and thought
not for to awake Sir Launcelot. And when he was mounted upon his horse
he overtook this strong knight and bad him turn: and the other smote
Sir Lionel so hard that horse and man he bare to the earth, and so he
alight down and bound him fast, and threw him overthwart his own horse,
and so he served them all four, and rode with them away to his own
castle. And when he came there, he made unarm them, and beat them with
thorns all naked, and after put them in a deep prison where there were
many more knights that made great dolour.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Sir Ector followed for to seek Sir Launcelot, and how he was taken
  by Sir Turquine._

When Sir Ector de Maris wist that Sir Launcelot was past out of the
court to seek adventures he was wroth with himself, and made him ready
to seek Sir Launcelot, and as he had ridden long in a great forest, he
met with a man that was like a forester. Fair fellow, said Sir Ector,
knowest thou in this country any adventures that be here nigh hand?
Sir, said the forester, this country know I well, and hereby within
this mile is a strong manor, and well dyked, and by that manor, on the
left hand, there is a fair ford for horses to drink of, and over that
ford there groweth a fair tree, and thereon hangeth many fair shields
that wielded sometime good knights: and at the hole of the tree hangeth
a bason of copper and laton, and strike upon that bason with the butt
of thy spear thrice, and soon after thou shalt hear new tidings, and
else hast thou the fairest grace that many a year had ever knight that
passed through this forest. Gramercy, said Sir Ector, and departed and
came to the tree, and saw many fair shields, and among them he saw his
brother’s shield, Sir Lionel, and many more that he knew that were his
fellows of the Round Table, the which grieved his heart, and he
promised to revenge his brother. Then anon Sir Ector beat on the bason
as he were wood, and then he gave his horse drink at the ford: and
there came a knight behind him and bad him come out of the water and
make him ready; and Sir Ector anon turned him shortly, and in fewter
cast his spear, and smote the other knight a great buffet that his
horse turned twice about. This was well done, said the strong knight,
and knightly thou hast stricken me: and therewith he rushed his horse
on Sir Ector and caught him under his right arm, and bare him clean out
of the saddle, and rode with him away into his own hall, and threw him
down in the midst of the floor. The name of this knight was Sir
Turquine. Then he said unto Sir Ector, For thou hast done this day more
unto me than any knight did these twelve years, now will I grant thee
thy life, so thou wilt be sworn to be my prisoner all thy life days.
Nay, said Sir Ector, that will I never promise thee, but that I will do
mine advantage. That me repenteth, said Sir Turquine. And then he made
to unarm him, and beat him with thorns all naked, and after put him
down in a deep dungeon, where he knew many of his fellows. But when Sir
Ector saw Sir Lionel, then made he great sorrow. Alas, brother, said
Sir Ector, where is my brother Sir Launcelot? Fair brother, I left him
on sleep when that I from him went, under an apple tree, and what is
become of him I cannot tell you. Alas, said the knights, but Sir
Launcelot help us we may never be delivered, for we know now no knight
that is able to match our master Turquine.


                               CHAP. III.

_How four queens found Sir Launcelot sleeping, and how by enchantment
  he was taken and led into a castle._

Now leave we these knights prisoners, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du
Lake that lieth under the apple tree sleeping. Even about the noon
there came by him four queens of great estate; and, for the heat of the
sun should not annoy them, there rode four knights about them and bare
a cloth of green silk on four spears, betwixt them and the sun, and the
queens rode on four white mules.

Thus as they rode they heard by them a great horse grimly neigh, and
then were they ware of a sleeping knight that lay all armed under an
apple tree; anon as these queens looked on his face they knew that it
was Sir Launcelot. Then they began for to strive for that knight; every
one said she would have him to her love. We shall not strive, said
Morgan le Fay, that was king Arthur’s sister; I shall put an
enchantment upon him that he shall not awake in six hours, and then I
will lead him away unto my castle, and when he is surely within my hold
I shall take the enchantment from him, and then let him choose which of
us he will have for his love. So this enchantment was cast upon Sir
Launcelot, and then they laid him upon his shield, and bare him so on
horseback betwixt two knights, and brought him unto the castle Chariot,
and there they laid him in a chamber cold, and at night they sent unto
him a fair damsel with his supper ready dight. By that the enchantment
was past, and when she came she saluted him, and asked him what cheer?
I cannot say, fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, for I wot not how I came
into this castle but it be by an enchantment. Sir, said she, ye must
make good cheer, and if ye be such a knight as is said ye be, I shall
tell you more tomorn by prime of the day. Gramercy, fair damsel, said
Sir Launcelot, of your good will I require you. And so she departed.
And there he lay all that night without comfort of any body.

And on the morn early came these four queens, passingly well beseen,
all they bidding him good morn, and he them again. Sir knight, the four
queens said, thou must understand thou art our prisoner, and we here
know thee well, that thou art Sir Launcelot du Lake, king Ban’s son.
And truly we understand your worthiness that thou art the noblest
knight living; and, as we know well, there can no lady have thy love
but one, and that is queen Guenever, and now thou shalt lose her for
ever, and she thee, and therefore thee behoveth now to choose one of us
four. I am the queen Morgan le Fay, queen of the land of Gore, and here
is the queen of Northgalis, and the queen of Eastland, and the queen of
the Out Isles; now choose ye one of us which thou wilt have to thy love
for thou mayst not choose or else in this prison to die. This is an
hard case, said Sir Launcelot, that either I must die or else choose
one of you, yet had I lever to die in this prison with worship, than to
have one of you to my love maugre my head. And therefore ye be
answered, for I will have none of you, for ye be false enchantresses.
And as for my lady dame Guenever, were I at my liberty as I was, I
would prove it on you or upon yours, that she is the truest lady unto
her lord living. Well, said the queens, is this your answer, that you
will refuse us? Yea, on my life, said Sir Launcelot, refused ye be of
me. So they departed and left him there alone that made great sorrow.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Launcelot was delivered by the mean of a damsel._

Right so at the noon came the damsel unto him with his dinner, and
asked him what cheer? Truly, fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, in my
life days never so ill. Sir, she said, that me repenteth, but and ye
will be ruled by me I shall help you out of this distress, and ye shall
have no shame nor villainy, so that ye hold me a promise. Fair damsel I
will grant you, and sore I am of these queens sorceresses afeard, for
they have destroyed many a good knight. Sir, said she, that is sooth,
and for the renown and bounty they hear of you they would have your
love, and, sir, they say your name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, the flower
of knights, and they be passing wroth with you that ye have refused
them. But sir, and ye would promise me for to help my father on Tuesday
next coming, that hath made a tournament betwixt him and the king of
Northgalis, (for the last Tuesday past my father lost the field through
three knights of king Arthur’s court,) and if ye will be there upon
Tuesday next coming and help my father, tomorn ere prime, by the grace
of God, I shall deliver you clean. Fair maiden, said Sir Launcelot,
tell me what is your father’s name, and then shall I give you an
answer. Sir knight, she said, my father is king Bagdemagus, that was
foul rebuked at the last tournament. I know your father well, said Sir
Launcelot, for a noble king, and a good knight, and by the faith of my
body, ye shall have my body ready to do your father and you service at
that day. Sir, she said, gramercy, and to-morn await ye be ready
betimes, and I shall be she that shall deliver you, and take you your
armour and your horse, shield and spear: and hereby, within this ten
mile, is an abbey of white monks, there I pray you that ye me abide,
and thither shall I bring my father unto you. All this shall be done,
said Sir Launcelot, as I am true knight. And so she departed, and came
on the morn early, and found him ready. Then she brought him out of
twelve locks, and brought him unto his armour, and when he was armed
clean, she brought him until his own horse, and lightly he saddled him,
and took a great spear in his hand, and so rode forth, and said, Fair
damsel I shall not fail you by the grace of God. And so he rode into a
great forest all that day, and never could find no high way, and so the
night fell on him, and then was he ware in a valley of a pavilion of
red sendal. By my faith, said Sir Launcelot, in that pavilion will I
lodge all this night. And so there he alight down, and tied his horse
to the pavilion, and there he unarmed him, and there he found a bed,
and laid him therein and he fell on sleep heavily.


                                CHAP. V.

_How a knight found Sir Launcelot lying in his bed, and how Sir
  Launcelot fought with the knight._

Then within an hour there came the knight to whom belonged the
pavilion, and so he laid him down beside Sir Launcelot. And when Sir
Launcelot felt him, he started out of the bed lightly, and the other
knight after him, and either of them gat their swords in their hands,
and out at the pavilion door went the knight of the pavilion, and Sir
Launcelot followed him, and there, by a little slake, Sir Launcelot
wounded him sore nigh unto the death. And then he yielded him unto Sir
Launcelot, and so he granted him, so that he would tell him why he came
into the bed. Sir, said the knight, the pavilion is mine own, and there
this night would I have slept, and now I am likely to die of this
wound. That me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot, of your hurt; but I was
adread of treason, for I was late beguiled; and therefore come on your
way into your pavilion, and take your rest, and as I suppose I shall
stanch your blood. So they went both into the pavilion, and anon Sir
Launcelot stanched his blood.

Therewithal came the knight’s lady, which was a passing fair lady. And
when she espied that her lord Belleus was so sore wounded, she cried
out on Sir Launcelot, and made great dole out of measure. Peace my lady
and my love, said Belleus, for this knight is a good man, and a knight
adventurous; and there he told her all the cause how he was wounded;
and when that I yielded me unto him, he left me goodly and hath
stanched my blood. Sir, said the lady, I require thee tell me what
knight ye be, and what is your name? Fair lady, said he, my name is Sir
Launcelot du Lake. So me thought ever by your speech, said the lady,
for I have seen you oft or this, and I know you better than ye ween.
But now and ye would promise me of your courtesy, for the harms that ye
have done to me and to my lord Belleus, that when he cometh unto
Arthur’s court for to cause him to be made knight of the Round Table,
for he is a passing good man of arms, and a mighty lord of lands of
many out isles. Fair lady, said Sir Launcelot, let him come unto the
court the next high feast, and look that ye come with him, and I shall
do my power, and ye prove you doughty of your hands, that ye shall have
your desire. So thus within awhile as they thus talked, the night
passed, and the day shone, and then Sir Launcelot armed him, and took
his horse, and they taught him to the abbey, and thither he rode within
the space of two hours.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Launcelot was received of king Bagdemagus’s daughter, and he
  made his complaint to her father._

And soon as Sir Launcelot came within the abbey yard the daughter of
king Bagdemagus heard a great horse go on the pavement. And she then
arose and went unto a window, and there she saw Sir Launcelot, and anon
she made men fast to take his horse from him and let lead him into a
stable, and himself was led into a fair chamber, and unarmed him, and
the lady sent him a long gown, and anon she came herself. And then she
made Launcelot passing good cheer, and she said he was the knight in
the world was most welcome to her. Then in all haste she sent for her
father Bagdemagus that was within twelve mile of that abbey, and afore
even he came with a fair fellowship of knights with him. And when the
king was alight off his horse he went straight unto Sir Launcelot’s
chamber, and there he found his daughter, and then the king embraced
Sir Launcelot in his arms, and either made other good cheer. Anon Sir
Launcelot made his complaint unto the king how he was betrayed, and how
his brother Sir Lionel was departed from him he wist not where, and how
his daughter had delivered him out of prison,—therefore while I live I
shall do her service and all her kindred. Then am I sure of your help,
said the king, on Tuesday next coming. Yea, sir, said Sir Launcelot, I
shall not fail you, for so I have promised my lady your daughter. But
sir, what knights been they of my lord Arthur’s, that were with the
king of Northgalis? And the king said it was Sir Mador de la Porte, and
Sir Mordred, and Sir Gahalatine, that all for-fared my knights, for
against them three I nor my knights might bear no strength. Sir, said
Sir Launcelot, as I hear say that the tournament shall be within this
three mile of this abbey, ye shall send unto me three knights of yours
such as ye trust, and look that the three knights have all white
shields, and I also, and no painture on the shields, and we four will
come out of a little wood in the midst of both parties, and we shall
fall in the front of our enemies and grieve them that we may; and thus
shall I not be known what knight I am. So they took their rest that
night, and this was on the Sunday. And so the king departed, and sent
unto Sir Launcelot three knights, with the four white shields.

And on the Tuesday they lodged them in a little leaved wood beside
there the tournament should be. And there were scaffolds and holes that
lords and ladies might behold and to give the prize. Then came into the
field the king of Northgalis with eightscore helms. And then the three
knights of Arthur stood by themselves. Then came into the field king
Bagdemagus with fourscore of helms. And then they fewtred their spears,
and came together with a great dash, and there were slain of knights,
at the first recounter, twelve of king Bagdemagus’s party, and six of
the king of Northgalis’ party, and king Bagdemagus’s party was far set
aback.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Sir Launcelot behaved him in a tournament, and how he met with Sir
  Turquine leading away Sir Gaheris._

With that came Sir Launcelot du Lake, and he thrust in with his spear
in the thickest of the press, and there he smote down with one spear
five knights, and of four of them he brake their backs. And in that
throng he smote down the king of Northgalis, and brake his thigh in
that fall. All this doing of Sir Launcelot saw the three knights of
Arthur. Yonder is a shrewd guest, said Sir Mador de la Porte, therefore
have here once at him. So they encountered, and Sir Launcelot bare him
down horse and man, so that his shoulder went out of joint. Now
befalleth it to me to just, said Mordred, for Sir Mador hath a sore
fall. Sir Launcelot was ware of him, and gat a great spear in his hand,
and met him, and Sir Mordred brake a spear upon him, and Sir Launcelot
gave him such a buffet that the bow of his saddle brake, and so he flew
over his horse tail, that his helm went into the earth a foot and more,
that nigh his neck was broken, and there he lay long in a swoon. Then
came in Sir Gahalatine with a spear, and Launcelot against him, with
all their strength that they might drive, that both their spears
to-brast even to their hands, and then they flung out with their
swords, and gave many a grim stroke. Then was Sir Launcelot wroth out
of measure, and then he smote Sir Gahalatine on the helm, that his nose
burst out on blood, and ears and mouth both, and therewith his head
hung low. And therewith his horse ran away with him, and he fell down
to the earth.

Anon therewithal Sir Launcelot gat a great spear in his hand, and, or
ever that great spear brake, he bare down to the earth sixteen knights,
some horse and man, and some the man and not the horse, and there was
none but that he hit surely he bare none arms that day. And then he gat
another great spear, and smote down twelve knights, and the most part
of them never throve after. And then the knights of the king of
Northgalis would just no more, and there the prize was given unto king
Bagdemagus. So either party departed unto his own place, and Sir
Launcelot rode forth with king Bagdemagus unto his castle, and there he
had passing good cheer both with the king and with his daughter, and
they proffered him great gifts. And on the morn he took his leave, and
told king Bagdemagus that he would go and seek his brother Sir Lionel,
that went from him when that he slept. So he took his horse, and
betaught them all to God. And there he said unto the king’s daughter.
If ye have need any time of my service, I pray you let me have
knowledge, and I shall not fail you, as I am true knight.

And so Sir Launcelot departed, and by adventure he came into the same
forest where he was taken sleeping. And in the midst of an highway he
met a damsel riding on a white palfrey, and there either saluted other.
Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, know ye in this country any
adventures? Sir knight, said that damsel, here are adventures near
hand, and thou durst prove them. Why should I not prove adventures?
said Sir Launcelot; for that cause came I hither. Well, said she, thou
seemest well to be a good knight, and if thou dare meet with a good
knight, I shall bring thee where is the best knight and the mightiest
that ever thou found, so thou wilt tell me what is thy name, and what
knight thou art. Damsel, as for to tell thee my name, I take no great
force: truly, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Sir, thou beseemest
well, here be adventures by that fall for thee, for hereby dwelleth a
knight that will not be overmatched for no man that I know, unless ye
overmatch him, and his name is Sir Turquine. And, as I understand, he
hath in his prison of Arthur’s court good knights threescore and four
that he hath won with his own hands. But when ye have done that day’s
work ye shall promise me as ye are a true knight for to go with me, and
to help me and other damsels that are distressed daily with a false
knight. All your intent, damsel, and desire I will fulfil, so ye will
bring me unto this knight. Now, fair knight, come on your way. And so
she brought him unto the ford, and unto the tree where hung the basin.
So Sir Launcelot let his horse drink, and then he beat on the basin
with the butt of his spear so hard with all his might till the bottom
fell out, and long he did so, but he saw nothing. Then he rode endlong
the gates of that manor nigh half an hour. And then was he ware of a
great knight that drove an horse afore him, and overthwart the horse
there lay an armed knight bound. And ever as they came near and near,
Sir Launcelot thought he should know him; then Sir Launcelot was ware
that it was Sir Gaheris, Gawaine’s brother, a knight of the Table
Round. Now fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, I see yonder cometh a
knight fast bound that is a fellow of mine, and brother he is unto Sir
Gawaine. And at the first beginning I promise you, by the leave of God,
to rescue that knight; and unless his master sit better in the saddle I
shall deliver all the prisoners that he hath out of danger, for I am
sure that he hath two brethren of mine prisoners with him. By that time
that either had seen other they gripped their spears unto them. Now
fair knight, said Sir Launcelot, put that wounded knight off the horse,
and let him rest awhile, and let us two prove our strengths. For as it
is informed me, thou doest and hast done great despite and shame unto
knights of the Round Table, and therefore now defend thee. And thou be
of the Table Round, said Turquine, I defy thee and all thy fellowship.
That is over much said, said Sir Launcelot.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Turquine fought together._

And then they put their spears in the rests, and came together with
their horses as fast as they might run, and either smote other in the
midst of their shields, that both their horses’ backs brast under them,
and the knights were both astonied, and as soon as they might avoid
their horses they took their shields afore them, and drew out their
swords, and came together eagerly, and either gave other many strong
strokes, for there might neither shields nor harness hold their
strokes. And so within awhile they had both grimly wounds, and bled
passing grievously. Thus they fared two hours or more, trasing and
rasing either other where they might hit any bare place. Then at the
last they were breathless both, and stood leaning on their swords. Now
fellow, said Sir Turquine, hold thy hand awhile, and tell me what I
shall ask thee. Say on. Then Turquine said, Thou art the biggest man
that ever I met withal, and the best breathed, and like one knight that
I hate above all other knights; so be it that thou be not he I will
lightly accord with thee, and for thy love I will deliver all the
prisoners that I have, that is threescore and four, so thou wilt tell
me thy name. And thou and I we will be fellows together, and never to
fail the while that I live. It is well said, said Sir Launcelot, but
sithen it is so that I may have thy friendship, what knight is he that
thou so hatest above all other? Faithfully, said Sir Turquine, his name
is Sir Launcelot du Lake, for he slew my brother Sir Carados at the
dolorous tower, that was one of the best knights on live; and therefore
him I except of knights, for may I once meet with him the one of us
shall make an end of other, I make mine avow. And for Sir Launcelot’s
sake I have slain an hundred good knights, and as many I have maimed
all utterly that they might never after help themselves, and many have
died in prison, and yet I have threescore and four, and all shall be
delivered, so thou wilt tell me thy name, so it be that thou be not Sir
Launcelot.

Now see I well, said Sir Launcelot, that such a man I might be that I
might have peace; and such a man I might be that there should be war
mortal betwixt us: and now sir knight, at thy request I will that thou
wit and know that I am Launcelot du Lake, king Ban’s son of Benwick,
and very knight of the Table Round. And now I defy thee, do thy best.
Ah, said Turquine, Launcelot, thou art unto me most welcome that ever
was knight, for we shall never part till the one of us be dead. Then
they hurtled together as two wild bulls, rashing and lashing with their
shields and swords that sometimes they fell both over their noses. Thus
they fought still two hours and more, and never would have rest, and
Sir Turquine gave Sir Launcelot many wounds that all the ground there
as they fought was all bespeckled with blood.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Sir Turquine was slain, and how Sir Launcelot bade Sir Gaheris
  deliver all the prisoners._

Then at the last Sir Turquine waxed faint, and gave somewhat aback, and
bare his shield low for weariness. That espied Sir Launcelot and lept
upon him fiercely and got him by the beaver of his helmet, and plucked
him down on his knees, and anon he rased off his helm, and smote his
neck in sunder. And when Sir Launcelot had done this he went unto the
damsel and said, Damsel, I am ready to go with you where ye will have
me, but I have no horse. Fair sir, said she, take this wounded knight’s
horse, and send him into this manor, and command him to deliver all the
prisoners. So Sir Launcelot went unto Gaheris, and prayed him not to be
aggrieved for to lend him his horse. Nay, fair lord, said Sir Gaheris,
I will that ye take my horse at your own commandment, for ye have both
saved me and my horse, and this day I say ye are the best knight in the
world, for ye have slain this day in my sight the mightiest man and the
best knight, except you, that ever I saw; and sir, said Sir Gaheris, I
pray you tell me your name? Sir, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, that
ought to help you of right for king Arthur’s sake, and in especial for
my lord Sir Gawaine’s sake, your own dear brother; and when that ye
come within yonder manor I am sure ye shall find there many knights of
the Round Table, for I have seen many of their shields that I know on
yonder tree. There is Kay’s shield, and Sir Brandel’s shield, and Sir
Marhaus’ shield, and Sir Galind’s shield, and Sir Brian Listonoise’s
shield, and Sir Aliduke’s shield, with many more that I am not now
advised of, and also my two brethren’s shields, Sir Ector de Maris and
Sir Lionel: wherefore I pray you greet them all from me, and say that I
bid them take there such stuff as they find, and that in any wise my
brethren go unto the court and abide me there till that I come, for by
the feast of Pentecost I cast me to be there, for at this time I must
ride with this damsel for to save my promise. And so he departed from
Gaheris, and Sir Gaheris went into the manor, and there he found a
yeoman porter keeping there many keys. Anon withal Sir Gaheris threw
the porter unto the ground, and took the keys from him, and hastily he
opened the prison door, and there he let out all the prisoners, and
every man loosed other of their bonds. And when they saw Sir Gaheris,
all they thanked him, for they wend that he was wounded. Not so, said
Gaheris, it was Launcelot that slew him worshipfully with his own
hands, I saw it with mine own eyes. And he greeteth you all well, and
prayeth you to haste you to the court, and as unto Sir Lionel and Ector
de Maris, he prayeth you to abide him at the court. That shall we not
do, said his brethren, we will find him and we may live. So shall I,
said Sir Kay, find him or I come at the court, as I am true knight.
Then all those knights sought the house where as the armour was, and
then they armed them, and every knight found his own horse, and all
that belonged unto him. And when ever this was done, there came a
forester with four horses laden with fat venison. Anon Sir Kay said,
Here is good meat for us for one meal, for we had not many a day no
good repast. And so that venison was roasted, baked, and sodden, and so
after supper some abode there all that night, but Sir Lionel and Ector
de Maris and Sir Kay rode after Sir Launcelot to find him if they might.


                                CHAP. X.

_How Sir Launcelot rode with the damsel and slew a knight that
  distressed all ladies, and also a villain that kept a bridge._

Now turn we unto Sir Launcelot that rode with the damsel in a fair high
way. Sir, said the damsel, here by this way haunteth a knight that
distresseth all ladies and gentlewomen, and at the least he robbeth
them or ill-useth them. What, said Sir Launcelot, is he a thief and a
knight, and a ravisher of women? He doth shame unto the order of
knighthood and contrary to his oath, it is pity that he liveth. But
fair damsel ye shall ride on afore yourself, and I will keep myself in
covert, and if that he trouble you or distress you, I shall be your
rescue, and learn him to be ruled as a knight. So the maid rode on by
the way a soft ambling pace. And within awhile came out that knight on
horseback out of the wood, and his page with him, and there he put the
damsel from her horse, and then she cried. With that came Launcelot as
fast as he might, till he came to that knight, saying, Oh thou false
knight and traitor unto knighthood, who did learn thee to distress
ladies and gentlewomen? When the knight saw Sir Launcelot thus rebuking
him, he answered not, but drew his sword and rode unto Sir Launcelot.
And Sir Launcelot threw his spear from him, and drew out his sword, and
strake him such a buffet on the helmet that he clave his head and neck
unto the throat. Now hast thou thy payment that long thou hast
deserved. That is truth, said the damsel, for like as Turquine watched
to destroy knights, so did this knight attend to destroy and distress
ladies, damsels, and gentlewomen, and his name was Sir Peris de Forest
Savage. Now damsel, said Sir Launcelot, will ye any more service of me?
Nay sir, she said, at this time; but Almighty Jesu preserve you
wheresoever ye ride or go, for the courtiest knight thou art and
meekest unto all ladies and gentlewomen that now liveth. But one thing,
sir knight, me thinketh ye lack, ye that are a knight wifeless, that ye
will not love some maiden or gentlewoman, for I could never hear say
that ever ye loved any of no manner degree, and that is great pity; but
it is noised that ye love queen Guenever, and that she hath ordained by
enchantment that ye shall never love none other but her, nor none other
damsel nor lady shall rejoice you; wherefore many in this land, of high
estate and low, make great sorrow. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, I
may not warn people to speak of me what it pleaseth them: but for to be
a wedded man I think it not, for then I must couch with her, and leave
arms and tournaments, battles and adventures. And as for to say for to
take my pleasance with paramours, that will I refuse in principal for
dread of God. For knights that be adulterous, or wanton, shall not be
happy nor fortunate unto the wars, for either they shall be overcome
with a simpler knight than they be themselves, or else they shall by
mishap and their cursedness slay better men than they be themselves;
and who that so useth shall be unhappy, and all thing is unhappy that
is about them. And so Sir Launcelot and she departed.

And then he rode in a deep forest two days and more, and had strait
lodging. So on the third day he rode over a long bridge, and there
start upon him suddenly a passing foul churl, and he smote his horse on
the nose that he turned about, and asked him why he rode over that
bridge without his licence. Why should I not ride this way? said Sir
Launcelot, I may not ride beside. Thou shalt not choose, said the
churl, and lashed at him with a great club shod with iron. Then Sir
Launcelot drew his sword, and put the stroke aback, and clave his head
unto the breast. At the end of the bridge was a fair village, and all
the people men and women cried on Sir Launcelot, and said, A worse deed
diddest thou never for thyself, for thou hast slain the chief porter of
our castle. Sir Launcelot let them say what they would, and straight he
went into the castle; and when he came into the castle he alight, and
tied his horse to a ring on the wall; and there he saw a fair green
court, and thither he dressed himself, for there him thought was a fair
place to fight in. So he looked about, and saw much people in doors and
windows, that said, Fair knight thou art unhappy.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Sir Launcelot slew two giants, and made a castle free._

Anon withal came there upon him two great giants, well armed all save
the heads, with two horrible clubs in their hands. Sir Launcelot put
his shield afore him, and put the stroke away of the one giant, and
with his sword he clave his head asunder. When his fellow saw that, he
ran away as he were wood, for fear of the horrible strokes, and Sir
Launcelot after him with all his might, and smote him on the shoulder,
and clave him to the middle. Then Sir Launcelot went into the hall, and
there came afore him threescore ladies and damsels, and all kneeled
unto him, and thanked God and him of their deliverance. For, sir, said
they, the most part of us have been here this seven year their
prisoners, and we have worked all manner of silk works for our meat,
and we are all great gentlewomen born, and blessed be the time, knight,
that ever thou wert born; for thou hast done the most worship that ever
did knight in the world, that will we bear record, and we all pray you
to tell us your name, that we may tell our friends who delivered us out
of prison. Fair damsels, he said, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Ah,
sir, said they all, well mayest thou be he, for else save yourself, as
we deemed, there might never knight have the better of these two
giants, for many fair knights have assayed it, and here have ended, and
many times have we wished after you, and these two giants dread never
knight but you. Now may ye say, said Sir Launcelot, unto your friends,
how and who hath delivered you, and greet them all from me, and if that
I come in any of your marches, shew me such cheer as ye have cause; and
what treasure that there is in this castle I give it you for a reward
for your grievance: and the lord that is the owner of this castle I
would that he received it as is right. Fair sir, said they, the name of
this castle is Tintagil, and a duke owned it some time that had wedded
fair Igraine, and after wedded her Uther Pendragon and gat on her
Arthur. Well, said Sir Launcelot, I understand to whom this castle
belongeth. And so he departed from them and betaught them unto God. And
then he mounted upon his horse, and rode into many strange and wild
countries and through many waters and valleys, and evil was he lodged.
And at the last by fortune him happened against a night to come to a
fair courtelage, and therein he found an old gentlewoman that lodged
him with a good will, and there he had good cheer for him and his
horse. And when time was, his host brought him into a fair garret over
the gate to his bed. There Sir Launcelot unarmed him, and set his
harness by him, and went to bed, and anon he fell on sleep. So soon
after there came one on horseback, and knocked at the gate in great
haste. And when Sir Launcelot heard this he arose up, and looked out at
the window, and saw by the moon-light three knights came riding after
that one man, and all three lashed on him at once with swords, and that
one knight turned on them knightly again and defended him. Truly, said
Sir Launcelot, yonder one knight shall I help, for it were shame for me
to see three knights on one, and if he be slain I am partner of his
death. And therewith he took his harness and went out at a window by a
sheet down to the four knights, and then Sir Launcelot said on high,
Turn you knights unto me, and leave your fighting with that knight. And
then they all three left Sir Kay, and turned unto Sir Launcelot, and
there began great battle, for they alight all three, and strake many
great strokes at Sir Launcelot, and assailed him on every side. Then
Sir Kay dressed him for to have holpen Sir Launcelot. Nay, sir, said
he, I will none of your help, therefore as ye will have my help let me
alone with them. Sir Kay for the pleasure of the knight suffered him
for to do his will, and so stood aside. And then anon within six
strokes Sir Launcelot had stricken them to the earth.

And then they all three cried, Sir knight, we yield us unto you as man
of might matchless. As to that, said Sir Launcelot, I will not take
your yielding unto me, but so that ye yield you unto Sir Kay the
seneschal, on that covenant I will save your lives and else not. Fair
knight, said they, that were we loth to do; for as for Sir Kay we
chased him hither, and had overcome him had not ye been; therefore to
yield us unto him it were no reason. Well, as to that, said Sir
Launcelot, advise you well, for ye may choose whether ye will die or
live, for and ye be yielden it shall be unto Sir Kay. Fair knight, then
they said, in saving our lives we will do as thou commandest us. Then
shall ye, said Sir Launcelot, on Whitsunday next coming go unto the
court of king Arthur, and there shall ye yield you unto queen Guenever,
and put you all three in her grace and mercy, and say that Sir Kay sent
you thither to be her prisoners. Sir, they said, it shall done by the
faith of our bodies, and we be living. And there they swore, every
knight upon his sword. And so Sir Launcelot suffered them so to depart.
And then Sir Launcelot knocked at the gate with the pommel of his
sword, and with that came his host, and in they entered, Sir Kay and
he. Sir, said his host, I wend ye had been in your bed. So I was, said
Sir Launcelot, but I arose and lept out at my window for to help an old
fellow of mine. And so when they came nigh the light Sir Kay knew well
that it was Sir Launcelot, and therewith he kneeled down and thanked
him of all his kindness that he hath holpen him twice from the death.
Sir, he said, I have done nothing but that I ought to do, and ye are
welcome, and here shall ye repose you and take your rest. So when Sir
Kay was unarmed he asked after meat, so there was meat fetched him, and
he ate strongly. And when he had supped they went to their beds, and
were lodged together in one bed. On the morn Sir Launcelot arose early,
and left Sir Kay sleeping: and Sir Launcelot took Sir Kay’s armour and
his shield and armed him: and so he went to the stable and took his
horse, and took his leave of his host, and so he departed. Then soon
after arose Sir Kay and missed Sir Launcelot: and then he espied that
he had his armour and his horse. Now by my faith I know well that he
will grieve some of the court of king Arthur: for on him knights will
be bold, and deem that it is I, and that will beguile them: and because
of his armour and shield I am sure I shall ride in peace. And then soon
after departed Sir Kay, and thanked his host.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Launcelot rode disguised in Sir Kay’s harness, and how he
  smote down a knight._

Now turn we unto Sir Launcelot that had ridden long in a great forest,
and at the last he came into a low country full of fair rivers and
meadows. And afore him he saw a long bridge, and three pavilions stood
thereon of silk and sandal of divers hue. And without the pavilions
hung three white shields on truncheons of spears, and great long spears
stood upright by the pavilions, and at every pavilion’s door stood
three fresh squires, and so Sir Launcelot passed by them, and spake no
word. When he was past the three knights said that it was the proud
Kay, he weeneth no knight so good as he, and the contrary is ofttime
proved. By my faith, said one of the knights, his name was Sir Gaunter,
I will ride after him and assay him for all his pride, and ye may
behold how that I speed. So this knight, Sir Gaunter, armed him, and
hung his shield upon his shoulder and mounted upon a great horse, and
gat his spear in his hand, and galloped after Sir Launcelot. And when
he came nigh him, he cried, Abide thou proud knight Sir Kay, for thou
shalt not pass quit. So Sir Launcelot turned him, and either fewtred
their spears, and came together with all their mights, and Sir
Gaunter’s spear brake, but Sir Launcelot smote him down, horse and man.
And when Sir Gaunter was at the earth his brethren said each one to
other, Yonder knight is not Sir Kay, for he is bigger than he. I dare
lay my head, said Sir Gilmere, yonder knight hath slain Sir Kay and
hath taken his horse and harness. Whether it be so or no, said Sir
Raynold the third brother, let us now go mount upon our horses and
rescue our brother Sir Gaunter upon pain of death. We all shall have
work enough to match that knight, for ever me seemeth by his person it
is Sir Launcelot, or Sir Tristam, or Sir Pelleas the good knight. Then
anon they took their horses and overtook Sir Launcelot, and Sir Gilmere
put forth his spear and ran to Sir Launcelot and Sir Launcelot smote
him down that he lay in a swoon. Sir knight, said Sir Raynold, thou art
a strong man, and, as I suppose, thou hast slain my two brethren, for
the which riseth my heart sore against thee; and if I might with my
worship I would not have ado with thee, but needs I must take part as
they do; and therefore knight, he said, keep thyself. And so they
hurtled together with all their mights, and all to-shivered both their
spears. And then they drew their swords and lashed together eagerly.
Anon therewith arose Sir Gaunter, and came unto his brother Sir
Gilmere, and bad him arise and help we our brother Sir Raynold, that
yonder marvellously matcheth yonder good knight. Therewithal they lept
on their horses, and hurtled unto Sir Launcelot. And when he saw them
come, he smote a sore stroke unto Sir Raynold, that he fell off his
horse to the ground, and then he struck to the other two brethren, and
at two strokes he strake them down to the earth. With that Sir Raynold
began to start up with his head all bloody, and came straight unto Sir
Launcelot. Now let be, said Sir Launcelot, I was not far from thee when
thou wert made knight, Sir Raynold, and also I know thou art a good
knight, and loth I were to slay thee. Gramercy, said Sir Raynold, as
for your goodness; and I dare say as for me and my brethren, we will
not be loth to yield us unto you, with that we knew your name; for well
we know ye are not Sir Kay. As for that be it as it may, for ye shall
yield you unto dame Guenever, and look that ye be with her on
Whitsunday, and yield you unto her as prisoners, and say that Sir Kay
sent you unto her. Then they swore it should be done. And so passed
forth Sir Launcelot, and each one of the brethren helped each other as
well as they might.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Sir Launcelot justed against four knights of the Round Table, and
  overthrew them._

So Sir Launcelot rode into a deep forest, and there by in a slade he
saw four knights hoving under an oak, and they were of Arthur’s court;
one was Sagramour le Desirous, and Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Gawaine,
and Sir Uwaine. Anon as these four knights had espied Sir Launcelot
they wend by his arms it had been Sir Kay. Now by my faith, said Sir
Sagramour, I will prove Sir Kay’s might, and gat his spear in his hand,
and came toward Sir Launcelot. Therewith Sir Launcelot was ware, and
knew him well, and fewtred his spear against him, and smote Sir
Sagramour so sore that horse and man fell both to the earth. Lo, my
fellows, said Sir Ector, yonder ye may see what a buffet he hath; that
knight is much bigger than ever was Sir Kay. Now shall ye see what I
may do to him. So Sir Ector gat his spear in his hand and galloped
toward Sir Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot smote him through the shield
and shoulder that horse and man went to the earth, and ever his spear
held. By my faith, said Sir Uwaine, yonder is a strong knight, and I am
sure he hath slain Sir Kay; and I see by his great strength it will be
hard to match him. And therewithal Sir Uwaine gat his spear in his hand
and rode toward Sir Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot knew him well, and so
he met him on the plain and gave him such a buffet that he was
astonied, that long he wist not where he was. Now see I well, said Sir
Gawaine, I must encounter with that knight. Then he dressed his shield
and gat a good spear in his hand, and Sir Launcelot knew him well, and
then they let run their horses with all their mights, and either knight
smote other in midst of the shield. But Sir Gawaine’s spear to-brast,
and Sir Launcelot charged so sore upon him that his horse reversed up
so down. And much sorrow had Sir Gawaine to avoid his horse, and so Sir
Launcelot passed on a pace, and smiled, and said, God give him joy that
this spear made, for there came never a better in my hand. Then the
four knights went each one to other, and comforted each other. What say
ye by this gest? said Sir Gawaine, that one spear hath felled us four.
We command him unto the devil, they said all, for he is a man of great
might. Ye may well say it, said Sir Gawaine, that he is a man of might,
for I dare lay my head it is Sir Launcelot, I know it by his riding.
Let him go, said Sir Gawaine, for when we come to the court then shall
we wit. And then had they much sorrow to get their horses again.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How Sir Launcelot followed a brachet into a castle where he found a
  dead knight, and how he after was required of a damsel to heal her
  brother._

Now leave we there and speak of Sir Launcelot that rode a great while
in a deep forest, where he saw a black brachet, seeking in manner as it
had been in the track of an hurt deer, and therewith he rode after the
brachet, and he saw lie on the ground a large track of blood. And then
Sir Launcelot rode after. And ever the brachet looked behind her, and
so she went through a great marsh, and ever Sir Launcelot followed. And
then was he ware of an old manor, and thither ran the brachet, and so
over the bridge. So Sir Launcelot rode over that bridge that was old
and feeble; and when he came in midst of a great hall, there he saw lie
a dead knight that was a seemly man, and that brachet licked his
wounds. And therewithal came out a lady weeping and wringing her hands,
and she said, Oh knight, too much sorrow hast thou brought me. Why say
ye so? said Sir Launcelot, I did never this knight no harm, for hither
by track of blood this brachet brought me; and therefore fair lady be
not displeased with me, for I am full sore aggrieved of your grievance.
Truly sir, she said, I trow it be not ye that have slain my husband,
for he that did that deed is sore wounded, and he is never likely to
recover, that shall I ensure him. What was your husband’s name? said
Sir Launcelot. Sir, said she, his name was called Sir Gilbert, one of
the best knights of the world, and he that hath slain him I know not
his name. Now God send you better comfort, said Sir Launcelot. And so
he departed and went into the forest again, and there he met with a
damsel, the which knew him well, and she said aloud, Well be ye found,
my lord; and now I require thee on thy knighthood help my brother that
is sore wounded, and never stinteth bleeding, for this day fought he
with Sir Gilbert and slew him in plain battle, and there was my brother
sore wounded, and there is a lady a sorceress that dwelleth in a castle
here beside, and this day she told me my brother’s wounds should never
be whole till I could find a knight that would go into the chapel
perilous, and there he should find a sword and a bloody cloth that the
wounded knight was lapped in, and a piece of that cloth and sword
should heal my brother’s wounds, so that his wounds were searched with
the sword and the cloth. This is a marvellous thing, said Sir
Launcelot, but what is your brother’s name? Sir, said she, his name is
Sir Meliot de Logres. That me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot, for he is
a fellow of the Table Round, and to his help I will do my power. Then,
sir, said she, follow even this high way, and it will bring you unto
the chapel perilous, and here I shall abide till God send you here
again, and but you speed I know no knight living that may achieve that
adventure.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How Sir Launcelot came into the chapel perilous, and gat there of a
  dead corpse a piece of the cloth and a sword._

Right so Sir Launcelot departed, and when he came unto the chapel
perilous he alight down, and tied his horse to a little gate. And as
soon as he was within the churchyard he saw on the front of the chapel
many fair rich shields turned up so down, and many of the shields Sir
Launcelot had seen knights bear beforehand. With that he saw by him
stand there a thirty great knights, more by a yard than any man that
ever he had seen, and all those grinned and gnashed at Sir Launcelot.
And when he saw their countenance he dread him sore, and so put his
shield afore him, and took his sword in his hand ready unto battle; and
they were all armed in black harness, ready with their shields and
their swords drawn. And when Sir Launcelot would have gone throughout
them, they scattered on every side of him, and gave him the way, and
therewith he waxed all bold and entered into the chapel, and then he
saw no light but a dim lamp burning, and then was he ware of a corpse
covered with a cloth of silk. Then Sir Launcelot stooped down and cut a
piece away of that cloth, and then it fared under him as the earth had
quaked a little; there withal he feared. And then he saw a fair sword
lie by the dead knight, and that he gat in his hand and hied him out of
the chapel. Anon as ever he was in the chapel-yard all the knights
spake to him with a grimly voice, and said, Knight, Sir Launcelot, lay
that sword from thee, or else thou shalt die. Whether I live or die,
said Sir Launcelot, will no great word get it again, therefore fight
for it and ye list. Then right so he passed throughout them, and beyond
the chapel-yard there met him a fair damsel, and said, Sir Launcelot,
leave that sword behind thee, or thou wilt die for it. I leave it not,
said Sir Launcelot, for no entreaties. No, said she, and thou didst
leave that sword queen Guenever should ye never see. Then were I a fool
and I would leave this sword, said Sir Launcelot. Now gentle knight,
said the damsel, I require thee to kiss me but once. Nay, said Sir
Launcelot, that God me forbid. Well sir, said she, and thou haddest
kissed me thy life days had been done, but now alas, she said, I have
lost all my labour, for I ordained this chapel for thy sake, and for
Sir Gawaine. And once I had Sir Gawaine within my power, and at that
time he fought with that knight that lieth there dead in yonder chapel,
Sir Gilbert, and at that time he smote off the left hand of Sir
Gilbert. And Sir Launcelot now I tell thee, I have loved thee this
seven year, but there may no woman have thy love but queen Guenever.
But since I may not rejoice thee to have thy body alive, I had kept no
more joy in this world but to have thy body dead. Then would I have
balmed it and preserved it, and so have kept it my life days, and daily
I should have kissed thee in despite of queen Guenever. Ye say well,
said Sir Launcelot, God preserve me from your subtil crafts. And
therewithal he took his horse and so departed from her. And as the book
saith, when Sir Launcelot was departed she took such sorrow that she
died within a fourteen night, and her name was Hellawes the sorceress,
lady of the castle Nigramous. Anon Sir Launcelot met with the damsel,
Sir Meliot’s sister. And when she saw him she clapped her hands and
wept for joy, and then they rode unto a castle thereby, where Sir
Meliot lay. And anon as Sir Launcelot saw him he knew him, but he was
pale as the earth for bleeding. When Sir Meliot saw Sir Launcelot, he
kneeled upon his knees and cried on high: O lord Sir Launcelot help me!
Anon Sir Launcelot leapt unto him, and touched his wounds with Sir
Gilbert’s sword, and then he wiped his wounds with a part of the bloody
cloth that Sir Gilbert was wrapped in, and anon a wholer man in his
life was he never. And then there was great joy between them, and they
made Sir Launcelot all the cheer that they might, and so on the morn
Sir Launcelot took his leave, and bad Sir Meliot hie him to the court
of my lord Arthur, for it draweth nigh to the feast of Pentecost, and
there, by the grace of God, ye shall find me. And therewith they
departed.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How Sir Launcelot at the request of a lady recovered a falcon, by
  which he was deceived._

And so Sir Launcelot rode through many strange countries, over marshes
and valleys, till by fortune he came to a fair castle, and as he passed
beyond the castle him thought he heard two bells ring. And then was he
ware of a falcon came flying over his head toward an high elm, and long
lines about her feet, and as she flew unto the elm to take her perch,
the lines overcast about a bough. And when she would have taken her
flight she hung by the legs fast, and Sir Launcelot saw how she hung,
and beheld the fair falcon perigot, and he was sorry for her. The
meanwhile came a lady out of the castle, and cried on high, O
Launcelot, Launcelot, as thou art flower of all knights help me to get
my hawk, for and my hawk be lost my lord will destroy me; for I kept
the hawk and she slipt from me, and if my lord my husband wit it, he is
so hasty that he will slay me. What is your lord’s name? said Sir
Launcelot. Sir, she said, his name is Sir Phelot, a knight that longeth
unto the king of Northgalis. Well, fair lady, since that ye know my
name, and require me of knighthood to help you, I will do what I may to
get your hawk, and yet truly I am an ill climber, and the tree is
passing high, and few boughs to help me withal. And therewith Sir
Launcelot alight, and tied his horse to the same tree, and prayed the
lady to unarm him. And so when he was unarmed, he put off all his
clothes unto his shirt and breeches, and with might and force he
climbed up to the falcon, and tied the lines to a great rotten branch,
and threw the hawk down and it withal. Anon the lady gat the hawk in
her hand, and therewithal came out Sir Phelot out of the groves
suddenly, that was her husband, all armed, and with his naked sword in
his hand, and said, O knight, Launcelot, now have I found thee as I
would: and stood at the bole of the tree to slay him. Ah lady, said Sir
Launcelot, why have ye betrayed me? She hath done, said Sir Phelot, but
as I commanded her, and therefore there is none other boot but thine
hour is come that thou must die. That were shame unto thee, said Sir
Launcelot, thou an armed knight to slay a naked man by treason. Thou
gettest none other grace, said Sir Phelot, and therefore help thyself
and thou canst. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, that shall be thy shame, but
since thou wilt do none other, take mine harness with thee, and hang my
sword upon a bough that I may get it, and then do thy best to slay me
and thou canst. Nay, nay, said Sir Phelot, for I know thee better than
thou weenest, therefore thou gettest no weapon and I may keep you
therefro. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, that ever knight should die
weaponless. And therewith he awaited above him and under him, and over
his head he saw a rounspik, a big bough leafless, and therewith he
brake it off by the body; and then he came lower, and awaited how his
own horse stood, and suddenly he lept on the farther side of the horse
from the knight. And then Sir Phelot lashed at him eagerly, weening to
have slain him; but Sir Launcelot put away the stroke with the
rounspik, and therewith he smote him on the one side of the head, that
he fell down in a swoon to the ground. So then Sir Launcelot took his
sword out of his hand, and struck his neck from the body. Then cried
the lady, Alas, why hast thou slain my husband? I am not causer, said
Sir Launcelot, for with falsehood ye would have had slain me with
treason, and now it is fallen on you both. And then she swooned as
though she would die. And therewithal Sir Launcelot gat all his armour
as well as he might, and put it upon him, for dread of more resort, for
he dread that the knight’s castle was so nigh. And so soon as he might
he took his horse and departed, and thanked God that he had escaped
that adventure.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How Sir Launcelot overtook a knight which chased his wife to have
  slain her, and how he said to him._

So Sir Launcelot rode many wild ways, throughout marshes and many wild
ways. And as he rode in a valley he saw a knight chasing a lady with a
naked sword to have slain her. And by fortune, as this knight should
have slain this lady, she cried on Sir Launcelot and prayed him to
rescue her. When Sir Launcelot saw that mischief he took his horse and
rode between them, saying, Knight, fie for shame, why wilt thou slay
this lady? thou dost shame unto thee and all knights. What hast thou to
do betwixt me and my wife? said the knight; I will slay her, maugre thy
head. That shall ye not, said Sir Launcelot, for rather we two will
have ado together. Sir Launcelot, said the knight, thou doest not thy
part, for this lady hath betrayed me. It is not so, said the lady,
truly he saith wrong on me, and because I love and cherish my cousin
german, he is jealous betwixt him and me, and as I shall answer to God,
there was never sin betwixt us. But, sir, said the lady, as thou art
called the worshipfullest knight of the world, I require thee of true
knighthood keep me and save me, for whatsoever ye say he will slay me,
for he is without mercy. Have ye no doubt, said Launcelot, it shall not
lie in his power. Sir, said the knight, in your sight I will be ruled
as ye will have me. And so Sir Launcelot rode on the one side and she
on the other: he had not ridden but a while but the knight bad Sir
Launcelot turn him and look behind him and said, Sir, yonder come men
of arms after us riding. And so Sir Launcelot turned him, and thought
no treason. And therewith was the knight and the lady on one side, and
suddenly he swapped off his lady’s head. And when Sir Launcelot had
espied him what he had done, he said, and called him, Traitor thou hast
shamed me for ever. And suddenly Sir Launcelot alight off his horse,
and pulled out his sword to slay him. And therewithal he fell flat to
the earth, and gripped Sir Launcelot by the thighs, and cried mercy.
Fie on thee said Sir Launcelot, thou shameful knight, thou mayest have
no mercy, and therefore arise and fight with me. Nay, said the knight,
I will never arise till ye grant me mercy. Now will I proffer thee
fair, said Launcelot: I will unarm me unto my shirt, and will have
nothing upon me but my shirt, and my sword in my hand, and if thou
canst slay me quit be thou for ever. Nay, sir, said Pedivere, that will
I never. Well, said Sir Launcelot, take this lady and the head, and
bear it upon thee, and here shalt thou swear upon my sword to bear it
alway upon thy back, and never to rest till thou come to queen
Guenever. Sir, said he, that will I do, by the faith of my body. Now,
said Launcelot, tell me what is your name. Sir, my name is Pedivere. In
a shameful hour wert thou born, said Launcelot. So Pedivere departed
with the dead lady and the head, and found the queen with king Arthur
at Winchester, and there he told all the truth. Sir knight, said the
queen, this is an horrible deed and a shameful, and a great rebuke unto
Sir Launcelot: but notwithstanding his worship is not known in divers
countries. But this shall I give you in penance: make ye as good skift
as ye can, ye shall bear this lady with you on horseback unto the Pope
of Rome, and of him receive your penance for your foul deeds, and ye
shall never rest one night there as ye do another, and if ye go to any
bed the dead body shall lie with you. This oath there he made, and so
departed, and as it telleth in the French book, when he came to Rome
the Pope bad him go again to queen Guenever, and in Rome was his lady
buried by the Pope’s commandment. And after this Sir Pedivere fell to
great goodness, and was an holy man and an hermit.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How Sir Launcelot came to king Arthur’s court, and how there were
  recounted all his noble feats and acts._

Now turn we unto Sir Launcelot du Lake, that came home two days afore
the feast of Pentecost. And the king and all the court were passing
fain of his coming. And when Sir Gawaine, Sir Uwaine, Sir Sagramour,
Sir Ector de Maris, saw Sir Launcelot in Kay’s armour, then they wist
well it was he that smote them down all with one spear. Then there was
laughing and smiling among them. And ever now and now came all the
knights home that Sir Turquine had prisoners, and they all honoured and
worshipped Sir Launcelot. When Sir Gaheris heard them speak, he said, I
saw all the battle from the beginning to the ending, and there he told
king Arthur all how it was, and how Sir Turquine was the strongest
knight that ever he saw except Sir Launcelot: there were many knights
bear him record, nigh threescore. Then Sir Kay told the king how Sir
Launcelot had rescued him when he should have been slain, and how he
made the knights yield them to me, and not to him. And there they were,
all three, and bare record. And by my faith, said Sir Kay, because Sir
Launcelot took my harness and left me his I rode in good peace, and no
man would have ado with me. Anon therewithal came the three knights
that fought with Sir Launcelot at the long bridge, and there they
yielded them unto Sir Kay, and Sir Kay forsook them and said he fought
never with them: But I shall ease your hearts, said Sir Kay, yonder is
Sir Launcelot that overcame you. When they wist that, they were glad.
And then Sir Meliot de Logres came home, and told king Arthur how Sir
Launcelot had saved him from the death. And all his deeds were known,
how four queens, sorceresses, had him in prison, and how he was
delivered by king Bagdemagus’s daughter. Also there were told all the
great deeds of arms that Sir Launcelot did betwixt the two kings, that
is to say, the king of Northgalis and king Bagdemagus. All the truth
Sir Gahalantine did tell, and Sir Mador de la Porte, and Sir Mordred,
for they were at that same tournament. Then came in the lady that knew
Sir Launcelot when that he wounded Sir Belleus at the pavilion. And
there, at the request of Sir Launcelot, Sir Belleus was made knight of
the Round Table.

And so at that time Sir Launcelot had the greatest name of any knight
of the world, and most he was honoured of high and low.

Explicit the noble tale of syr Launcelot du lake, whiche is the vi.
  book. Here foloweth the tale of syr Gareth of Orkeney, that was
  called Beaumayns by syr kay, and is the seventh book.




                           The Seventh Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Beaumains came to king Arthur’s court and demanded three petitions
  of king Arthur._

When Arthur held his Round Table most fully, it fortuned that he
commanded that the high feast of Pentecost should be holden at a city
and a castle, the which in those days was called Kink-Kenadon, upon the
sands that marched nigh Wales. So ever the king had a custom that at
the feast of Pentecost, in especial afore other feasts in the year, he
would not go that day to meat until he had heard or seen of a great
marvel. And for that custom all manner of strange adventures came
before Arthur as at that feast before all other feasts. And so Sir
Gawaine, a little tofore noon of the day of Pentecost, espied at a
window three men upon horseback, and a dwarf on foot. And so the three
men alight and the dwarf kept their horses, and one of the three men
was higher than the other twain by a foot and a half. Then Sir Gawaine
went unto the king and said, Sir, go to your meat, for here at the hand
come strange adventures. So Arthur went unto his meat with many other
kings. And there were all the knights of the Round Table, save those
that were prisoners or slain at a recounter. Then at the high feast
evermore they should be fulfilled the whole number of an hundred and
fifty, for then was the Round Table fully complished. Right so came
into the hall two men well beseen and richly, and upon their shoulders
there leaned the goodliest young man and the fairest that ever they all
saw, and he was large and long and broad in the shoulders, and well
visaged, and the fairest and the largest handed that ever man saw, but
he fared as though he might not go nor bear himself, but if he leaned
upon their shoulders. Anon as Arthur saw him there was made peace and
room, and right so they went with him unto the high dais, without
saying of any words. Then this much young man pulled him aback, and
easily stretched up straight, saying, King Arthur, God you bless, and
all your fair fellowship, and in especial the fellowship of the Table
Round. And for this cause I am come hither, to pray you and require you
to give me three gifts, and they shall not be unreasonably asked, but
that ye may worshipfully and honourably grant them me, and to you no
great hurt nor loss. And the first done and gift I will ask now, and
the other two gifts I will ask this day twelvemonth wheresoever ye hold
your high feast. Now ask, said Arthur, and ye shall have your asking.
Now sir, this is my petition for this feast, that ye will give me meat
and drink sufficiently for this twelvemonth, and at that day I will ask
mine other two gifts. My fair son, said Arthur, ask better, I counsel
thee, for this is but a simple asking, for my heart giveth me to thee
greatly that thou art come of men of worship, and greatly my conceit
faileth me but thou shalt prove a man of right great worship. Sir, said
he, thereof be as it may, I have asked that I will ask. Well, said the
king, ye shall have meat and drink enough, I never defended that none,
neither my friend nor my foe. But what is thy name I would wit? I
cannot tell you, said he. That is marvel, said the king, that thou
knowest not thy name, and thou art the goodliest young man that ever I
saw. Then the king betook him to Sir Kay, the steward, and charged him
that he should give him of all manner of meats and drinks of the best,
and also that he had all manner of finding as though he were a lord’s
son. That shall little need, said Sir Kay, to do such cost upon him;
for I dare undertake he is a villain born, and never will make man, for
and he had come of gentlemen he would have asked of you horse and
armour, but such as he is, so he asketh. And since he hath no name, I
shall give him a name that shall be Beaumains, that is Fair-hands, and
into the kitchen I shall bring him, and there he shall have fat browis
every day, that he shall be as fat by the twelvemonth’s end as a pork
hog. Right so the two men departed, and beleft him to Sir Kay, that
scorned him and mocked him.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine were wroth because Sir Kay mocked
  Beaumains, and of a damsel which desired a knight for to fight for a
  lady._

Thereat was Sir Gawaine wroth, and in especial Sir Launcelot bad Sir
Kay leave his mocking, for I dare lay my head he shall prove a man of
great worship. Let be, said Sir Kay, it may not be, by no reason, for
as he is so hath he asked. Beware, said Sir Launcelot, so ye gave the
good knight Brewnor, Sir Dinadan’s brother, a name, and ye called him
La Cote Male Taile, and that turned you to anger afterward. As for
that, said Sir Kay, this shall never prove none such; for Sir Brewnor
desired ever worship, and this desireth bread and drink, and broth;
upon pain of my life he was fostered up in some abbey, and, howsoever
it was, they failed meat and drink, and so hither he is come for his
sustenance. And so Sir Kay bad get him a place and sit down to meat, so
Beaumains went to the hall door, and set him down among boys and lads,
and there he eat sadly. And then Sir Launcelot after meat bad him come
to his chamber, and there he should have meat and drink enough. And so
did Sir Gawaine: but he refused them all; he would do none other but as
Sir Kay commanded him, for no proffer. But as touching Sir Gawaine, he
had reason to proffer him lodging, meat, and drink, for that proffer
came of his blood, for he was nearer kin to him than he wist. But that
as Sir Launcelot did was of his great gentleness and courtesy. So thus
he was put into the kitchen, and lay nightly as the boys of the kitchen
did. And so he endured all that twelvemonth, and never displeased man
nor child, but always he was meek and mild. But ever when that he saw
any justing of knights, that would he see and he might. And ever Sir
Launcelot would give him gold to spend, and clothes, and so did Sir
Gawaine. And where were any masteries done thereat would he be, and
there might none cast bar nor stone to him by two yards. Then would Sir
Kay say, How liketh you my boy of the kitchen? So it passed on till the
feast of Whitsuntide. And at that time the king held it at Carlion in
the most royalest wise that might be, like as he did yearly.

But the king would no meat eat upon the Whitsunday until he heard some
adventures. Then came there a squire to the king and said, Sir, ye may
go to your meat, for here cometh a damsel with some strange adventures.
Then was the king glad, and set him down. Right so there came a damsel
into the hall, and saluted the king, and prayed him of succour. For
whom, said the king, what is the adventure? Sir, she said, I have a
lady of great worship and renown, and she is besieged with a tyrant, so
that she may not out of her castle. And because here are called the
noblest knights of the world, I come to you to pray you of succour.
What highteth your lady, and where dwelleth she? and who is he, and
what is his name, that hath besieged her? Sir king, she said, as for my
lady’s name that shall not ye know for me as at this time, but I let
you wit she is a lady of great worship, and of great lands. And as for
the tyrant that besiegeth her and destroyeth her lands, he is called
the red knight of the red lawns. I know him not, said the king. Sir,
said Sir Gawaine, I know him well, for he is one of the perilousest
knights of the world: men say that he hath seven men’s strength, and
from him I escaped once full hard with my life. Fair damsel, said the
king, there be knights here would do their power to rescue your lady,
but because ye will not tell her name, nor where she dwelleth,
therefore none of my knights that be here now shall go with you by my
will. Then must I speak further, said the damsel.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Beaumains desired the battle, and how it was granted to him, and
  how he desired to be made knight of Sir Launcelot._

With these words came before the king Beaumains, while the damsel was
there, and thus he said: Sir king, God thank you, I have been these
twelvemonth in your kitchen, and have had my full sustenance, and now I
will ask my two gifts that be behind. Ask upon my peril, said the king.
Sir, this shall be my two gifts. First, that ye will grant me to have
this adventure of the damsel, for it belongeth unto me. Thou shalt have
it, said the king, I grant it thee. Then, sir, this is the other gift,
that ye shall bid Launcelot du Lake make me knight, for of him I will
be made knight, and else of none. And when I am past, I pray you let
him ride after me, and make me knight when I require him. All this
shall be done, said the king. Fie on thee, said the damsel, shall I
have none but one that is your kitchen page. Then was she wroth, and
took her horse and departed.

And with that there came one to Beaumains, and told him that his horse
and armour was come for him, and there was the dwarf come with all
thing that him needed in the richest manner. Thereat all the court had
much marvel from whence came all that gear. So when he was armed there
was none but few so goodly a man as he was. And right so he came into
the hall and took his leave of king Arthur and Sir Gawaine and Sir
Launcelot, and prayed that he would hie after him. And so departed and
rode after the damsel.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Beaumains departed, and how he gat of Sir Kay a spear and a
  shield, and how he justed and fought with Sir Launcelot._

But there went many after to behold how well he was horsed and trapped
in cloth of gold, but he had neither shield nor spear. Then Sir Kay
said all openly in the hall, I will ride after my boy in the kitchen,
to wit whether he will know me for his better. Said Sir Launcelot and
Sir Gawaine, Yet abide at home. So Sir Kay made him ready and took his
horse and his spear and rode after him. And right as Beaumains overtook
the damsel, right so came Sir Kay, and said, Beaumains, what sir know
ye not me? Then he turned his horse and knew it was Sir Kay, that had
done him all the despite as ye have heard afore. Yea, said Beaumains, I
know you for an ungentle knight of the court, and therefore beware of
me. Therewith Sir Kay put his spear in the rest, and ran straight upon
him, and Beaumains came as fast upon him with his sword in his hand;
and so he put away his spear with his sword, and with a foin thrust him
through the side, that Sir Kay fell down as he had been dead, and he
alight down and took Sir Kay’s shield and his spear, and start upon his
own horse and rode his way. All that saw Sir Launcelot, and so did the
damsel. And then he bad his dwarf start upon Sir Kay’s horse, and so he
did. By that Sir Launcelot was come. Then he proffered Sir Launcelot to
just, and either made them ready, and came together so fiercely that
either bare down other to the earth, and sore were they bruised. Then
Sir Launcelot arose and helped him from his horse. And then Beaumains
threw his shield from him, and proffered to fight with Sir Launcelot on
foot, and so they rushed together like boars, tracing, racing, and
foining, to the mountenance of an hour, and Sir Launcelot felt him so
big that he marvelled of his strength, for he fought more like a giant
than a knight, and that his fighting was durable and passing perilous.
For Sir Launcelot had so much ado with him that he dread himself to be
shamed, and said, Beaumains, fight not so sore, your quarrel and mine
is not so great but we may leave off. Truly, that is truth, said
Beaumains, but it doth me good to feel your might, and yet, my lord, I
shewed not the utterance.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Beaumains told to Sir Launcelot his name, and how he was dubbed
  knight of Sir Launcelot, and after overtook the damsel._

Well, said Sir Launcelot, for I promise you by the faith of my body I
had as much to do as I might to save myself from you unshamed, and
therefore have ye no doubt of none earthly knight. Hope ye so that I
may any while stand a proved knight? said Beaumains. Yea, said
Launcelot, do ye as ye have done, and I shall be your warrant. Then, I
pray you, said Beaumains, give me the order of knighthood. Then must ye
tell me your name, said Launcelot, and of what kin ye be born. Sir, so
that ye will not discover me I shall, said Beaumains. Nay, said Sir
Launcelot, and that I promise you by the faith of my body, until it be
openly known. Then, Sir, he said, my name is Gareth, and brother unto
Sir Gawaine, of father and mother. Ah! Sir, said Launcelot, I am more
gladder of you than I was, for ever me thought ye should be of great
blood, and that ye came not to the court neither for meat nor for
drink. And then Sir Launcelot gave him the order of knighthood. And
then Sir Gareth prayed him for to depart, and let him go. So Sir
Launcelot departed from him and came to Sir Kay, and made him to be
borne home upon his shield, and so he was healed hard with the life,
and all men scorned Sir Kay, and in especial Sir Gawaine and Sir
Launcelot said it was not his part to rebuke no young man, for full
little knew he of what birth he is come, and for what cause he came to
this court. And so we leave off Sir Kay and turn we unto Beaumains.
When he had overtaken the damsel anon she said, What doest thou here?
thou stinkest all of the kitchen, thy clothes be foul of the grease and
tallow that thou gainedst in king Arthur’s kitchen; weenest thou, said
she, that I allow thee for yonder knight that thou killedst? Nay truly,
for thou slewest him unhappily and cowardly, therefore turn again foul
kitchen page. I know thee well, for Sir Kay named thee Beaumains; what
art thou but a lubber and a turner of spits, and a ladle washer?
Damsel, said Beaumains, say to me what ye will, I will not go from you
whatsoever ye say, for I have undertaken to king Arthur for to achieve
your adventure, and so shall I finish it to the end, or I shall die
therefore. Fie on thee, kitchen knave, wilt thou finish mine adventure?
thou shalt anon be met withall, that thou wouldest not for all the
broth that ever thou suppedst once look him in the face. I shall assay,
said Beaumains. So thus as they rode in the wood, there came a man
flying all that ever he might. Whither wilt thou? said Beaumains. O
lord, he said, help me, for hereby in a slade are six thieves, that
have taken my lord and bound him, so I am afeard lest they will slay
him. Bring me thither, said Sir Beaumains. And so they rode together
until they came there as was the knight bound, and then he rode unto
them and struck one unto the death, and then another, and at the third
stroke he slew the third thief: and then the other three fled. And he
rode after them, and he overtook them, and then those three thieves
turned again and assailed Beaumains hard, but at the last he slew them,
and returned and unbound the knight. And the knight thanked him, and
prayed him to ride with him to his castle there a little beside, and he
should worshipfully reward him for his good deeds. Sir, said Beaumains,
I will no reward have, I was this day made knight of noble Sir
Launcelot, and therefore I will no reward have, but God reward me. And
also I must follow this damsel. And when he came nigh her, she bad him
ride from her, for thou smellest all of the kitchen; weenest thou that
I have joy of thee? for all this deed thou hast done, is but mishapped
thee; but thou shalt see a sight that shall make thee turn again, and
that lightly. Then the same knight which was rescued of the thieves
rode after that damsel, and prayed her to lodge with him all that
night. And because it was near night the damsel rode with him to his
castle, and there they had great cheer. And at supper the knight set
Sir Beaumains afore the damsel. Fie, fie, said she, sir knight, ye are
uncourteous to set a kitchen page afore me, him beseemeth better to
stick a swine than to sit afore a damsel of high parentage. Then the
knight was ashamed at her words, and took him up and set him at a side
board, and set himself afore him. And so all that night they had good
cheer and merry rest.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Beaumains fought and slew two knights at a passage._

And on the morn the damsel and he took their leave and thanked the
knight, and so departed, and rode on their way until they came to a
great forest. And there was a great river and but one passage, and
there were ready two knights on the further side, to let them the
passage. What sayest thou, said the damsel, wilt thou match yonder
knights, or turn again? Nay, said Sir Beaumains, I will not turn again
and they were six more. And therewithal he rushed into the water, and
in the midst of the water either brake their spears upon other to their
hands, and then they drew their swords and smote eagerly at other. And
at the last Sir Beaumains smote the other upon the helm that his head
stonied, and therewithal he fell down in the water, and there was he
drowned. And then he spurred his horse upon the land, where the other
knight fell upon him and brake his spear, and so they drew their swords
and fought long together. At the last Sir Beaumains clave his helm and
his head down to the shoulders: and so he rode unto the damsel, and
bade her ride forth on her way. Alas, she said, that ever a kitchen
page should have that fortune to destroy such two doughty knights; thou
weenest thou hast done doughtily; that is not so, for the first knight
his horse stumbled, and there he was drowned in the water, and never it
was by thy force nor by thy might. And the last knight by mishap thou
camest behind him and mishappily thou slewest him. Damsel, said
Beaumains, ye may say what ye will, but with whomsoever I have ado
withall I trust to God to serve him or he depart, and therefore I reck
not what ye say, so that I may win your lady. Fie, fie, foul kitchen
knave, thou shalt see knights that shall abate thy boast. Fair damsel,
give me goodly language, and then my care is past, for what knights
soever they be I care not, nor I doubt them not. Also, said she, I say
it for thine avail, yet mayest thou turn again with thy worship, for
and thou follow me thou art but slain, for I see all that ever thou
dost is but by misadventure, and not by prowess of thy hands. Well,
damsel, ye may say what ye will, but wheresoever ye go I will follow
you. So this Beaumains rode with that lady till even-song time, and
ever she chid him, and would not rest. And then they came to a black
lawn, and there was a black hawthorn, and thereon hung a black banner,
and on the other side there hung a black shield, and by it stood a
black spear great and long, and a great black horse covered with silk,
and a black stone fast by.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Sir Beaumains fought with the knight of the black lawns, and
  fought with him till he fell down and died._

There sat a knight all armed in black harness, and his name was the
knight of the black lawn. Then the damsel, when she saw that knight,
she bade him flee down the valley, for his horse was not saddled.
Gramercy, said Beaumains, for always ye would have me a coward. With
that the black knight, when she came nigh him, spake and said, Damsel,
have ye brought this knight of king Arthur to be your champion? Nay,
fair knight, said she, this is but a kitchen knave, that was fed in
king Arthur’s kitchen for alms. Why cometh he, said the knight, in such
array? it is shame that he beareth you company. Sir, I cannot be
delivered of him, said she, for with me he rideth maugre mine head;
would that ye should put him from me, or else to slay him and ye may,
for he is an unhappy knave, and unhappily he hath done this day;
through mishap I saw him slay two knights at the passage of the water,
and other deeds he did before right marvellous, and through
unhappiness. That marvelleth me, said the black knight, that any man
that is of worship will have ado with him. They know him not, said the
damsel, and because he rideth with me they think he is some man of
worship born. That may be, said the black knight, how be it as ye say
that he be no man of worship, he is a full likely person, and full like
to be a strong man; but thus much shall I grant you, said the black
knight, I shall put him down upon one foot, and his horse and his
harness he shall leave with me, for it were shame to me to do him any
more harm. When Sir Beaumains heard him say thus, he said, Sir knight,
thou art full liberal of my horse and my harness. I let thee wit it
cost thee nought, and whether it liketh thee or not this lawn will I
pass, maugre thine head, and horse nor harness gettest thou none of me,
but if thou win them with thy hands; and therefore let see what thou
canst do. Sayest thou that, said the black knight, now yield thy lady
from thee, for it beseemeth never a kitchen page to ride with such a
lady. Thou liest, said Beaumains, I am a gentleman born, and of more
high lineage than thou, and that will I prove on thy body. Then in
great wrath they departed with their horses, and came together as it
had been the thunder; and the black knight’s spear brake, and Beaumains
thrust him through both his sides, and therewith his spear brake, and
the truncheon left still in his side. But nevertheless the black knight
drew his sword and smote many eager strokes and of great might, and
hurt Beaumains full sore. But at the last the black knight within an
hour and a half he fell down off his horse in a swoon, and there he
died. And then Beaumains saw him so well horsed and armed, then he
alight down, and armed him in his armour, and so took his horse, and
rode after the damsel. When she saw him come nigh, she said, Away,
kitchen knave, out of the wind, for the smell of thy foul clothes
grieveth me. Alas, she said, that ever such a knave as thou art should
by mishap slay so good a knight as thou hast done, but all this is
thine unhappiness. But hereby is one shall pay thee all thy payment,
and therefore yet I counsel thee, flee. It may happen me, said
Beaumains, to be beaten or slain, but I warn you, fair damsel, I will
not flee away nor leave your company for all that ye can say, for ever
ye say that they will kill me or beat me, but how soever it happeneth I
escape, and they lie on the ground. And therefore it were as good for
you to hold you still, thus all day rebuking me, for away will I not
till I see the uttermost of this journey, or else I will be slain or
truly beaten; therefore ride on your way, for follow you I will
whatsoever happen.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How the brother of the knight that was slain met with Beaumains, and
  fought with Beaumains till he was yielden._

Thus as they rode together, they saw a knight come driving by them all
in green, both his horse and his harness; and when he came nigh the
damsel he asked her, Is that my brother the black knight that ye have
brought with you? Nay, nay, said she, this unhappy kitchen knave hath
slain your brother through unhappiness. Alas, said the green knight,
that is great pity that so noble a knight as he was should so unhappily
be slain, and namely of a knave’s hand, as ye say that he is. Ah!
traitor, said the green knight, thou shalt die for slaying of my
brother, he was a full noble knight, and his name was Sir Percard. I
defy thee, said Beaumains, for I let thee wit I slew him knightly, and
not shamefully. Therewithall the green knight rode unto an horn that
was green, and it hung upon a thorn, and there he blew three deadly
notes, and there came two damsels and armed him lightly. And then took
he a great horse, and a green shield and a green spear. And then they
ran together with all their mights, and brake their spears unto their
hands. And then they drew their swords, and gave many sad strokes, and
either of them wounded other full ill. And at the last at an overthwart
Beaumains’ horse struck the green knight’s horse upon the side, he fell
to the earth. And then the green knight avoided his horse lightly, and
dressed him upon foot. That saw Beaumains, and therewithal he alight,
and they rushed together like two mighty champions a long while, and
sore they bled both. With that came the damsel and said, My lord the
green knight, why for shame stand ye so long fighting with the kitchen
knave? Alas, it is shame that ever ye were made knight, to see such a
lad match such a knight, as the weed overgrew the corn. Therewith the
green knight was ashamed, and therewithal he gave a great stroke of
might, and clave his shield through. When Beaumains saw his shield
cloven asunder he was a little ashamed of that stroke, and of her
language; and then he gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell
on his knees: and so suddenly Beaumains pulled him upon the ground
groveling. And then the green knight cried him mercy, and yielded him
unto Sir Beaumains, and prayed him to slay him not. All is in vain,
said Beaumains, for thou shalt die, but if this damsel that came with
me pray me to save thy life. And therewithal he unlaced his helm, like
as he would slay him. Fie upon thee, false kitchen page, I will never
pray thee to save his life, for I never will be so much in thy danger.
Then shall he die, said Beaumains. Not so hardy thou foul knave, said
the damsel, that thou slay him. Alas, said the green knight, suffer me
not to die, for a fair word may save me. Fair knight, said the green
knight, save my life, and I will forgive thee the death of my brother,
and for ever to become thy man, and thirty knights that hold of me for
ever shall do you service. In the devil’s name, said the damsel, that
such a foul kitchen knave should have thee and thirty knights’ service.
Sir knight, said Beaumains, all this availeth thee not, but if my
damsel speak with me for thy life. And therewithal he made a semblant
to slay him. Let be, said the damsel, thou foul knave, slay him not,
for and thou do thou shalt repent it. Damsel, said Beaumains, your
charge is to me a pleasure, and at your commandment his life shall be
saved, and else not. Then he said, Sir knight with the green arms, I
release thee quit at this damsel’s request, for I will not make her
wroth; I will fulfill all that she chargeth me. And then the green
knight kneeled down, and did him homage with his sword. Then said the
damsel, Me repenteth, green knight, of your damage, and of your
brother’s death the black knight, for of your help I had great need,
for I dread me sore to pass this forest. Nay, dread you not, said the
green knight, for ye shall lodge with me this night, and to morn I
shall help you through this forest. So they took their horses and rode
to his manor, which was fast there beside.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How the damsel ever rebuked Sir Beaumains, and would not suffer him to
  sit at her table, but called him kitchen boy._

And ever she rebuked Beaumains, and would not suffer him to sit at her
table, but as the green knight took him and sat him at a side table.
Marvel me thinketh, said the green knight to the damsel, why ye rebuke
this noble knight as ye do, for I warn you, damsel, he is a full noble
knight, and I know no knight is able to match him, therefore ye do
great wrong to rebuke him, for he shall do you right good service, for
whatsoever he maketh himself ye shall prove at the end that he is come
of a noble blood, and of king’s lineage. Fie, fie, said the damsel, it
is shame for you to say of him such worship. Truly, said the green
knight, it were shame for me to say of him any disworship, for he hath
proved himself a better knight than I am, yet have I met with many
knights in my days, and never or this time have I found no knight his
match. And so that night they went unto rest, and all that night the
green knight commanded thirty knights privily to watch Beaumains, for
to keep him from all treason. And so on the morn they all arose, and
heard their mass and brake their fast, and then they took their horses
and rode on their way, and the green knight conveyed them through the
forest, and there the green knight said, My lord Beaumains, I and these
thirty knights shall be alway at your summons, both early and late, at
your calling, and where that ever ye will send us. It is well said,
said Beaumains; when that I call upon you ye must yield you unto king
Arthur and all your knights. If that ye so command us, we shall be
ready at all times, said the green knight. Fie, fie upon thee, said the
damsel, that any good knights should be obedient unto a kitchen knave.
So then departed the green knight and the damsel. And then she said
unto Beaumains, Why followest thou me thou kitchen boy, cast away thy
shield and thy spear and flee away, yet I counsel thee betimes or thou
shalt say right soon, Alas! For were thou as wight as ever was Wade, or
Launcelot, Tristram, or the good knight Sir Lamorake, thou shalt not
pass a pass here, that is called the pass perilous. Damsel, said
Beaumains, who is afeard let him flee, for it were shame to turn again
since I have ridden so long with you. Well, said the damsel, ye shall
soon, whether ye will or not.


                                CHAP. X.

_How the third brother, called the red knight, justed and fought
  against Beaumains, and how Beaumains overcame him._

So within a while they saw a tower as white as any snow, well matchcold
all about, and double diked. And over the tower-gate there hung a fifty
shields of divers colours; and under that tower there was a fair
meadow. And therein were many knights and squires to behold scaffolds
and pavilions, for there upon the morn should be a great tournament;
and the lord of the tower was in his castle, and looked out at a
window, and saw a damsel, a dwarf, and a knight armed at all points. By
my faith, said the lord, with that knight will I just, for I see that
he is a knight errant. And so he armed him, and horsed him hastily. And
when he was on horseback with his shield and his spear, it was all red,
both his horse and his harness, and all that to him belonged. And when
that he came nigh him he wend it had been his brother the black knight.
And then he cried aloud, Brother what do ye in these marches? Nay, nay,
said the damsel, it is not he; this is but a kitchen knave, that was
brought up for alms in king Arthur’s court. Nevertheless, said the red
knight, I will speak with him or he depart. Ah, said the damsel, this
knave hath killed thy brother, and Sir Kay named him Beaumains, and
this horse and harness was thy brother’s the black knight. Also I saw
thy brother the green knight overcome of his hands. Now may ye be
revenged upon him, for I may never be quit of him.

With this either knight departed in sunder, and they came together with
all their might, and either of their horses fell to the earth, and they
avoided their horses, and put their shields afore them, and drew their
swords, and either gave other sad strokes, now here, now there, racing,
tracing, foining, and hurling like two boars, the space of two hours.
And then she cried on high to the red knight, Alas, thou noble red
knight, think what worship hath followed thee, let never a kitchen
knave endure thee so long as he doth. Then the red knight waxed wroth,
and doubled his strokes, and hurt Beaumains wonderly sore, that the
blood ran down to the ground, that it was wonder to see that strong
battle. Yet at the last Sir Beaumains strake him to the earth, and as
he would have slain the red knight he cried mercy, saying, Noble knight
slay me not, and I shall yield me to thee with fifty knights with me
that be at my commandment. And I forgive thee all the despite that thou
hast done to me, and the death of my brother the black knight. All this
availeth not, said Sir Beaumains, but if my damsel pray me to save thy
life. And therewith he made semblant to strike off his head. Let be,
thou Beaumains, slay him not, for he is a noble knight, and not so
hardy upon thine head but thou save him. Then Beaumains bad the red
knight stand up, and thank the damsel now of thy life. Then the red
knight prayed him to see his castle, and to be there all night. So the
damsel then granted him, and there they had merry cheer. But always the
damsel spake many foul words unto Beaumains, whereof the red knight had
great marvel, and all that night the red knight made threescore knights
to watch Beaumains, that he should have no shame nor villainy. And upon
the morn they heard mass, and dined, and the red knight came before
Beaumains with his threescore knights, and there he proffered him his
homage and fealty at all times, he and his knights to do him service. I
thank you, said Beaumains, but this ye shall grant me when I call upon
you, to come afore my lord king Arthur and yield you unto him to be his
knights. Sir, said the red knight, I will be ready and my fellowship at
your summons. So Sir Beaumains departed and the damsel, and ever she
rode chiding him in the foullest manner.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Sir Beaumains suffered great rebukes of the damsel, and he
  suffered it patiently._

Damsel, said Beaumains, ye are uncourteous so to rebuke me as ye do,
for me seemeth I have done you good service, and ever ye threaten me I
shall be beaten with knights that we meet, but ever for all your boast
they lie in the dust or in the mire, and therefore I pray you rebuke me
no more: and when ye see me beaten or yielden as recreant, then may ye
bid me go from you shamefully, but first I let you wit I will not
depart from you, for I were worse than a fool and I would depart from
you all the while that I win worship. Well, said she, right soon there
shall meet a knight shall pay thee all thy wages, for he is the most
man of worship of the world, except king Arthur. I will well, said
Beaumains; the more he is of worship the more shall be my worship to
have ado with him. Then anon they were ware where was before them a
city rich and fair. And betwixt them and the city a mile and a half,
there was a fair meadow that seemed new mown, and therein were many
pavilions fair to behold. Lo, said the damsel, yonder is a lord that
owneth yonder city, and his custom is when the weather is fair to lie
in this meadow to just and tourney; and ever there be about him five
hundred knights and gentlemen of arms, and there be all manner of games
that any gentleman can devise. That goodly lord, said Beaumains, would
I fain see. Thou shalt see him time enough, said the damsel. And so as
she rode near she espied the pavilion where he was. Lo, said she, seest
thou yonder pavilion, that is all of the colour of Inde, and all manner
of thing that there is about, men and women, and horses trapped,
shields and spears, all of the colour of Inde, and his name is Sir
Persant of Inde, the most lordliest knight that ever thou lookedest on.
It may well be, said Beaumains, but be he never so stout a knight, in
this field I shall abide till that I see him under his shield. Ah fool,
said she, thou were better flee betimes. Why, said Beaumains, and he be
such a knight as ye make him, he will not set upon me with all his men,
or with his five hundred knights. For and there come no more but one at
once, I shall him not fail whilst my life lasteth. Fie, fie, said the
damsel, that ever such a dirty knave should blow such a boast. Damsel,
he said, ye are to blame so to rebuke me, for I had lever do five
battles than so to be rebuked; let him come, and then let him do his
worst. Sir, she said, I marvel what thou art, and of what kin thou art
come: boldly thou speakest, and boldly thou hast done, that have I
seen: therefore I pray thee save thyself and thou mayest, for thy horse
and thou have had great travail, and I dread we dwell over long from
the siege, for it is but hence seven mile, and all perilous passages we
are past, save all only this passage, and here I dread me sore lest ye
shall catch some hurt, therefore I would ye were hence, that ye were
not bruised nor hurt with this strong knight. But I let you wit this
Sir Persant of Inde is nothing of might nor strength unto the knight
that laid the siege about my lady. As for that, said Sir Beaumains, be
it as it may; for since I am come so nigh this knight I will prove his
might or I depart from him, and else I shall be shamed and I now
withdraw me from him. And therefore, damsel, have ye no doubt by the
grace of God I shall so deal with this knight, that within two hours
after noon I shall deliver him, and then shall we come to the siege by
day light. Oh mercy, marvel have I, said the damsel, what manner a man
ye be, for it may never be otherwise but that ye be come of a noble
blood, for so foul and shamefully did never woman rule a knight as I
have done you, and ever courteously ye have suffered me, and that came
never but of a gentle blood.

Damsel, said Beaumains, a knight may little do that may not suffer a
damsel; for whatsoever ye said unto me I took none heed to your words,
for the more ye said the more ye angered me, and my wrath I wreaked
upon them that I had ado withal. And therefore all the missaying that
ye missayed me furthered me in my battle, and caused me to think to
shew and prove myself at the end what I was; for peradventure though I
had meat in king Arthur’s kitchen, yet I might have had meat enough in
other places; but all that I did it for to prove and to assay my
friends, and that shall be known another day, and whether that I be a
gentleman born or none, I let you wit, fair damsel, I have done you
gentleman’s service, and peradventure better service yet will I do or I
depart from you. Alas, she said, fair Beaumains, forgive me all that I
have missaid or done against thee. With all my heart, said he, I
forgive it you, for ye did nothing but as ye should do, for all your
evil words pleased me; and damsel, said Beaumains, since it liketh you
to say thus fair to me, wit ye well it gladdeth mine heart greatly, and
now me seemeth there is no knight living but I am able enough for him.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Beaumains fought with Sir Persant of Inde, and made him to be
  yielden._

With this Sir Persant of Inde had espied them as they hoved in the
field, and knightly he sent to them whether he came in war or in peace.
Say to thy lord, said Beaumains, I take no force, but whether as him
list himself. So the messenger went again unto Sir Persant, and told
him all his answer. Well, then will I have ado with him to the
utterance. And so he purveyed him and rode against him. And Beaumains
saw him and made him ready, and there they met with all that ever their
horses might run, and brake their spears either in three pieces, and
their horses rushed so together that both their horses fell dead to the
earth, and lightly they avoided their horses, and put their shields
afore them, and drew their swords, and gave many great strokes, that
sometime they hurtled together that they fell groveling on the ground.
Thus they fought two hours and more, that their shields and their
hauberks were all forhewn, and in many places they were wounded. So at
the last Sir Beaumains smote him through the side of the body, and then
he drew him back here and there, and knightly maintained his battle
long time. And at the last, though him loth were, Beaumains smote Sir
Persant above upon the helm that he fell groveling to the earth, and
then he lept upon him overthwart, and unlaced his helm to have slain
him. Then Sir Persant yielded him and asked him mercy. With that came
the damsel, and prayed to save his life. I will well, for it were pity
that this noble knight should die. Gramercy, said Persant, gentle
knight and damsel; for certainly now I wot well it was ye that slew my
brother the black knight, at the black thorn; he was a full noble
knight, his name was Sir Percard. Also, I am sure that ye are he that
won mine other brother the green knight, his name was Sir Pertolepe.
Also, ye won my brother the red knight Sir Perimones. And now since ye
have won these, this shall I do for to please you; ye shall have homage
and fealty of me, and an hundred knights, to be always at your
commandment, to go and ride where ye will command us. And so they went
unto Sir Persant’s pavilion, and drank the wine and eat spices. And
afterward Sir Persant made him to rest upon a bed until supper time,
and after supper to bed again. And so we leave him there till on the
morn.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_Of the goodly communication between Sir Persant and Beaumains, and how
  he told him that his name was Sir Gareth._

And so on the morn the damsel and Sir Beaumains heard mass and brake
their fast, and so took their leave. Fair damsel, said Persant,
whitherward are ye away leading this knight? Sir, she said, this knight
is going to the siege that besiegeth my sister in the castle dangerous.
Ah, ah, said Persant, that is the knight of the red lawn, the which is
the most perilous knight that I know now living, and a man that is
without mercy, and men say that he hath seven men’s strength. God save
you, said he to Beaumains, from that knight, for he doth great wrong to
that lady, and that is great pity, for she is one of the fairest ladies
of the world, and me seemeth that your damsel is her sister. Is not
your name Linet? said he. Yea, sir, said she, and my lady my sister’s
name is dame Liones. Now shall I tell you, said Sir Persant, this red
knight of the red lawn hath lain long at the siege, well nigh this two
years, and many times he might have had her and he had would, but he
prolongeth the time to this intent for to have Sir Launcelot du Lake to
do battle with him, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak de Galis, or Sir
Gawaine: and this is his tarrying so long at the siege. Now, my lord
Sir Persant of Inde, said the damsel Linet, I require you that ye will
make this gentleman knight, or ever he fight with the red knight. I
will with all my heart, said Sir Persant, and it please him to take the
order of knighthood of so simple a man as I am. Sir, said Beaumains, I
thank you for your good will, for I am better sped, for certainly the
noble knight Sir Launcelot made me knight. Ah, said Persant, of a more
renowned knight might ye not be made knight. For of all knights he may
be called chief of knighthood: and so all the world saith that betwixt
three knights is parted clearly knighthood that is Launcelot du Lake,
Sir Tristram de Liones, and Sir Lamorak de Galis: these bear now the
renown. There be many other knights, as Sir Palamides the Saracen, and
Sir Sasere his brother; also Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Blamore de Ganis
his brother; also Sir Bors de Ganis, and Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir
Percivale de Galis; these and many more be noble knights, but there be
none that pass the three above said; therefore God speed you well, said
Sir Persant, for and ye may match the red knight ye shall be called the
fourth of the world. Sir, said Beaumains, I would fain be of good fame
and of knighthood. And I let you wit I came of good men, for I dare say
my father was a noble man, and so that ye will keep it in close, and
this damsel, I will tell you of what kin I am. We will not discover
you, said they both, till ye command us, by the faith we owe unto God.
Truly then, said he, my name is Gareth of Orkney, and king Lot was my
father, and my mother is king Arthur’s sister; her name is dame
Morgawse, and Sir Gawaine is my brother, and Sir Agravaine, and Sir
Gaheris, and I am the youngest of them all. And yet wot not king Arthur
nor Sir Gawaine what I am.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How the lady that was besieged had word from her sister how she had
  brought a knight to fight for her, and what battles he had achieved._

So the book saith that the lady that was besieged had word of her
sister’s coming by the dwarf, and a knight with her, and how he had
passed all the perilous passages. What manner a man is he? said the
lady. He is a noble knight, truly, madam, said the dwarf, and but a
young man, but he is as likely a man as ever ye saw any. What is he,
said the lady, and of what kin is he come, and of whom was he made
knight? Madam, said the dwarf, he is the king’s son of Orkney, but his
name I will not tell you as at this time; but wit ye well, of Sir
Launcelot was he made knight, for of none other would he be made
knight, and Sir Kay named him Beaumains. How escaped he, said the lady,
from the brethren of Persant? Madam, he said, as a noble knight should.
First, he slew two brethren at a passage of a water. Ah! said she, they
were good knights, but they were murderers, the one hight Gherard de
Breusse, and that other knight hight Sir Arnold de Breusse. Then,
madam, he recountered with the black knight, and slew him in plain
battle, and so he took his horse and his armour and fought with the
green knight, and wan him in plain battle, and in likewise he served
the red knight, and after in the same wise he served the blue knight,
and wan him in plain battle. Then, said the lady, he hath overcome Sir
Persant of Inde, one of the noblest knights of the world. And the dwarf
said, He hath won all the four brethren, and slain the black knight.
And yet he did more tofore: he overthrew Sir Kay, and left him nigh
dead upon the ground; also he did a great battle with Sir Launcelot,
and there they departed on even hands: and then Sir Launcelot made him
knight. Dwarf, said the lady, I am glad of these tidings, therefore go
thou in an hermitage of mine here by, and there shalt thou bear with
thee of my wine in two flaggons of silver, they are of two gallons, and
also two cast of bread, with fat venison baked, and dainty fowls; and a
cup of gold here I deliver thee, that is rich and precious, and bear
all this to mine hermitage, and put it in the hermit’s hands. And then
go thou unto my sister and greet her well, and command me unto that
gentle knight, and pray him to eat and to drink, and make him strong;
and say ye him I thank him of his courtesy and goodness, that he would
take upon him such labour for me that never did him bounty nor
courtesy. Also pray him that he be of good heart and good courage, for
he shall meet with a full noble knight, but he is neither of bounty,
courtesy, nor gentleness, for he attendeth unto no thing but to murder,
and that is the cause I cannot praise him nor love him. So this dwarf
departed and came to Sir Persant, where he found the damsel Linet and
Sir Beaumains, and there he told them all as ye have heard, and then
they took their leave; but Sir Persant took an ambling hackney and
conveyed them on their ways and then beleft them to God. And so within
a little while they came to that hermitage, and there they drank the
wine, and eat the venison and the fowls baken.

And so when they had repasted them well, the dwarf returned again with
his vessel unto the castle again, and there met with him the red knight
of the red lawns, and asked him from whence that he came, and where he
had been. Sir, said the dwarf, I have been with my lady’s sister of
this castle, and she hath been at king Arthur’s court, and brought a
knight with her. Then I account her travail but lost. For though she
had brought with her Sir Launcelot, Sir Tristram, Sir Lamorak, or Sir
Gawaine, I would think myself good enough for them all. It may well be,
said the dwarf, but this knight hath passed all the perilous passages,
and hath slain the black knight, and other two more, and won the green
knight, the red knight, and the blue knight. Then is he one of these
four that I have afore rehearsed. He is none of those, said the dwarf,
but he is a king’s son. What is his name? said the red knight of the
red lawn. That will I not tell you, said the dwarf, but Sir Kay upon
scorn named him Beaumains. I care not, said the knight, what knight
soever he be, for I shall soon deliver him; and if I ever match him he
shall have a shameful death, as many other have had. That were pity,
said the dwarf, and it is marvel that ye make such shameful war upon
noble knights.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How the damsel and Beaumains came to the siege, and came to a sycamore
  tree, and there Beaumains blew a horn, and then the knight of the red
  lawns came to fight with him._

Now leave we the knight and the dwarf, and speak we of Beaumains, that
all night lay in the hermitage, and upon the morn he and the damsel
Linet heard their mass, and brake their fast. And then they took their
horses and rode throughout a fair forest, and then they came to a
plain, and saw where were many pavilions and tents, and a fair castle,
and there was much smoke and great noise. And when they came near the
siege Sir Beaumains espied upon great trees, as he rode, how there hung
full goodly armed knights by the neck, and their shields about their
necks with their swords, and gilt spurs upon their heels, and so there
hung nigh a forty knights shamefully with full rich arms. Then Sir
Beaumains abated his countenance, and said, What meaneth this? Fair
Sir, said the damsel, abate not your cheer for all this sight, for ye
must encourage yourself, or else ye be all shent, for all these knights
came hither to this siege to rescue my sister dame Liones, and when the
red knight of the red lawn had overcome them he put them to this
shameful death, without mercy and pity. And in the same wise he will
serve you but if ye quit you better. Now Jesu defend me, said Sir
Beaumains, from such a villainous death and disgrace of arms, for
rather than I should so be farewithal, I would rather be slain manly in
plain battle. So were ye better, said the damsel; for trust not in him
is no courtesy, but all goeth to the death or shameful murder; and that
is pity, for he is a full likely man, well made of body, and a full
noble knight of prowess, and a lord of great lands and possessions.
Truly, said Beaumains, he may well be a good knight, but he useth
shameful customs, and it is marvel that he endureth so long, that none
of the noble knights of my lord Arthur have not dealt with him. And
then they rode to the dikes, and saw them double diked with full
warlike walls, and there were lodged many great lords nigh the walls,
and there was great noise of minstrelsy, and the sea betid upon the one
side of the walls, where were many ships and mariners’ noise, with
‘hale and how.’ And also, there was fast by a sycamore tree, and there
hung a horn, the greatest that ever they saw, of an elephant’s bone,
and this knight of the red lawn had hanged it up there, that if there
came any errant knight he must blow that horn, and then will he make
him ready, and come to him to do battle. But Sir, I pray you, said the
damsel Linet, blow ye not the horn till it be high noon, for now it is
about prime, and now encreaseth his might, that, as men say, he hath
seven men’s strength. Ah, fie for shame, fair damsel, say ye never so
more to me, for, and he were as good a knight as ever was, I shall
never fail him in his most might, for either I will win worship
worshipfully, or die knightly in the field. And therewith he spurred
his horse straight to the sycamore tree, and blew so the horn eagerly
that all the siege and the castle rang thereof. And then there lept out
knights out of their tents and pavilions, and they within the castle
looked over the walls and out at windows. Then the red knight of the
red lawns armed him hastily, and two barons set on his spurs upon his
heels, and all was blood-red, his armour, spear, and shield. And an
earl buckled his helm upon his head, and then they brought him a red
spear and a red steed, and so he rode into a little vale under the
castle, that all that were in the castle and at the siege might behold
the battle.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How the two knights met together, and of their talking, and how they
  began their battle._

Sir, said the damsel Linet unto Sir Beaumains, look ye be glad and
light, for yonder is your deadly enemy, and at yonder window is my lady
my sister, dame Liones. Where? said Beaumains. Yonder, said the damsel,
and pointed with her finger. That is truth, said Beaumains. She
beseemeth afar the fairest lady that ever I looked upon, and truly, he
said, I ask no better quarrel than now for to do battle, for truly she
shall be my lady, and for her I will fight. And ever he looked up to
the window with glad countenance. And the lady Liones made courtesy to
him down to the earth, with holding up both their hands. With that the
red knight of the red lawns called to Sir Beaumains, Leave, sir knight,
thy looking, and behold me, I counsel thee, for I warn thee well she is
my lady, and for her I have done many strong battles. If thou have so
done, said Beaumains, me seemeth it was but waste labour, for she
loveth none of thy fellowship, and thou to love that loveth not thee,
is but great folly. For and I understood that she were not glad of my
coming I would be advised or I did battle for her. But I understand by
the besieging of this castle, she may forbear thy fellowship. And
therefore wit thou well, thou red knight of the red lawns, I love her,
and will rescue her, or else to die. Sayest thou that, said the red
knight, me seemeth thou ought of reason to beware by yonder knights
that thou sawest hang upon yonder trees. Fie for shame, said Beaumains,
that ever thou shouldest say or do so evil, for in that thou shamest
thyself and knighthood, and thou mayest be sure there will no lady love
thee that knoweth thy wicked customs. And now thou weenest that the
sight of these hanged knights should fear me. Nay truly, not so, that
shameful sight causeth me to have courage and hardiness against thee,
more than I would have had against thee and thou were a well-ruled
knight. Make thee ready, said the red knight of the red lawns, and talk
no longer with me. Then Sir Beaumains bad the damsel go from him, and
then they put their spears in their rests, and came together with all
their might that they had both, and either smote other in the midst of
their shields, that the breastplates, horsegirths, and cruppers brast,
and fell to the earth both, and the reins of their bridles in their
hands, and so they lay a great while sore astonied; and all they that
were in the castle and in the siege wend their necks had been broken,
and then many a stranger and other said the strange knight was a big
man and a noble juster, for or now we saw never no knight match the red
knight of the red lawns: thus they said, both within the castle and
without. Then lightly they avoided their horses, and put their shields
afore them, and drew their swords, and ran together like two fierce
lions, and either gave other such buffets upon their helms that they
reeled backward both two strides, and then they recovered both, and
hewed great pieces of their harness and their shields, that a great
part fell into the fields.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How after long fighting Beaumains overcame the knight and would have
  slain him, but at the request of the lords he saved his life, and
  made him to yield him to the lady._

And then thus they fought till it was past noon and never would stint
till at last they lacked wind both, and then they stood wagging and
scattering, panting, blowing and bleeding, that all that beheld them
for the most part wept for pity. So when they had rested them a while
they went to battle again, tracing, racing, foining, as two boars. And
at sometime they took their run as it had been two rams, and hurtled
together that sometime they fell groveling to the earth: and at
sometime they were so amazed that either took other’s sword in stead of
his own.

Thus they endured till even-song time, that there was none that beheld
them might know whether was like to win the battle; and their armour
was so far hewn that men might see their naked sides, and in other
places they were naked, but ever the naked places they did defend. And
the red knight was a wily knight of war, and his wily fighting taught
Sir Beaumains to be wise; but he abought it full sore ere he did espy
his fighting. And thus by assent of them both, they granted either
other to rest; and so they set them down upon two mole-hills there
beside the fighting place, and either of them unlaced his helm and took
the cold wind, for either of their pages was fast by them, to come when
they called to unlace their harness and to set them on again at their
commandment. And then when Sir Beaumains’ helm was off he looked by to
the window, and there he saw the fair lady dame Liones; and she made
him such countenance that his heart waxed light and jolly; and
therewith he bade the red knight of the red lawns make him ready, and
let us do the battle to the utterance. I will well, said the knight.
And then they laced up their helms, and their pages avoided, and they
stept together and fought freshly. But the red knight of the red lawns
awaited him, and at an overthwart smote him within the hand, that his
sword fell out of his hand: and yet he gave him another buffet on the
helm that he fell groveling to the earth, and the red knight fell over
him for to hold him down. Then cried the maiden Linet on high, O Sir
Beaumains, where is thy courage become! Alas, my lady my sister
beholdeth thee, and she sobbeth and weepeth, that maketh mine heart
heavy. When Sir Beaumains heard her say so, he started up with a great
might and gat him upon his feet, and lightly he lept to his sword and
griped it in his hand, and doubled his pace unto the red knight, and
there they fought a new battle together. But Sir Beaumains then doubled
his strokes, and smote so thick that he smote the sword out of his
hand, and then he smote him upon the helm that he fell to the earth,
and Sir Beaumains fell upon him, and unlaced his helm to have slain
him; and then he yielded him and asked mercy, and said with a loud
voice, O noble knight I yield me to thy mercy. Then Sir Beaumains
bethought him upon the knights that he had made to be hanged
shamefully, and then he said, I may not with my worship save thy life,
for the shameful deaths thou hast caused many full good knights to die.
Sir, said the red knight of the red lawns, hold your hand and ye shall
know the causes why I put them to so shameful a death. Say on, said Sir
Beaumains. Sir, I loved once a lady, a fair damsel, and she had her
brother slain, and she said it was Sir Launcelot du Lake, or else Sir
Gawaine, and she prayed me as that I loved her heartily that I would
make her a promise by the faith of my knighthood, for to labour daily
in arms until I met with one of them, and all that I might overcome I
should put them unto a villainous death; and this is the cause that I
have put all these knights to death, and so I ensured her to do all the
villainy unto king Arthur’s knights, and that I should take vengeance
upon all these knights. And, Sir, now I will thee tell that every day
my strength encreaseth till noon, and all this time have I seven men’s
strength.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How the knight yielded him, and how Beaumains made him to go unto king
  Arthur’s court, and to cry Sir Launcelot mercy._

Then came there many earls, and barons, and noble knights, and prayed
that knight to save his life, and take him to your prisoner: and all
they fell upon their knees and prayed him of mercy, and that he would
save his life, and, Sir, they all said, it were fairer of him to take
homage and fealty, and let him hold his lands of you, than for to slay
him: by his death ye shall have none advantage, and his misdeeds that
be done may not be undone; and therefore he shall make amends to all
parties, and we all will become your men, and do you homage and fealty.
Fair lords, said Beaumains, wit you well I am full loth to slay this
knight, nevertheless he hath done passing ill and shamefully. But
insomuch all that he did was at a lady’s request I blame him the less,
and so for your sake I will release him, that he shall have his life
upon this covenant, that he go within the castle and yield him there to
the lady, and if she will forgive and quit him, I will well; with this
that he make her amends of all the trespass he hath done against her
and her lands. And also, when that is done, that ye go unto the court
of king Arthur, and there that ye ask Sir Launcelot mercy, and Sir
Gawaine, for the evil will ye have had against them. Sir, said the red
knight of the red lawns, all this will I do as ye command, and certain
assurance and sureties ye shall have. And so then when the assurance
was made, he made his homage and fealty, and all those earls and barons
with him. And then the maiden Linet came to Sir Beaumains and unarmed
him, and searched his wounds, and stinted his blood, and in likewise
she did to the red knight of the red lawns. And there they sojourned
ten days in their tents, and the red knight made his lords and servants
to do all the pleasure that they might unto Sir Beaumains. And so
within a while the red knight of the red lawns went unto the castle and
put him in the lady Liones’ grace, and so she received him upon
sufficient surety; so all her hurts were well restored of all that she
could complain. And then he departed unto the court of king Arthur, and
there openly the red knight of the red lawns put him in the mercy of
Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine, and there he told openly how he was
overcome and by whom, and also he told all the battles from the
beginning unto the ending. Mercy, said king Arthur and Sir Gawaine, we
marvel much of what blood he is come, for he is a noble knight. Have ye
no marvel, said Sir Launcelot, for ye shall right well wit that he is
come of a full noble blood, and as for his might and hardiness there be
but few now living that is so mighty as he is, and so noble of prowess.
It seemeth by you, said king Arthur, that ye know his name, and from
whence he is come, and of what blood he is. I suppose I do so, said
Launcelot, or else I would not have given him the order of knighthood;
but he gave me such charge at that time that I should never discover
him until he required me, or else it be known openly by some other.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How Beaumains came to the lady, and when he came to the castle the
  gates were closed against him, and of the words that the lady said to
  him._

Now turn we unto Sir Beaumains, that desired of Linet that he might see
her sister his lady. Sir, said she, I would fain ye saw her. Then Sir
Beaumains all armed him, and took his horse and his spear, and rode
straight unto the castle. And when he came to the gate he found there
many men armed, and pulled up the drawbridge and drew the port close.
Then marvelled he why they would not suffer him to enter. And then he
looked up to the window; and there he saw the fair Liones, that said on
high, Go thy way, Sir Beaumains, for as yet thou shalt not have wholly
my love, unto the time that thou be called one of the number of the
worthy knights. And therefore go labour in worship this twelvemonth,
and then thou shalt hear new tidings. Alas, fair lady, said Beaumains,
I have not deserved that ye should shew me this strangeness, and I had
wend that I should have right good cheer with you, and unto my power I
have deserved thank, and well I am sure I have bought your love with
part of the best blood within my body. Fair courteous knight, said dame
Liones, be not displeased nor over hasty; for wit ye well your great
travail nor good love shall not be lost, for I consider your great
travail and labour, your bounty and your goodness, as me ought to do.
And therefore go on your way, and look that ye be of good comfort, for
all shall be for your worship and for the best, and perdy a twelvemonth
will soon be done, and trust me, fair knight, I shall be true to you,
and never to betray you, but to my death I shall love you and none
other. And therewithal she turned her from the window; and Sir
Beaumains rode away ward from the castle, making great dole, and so he
rode here and there, and wist not where he rode, till it was dark
night. And then it happened him to come to a poor man’s house, and
there he was harboured all that night. But Sir Beaumains had no rest,
but wallowed and writhed for the love of the lady of the castle. And so
upon the morrow he took his horse, and rode until underne, and then he
came to a broad water, and thereby was a great lodge, and there he
alight to sleep, and laid his head upon the shield, and betook his
horse to the dwarf, and commanded him to watch all night. Now turn we
to the lady of the same castle that thought much upon Beaumains, and
then she called unto her Sir Gringamore her brother, and prayed him in
all manner, as he loved her heartily, that he would ride after Sir
Beaumains, and ever have ye wait upon him till ye may find him
sleeping, for I am sure in his heaviness he will alight down in some
place and lay him down to sleep: and therefore have ye your wait upon
him, and in the priviest manner ye can, take his dwarf, and go ye your
way with him as fast as ever ye may or Sir Beaumains awake. For my
sister Linet telleth me that he can tell of what kindred he is come,
and what is his right name. And the mean while I and my sister will
ride unto your castle to await when ye bring with you the dwarf. And
then when ye have brought him unto your castle I will have him in
examination myself: unto the time I know what is his right name and of
what kindred he is come, shall I never be merry at my heart. Sister,
said Sir Gringamore, all this shall be done after your intent. And so
he rode all the other day and the night till that he found Sir
Beaumains lying by a water, and his head upon his shield, for to sleep.
And then when he saw Sir Beaumains fast on sleep, he came stilly
stalking behind the dwarf, and plucked him fast under his arm, and so
he rode away with him as fast as ever he might unto his own castle. And
this Sir Gringamore’s arms were all black, and that to him belonged.
But ever as he rode with the dwarf toward his castle, he cried unto his
lord and prayed him of help. And therewith awoke Sir Beaumains, and up
he lept lightly, and saw where Sir Gringamore rode his way with the
dwarf, and so Sir Gringamore rode out of his sight.


                               CHAP. XX.

_How Sir Beaumains rode after to rescue his dwarf, and came into the
  castle where he was._

Then Sir Beaumains put on his helm anon, and buckled his shield, and
took his horse and rode after him all that ever he might ride, through
marshes and fields and great dales, that many times his horse and he
plunged over the head in deep mires, for he knew not the way, but took
the gainest way in that fury, that many times he was like to perish.
And at the last him happened to come to a fair green way, and there he
met with a poor man of the country whom he saluted, and asked him
whether he met not with a knight upon a black horse and all black
harness, and a little dwarf sitting behind him with heavy cheer. Sir,
said this poor man, here by me came Sir Gringamore the knight, with
such a dwarf mourning as ye say, and therefore I counsel you not follow
him, for he is one of the most perilous knights of the world, and his
castle is here nigh hand but two mile, therefore we advise you ride not
after Sir Gringamore, but if ye owe him good will.

So leave we Sir Beaumains riding toward the castle, and speak we of Sir
Gringamore and the dwarf. Anon as the dwarf was come to the castle,
dame Liones and dame Linet her sister, asked the dwarf where was his
master born, and of what lineage he was come? And but if thou tell me,
said dame Liones, thou shalt never escape this castle, but ever here to
be prisoner. As for that, said the dwarf, I fear not greatly to tell
his name, and of what kin he is come. Wit ye well he is a king’s son,
and his mother is sister to king Arthur, and he is brother to the good
knight Sir Gawaine, and his name is Sir Gareth of Orkney. And now I
have told you his right name, I pray you, fair lady, let me go to my
lord again, for he will never out of this country until that he have me
again. And if he be angry he will do much harm or that he be stint, and
work you wrack in this country. As for that threatening, said Sir
Gringamore, be it as it be may, we will go to dinner. And so they
washed and went to meat, and made them merry and well at ease, and
because the lady Liones of the castle was there they made great joy.
Truly madam, said Linet unto her sister, well may he be a king’s son,
for he hath many good taches on him, for he is courteous and mild, and
the most suffering man that ever I met withall. For I dare say there
was never gentlewoman reviled man in so foul manner as I have rebuked
him; and at all times he gave me goodly and meek answers again. And as
they sat thus talking, there came Sir Gareth in at the gate with an
angry countenance, and his sword drawn in his hand, and cried aloud
that all the castle might hear it, saying, Thou traitor Sir Gringamore,
deliver me my dwarf again, or by the faith that I owe to the order of
knighthood, I shall do thee all the harm that I can. Then Sir
Gringamore looked out at a window and said, Sir Gareth of Orkney, leave
thy boasting words, for thou gettest not thy dwarf again. Thou coward
knight, said Sir Gareth, bring him with thee, and come and do battle
with me, and win him and take him. So will I do, said Sir Gringamore,
and me list, but for all thy great words thou gettest him not. Ah! fair
brother, said dame Liones, I would he had his dwarf again, for I would
he were not wroth, for now he hath told me all my desire I keep no more
of the dwarf. And also, brother, he hath done much for me, and
delivered me from the red knight of the red lawns, and therefore,
brother, I owe him my service afore all knights living. And wit ye well
that I love him before all other, and full fain I would speak with him.
But in no wise I would that he wist what I were, but that I were
another strange lady. Well, said Sir Gringamore, since I know now your
will, I will obey now unto him. And right therewithall he went down
unto Sir Gareth, and said, Sir, I cry you mercy, and all that I have
misdone I will amend it at your will. And therefore I pray you that ye
would alight, and take such cheer as I can make you in this castle.
Shall I have my dwarf? said Sir Gareth. Yea, sir, and all the pleasure
that I can make you; for as soon as your dwarf told me what ye were,
and of what blood ye are come, and what noble deeds ye have done in
these marches, then I repented of my deeds. And then Sir Gareth alight,
and there came his dwarf and took his horse. O my fellow, said Sir
Gareth, I have had many adventures for thy sake. And so Sir Gringamore
took him by the hand, and led him into the hall where his own wife was.


                               CHAP. XXI.

_How Sir Gareth, otherwise called Beaumains, came to the presence of
  his lady, and how they took acquaintance, and of their love._

And then came forth dame Liones arrayed like a princess, and there she
made him passing good cheer, and he her again. And they had goodly
language and lovely countenance together. And Sir Gareth thought many
times, Would that the lady of the castle perilous were so fair as she
was. There were all manner of games and plays of dancing and singing.
And ever the more Sir Gareth beheld that lady, the more he loved her,
and so he burned in love that he was past himself in his reason. And
forth toward night they went unto supper, and Sir Gareth might not eat
for his love was so hot, that he wist not where he was. All these looks
espied Sir Gringamore, and then after supper he called his sister dame
Liones unto a chamber and said, Fair sister, I have well espied your
countenance between you and this knight, and I will, sister, that ye
wit he is a full noble knight, and if ye can make him to abide here I
will do to him all the pleasure that I can, for and ye were better than
ye are, ye were well bestowed upon him. Fair brother, said dame Liones,
I understand well that the knight is good, and come he is of a noble
house. Notwithstanding I will assay him better, how be it I am most
beholding to him of any earthly man, for he hath had great labour for
my love, and passed many a dangerous passage. Right so Sir Gringamore
went unto Sir Gareth and said, Sir, make ye good cheer, for ye shall
have none other cause, for this lady my sister is yours at all times,
her worship saved, for wit ye well she loveth you as well as ye do her,
and better if better may be. And I wist that, said Sir Gareth, there
lived not a gladder man than I would be. Upon my worship, said Sir
Gringamore, trust unto my promise; and as long as it liketh you ye
shall sojourn with me, and this lady shall be with us daily and nightly
to make you all the cheer that she can. I will well, said Sir Gareth,
for I have promised to be nigh this country this twelvemonth. And well
I am sure king Arthur and other noble knights will find me where that I
am within this twelvemonth. For I shall be sought and found, if that I
be on live. And then the noble knight Sir Gareth went unto the dame
Liones, which he then much loved, and kissed her many times, and either
made great joy of other. And there she promised him her love, certainly
to love him and none other the days of her life. Then this lady, dame
Liones, by the assent of her brother, told Sir Gareth all the truth
what she was, and how she was the same lady that he did battle for, and
how she was lady of the castle perilous. And there she told him how she
caused her brother to take away his dwarf.


                              CHAP. XXII.

_How, at night, came an armed knight and fought with Sir Gareth, and
  he, sore hurt in the thigh, smote off the knight’s head._

For this cause, to know the certainty what was your name, and of what
kin ye were come. And then she let fetch before him Linet the damsel,
which had ridden with him many dreary ways. Then was Sir Gareth more
gladder than he was tofore. And then they troth plight each other to
love, and never to fail while their life lasted. And at after supper
was made clean avoidance, that every lord and lady should go unto his
rest. But Sir Gareth said plainly that he would go no further than the
hall, for in such places, he said, was convenient for an errant knight
to take his rest in. And so there were ordained great couches, and
thereon feather beds, and there laid him down to sleep. And within
awhile he looked afore him and perceived and saw come an armed knight,
with many lights about him. And this knight had a long battle-axe in
his hand, and made grim countenance to smite him. When Sir Gareth saw
him come in that wise, he lept out of his bed, and gat in his hand his
sword, and lept straight toward that knight. And when the knight saw
Sir Gareth come so fiercely upon him, he smote him with a thrust
through the thick of the thigh, that the wound was a shaftmon broad,
and had cut a-two many veins and sinews. And therewithal Sir Gareth
smote him upon the helm such a buffet that he fell groveling, and then
he lept over him, and unlaced his helm, and smote off his head from the
body. And then he bled so fast that he might not stand, but so he laid
him down upon his bed, and there he swooned, and lay as he had been
dead. Then dame Liones found him, and cried aloud, that her brother Sir
Gringamore heard and came down. And when he saw Sir Gareth so
shamefully wounded, he was sore displeased, and said, I am shamed that
this noble knight is thus honoured. Sister, said Sir Gringamore, How
may this be that ye be here, and this noble knight wounded? Brother,
said dame Liones, I cannot tell you, for it was not done by me, nor by
mine assent. For he is my lord, and I am his, and he must be my
husband, therefore, brother, I will that ye wit I shame me not to be
with him, nor to do him all the pleasure that I can. Sister, said Sir
Gringamore, and I will that ye wit it, and Sir Gareth both, that it was
never done by me nor by mine assent that this unhappy deed was done.
And there they stanched his bleeding as well as they might. And great
sorrow made Sir Gringamore and dame Liones. And forthwithal came dame
Linet and took up the head in the sight of them all, and anointed it
with an ointment there as it was smitten off, and in the same wise she
did to the other part there as the head stuck, and then she set it
together, and it stuck as fast as ever it did. And the knight arose
lightly up, and the damsel Linet put him in her chamber. All this saw
Sir Gringamore and dame Liones, and so did Sir Gareth, and well he
espied that it was the damsel Linet that rode with him through the
perilous passages. Ah well, damsel, said Sir Gareth, I wend ye would
not have done as ye have done. My lord Gareth, said the damsel Linet,
all that I have done I will avow, and all that I have done shall be for
your honour and worship, and to us all. And so within a while, Sir
Gareth was nigh whole, and waxed light and jocund, and sang, danced,
and gamed. And at night, because he was wounded afore, he laid his
armour and his sword nigh his bed side.


                              CHAP. XXIII.

_How the said knight came again the next night, and was beheaded again.
  And how at the feast of Pentecost all the knights that Sir Gareth had
  overcome came and yielded them to king Arthur._

Right as soon as Sir Gareth was in his bed he espied an armed knight
coming toward the bed, and therewith he leaped lightly out, and they
hurtled together with great ire and malice all about the hall, and
there was great light as it had been the number of twenty torches both
before and behind, so that Sir Gareth strained him so that his old
wound burst out again bleeding, but he was hot and courageous, and took
no keep, but with his great force he struck down that knight, and
voided his helm and struck off his head. Then he hewed the head in an
hundred pieces. And when he had done so, he took up all those pieces
and threw them out at a window into the ditches of the castle; and by
this done he was so faint that scarcely he might stand for bleeding.
And then he fell in a deadly swoon in the floor. And then dame Liones
found him, and cried so that Sir Gringamore heard. And when he came and
found Sir Gareth in that plight, he made great sorrow, and there he
awaked Sir Gareth, and gave him a drink that relieved him wonderly
well, but the sorrow that dame Liones made there may no tongue tell,
for she so fared with herself as she would have died. Right so came
this damsel Linet before them all, and she had fetched all the gobbets
of the head that Sir Gareth had thrown out at a window, and there she
anointed them as she had done tofore, and set them together again.
Well, damsel Linet, said Sir Gareth, I have not deserved all this
despite that ye do unto me. Sir knight, she said, I have nothing done
but I will avow, and all that I have done shall be to your worship and
to us all. And then was Sir Gareth stanched of his bleeding. But the
leeches said that there was no man that bare the life should heal him
throughout of his wound, but if they healed him that caused that stroke
by enchantment.

So leave we Sir Gareth there with Sir Gringamore and his sisters, and
turn we unto king Arthur, that at the next feast of Pentecost held his
feast, and there came the green knight with fifty knights, and yielded
them all unto king Arthur. And so there came the red knight, his
brother, and yielded him to king Arthur, and threescore knights with
him. Also there came the blue knight, brother to them, with an hundred
knights, and yielded them unto king Arthur. And the green knight’s name
was Pertolepe, and the red knight’s name was Perimones, and the blue
knight’s name was Sir Persant of Inde. These three brethren told king
Arthur how they were overcome by a knight that a damsel had with her,
and called him Beaumains. By my faith, said the king, I marvel what
knight he is, and of what lineage he is come; he was with me a
twelvemonth, and poorly and shamefully he was fostered, and Sir Kay in
scorn named him Beaumains. So right as the king stood so talking with
these three brethren there came Sir Launcelot du Lake, and told the
king that there was come a goodly lord with six hundred knights with
him. Then the king went out of Carlion, for there was the least, and
there came to him this lord, and saluted the king in a goodly manner.
What will ye? said king Arthur, and what is your errand? Sir, he said,
my name is the red knight of the red lawns, but my name is Sir
Ironside, and, sir, wit ye well here I am sent to you of a knight that
is called Beaumains, for he won me in plain battle, hand for hand, and
so did never no knight but he that ever had the better of me this
thirty winter, the which commanded to yield me to you at your will. Ye
are welcome, said the king, for ye have been long a great foe to me and
to my court, and now I trust I shall so entreat you that ye shall be my
friend. Sir, both I and these six hundred knights shall always be at
your summons to do you service as may lie in our powers. Truly, said
king Arthur, I am much beholding unto that knight that hath so put his
body in devoir to worship me and my court. And as to thee, Ironside,
that art called the red knight of the red lawns, thou art called a
perilous knight. And if thou wilt hold of me I shall worship thee and
make thee knight of the Table Round: but then thou must be no more a
murderer. Sir, as to that I have promised unto Sir Beaumains never more
to use such customs, for all the shameful customs that I used I did at
the request of a lady that I loved; and therefore I must go unto Sir
Launcelot, and unto Sir Gawaine, and ask them forgiveness of the evil
will I had unto them, for all that I put to death was all only for the
love of Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine. They be here now, said the king,
afore thee, now may ye say to them what ye will. And then he kneeled
down unto Sir Launcelot and to Sir Gawaine, and prayed them of
forgiveness of his enmity that ever he had against them.


                              CHAP. XXIV.

_How king Arthur pardoned them, and demanded of them where Sir Gareth
  was._

Then goodly they said all at once, God forgive you, and we do, and pray
you that ye will tell us where we may find Sir Beaumains. Fair lords,
said Sir Ironside, I cannot tell you, for it is full hard to find him,
for all such young knights as he is one, when they be in their
adventures be never abiding in one place. But to say the worship that
the red knight of the red lawns and Sir Persant and his brothers said
of Beaumains it was marvel to hear. Well, my fair lords, said king
Arthur, wit you well I shall do you honour for the love of Sir
Beaumains, and as soon as ever I meet with him I shall make you all
upon one day knights of the Table Round. And as to thee, Sir Persant of
Inde, thou hast ever been called a full noble knight, and so have ever
been thy three brethren called. But I marvel, said the king, that I
hear not of the black knight your brother, he was a full noble knight.
Sir, said Pertolepe the green knight, Sir Beaumains slew him in a
recounter with his spear, his name was Sir Percard. That was great
pity, said the king, and so said many knights. For these four brethren
were full well known in the court of king Arthur for noble knights, for
long time they had holden war against the knights of the Table Round.
Then said Pertolepe the green knight unto the king: At a passage of the
water of Mortaise there encountered Sir Beaumains with two brethren
that ever for the most part kept that passage, and they were two deadly
knights, and there he slew the eldest brother in the water, and smote
him upon the head such a buffet that he fell down in the water and
there he was drowned, and his name was Gherard le Breusse: and after he
slew the other brother upon the land, and his name was Sir Arnold le
Breusse.


                               CHAP. XXV.

_How the queen of Orkney came to this feast of Pentecost, and Sir
  Gawaine and his brethren came to ask her blessing._

So then the king and they went to meat, and were served in the best
manner. And as they sat at the meat, there came in the queen of Orkney,
with ladies and knights a great number. And then Sir Gawaine, Sir
Agravaine and Gaheris arose and went to her, and saluted her upon their
knees and asked her blessing: for in fifteen year they had not seen
her. Then she spake on high to her brother king Arthur: Where have ye
done my young son Sir Gareth. He was here amongst you a twelvemonth,
and ye made a kitchen knave of him, the which is shame to you all.
Alas, where have ye done my dear son that was my joy and bliss? Oh dear
mother, said Sir Gawaine, I knew him not. Nor I, said the king, that
now me repenteth, but thanked be God he is proved a worshipful knight
as any is now living of his years, and I shall never be glad till I may
find him. Ah brother, said the queen unto king Arthur, and to Sir
Gawaine, and to all her sons, ye did yourself great shame when ye
amongst you kept my son Gareth in the kitchen and fed him like a poor
hog. Fair sister, said king Arthur, ye shall right well wit I knew him
not, nor no more did Sir Gawaine nor his brethren. But since it is so
that he is thus gone from us all, we must shape a remedy to find him.
Also, sister, me seemeth ye might have done me to wit of his coming,
and then, and I had not done well to him, ye might have blamed me. For
when he came to this court he came leaning upon two men’s shoulders, as
though he might not have gone. And then he asked me three gifts, and
one he asked the same day, that was that I would give him meat enough
that twelvemonth. And the other two gifts he asked that day a
twelvemonth, and that was that he might have the adventure of the
damsel Linet, and the third was that Sir Launcelot should make him
knight when he desired him. And so I granted him all his desire, and
many in this court marvelled that he desired his sustenance for a
twelvemonth, and thereby we deemed many of us that he was not come of a
noble house. Sir, said the queen of Orkney unto king Arthur her
brother, wit you well that I sent him unto you right well armed and
horsed, and worshipfully beseen of his body, and gold and silver plenty
to spend. It may be, said the king, but thereof saw we none, save that
same day as he departed from us, knights told me that there came a
dwarf hither suddenly, and brought him armour and a good horse, full
well and richly beseen, and thereat we had all marvel from whence that
riches came, that we deemed all that he was come of men of worship.
Brother, said the queen, all that ye say I believe, for ever since he
was grown he was marvellously witted: and ever he was faithful and true
of his promise. But I marvel, said she, that Sir Kay did mock him and
scorn him, and gave him that name Beaumains: yet Sir Kay, said the
queen, named him more righteously than he wend; for I dare say, and he
be on live, he is as fair an handed man and well disposed as any is
living. Sister, said Arthur, let this language be still, and by the
grace of God he shall be found and he be within these seven realms, and
let all this pass, and be merry, for he is proved to be a man of
worship, and that is my joy.


                              CHAP. XXVI.

_How king Arthur sent for the lady Liones, and how she let cry a
  tourney at her castle, where as came many knights._

Then said Sir Gawaine and his brethren unto Arthur, Sir, and ye will
give us leave we will go and seek our brother. Nay, said Sir Launcelot,
that shall ye not need, and so said Sir Baudwin of Britain: for as by
our advice the king shall send unto dame Liones a messager, and pray
her that she will come to the court in all the haste that she may, and
doubt ye not she will come, and then she may give you best counsel
where ye shall find him. This is well said of you, said the king. So
then goodly letters were made, and the messager sent forth, that night
and day he went till he came unto the castle perilous. And then the
lady dame Liones was sent for there as she was with Sir Gringamore her
brother and Sir Gareth. And when she understood this message, she bad
him ride on his way unto king Arthur, and she would come after in all
goodly haste. Then when she came to Sir Gringamore and to Sir Gareth,
she told them all how king Arthur had sent for her. That is because of
me, said Sir Gareth. Now advise me, said dame Liones, what shall I say,
and in what manner I shall rule me. My lady and my love, said Sir
Gareth, I pray you in no manner of wise be ye aknown where I am, but
well I wot my mother is there and all my brethren, and they will take
upon them to seek me; and I wot well that they do. But this, madam, I
would ye said and advised the king, when he questioneth with you of me:
then may ye say, this is your advice, that, and it like his good grace,
ye will do make a cry against the feast of the Assumption of our Lady,
that what knight there proveth him best, he shall weld you and all your
land. And if so be that he be a wedded man, that his wife shall have
the degree and a coronal of gold, beset with stones of virtue to the
value of a thousand pound, and a white jerfalcon.

So dame Liones departed and came to king Arthur, where she was nobly
received, and there she was sore questioned of the king, and of the
queen of Orkney. And she answered, where Sir Gareth was she could not
tell. But thus much she said unto Arthur; Sir, I will let cry a
tournament, that shall be done before my castle at the Assumption of
our Lady, and the cry shall be this, that you my lord Arthur shall be
there and your knights, and I will purvey that my knights shall be
against yours: and then I am sure ye shall hear of Sir Gareth. This is
well advised, said king Arthur: and so she departed. And the king and
she made great provision for that tournament. When dame Liones was come
to the Isle of Avilion, that was the same isle there as her brother Sir
Gringamore dwelt, then she told him all how she had done, and what
promise she had made to king Arthur. Alas, said Sir Gareth, I have been
so wounded by mishap sithen I came into this castle, that I shall not
be able to do at that tournament like a knight, for I was never
thoroughly whole since I was hurt. Be ye of good cheer, said the damsel
Linet, for I undertake within these fifteen days for to make you whole,
and as lusty as ever ye were. And then she laid an ointment and a salve
to him as it pleased her, that he was never so fresh nor so lusty. Then
said the damsel Linet: Send you unto Sir Persant of Inde, and summon
him and his knights to be here with you as they have promised. Also,
that ye send unto Sir Ironside, that is the red knight of the red
lawns, and charge him that he be ready with you with his whole sum of
knights, and then shall ye be able to match with king Arthur and his
knights. So this was done, and all knights were sent for unto the
castle perilous. And then the red knight answered and said unto dame
Liones, and to Sir Gareth, Madam, and my lord Sir Gareth, ye shall
understand that I have been at the court of king Arthur, and Sir
Persant of Inde and his brethren, and there we have done our homage as
ye commanded us. Also, Sir Ironside said, I have taken upon me with Sir
Persant of Inde and his brethren to hold party against my lord Sir
Launcelot and the knights of that court. And this have I done for the
love of my lady dame Liones, and you my lord Sir Gareth. Ye have well
done, said Sir Gareth. But wit you well ye shall be full sore matched
with the most noble knights of the world, therefore we must purvey us
of good knights, where we may get them. That is well said, said Sir
Persant, and worshipfully. And so the cry was made in England, Wales,
and Scotland, Ireland, and Cornwall, and in all the out isles, and in
Britany, and in many countries; that at the feast of the Assumption of
our Lady next coming, men should come to the castle perilous, beside
the Isle of Avilion, and there all the knights that there came should
have the choice whether them list to be on the one party with the
knights of the castle, or on the other party with king Arthur. And two
months was to the day that the tournament should be. And so there came
many good knights that were at large, and held them for the most part
against king Arthur and his knights of the Round Table, and came on the
side of them of the castle. For Sir Epinogrus was the first, and he was
the king’s son of Northumberland, and Sir Palamides the Saracen was
another, and Sir Safere his brother, and Sir Sagwarides his brother,
but they were christened, and Sir Malegrine another, and Sir Brian de
les Isles, a noble knight, and Sir Grummore Gummursum, a good knight of
Scotland, and Sir Carados of the dolorous tower, a noble knight, and
Sir Turquin his brother, and Sir Arnold and Sir Gauter, two brethren,
good knights of Cornwall: there came Sir Tristram de Liones, and with
him Sir Dinadan the seneschal and Sir Sadok; but this Sir Tristram was
not at that time knight of the Table Round, but he was one of the best
knights of the world. And so all these noble knights accompanied them
with the lady of the castle, and with the red knight of the red lawns,
but as for Sir Gareth, he would not take upon him more but as other
mean knights.


                              CHAP. XXVII.

_How king Arthur went to the tournament with his knights, and how the
  lady received him worshipfully, and how the knights encountered._

And then there came with king Arthur Sir Gawaine, Agravaine and
Gaheris, his brethren. And then his nephews Sir Uwaine le Blanchemains,
and Sir Aglovale, Sir Tor, Sir Percivale de Galis, and Sir Lamorak de
Galis. Then came Sir Launcelot du Lake with his brethren, nephews, and
cousins, as Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, and Sir
Galihodin, Sir Galihud, and many more of Sir Launcelot’s blood; and Sir
Dinadan, Sir La Cote Male Taile his brother, a good knight, and Sir
Sagramore, a good knight; and all the most part of the Round Table.
Also there came with king Arthur these knights, the king of Ireland,
king Agwisaunce, and the king of Scotland, king Carados, and king
Uriens of the land of Gore, and king Bagdemagus, and his son Sir
Meliaganus, and Sir Galahault the noble prince. All these kings,
princes, earls, barons, and other noble knights, as Sir Brandiles, Sir
Uwaine les Avoutres, and Sir Kay, Sir Bedivere, Sir Meliot de Logris,
Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir Godelake. All these came with king
Arthur, and many more that cannot be rehearsed.

Now leave we of these kings and knights, and let us speak of the great
array that was made within the castle and about the castle for both
parties. The lady dame Liones ordained great array upon her part for
her noble knights, for all manner of lodging and victual that came by
land and by water, that there lacked nothing for her party, nor for the
other, but there was plenty to be had for gold and silver for king
Arthur and his knights. And then there came the harbingers from king
Arthur, for to harbour him and his kings, dukes, earls, barons, and
knights. And then Sir Gareth prayed dame Liones, and the red knight of
the red lawns, and Sir Persant and his brother, and Sir Gringamore,
that in no wise there should none of them tell his name, and make no
more of him than of the least knight that there was; for he said, I
will not be known of neither more nor less, neither at the beginning
neither at the ending.

Then dame Liones said unto Sir Gareth, Sir, I will lend you a ring, but
I would pray you as ye love me heartily let me have it again when the
tournament is done, for that ring increaseth my beauty much more than
it is of itself. And the virtue of my ring is that that is green it
will turn to red, and that is red it will turn in likeness to green,
and that is blue it will turn to likeness of white, and that is white
it will turn in likeness to blue, and so it will do of all manner of
colours. Also, who that beareth my ring shall lose no blood, and for
great love I will give you this ring. Gramercy, said Sir Gareth, mine
own lady, for this ring is passing meet for me, for it will turn all
manner of likeness that I am in, and that shall cause me that I shall
not be known. Then Sir Gringamore gave Sir Gareth a bay courser that
was a passing good horse: also he gave him good armour and sure, and a
noble sword that some time Sir Gringamore’s father won upon an heathen
tyrant. And so thus every knight made him ready to that tournament. And
king Arthur was come two days tofore the Assumption of our Lady. And
there was all manner of royalty of all minstrelsy that might be found.
Also there came queen Guenever, and the queen of Orkney, Sir Gareth’s
mother. And upon the Assumption day, when mass and matins was done,
there were heralds with trumpets commanded to blow to the field. And so
there came out Sir Epinogrus, the king’s son of Northumberland, from
the castle, and there encountered with him Sir Sagramore le Desirous,
and either of them brake their spears to their hands. And then came in
Sir Palamides out of the castle, and there encountered with him
Gawaine, and either of them smote other so hard that both the good
knights and their horses fell to the earth. And then knights of either
party rescued their knights. And then came in Sir Safere and Sir
Sagwarides, brethren unto Sir Palamides, and there encountered Sir
Agravaine with Sir Safere, and Sir Gaheris encountered with Sir
Sagwarides. So Sir Safere smote down Agravaine, Sir Gawaine’s brother,
and Sir Segwarides, Sir Safere’s brother, smote down Sir Gaheris. And
Sir Malgrine, a knight of the castle, encountered with Sir Uwaine le
Blanchemains, and there Sir Uwaine gave Sir Malgrine a fall, that he
had almost broken his neck.


                             CHAP. XXVIII.

_How the knights bare them in battle._

Then Sir Brian de les Isles, and Grummore Grummorsum, knights of the
castle, encountered with Sir Aglovale and Sir Tor, and Sir Tor smote
down Sir Grummore Grummorsum to the earth. Then came in Sir Carados of
the dolorous tower, and Sir Turquine, knights of the castle, and there
encountered with them Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir Lamorak de Galis,
that were two brethren, and there encountered Sir Percivale with Sir
Carados, and either brake their spears unto their hands, and then Sir
Turquine with Sir Lamorak, and either of them smote down other, horse
and all, to the earth, and either parties rescued other and horsed them
again. And Sir Arnold, and Sir Gauter, knights of the castle,
encountered with Sir Brandiles and Sir Kay, and these four knights
encountered mightily, and brake their spears to their hands. Then came
in Sir Tristram, and Sir Saduk, and Sir Dinas, knights of the castle,
and there encountered Sir Tristram with Sir Bedivere, and there Sir
Bedivere was smitten to the earth, both horse and man: and Sir Saduk
encountered with Sir Petipase, and there Sir Saduk was overthrown. And
there Uwaine les Avoutres smote down Sir Dinas the seneschal. Then came
in Sir Persant of Inde, a knight of the castle, and there encountered
with him Sir Launcelot du Lake, and there he smote Sir Persant, horse
and man, to the earth. Then came Sir Pertolope from the castle, and
there encountered with him Sir Lionel, and there Sir Pertolope the
green knight smote down Sir Lionel, brother to Sir Launcelot. All this
as marked by noble heralds, who bare him best, and their names. And
then came into the field Sir Perimones the red knight, Sir Persant’s
brother, that was a knight of the castle, and he encountered with Sir
Ector de Maris, and either smote other so hard that both their horses
and they fell to the earth. And then came in the red knight of the red
lawns, and Sir Gareth, from the castle, and there encountered with them
Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Bleoberis, and there the red knight and Sir
Bors smote other so hard that their spears brast, and their horses fell
groveling to the earth. Then Sir Bleoberis brake his spear upon Sir
Gareth, but of that stroke Sir Bleoberis fell to the earth. When Sir
Galihodin saw that, he bad Sir Gareth keep him, and Sir Gareth smote
him to the earth. Then Sir Galihud gat a spear to avenge his brother,
and in the same wise Sir Gareth served him, and Sir Dinadan and his
brother La Cote Male Taile, and Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and Sir
Dodinas le Savage; all these he bare down with one spear. When king
Agwisance of Ireland saw Sir Gareth fare so he marvelled what he might
be, that one time seemed green, and another time, at his again coming,
he seemed blue. And thus at every course that he rode to and fro he
changed his colour, so that there might neither king nor knight have
ready cognisance of him. Then Sir Agwisance the king of Ireland
encountered with Sir Gareth, and there Sir Gareth smote him from his
horse, saddle and all. And then came king Carados of Scotland, and Sir
Gareth smote him down, horse and man. And in the same wise he served
king Uriens of the land of Gore. And then there came in Sir Bagdemagus,
and Sir Gareth smote him down horse and man to the earth. And
Bagdemagus’s son Meliganus brake a spear upon Sir Gareth mightily and
knightly. And then Sir Galahault the noble prince cried on high, Knight
with the many colours, well hast thou justed; now make thee ready that
I may just with thee. Sir Gareth heard him, and he gat a great spear,
and so they encountered together, and there the prince brake his spear:
but Sir Gareth smote him upon the left side of the helm, that he reeled
here and there, and he had fallen down had not his men recovered him.
Truly, said king Arthur, that knight with the many colours is a good
knight. Wherefore the king called unto him Sir Launcelot, and prayed
him to encounter with that knight. Sir, said Launcelot, I may well find
in my heart for to forbear him as at this time, for he hath had travail
enough this day, and when a good knight doth so well upon some day, it
is no good knight’s part to let him of his worship, and, namely, when
he seeth a knight hath done so great labour: for peradventure, said Sir
Launcelot, his quarrel is here this day, and peradventure he is best
beloved with this lady of all that be here, for I see well he paineth
himself and enforceth him to do great deeds, and therefore, said Sir
Launcelot, as for me, this day he shall have the honour; though it lay
in my power to put him from it, I would not.


                              CHAP. XXIX.

_Yet of the said Tournament._

Then when this was done, there was drawing of swords; and then there
began a sore tournament. And there did Sir Lamorak marvellous deeds of
arms, and betwixt Sir Lamorak and Sir Ironside, that was the red knight
of the red lawns, there was a strong battle, and betwixt Sir Palamides
and Bleoberis was a strong battle; and Sir Gawaine and Sir Tristram
met, and there Sir Gawaine had the worst, for he pulled Sir Gawaine
from his horse, and there he was long upon foot and defouled. Then came
in Sir Launcelot, and he smote Sir Turquine, and he him, and then came
Sir Carados his brother, and both at once they assailed him, and he, as
the most noblest knight of the world, worshipfully fought with them
both, that all men wondered of the nobleness of Sir Launcelot. And then
came in Sir Gareth and knew that it was Sir Launcelot that fought with
those two perilous knights. And then Sir Gareth came with his good
horse and hurtled them in sunder, and no stroke would he smite to Sir
Launcelot. That espied Sir Launcelot, and deemed it should be the good
knight Sir Gareth; and then Sir Gareth rode here and there, and smote
on the right hand and on the left hand, that all the folk might well
espy where that he rode. And by fortune he met with his brother Sir
Gawaine, and there he put Sir Gawaine to the worse, for he put off his
helm; and so he served five or six knights of the Round Table, that all
men said he put him in the most pain, and best he did his devoir. For
when Sir Tristram beheld him how he first justed and after fought so
well with a sword, then he rode unto Sir Ironside and to Sir Persant of
Inde, and asked them by their faith, What manner a knight is yonder
knight that seemeth in so many divers colours; truly, me seemeth, said
Tristram, that he putteth himself in great pain, for he never ceaseth.
Wot ye not what he is? said Sir Ironside. No, said Sir Tristram. Then
shall ye know that this is he that loveth the lady of the castle, and
she him again; and this is he that won me when I besieged the lady of
this castle, and this is he that won Sir Persant of Inde and his three
brethren. What is his name, said Sir Tristram, and of what blood is he
come? He was called in the court of king Arthur Beaumains, but his name
is Sir Gareth of Orkney, brother to Sir Gawaine. By my head, said Sir
Tristram, he is a good knight, and a big man of arms, and if he be
young he shall prove a full noble knight. He is but a child, they all
said; and of Sir Launcelot he was made knight. Therefore he is mickle
the better, said Tristram. And then Sir Tristram, Sir Ironside, Sir
Persant, and his brother, rode together for to help Sir Gareth, and
then there were given many strong strokes. And then Sir Gareth rode out
on the one side to amend his helm. And then said his dwarf, Take me
your ring, that ye lose it not while that ye drink. And so when he had
drunk, he gat on his helm, and eagerly took his horse and rode into the
field, and left his ring with his dwarf, and the dwarf was glad the
ring was from him, for then he wist well he should be known. And then
when Sir Gareth was in the field, all folks saw him well and plainly
that he was in yellow colours, and there he rashed off helms, and
pulled down knights, that king Arthur had marvel what knight he was,
for the king saw by his hair that it was the same knight.


                               CHAP. XXX.

_How Sir Gareth was espied by the heralds, and how he escaped out of
  the field._

But before he was in so many colours, and now he is but in one colour,
that is yellow: now go, said king Arthur unto divers heralds, and ride
about him, and espy what manner knight he is, for I have asked of many
knights this day that be upon his party, and all say they know him not.
And so an herald rode nigh Gareth as he could, and there he saw written
about his helm in gold, This helm is Sir Gareth’s of Orkney. Then the
herald cried as he were wood, and many heralds with him, This is Sir
Gareth of Orkney, in the yellow arms, that all kings and knights of
Arthur’s beheld him and awaited, and then they pressed all to behold
him: and ever the heralds cried, This is Sir Gareth of Orkney, king
Lot’s son. And when Sir Gareth espied that he was discovered, then he
doubled his strokes, and smote down Sir Sagramore, and his brother Sir
Gawaine. O brother, said Sir Gawaine, I wend ye would not have stricken
me. So when he heard him say so, he thrang here and there, and so with
great pain he gat out of the press, and there he met with his dwarf. O
boy, said Sir Gareth, thou hast beguiled me foul this day that thou
kept my ring. Give it me anon again, that I may hide my body withal;
and so he took it him. And then they all wist not where he was become;
and Sir Gawaine had in manner espied where Sir Gareth rode, and then he
rode after with all his might. That espied Sir Gareth, and rode lightly
into the forest, that Sir Gawaine wist not where he was become. And
when Sir Gareth wist that Sir Gawaine was past, he asked the dwarf of
best counsel. Sir, said the dwarf, me seemeth it were best, now that ye
are escaped from spying, that ye send my lady dame Liones her ring. It
is well advised, said Sir Gareth; now have it here, and bear it to her,
and say that I recommend me unto her good grace, and say her I will
come when I may, and I pray her to be true and faithful to me, as I
will be to her. Sir, said the dwarf, it shall be done as ye command:
and so he rode his way, and did his errand unto the lady. Then she
said, Where is my knight Sir Gareth? Madam, said the dwarf, he bad me
say that he would not be long from you. And so lightly the dwarf came
again unto Sir Gareth, that would fain have had a lodging, for he had
need to be reposed. And then fell there a thunder and a rain, as heaven
and earth should go together. And Sir Gareth was not a little weary,
for of all that day he had but little rest, neither his horse nor he.
So this Sir Gareth rode so long in that forest until the night came.
And ever it lightened and thundered, as it had been wood. At the last
by fortune he came to a castle, and there he heard the waits upon the
walls.


                              CHAP. XXXI.

_How Sir Gareth came to a castle where he was well lodged, and how he
  justed with a knight and he slew him._

Then Sir Gareth rode unto the barbican of the castle, and prayed the
porter fair to let him into the castle. The porter answered ungoodly
again, and said, Thou gettest no lodging here. Fair sir, say not so,
for I am a knight of king Arthur’s, and pray the lord or the lady of
this castle to give me harbour for the love of king Arthur. Then the
porter went unto the duchess, and told her how there was a knight of
king Arthur’s would have harbour. Let him in, said the duchess, for I
will see that knight, and for king Arthur’s sake he shall not be
harbourless. Then she went up into a tower over the gate, with great
torch light. When Sir Gareth saw that torch light, he cried on high,
Whether thou be lord or lady, giant or champion, I take no force, so
that I may have harbour this night, and if it be so that I must needs
fight, spare me not to morn when I have rested me, for both I and my
horse be weary. Sir knight, said the lady, thou speakest knightly and
boldly, but wit thou well that the lord of this castle loveth not king
Arthur, nor none of his court, for my lord hath ever been against him,
and therefore thou were better not to come within this castle. For and
thou come in this night, thou must come in under such form, that
wheresoever thou meet my lord, by lane, or by street, thou must yield
thee to him as prisoner. Madam, said Sir Gareth, what is your lord, and
what is his name? Sir, my lord’s name is the duke de la Rowse. Well,
madam, said Sir Gareth, I shall promise you in what place I meet your
lord, I shall yield me unto him and to his good grace, with that I
understand he will do me no harm: and if I understand that he will,
will I release myself and I can with my spear and with my sword. Ye say
well, said the duchess, and then she let the draw-bridge down. And so
he rode into the hall, and there he alight, and his horse was led into
a stable, and in the hall he unarmed him and said, Madam, I will not
out of this hall this night; and when it is day-light let see who will
have ado with me, he shall find me ready. Then was he set unto supper,
and had many good dishes. Then Sir Gareth list well to eat, and
knightly he ate his meat, and eagerly; there was many a fair lady by
him, and some of them said they never saw a goodlier man, nor so well
of eating. Then they made him passing good cheer. And shortly when he
had supped, his bed was made there; so he rested him all night. And on
the morn he heard mass, and broke his fast, and took his leave at the
duchess, and at them all, and thanked her goodly of her lodging, and of
his good cheer. And then she asked him his name. Madam, said he, truly,
my name is Gareth of Orkney, and some men call me Beaumains. Then knew
she well it was the same knight that fought for dame Liones. So Sir
Gareth departed, and rode up into a mountain, and there met him a
knight, his name was Sir Bendelaine, and said to Sir Gareth, Thou shalt
not pass this way, for either thou shalt just with me, or be my
prisoner. Then will I just, said Sir Gareth. And so they let their
horses run, and there Sir Gareth smote him throughout the body, and Sir
Bendelaine rode forth to his castle there beside, and there died. So
Sir Gareth would have rested him, and he came riding to Bendelaine’s
castle. Then his knights and his servants espied that it was he that
had slain their lord. Then they armed twenty good men, and came out and
assailed Sir Gareth, and so he had no spear, but his sword, and put his
shield afore him, and there they brake their spears upon him, and they
assailed him passingly sore. But ever Sir Gareth defended him as a
knight.


                              CHAP. XXXII.

_How Sir Gareth fought with a knight that held within his castle thirty
  ladies, and how he slew him._

So when they saw that they might not overcome him, they rode from him
and took their counsel to slay his horse, and so they came in upon Sir
Gareth, and with spears they slew his horse, and then they assailed him
hard. But when he was on foot there was none that he fought but he gave
him such a buffet that he did never recover. So he slew them by one and
one till they were but four, and there they fled, and Sir Gareth took a
good horse that was one of theirs, and rode his way. Then he rode a
great pace till that he came to a castle, and there he heard much
mourning of ladies and gentlewomen. So there came by him a page: What
noise is this, said Sir Gareth, that I hear within this castle? Sir
knight, said the page, here be within this castle thirty ladies, and
all they be widows, for here is a knight that waiteth daily upon this
castle, and his name is the brown knight without pity, and he is the
most perilous knight that now liveth. And, therefore, sir, said the
page, I rede you flee. Nay, said Sir Gareth, I will not flee, though
thou be afeard of him. And then the page saw where came the brown
knight. Lo, said the page, yonder he cometh. Let me deal with him, said
Sir Gareth. And when either of other had a sight, they let their horses
run, and the brown knight brake his spear, and Sir Gareth smote him
throughout the body, that he overthrew him to the ground stark dead. So
Sir Gareth rode into the castle, and prayed the ladies that he might
repose him. Alas, said the ladies, ye may not be lodged here. Make him
good cheer, said the page, for this knight hath slain your enemy. Then
they all made him good cheer as lay in their power. But wit ye well
they made him good cheer, for they might none otherwise do, for they
were but poor. And so on the morn he went to mass, and there he saw the
thirty ladies kneel, and lay groveling upon divers tombs making great
dole and sorrow. Then Sir Gareth wist well that in the tombs lay their
lords. Fair ladies, said Sir Gareth, ye must at the next feast of
Pentecost be at the court of king Arthur, and say that I Sir Gareth
sent you thither. We shall do this, said the ladies. So he departed,
and by fortune he came to a mountain, and there he found a goodly
knight that bad him, Abide Sir knight, and just with me. What are ye?
said Sir Gareth. My name is, said he, the duke de la Rowse. Ah! Sir, ye
are the same knight that I lodged once in your castle, and there I made
promise unto your lady that I should yield me unto you. Ah! said the
duke, art thou that proud knight that proffered to fight with my
knights? therefore make thee ready, for I will have ado with thee. So
they let their horses run, and there Sir Gareth smote the duke down
from his horse. But the duke lightly avoided his horse, and dressed his
shield, and drew his sword, and bad Sir Gareth alight and fight with
him. So he did alight, and they did great battle together more than an
hour, and either hurt other full sore. At the last Sir Gareth gat the
duke to the earth, and would have slain him, and then he yielded him to
him. Then must ye go, said Sir Gareth, unto Sir Arthur my lord at the
next feast, and say that I Sir Gareth of Orkney sent you unto him. It
shall be done, said the duke, and I will do to you homage and fealty
with an hundred knights with me, and all the days of my life to do you
service where ye will command me.


                             CHAP. XXXIII.

_How Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth fought each against other, and how they
  knew each other by the damsel Linet._

So the duke departed, and Sir Gareth stood there alone, and there he
saw an armed knight coming toward him. Then Sir Gareth took the duke’s
shield and mounted upon horseback, and so without bidding they ran
together as it had been the thunder. And there that knight hurt Sir
Gareth under the side with his spear. And then they alight and drew
their swords, and gave great strokes, that the blood trailed to the
ground. And so they fought two hours. At the last there came the damsel
Linet, that some men call the damsel Savage, and she came riding upon
an ambling mule, and there she cried all on high, Sir Gawaine, Sir
Gawaine, leave thy fighting with thy brother Sir Gareth. And when he
heard her say so he threw away his shield and his sword, and ran to Sir
Gareth and took him in his arms, and then kneeled down and asked him
mercy. What are ye, said Sir Gareth, that right now were so strong and
so mighty, and now so suddenly yield you to me? O Gareth, I am your
brother Sir Gawaine, that for your sake have had great sorrow and
labour. Then Sir Gareth unlaced his helm, and kneeled down to him and
asked him mercy. Then they rose both, and embraced either other in
their arms, and wept a great while or they might speak, and either of
them gave other the prize of the battle. And there were many kind words
between them. Alas, my fair brother, said Sir Gawaine, perdy I ought of
right to worship you and ye were not my brother, for ye have worshipped
king Arthur and all his court, for ye have sent him more worshipful
knights this twelvemonth than six the best of the Round Table have
done, except Sir Launcelot. Then came the damsel Savage, that was the
lady Linet that rode with Sir Gareth so long, and there she did stanch
Sir Gareth’s wounds and Sir Gawaine’s. Now what will ye do? said the
damsel Savage; me seemeth it were well done that Arthur had tidings of
you both, for your horses are so bruised that they may not bear. Now,
fair damsel, said Sir Gawaine, I pray you ride unto my lord, mine uncle
king Arthur, and tell him what adventure is to me betid here, and I
suppose he will not tarry long. Then she took her mule, and lightly she
came to king Arthur that was but two miles thence, and when she had
told him the tidings, the king bad get him a palfrey. And when he was
upon his back he bad the lords and ladies come after who that would:
and there was saddling and bridling of queens’ horses, and princes’
horses, and well was him that soonest might be ready. So when the king
came there as they were, he saw Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth sit upon a
little hill side, and then the king avoided his horse. And when he came
nigh Sir Gareth he would have spoken but he might not, and therewith he
sank down in a swoon for gladness. And so they start unto their uncle,
and required him of his good grace to be of good comfort. Wit ye well
the king made great joy, and many a piteous complaint he made unto Sir
Gareth, and ever he wept as he had been a child. With that came his
mother the queen of Orkney, dame Morgause, and when she saw Sir Gareth
readily in the visage, she might not weep, but suddenly fell down in a
swoon, and lay there a great while like as she had been dead. And then
Sir Gareth recomforted his mother in such a wise that she recovered,
and made good cheer. Then the king commanded that all manner of knights
that were under his obeisance should make their lodging right there for
the love of his nephews. And so it was done, and all manner of
purveyance purveyed that there lacked nothing that might be gotten of
tame nor wild for gold or silver. And then by the means of the damsel
Savage Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth were healed of their wounds, and
there they sojourned eight days. Then said king Arthur unto the damsel
Savage, I marvel that your sister dame Liones cometh not here to me,
and in especial that she cometh not to visit her knight, my nephew Sir
Gareth, that hath had so much travail for her love. My lord, said the
damsel Linet, ye must of your good grace hold her excused, for she
knoweth not that my lord Sir Gareth is here. Go then for her, said king
Arthur, that we may be appointed what is best to be done, according
unto the pleasure of my nephew. Sir, said the damsel, that shall be
done, and so she rode unto her sister. And as lightly as she might she
made her ready, and she came on the morn with her brother Sir
Gringamore, and with her forty knights. And so when she was come, she
had all the cheer that might be done, both of the king and of many
other kings and queens.


                              CHAP. XXXIV.

_How Sir Gareth acknowledged that they loved each other to king Arthur,
  and of the appointment of their wedding._

And among all these ladies she was named the fairest and peerless. Then
when Sir Gareth saw her, there was many a goodly look and goodly words,
that all men of worship had joy to behold them. Then came king Arthur
and many other kings, and dame Guenever and the queen of Orkney. And
there the king asked his nephew Sir Gareth whether he would have that
lady to his wife? My lord, wit you well that I love her above all
ladies living. Now, fair lady, said king Arthur, what say ye? Most
noble king, said dame Liones, wit you well that my lord Sir Gareth is
to me more lever to have and hold as my husband, than any king or
prince that is christened, and if I may not have him I promise you I
will never have none. For, my lord Arthur, said dame Liones, wit ye
well he is my first love, and he shall be the last: and if ye will
suffer him to have his will and free choice, I dare say he will have
me. That is truth, said Sir Gareth, and I have not you and hold not you
as my wife, there shall never lady nor gentlewoman rejoice me. What
nephew, said the king, is the wind in that door! for wit ye well I
would not for the stint of my crown to be causer to withdraw your
hearts, and wit ye well ye cannot love so well but I shall rather
increase it than distress it. And also ye shall have my love and my
lordship in the uttermost wise that may lie in my power. And in the
same wise said Sir Gareth’s mother. Then was there made a provision for
the day of marriage, and by the king’s advice it was provided that it
should be at Michaelmas following, at Kinkenadon by the sea-side, for
there is a plentiful country. And so it was cried in all the places
through the realm. And then Sir Gareth sent his summons unto all these
knights and ladies that he had won in battle tofore, that they should
be at his day of marriage at Kinkenadon by the sands. And then dame
Liones and the damsel Linet, with Sir Gringamore, rode to their castle,
and a goodly and a rich ring she gave to Sir Gareth, and he gave her
another. And king Arthur gave her a rich bee of gold, and so she
departed. And king Arthur and his fellowship rode toward Kinkenadon,
and Sir Gareth brought his lady on the way, and so came to the king
again and rode with him. Oh the great cheer that Sir Launcelot made of
Sir Gareth and he of him: for there was never no knight that Sir Gareth
loved so well as he did Sir Launcelot, and ever for the most part he
would be in Sir Launcelot’s company: for after Sir Gareth had espied
Sir Gawaine’s conditions, he withdrew himself from his brother Sir
Gawaine’s fellowship, for he was vengeable, and where he hated he would
be avenged with murder, and that hated Sir Gareth.


                              CHAP. XXXV.

_Of the great royalty, and what officers were made at the feast of the
  wedding, and of the justs at the feast._

So it drew fast to Michaelmas, and thither came dame Liones the lady of
the castle perilous and her sister dame Linet, with Sir Gringamore
their brother with them: for he had the conduct of these ladies. And
there they were lodged at the devise of king Arthur. And upon
Michaelmas-day the bishop of Canterbury made the wedding betwixt Sir
Gareth and the lady Liones with great solemnity. And king Arthur made
Gaheris to wed the damsel Savage, that was dame Linet; and king Arthur
made Sir Agravaine to wed dame Liones’ niece, a fair lady, her name was
dame Laurel. And so when this solemnization was done, then there came
in the green knight Sir Pertolope with thirty knights, and there he did
homage and fealty unto Sir Gareth, and these knights to hold of him for
evermore. Also Sir Pertolope said, I pray you that at this feast I may
be your chamberlain. With a good will, said Sir Gareth, sith it liketh
you to take so simple an office. Then came in the red knight with
threescore knights with him, and did to Sir Gareth homage and fealty,
and all those knights to hold of him for evermore, and then this Sir
Perimones prayed Sir Gareth to grant him to be his chief butler at that
high feast. I will well, said Sir Gareth, that ye have this office and
it were better. Then came in Sir Persant of Inde with an hundred
knights with him, and there he did homage and fealty unto Sir Gareth,
and all his knights should do him service, and hold their lands of him
for ever; and there he prayed Sir Gareth to make him his sewer chief at
the feast. I will well, said Sir Gareth, that ye have it and it were
better. Then came in the duke de la Rowse with an hundred knights with
him, and there he did homage and fealty unto Sir Gareth, and so to hold
their lands of him for ever; and he required Sir Gareth that he might
serve him of the wine that day at the feast. I will well, said Sir
Gareth, and it were better. Then came in the red knight of the red
lawns, that was Sir Ironside, and he brought with him three hundred
knights, and there he did homage and fealty, and all these knights to
hold their lands of him for ever, and then he asked Sir Gareth to be
his carver. I will well, said Sir Gareth, and it please you. Then came
into the court thirty ladies, and all they seemed widows, and those
thirty ladies brought with them many fair gentlewomen; and all they
kneeled down at once unto king Arthur and to Sir Gareth, and there all
those ladies told the king how Sir Gareth had delivered them from the
dolorous tower, and slew the brown knight without pity; and therefore
we and our heirs for evermore will do homage unto Sir Gareth of Orkney.
So then the kings and queens, princes, earls and barons, and many bold
knights went unto meat, and well may ye wit that there was all manner
of meat plenteously, all manner revels and games, with all manner of
minstrelsy that was used in those days. Also there was great justs
three days. But the king would not suffer Sir Gareth to just because of
his new bride: for as the French book saith that dame Liones desired
the king that none that were wedded should just at that feast. So the
first day there justed Sir Lamorak de Galis, for he overthrew thirty
knights and did passing marvellously deeds of arms. And then king
Arthur made Sir Persant of Inde and his two brethren knights of the
Round Table, to their lives’ end, and gave them great lands. Also the
second day there justed Tristram best, and he overthrew forty knights,
and did there marvellous deeds of arms. And there king Arthur made
Ironside, that was the red knight of the red lawns, a knight of the
Table Round unto his life’s end, and gave him great lands. The third
day there justed Sir Launcelot du Lake, and he overthrew fifty knights
and did many marvellous deeds of arms, that all men wondered on him.
And there king Arthur made the duke de la Rowse a knight of the Round
Table to his life’s end, and gave him great lands to spend. But when
these justs were done, Sir Lamorak and Sir Tristram departed suddenly
and would not be known, for the which king Arthur and all the court
were sore displeased. And so they held the court forty days with great
solemnity. And this Sir Gareth was a noble knight, and a well ruled,
and fair languaged.

Thus endeth this tale of syr Gareth of Orkeney that wedded dame Lyones
  of the castel peryllous. And also syr Gaheris wedded her syster dame
  Lynet, that was called the damoysel saueage. And syr Agrauayne wedded
  dame Laurel a fayr lady, and grete and myghty landes with grete
  rychesse gafe with them kyng Arthur, that ryally they myght lyue tyl
  their lyues ende.

Here foloweth the viii. book the which is the first book of Sir
  Tristram de Lyones, & who was his fader & his moder, & hou he was
  borne and fosteryd. And how he was made knyghte.




                            The Eighth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Tristram de Liones was born, and how his mother died at his
  birth, wherefore she named him Tristram._

It was a king that hight Meliodas, and he was lord and king of the
country of Liones, and this king Meliodas was a likely knight as any
was that time living. And by fortune he wedded king Mark’s sister of
Cornwall; and she was called Elizabeth, that was called both good and
fair. And at that time king Arthur reigned, and he was whole king of
England, Wales, and Scotland, and of many other realms: howbeit there
were many kings that were lords of many countries, but all they held
their lands of king Arthur. For in Wales were two kings, and in the
north were many kings; and in Cornwall and in the west were two kings;
also in Ireland were two or three kings; and all were under the
obeisance of king Arthur. So was the king of France, and the king of
Britany, and all the lordships unto Rome. And the wife of this king
Meliodas was a full meek lady, and well she loved her lord, and he her
again, and the time came that she should bear a child, so there was
great joy betwixt them. Then was there a lady in that country that had
loved king Meliodas long, and by no mean she never could get his love,
therefore she let ordain upon a day, as king Meliodas rode on hunting,
for he was a great chaser, and there by an enchantment she made him
chase an hart by himself alone till that he came to an old castle, and
there anon he was taken prisoner by the lady that him loved. When
Elizabeth king Meliodas missed, her lord, she was nigh out of her wit,
and she took a gentlewoman with her, and ran into the forest to seek
her lord.

And when she was far in the forest she might no farther, for she began
to travail fast of her child. And she had many grimly throws, and her
gentlewoman holp her all that she might, and so by miracle of our Lady
of heaven she was delivered with great pains. But she had taken such
cold for the default of help that deep draughts of death took her, that
needs she must die and depart out of this world, there was none other
boot. And when this queen Elizabeth saw that there was none other boot,
then she made great dole, and said unto her gentlewoman, When ye see my
lord king Meliodas recommend me unto him, and tell him what pains I
endure here for his love, and how I must die here for his sake, for
default of good help, and let him wit that I am full sorry to depart
out of this world from him, therefore pray him to be friend to my soul.
Now let me see my little child for whom I have had all this sorrow. And
when she saw him she said thus: Ah my little son, thou hast murdered
thy mother, and therefore I suppose, thou that art a murderer so young,
thou art full likely to be a manly man in thine age. And because I
shall die of the birth of thee, I charge thee, gentlewoman, that thou
beseech my lord king Meliodas, that when he is christened let call him
Tristram, that is as much to say as a sorrowful birth. And therewith
this queen gave up the ghost and died. Then the gentlewoman laid her
under the shadow of a great tree, and then she lapped the child as well
as she might for cold. Right so there came the barons, following after
the queen, and when they saw that she was dead, and understood none
other but the king was destroyed;


                               CHAP. II.

_How the step-mother of Sir Tristram had ordained poison for to have
  poisoned Sir Tristram._

Then certain of them would have slain the child, because they would
have been lords of the country of Liones. But then through the fair
speech of the gentlewoman, and by the means that she made, the most
part of the barons would not assent thereto. And then they let carry
home the dead queen, and much dole was made for her. Then this
meanwhile Merlin delivered king Meliodas out of prison, on the morn
after his queen was dead. And so when the king was come home, the most
part of the barons made great joy. But the sorrow that the king made
for his queen that might no tongue tell. So then the king let inter her
richly. And after he let christen his child as his wife had commanded
afore her death. And then he let call him Tristram, the sorrowful born
child. Then the king Meliodas endured seven years without a wife, and
all this time the young Tristram was nourished well. Then it befel that
king Meliodas wedded king Howell’s daughter of Britany, and anon she
had children of king Meliodas, then was she heavy and wroth that her
children should not enjoy the country of Liones, wherefore this queen
ordained for to poison young Tristram. So she let poison to be put into
a piece of silver in the chamber where as Tristram and her children
were together, unto that intent that when Tristram was thirsty he
should drink that drink. And so it fell upon a day, the queen’s son, as
he was in that chamber, espied the cup with poison, and he wend it had
been good drink, and because the child was thirsty, he took the cup
with poison and drank freely, and therewithall suddenly the child
brast, and was dead. When the queen wist of the death of her son, wit
ye well that she was heavy. But yet the king understood nothing of her
treason. Notwithstanding the queen would not leave this, but eft she
let ordain more poison, and put it in a cup. And by fortune king
Meliodas her husband found the cup with wine where was the poison, and
he that was much thirsty took the cup for to drink thereout. And as he
would have drunken thereof, the queen espied him, and then she ran unto
him and pulled the cup from him suddenly. The king marvelled why she
did so, and remembered him how her son was suddenly slain with poison.
And then he took her by the hand, and said, Thou false traitress, thou
shalt tell me what manner of drink this is, or else I shall slay thee.
And therewith he pulled out his sword, and swore a great oath that he
should slay her but if she told him truth. Ah mercy my lord, said she,
and I shall tell you all. And then she told him why she would have
slain Tristram, because her children should enjoy his land. Well, said
king Meliodas, and therefore shall ye have the law. And so she was
condemned by the assent of the barons to be burnt, and then was there
made a great fire. And right as she was at the fire to take her
execution young Tristram kneeled afore king Meliodas, and besought him
to give him a boon. I will well, said the king again. Then said young
Tristram, Give me the life of thy queen, my step-mother. That is
unrightfully asked, said king Meliodas, for thou ought of right to hate
her, for she would have slain thee with that poison and she might have
had her will; and for thy sake most is my cause that she should die.
Sir, said Tristram, as for that, I beseech you of your mercy that ye
will forgive it her, and as for my part God forgive it her, and I do,
and so much it liked your highness to grant me my boon for God’s love I
require you hold your promise. Since it is so, said the king, I will
that ye have her life. Then said the king, I give her to you, and go ye
to the fire and take her and do with her what ye will. So Sir Tristram
went to the fire, and by the commandment of the king delivered her from
the death. But after that king Meliodas would never have ado with her
as at bed and board. But by the good means of young Tristram he made
the king and her accorded. But then the king would not suffer young
Tristram to abide no longer in his court.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Tristram was sent into France, and had one to govern him named
  Gouvernail, and how he learned to harp, hawk, and hunt._

And then he let ordain a gentleman that was well learned and taught;
his name was Gouvernail; and then he sent young Tristram with
Gouvernail into France, to learn the language, and nurture, and deeds
of arms. And there was Tristram more than seven years. And then when he
well could speak the language, and had learned all that he might learn
in that country, then he came home to his father king Meliodas again.
And so Tristram learned to be an harper passing all other, that there
was none such called in no country, and so in harping and on
instruments of music he applied him in his youth for to learn. And
after as he growed in might and strength he laboured ever in hunting
and in hawking, so that never gentleman more, that ever we heard tell
of. And as the book saith, he began good measures of blowing of beasts
of venery and beasts of chase, and all manner of vermains; and all
these terms we have yet of hawking and hunting. And therefore the book
of venery, of hawking, and hunting, is called the book of Sir Tristram.
Wherefore, as me seemeth, all gentlemen that bear old arms ought of
right to honour Sir Tristram for the goodly terms that gentlemen have
and use, and shall to the day of doom, that thereby in a manner all men
of worship may dissever a gentleman from a yeoman, and from a yeoman a
villain. For he that gentle is will draw unto him gentle taches, and to
follow the customs of noble gentlemen. Thus Sir Tristram endured in
Cornwall until he was big and strong, of the age of nineteen years. And
then the king Meliodas had great joy of Sir Tristram, and so had the
queen his wife. For ever after in her life, because Sir Tristram saved
her from the fire, she did never hate him more after, but loved him
ever after, and gave Tristram many great gifts; for every estate loved
him where that he went.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Marhaus came out of Ireland for to ask truage of Cornwall, or
  else he would fight therefore._

Then it befel that king Anguish of Ireland sent to king Mark of
Cornwall for his truage, that Cornwall had paid many winters. And all
that time king Mark was behind of the truage for seven years. And king
Mark and his barons gave unto the messager of Ireland these words and
answer, that they would none pay; and bad the messager go unto his king
Anguish, and tell him we will pay him no truage, but tell your lord,
and he will always have truage of us of Cornwall, bid him send a trusty
knight of his land that will fight for his right, and we shall find
another for to defend our right. With this answer the messagers
departed into Ireland. And when king Anguish understood the answer of
the messagers, he was wonderly wroth. And then he called unto him Sir
Marhaus, the good knight, that was nobly proved, and a knight of the
Table Round. And this Sir Marhaus was brother unto the queen of
Ireland. Then the king said thus: Fair brother Sir Marhaus, I pray you
go into Cornwall for my sake, and do battle for our truage that of
right we ought to have, and whatsoever ye spend ye shall have
sufficiently more than ye shall need. Sir, said Marhaus, wit ye well
that I shall not be loth to do battle in the right of you and your land
with the best knight of the Table Round, for I know them for the most
part what be their deeds, and for to advance my deeds and to increase
my worship, I will right gladly go unto this journey for our right.

So in all haste there was made purveyance for Sir Marhaus, and he had
all things that to him needed, and so he departed out of Ireland, and
arrived up in Cornwall, even fast by the castle of Tintagil. And when
king Mark understood that he was there arrived to fight for Ireland,
then made king Mark great sorrow when he understood that the good and
noble knight Sir Marhaus was come. For they knew no knight that durst
have ado with him. For at that time Sir Marhaus was called one of the
famousest and renowned knights of the world.

And thus Sir Marhaus abode in the sea, and every day he sent unto king
Mark for to pay the truage that was behind of seven year, or else to
find a knight to fight with him for the truage. This manner of message
Sir Marhaus sent daily unto king Mark. Then they of Cornwall let make
cries in every place, that what knight would fight for to save the
truage of Cornwall he should be rewarded so that he should fare the
better the term of his life. Then some of the barons said to king Mark,
and counselled him to send to the court of king Arthur for to seek Sir
Launcelot du Lake, that was that time named for the marvellousest
knight of all the world. Then there were some other barons that
counselled the king not to do so, and said that it was labour in vain,
because Sir Marhaus was a knight of the Round Table, therefore any of
them will be loth to have ado with other, but if it were any knight at
his own request would fight disguised and unknown. So the king and all
his barons assented that it was no boot to seek any knight of the Round
Table. This meanwhile came the language and the noise unto king
Meliodas, how that Sir Marhaus abode battle fast by Tintagil, and how
king Mark could find no manner knight to fight for him. When young
Tristram heard of this he was wroth and sore ashamed that there durst
no knight in Cornwall have ado with Sir Marhaus of Ireland.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Tristram enterprized the battle to fight for the truage of
  Cornwall, and how he was made knight._

Therewithal Sir Tristram went unto his father king Meliodas, and asked
him counsel what was best to do for to recover from Cornwall truage.
For as me seemeth, said Sir Tristram, it were shame that Sir Marhaus,
the queen’s brother of Ireland, should go away, unless that he were
fought withall. As for that, said Sir Meliodas, wit ye well son
Tristram that Sir Marhaus is called one of the best knights of the
world, and knight of the Table Round, and therefore I know no knight in
this country that is able to match with him. Alas, said Sir Tristram,
that I am not made knight: and if Sir Marhaus should thus depart into
Ireland, may I never have worship, and I were made knight I should
match him. And sir, said Tristram, I pray you give me leave to ride to
king Mark, and so ye be not displeased of king Mark will I be made
knight. I will well, said king Meliodas, that ye be ruled as your
courage will rule you.

Then Sir Tristram thanked his father much. And then he made him ready
to ride into Cornwall. In the meanwhile there came a messager with
letters of love from king Faramon of France’s daughter unto Sir
Tristram, that were full piteous letters, and in them were written many
complaints of love. But Sir Tristram had no joy of her letters, nor
regard unto her. Also she sent him a little brachet that was passing
fair. But when the king’s daughter understood that Tristram would not
love her, as the book saith, she died for sorrow. And then the same
squire that brought the letter and the brachet came again unto Sir
Tristram as after ye shall hear in the tale. So this young Sir Tristram
rode unto his uncle king Mark of Cornwall. And when he came there he
heard say that there would no knight fight with Sir Marhaus. Then went
Sir Tristram unto his uncle and said, Sir, if ye will give me the order
of knighthood I will do battle with Sir Marhaus. What are ye? said the
king, and from whence be ye come? Sir, said Tristram, I come from king
Meliodas that wedded your sister, and a gentleman wit ye well I am.
King Mark beheld Sir Tristram, and saw that he was but a young man of
age, but he was passingly well made and big. Fair sir, said the king,
what is your name, and where were ye born? Sir, said he again, my name
is Tristram, and in the country of Liones was I born. Ye say well, said
the king, and if ye will do this battle I shall make you knight.
Therefore I come to you, said Sir Tristram, and for none other cause.
But then king Mark made him knight. And therewithal anon as he had made
him knight, he sent a messager unto Sir Marhaus with letters that said
that he had found a young knight ready for to take the battle to the
uttermost. It may well be, said Sir Marhaus; but tell unto king Mark
that I will not fight with no knight but if he be of blood royal, that
is to say either king’s son or queen’s son, born of a prince or
princess.

When king Mark understood that, he sent for Sir Tristram de Liones and
told him what was the answer of Sir Marhaus. Then said Sir Tristram,
Since that he sayeth so, let him wit that I am come of father’s side
and mother’s side of as noble blood as he is. For, Sir, now shall ye
know that I am king Meliodas’ son, born of your own sister dame
Elizabeth, that died in the forest in the birth of me. Yea! said king
Mark, ye are welcome fair nephew to me. Then in all the haste the king
let horse Sir Tristram and arm him in the best manner that might be had
or gotten for gold or silver. And then king Mark sent unto Sir Marhaus,
and did him to wit that a better born man than he was himself should
fight with him, and his name is Sir Tristram de Liones, gotten of king
Meliodas, and born of king Mark’s sister. Then was Sir Marhaus glad and
blithe that he should fight with such a gentleman. And so by the assent
of king Mark and Sir Marhaus they let ordain that they should fight
within an island nigh Sir Marhaus’ ships; and so was Sir Tristram put
into a vessel both his horse and he, and all that to him belonged both
for his body and for his horse. Sir Tristram lacked nothing. And when
king Mark and his barons of Cornwall beheld how young Sir Tristram
departed with such a carriage to fight for the right of Cornwall, there
was neither man nor woman of worship but they wept to see and
understand so young a knight to jeopard himself for their right.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Tristram arrived into the island for to furnish the battle
  with Sir Marhaus._

So to shorten this tale, when Sir Tristram was arrived within the
island he looked to the further side, and there he saw at an anchor six
ships nigh to the land, and under the shadow of the ships upon the land
there hoved the noble knight Sir Marhaus of Ireland. Then Sir Tristram
commanded his servant Gouvernail to bring his horse to the land, and
dress his harness at all manner of rights. And then when he had so done
he mounted upon his horse; and when he was in his saddle well
apparelled, and his shield dressed upon his shoulder, Tristram asked
Gouvernail, Where is this knight that I shall have ado withall? Sir,
said Gouvernail, see ye him not? I wend ye had seen him, yonder he
hoveth under the shadow of his ships upon horseback, with his spear in
his hand, and his shield upon his shoulder. That is truth, said the
noble knight Sir Tristram, now I see him well enough. Then he commanded
his servant Gouvernail to go to his vessel again, and command me unto
mine uncle king Mark, and pray him if that I be slain in this battle,
for to inter my body as him seemeth best, and as for me let him wit
that I will never yield me for cowardice; and if I be slain and flee
not, then have they lost no truage for me; and if so be that I flee or
yield me as recreant, bid mine uncle never bury me in Christian
burials. And upon thy life, said Sir Tristram to Gouvernail, come thou
not nigh this island till that thou see me overcome or slain, or else
that I win yonder knight. So either departed from other sore weeping.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Sir Tristram fought against Sir Marhaus and achieved his battle,
  and how Sir Marhaus fled to his Ship._

And then Sir Marhaus perceived Sir Tristram, and said thus: Young
knight Sir Tristram, what doest thou here? Me sore repenteth of thy
courage, for wit thou well I have been assayed, and the best knights of
this land have been assayed of my hands, and also I have matched with
the best knights of the world, and therefore by my counsel return again
unto thy vessel. And fair knight, and well proved knight, said Sir
Tristram, thou shalt well wit I may not forsake thee in this quarrel,
for I am for thy sake made knight. And thou shalt well wit that I am a
king’s son, born of a queen, and such promise I have made at mine
uncle’s request and mine own seeking, that I shall fight with thee unto
the uttermost, and deliver Cornwall from the old truage. And also wit
thou well, Sir Marhaus, that this is the greatest cause that thou
couragest me to have ado with you, for thou art called one of the most
renowned knights of the world, and because of that noise and fame that
thou hast, thou givest me courage to have ado with thee, for never yet
was I proved with good knight; and since I took the order of knighthood
this day I am well pleased that I may have ado with so good a knight as
thou art. And now wit thou well, Sir Marhaus, that I cast me to get
worship on thy body, and if that I be not proved, I trust I shall be
worshipfully proved upon thy body, and to deliver the country of
Cornwall from all manner of truage from Ireland for ever. When Sir
Marhaus had heard him say what he would, he said then thus again: Fair
knight, since it is so that thou casteth to win worship of me, I let
thee wit worship mayest thou none lose by me if thou mayest stand me
three strokes, for I let thee wit for my noble deeds, proved and seen,
king Arthur made me knight of the Table Round. Then they began to
feuter their spears, and they met so fiercely together that they smote
either other down both horse and all. But Sir Marhaus smote Sir
Tristram a great wound in the side with his spear, and then they
avoided their horses, and pulled out their swords, and threw their
shields afore them, and then they lashed together as men that were wild
and courageous. And when they had stricken so together long, then they
left their strokes, and foined at their breathes and visors; and when
they saw that that might not prevail them, then they hurtled together
like rams to bear either other down. Thus they fought still more than
half a day, and either were wounded passing sore, that the blood ran
down freshly from them upon the ground. By then Sir Tristram waxed more
fresher than Sir Marhaus, and better winded and bigger, and with a
mighty stroke he smote Sir Marhaus upon the helm such a buffet, that it
went through his helm, and through the coif of steel, and through the
brain-pan, and the sword stuck so fast in the helm and in his brain-pan
that Sir Tristram pulled thrice at his sword or ever he might pull it
out from his head, and there Marhaus fell down on his knees, the edge
of Tristram’s sword left in his brain-pan. And suddenly Sir Marhaus
rose groveling, and threw his sword and his shield from him, and so ran
to his ships and fled his way, and Sir Tristram had ever his shield and
his sword. And when Sir Tristram saw Sir Marhaus withdraw him, he said,
Ah sir knight of the Round Table, why withdrawest thou thee; thou doest
thyself and thy kin great shame, for I am but a young knight, or now I
was never proved, and rather than I should withdraw me from thee, I had
rather be hewn in an hundred pieces. Sir Marhaus answered no word, but
went his way sore groaning. Well sir knight, said Sir Tristram, I
promise thee thy sword and thy shield shall be mine, and thy shield
shall I wear in all places where I ride on mine adventures, and in the
sight of king Arthur and all the Round Table.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How Sir Marhaus, after he was arrived in Ireland, died of the stroke
  that Tristram had given him, and how Tristram was hurt._

Anon Sir Marhaus and his fellowship departed into Ireland. And as soon
as he came to the king his brother he let search his wounds. And when
his head was searched, a piece of Sir Tristram’s sword was found
therein, and might never be had out of his head for no surgeons, and so
he died of Sir Tristram’s sword, and that piece of the sword the queen
his sister kept it for ever with her, for she thought to be revenged
and she might.

Now turn we again unto Sir Tristram, that was sore wounded, and full
sore bled, that he might not within a little while when he had taken
cold scarcely stir him of his limbs. And then he set him down softly
upon a little hill, and bled fast. Then anon came Gouvernail his man
with his vessel, and the king and his barons came with procession
against him, and when he was come to the land king Mark took him in his
arms, and the king and Sir Dinas the Seneschal led Sir Tristram into
the castle of Tintagil. And then was he searched in the best manner,
and laid in his bed. And when king Mark saw his wounds he wept
heartily, and so did all his lords. So God me help, said king Mark, I
would not for all my lands that my nephew died. So Sir Tristram lay
there a month and more, and ever he was like to die of that stroke that
Sir Marhaus smote him first with the spear. For, as the French book
saith, the spear’s head was envenomed, that Sir Tristram might not be
whole. Then was king Mark and all his barons passing heavy, for they
deemed none other but that Sir Tristram should not recover. Then the
king let send after all manner of leeches and surgeons, both unto men
and women, and there was none that would behote him the life. Then came
there a lady that was a right wise lady, and she said plainly unto king
Mark and to Sir Tristram and to all his barons, that he should never be
whole, but if Sir Tristram went in the same country that the venom came
from, and in that country should he be holpen or else never. Thus said
the lady unto the king. When king Mark understood that, he let purvey
for Sir Tristram a fair vessel, well victualled, and therein was put
Sir Tristram and Gouvernail with him, and Sir Tristram took his harp
with him, and so he was put into the sea to sail into Ireland, and so
by good fortune he arrived up in Ireland, even fast by a castle where
the king and the queen was; and at his arrival he sat and harped in his
bed a merry lay, such one heard they never none in Ireland afore that
time. And when it was told the king and the queen of such a knight that
was such an harper, anon the king sent for him, and let search his
wounds, and then asked him his name. Then he answered, I am of the
country of Liones, and my name is Tramtrist, that thus was wounded in a
battle as I fought for a lady’s right. Truly, said king Anguish, ye
shall have all the help in this land that ye may have here. But I let
you wit in Cornwall I had a great loss as ever had king, for there I
lost the best knight of the world, his name was Marhaus, a full noble
knight, and knight of the Table Round; and there he told Sir Tristram
wherefore Sir Marhaus was slain. Sir Tristram made semblant as he had
been sorry, and better knew he how it was than the king.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Sir Tristram was put to the keeping of La Beale Isoud for to be
  healed of his wound._

Then the king for great favour made Tramtrist to be put in his
daughter’s ward and keeping, because she was a noble surgeon. And when
she had searched him she found in the bottom of his wound that therein
was poison, and so she healed him within a while, and therefore
Tramtrist cast great love to La Beale Isoud, for she was at that time
the fairest maid and lady of the world. And there Tramtrist learned her
to harp, and she began to have a great fancy unto him. And at that time
Sir Palamides the Saracen was in that country, and well cherished with
the king and the queen. And every day Sir Palamides drew unto La Beale
Isoud, and proffered her many gifts, for he loved her passingly well.
All that espied Tramtrist, and full well knew he Sir Palamides for a
noble knight and a mighty man. And wit ye well Sir Tramtrist had great
despite at Sir Palamides, for La Beale Isoud told Tramtrist that Sir
Palamides was in will to be christened for her sake. Thus was there
great envy betwixt Tramtrist and Sir Palamides. Then it befel that King
Anguish let cry a great justs and a great tournament for a lady which
was called the lady of the lawns, and she was nigh cousin unto the
king. And what man won her, three days after he should wed her, and
have all her lands. This cry was made in England, Wales, Scotland, and
also in France and in Britany. It befel upon a day La Beale Isoud came
unto Sir Tramtrist and told him of this tournament. He answered and
said, Fair lady, I am but a feeble knight, and but late I had been dead
had not your good ladyship been. Now, fair lady, what would ye I should
do in this matter? Well ye wot, my lady, that I may not just. Ah
Tramtrist, said La Beale Isoud, why will ye not have ado at that
tournament? well I wot Sir Palamides shall be there and to do what he
may, and therefore Tramtrist I pray you for to be there, for else Sir
Palamides is like to win the degree. Madam, said Tramtrist, as for that
it may be so, for he is a proved knight, and I am but a young knight
and late made, and the first battle that I did it mishapped me to be
sore wounded as ye see. But and I wist ye would be my better lady, at
that tournament I will be, so that ye will keep my counsel, and let no
creature have knowledge that I shall just but yourself, and such as ye
will to keep your counsel; my poor person shall I jeopard there for
your sake, that peradventure Sir Palamides shall know when that I come.
Thereto, said La Beale Isoud, do your best, and as I can, said La Beale
Isoud, I shall purvey horse and armour for you at my devise. As ye will
so be it, said Sir Tramtrist, I will be at your commandment. So at the
day of justs there came Sir Palamides with a black shield, and he
overthrew many knights, that all the people had marvel of him. For he
put to the worse Sir Gawaine, Gaheris, Agravaine, Bagdemagus, Kay,
Dodias le Savage, Sagramore le Desirous, Gumret le Petit, and Griflet
le Fise de Dieu. All these the first day Sir Palamides strake down to
the earth. And then all manner of knights were adread of Sir Palamides,
and many called him the knight with the black shield. So that day Sir
Palamides had great worship. Then came king Anguish unto Tramtrist and
asked him why he would not just. Sir, said he, I was but late hurt, and
as yet I dare not adventure me. Then came there the same squire that
was sent from the king’s daughter of France unto Sir Tristram. And when
he had espied Sir Tristram he fell flat to his feet. All that espied La
Beale Isoud, what courtesy the squire made unto Sir Tristram. And
therewith all suddenly Sir Tristram ran unto his squire, whose name was
Hebes le Renoumes, and prayed him heartily in no wise to tell his name.
Sir, said Hebes, I will not discover your name but if ye command me.


                                CHAP. X.

_How Sir Tristram won the degree at a tournament in Ireland, and there
  made Palamides to bear no harness in a year._

Then Sir Tristram asked him what he did in those countries. Sir, he
said, I came hither with Sir Gawaine for to be made knight, and if it
please you, of your hands that I may be made knight. Await upon me as
to-morn, secretly, and in the field I shall make you a knight. Then had
La Beale Isoud great suspicion unto Tramtrist that he was some man of
worship proved, and therewith she comforted herself, and cast more love
unto him than she had done tofore. And so on the morn Sir Palamides
made him ready to come into the field as he did the first day. And
there he smote down the king with the hundred knights, and the king of
Scotland. Then had La Beale Isoud ordained and well arrayed Sir
Tramtrist in white horse and harness. And right so she let put him out
at a privy postern, and so he came into the field as it had been a
bright angel. And anon Sir Palamides espied him, and therewith he
feutered a spear unto Sir Tramtrist, and he again unto him. And there
Sir Tristram smote down Sir Palamides unto the earth. And then there
was a great noise of people: some said Sir Palamides had a fall, some
said the knight with the black shield had a fall. And wit you well La
Beale Isoud was passing glad. And then Sir Gawaine and his fellows nine
had marvel what knight it might be that had smitten down Sir Palamides.
Then would there none just with Tramtrist, but all that were there
forsook him, most and least. Then Sir Tristram made Hebes a knight, and
caused him to put himself forth, and did right well that day. So after
Sir Hebes held him with Sir Tristram. And when Sir Palamides had
received this fall, wit ye well he was sore ashamed: and as privily as
he might he withdrew him out of the field. All that espied Sir
Tristram, and lightly he rode after Sir Palamides, and overtook him,
and bad him turn, for better he would assay him or ever he departed.
Then Sir Palamides turned him, and either lashed at other with their
swords. But at the first stroke Sir Tristram smote down Palamides, and
gave him such a stroke upon the head that he fell to the earth. So then
Tristram bad yield him and do his commandment, or else he would slay
him. When Sir Palamides beheld his countenance, he dread his buffets so
that he granted all his askings. Well said, said Sir Tristram, this
shall be your charge. First upon pain of your life that ye forsake my
lady La Beale Isoud, and in no manner wise that ye draw not to her.
Also this twelvemonth and a day that ye bear none armour nor none
harness of war. Now promise me this, or here shalt thou die. Alas, said
Palamides, for ever am I ashamed. Then he sware as Sir Tristram had
commanded him. Then for despite and anger Sir Palamides cut off his
harness and threw them away. And so Sir Tristram turned again to the
castle where was La Beale Isoud, and by the way he met with a damsel
that asked after Sir Launcelot, that won the Dolorous Gard
worshipfully, and this damsel asked Sir Tristram what he was: for it
was told her that it was he that smote down Sir Palamides, by whom the
ten knights of king Arthur were smitten down. Then the damsel prayed
Sir Tristram to tell her what he was, and whether that he were Sir
Launcelot du Lake, for she deemed that there was no knight in the world
might do such deeds of arms but if it were Launcelot. Fair damsel, said
Sir Tristram, wit ye well that I am not Sir Launcelot, for I was never
of such prowess, but in God is all, that he may make me as good a
knight as the good knight Sir Launcelot. Now, gentle knight, said she,
put up thy visor. And when she beheld his visage she thought she saw
never a better man’s visage, nor a better faring knight. And then when
the damsel knew certainly that he was not Sir Launcelot, then she took
her leave and departed from him. And then Sir Tristram rode privily
unto the postern where kept him La Beale Isoud, and there she made him
good cheer, and thanked God of his good speed. So anon within a while
the king and the queen understood that it was Tramtrist that smote down
Sir Palamides; then was he much made of more than he was before.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How the queen espied that Sir Tristram had slain her brother Sir
  Marhaus by his sword, and in what jeopardy he was._

Thus was Sir Tramtrist long there well cherished with the king and the
queen, and namely with La Beale Isoud. So upon a day the queen and La
Beale Isoud made a bath for Sir Tramtrist, and when he was in his bath
the queen and Isoud her daughter roamed up and down in the chamber, and
there whiles Gouvernail and Hebes attended upon Tramtrist, and the
queen beheld his sword there as it lay upon his bed. And then by unhap
the queen drew out his sword and beheld it a long while, and both they
thought it a passing fair sword, but within a foot and an half of the
point there was a great piece thereof out broken of the edge. And when
the queen espied that gap in the sword, she remembered her of a piece
of a sword that was found in the brain-pan of Sir Marhaus, the good
knight that was her brother. Alas, then said she unto her daughter La
Beale Isoud, this is the same traitor knight that slew my brother thine
uncle. When Isoud heard her say so she was passing sore abashed, for
passing well she loved Sir Tramtrist, and full well she knew the
cruelness of her mother the queen. Anon therewithal the queen went unto
her own chamber and sought her coffer, and there she took out the piece
of the sword that was pulled out of Sir Marhaus’ head after that he was
dead. And then she ran with that piece of iron to the sword that lay
upon the bed. And when she put that piece of steel and iron unto the
sword, it was as meet as it might be when it was new broken. And then
the queen griped that sword in her hand fiercely, and with all her
might she ran straight upon Tramtrist, where he sat in his bath, and
there she had rived him through had not Sir Hebes gotten her in his
arms, and pulled the sword from her, and else she had thrust him
through. Then when she was letted of her evil will, she ran to the king
Anguish her husband, and said on her knees, Oh my lord, here have ye in
your house that traitor knight that slew my brother and your servant,
that noble knight Sir Marhaus. Who is that, said king Anguish, and
where is he? Sir, she said, it is Sir Tramtrist, the same knight that
my daughter healed. Alas, said the king, therefore am I right heavy,
for he is a full noble knight as ever I saw in field. But I charge you,
said the king to the queen, that ye have not ado with that knight, but
let me deal with him. Then the king went into the chamber unto Sir
Tramtrist, and then was he gone unto his chamber, and the king found
him all ready armed to mount upon his horse. When the king saw him all
ready armed to go unto horseback, the king said, Nay, Tramtrist, it
will not avail to compare thee against me. But thus much I shall do for
my worship and for thy love; in so much as thou art within my court, it
were no worship for me to slay thee, therefore upon this condition I
will give thee leave to depart from this court in safety, so thou wilt
tell me who was thy father, and what is thy name, and if thou slew Sir
Marhaus, my brother.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Tristram departed from the king and La Beale Isoud out of
  Ireland for to come into Cornwall._

Sir, said Tristram, now I shall tell you all the truth: my father’s
name is Meliodas, king of Liones, and my mother hight Elizabeth, that
was sister unto king Mark of Cornwall; and my mother died of me in the
forest, and because thereof she commanded or she died that when I were
christened that they should christen me Tristram, and because I would
not be known in this country I turned my name, and let me call
Tramtrist; and for the truage of Cornwall I fought for mine uncle’s
sake, and for the right of Cornwall that ye had possessed many years.
And wit ye well, said Tristram unto the king, I did the battle for the
love of mine uncle king Mark, and for the love of the country of
Cornwall, and for to increase mine honour. For that same day that I
fought with Sir Marhaus I was made knight, and never or then did I no
battle with no knight, and from me he went alive, and left his shield
and his sword behind. Truly, said the king, I may not say but ye did as
a knight should, and it was your part to do for your quarrel, and to
increase your worship as a knight should; howbeit I may not maintain
you in this country with my worship, unless that I should displease my
barons, and my wife, and her kin. Sir, said Tristram, I thank you of
your good lordship that I have had with you here, and the great
goodness my lady your daughter hath shewed me, and therefore, said Sir
Tristram, it may so happen that ye shall win more by my life than by my
death, for in the parts of England it may happen I may do you service
at some season that ye shall be glad that ever ye shewed me your good
lordship. With more I promise you as I am true knight, that in all
places I shall be my lady your daughter’s servant and knight in right
and in wrong, and I shall never fail her never to do as much as a
knight may do. Also I beseech your good grace that I may take my leave
at my lady your daughter, and at all the barons and knights. I will
well, said the king. Then Sir Tristram went unto La Beale Isoud and
took his leave of her. And then he told her all, what he was, and how
he had changed his name because he would not be known, and how a lady
told him that he should never be whole till he came into this country
where the poison was made:—Where through I was near my death, had not
your ladyship been. Oh gentle knight, said La Beale Isoud, full wo am I
of thy departing, for I saw never man that I owed so good will to. And
therewithal she wept heartily. Madam, said Sir Tristram, ye shall
understand that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, son of king Meliodas
and of his queen. And I promise you faithfully that I shall be all the
days of my life your knight. Gramercy, said La Beale Isoud, and I
promise you there against that I shall not be married this seven years
but by your assent, and to whom that ye will I shall be married, him
will I have, and he will have me if ye will consent. And then Sir
Tristram gave her a ring and she gave him another, and therewith he
departed from her, leaving her making great dole and lamentation. And
he straight went unto the court among all the barons, and there he took
his leave at most and least, and openly he said among them all, Fair
lords, now it is so that I must depart. If there be any man here that I
have offended unto, or that any man be with me grieved, let complain
him here afore me or that ever I depart, and I shall amend it unto my
power. And if there be any that will proffer me wrong, or say of me
wrong or shame behind my back, say it now or never, and here is my body
to make it good, body against body. And all they stood still, there was
not one that would say one word, yet were there some knights that were
of the queen’s blood, and of Sir Marhaus’s blood, but they would not
meddle with him.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Sir Tristram and king Mark hurt each other for the love of a
  knight’s wife._

So Sir Tristram departed, and took the sea, and with good wind he
arrived up at Tintagil in Cornwall. And when king Mark was whole in his
prosperity there came tidings that Sir Tristram was arrived and whole
of his wounds; thereof was king Mark passing glad, and so were all the
barons. And when he saw his time, he rode unto his father king
Meliodas, and there he had all the cheer that the king and the queen
could make him. And then largely king Meliodas and his queen parted of
their lands and goods to Sir Tristram. Then by the licence of king
Meliodas his father he returned again unto the court of king Mark, and
there he lived in great joy long time, until at the last there befel a
jealousy and an unkindness between king Mark and Sir Tristram, for they
loved both one lady, and she was an earl’s wife, that hight Sir
Segwarides. And this lady loved Sir Tristram passing well, and he loved
her again, for she was a passing fair lady, and that espied Sir
Tristram well. Then king Mark understood that, and was jealous, for
king Mark loved her passingly well. So it fell upon a day, this lady
sent a dwarf unto Sir Tristram, and bad him say that as he loved her
that he would be with her the next day following. Also she charged you
that ye come not to her but if ye be well armed, for her lover was
called a good knight. Sir Tristram answered to the dwarf, Recommend me
unto my lady, and tell her I will not fail but I will be with her the
term that she hath set me. And with this answer the dwarf departed. And
king Mark espied that the dwarf was with Sir Tristram, upon message
from Sir Segwarides’s wife; then king Mark sent for the dwarf. And when
he was come he made the dwarf by force to tell him all, why and
wherefore that he came on message to Sir Tristram. Now, said king Mark,
go where thou wilt, and upon pain of death that thou say no word that
thou spakest with me. So the dwarf departed from the king. And that
same time that was set betwixt Sir Segwarides’s wife and Sir Tristram,
king Mark armed him, and made him ready, and took two knights of his
council with him, and so he rode afore, for to abide by the way, to
await upon Sir Tristram. And as Sir Tristram came riding upon his way,
with his spear in his hand, king Mark came hurtling upon him with his
two knights suddenly. And all three smote him with their spears, and
king Mark hurt Sir Tristram on the breast right sore; and then Sir
Tristram feutered his spear, and smote his uncle king Mark such a
stroke that he rashed him to the earth, and bruised him that he lay
still in a swoon, and it was long or he might move himself; and then he
ran to the one knight, and oft to the other, and smote them to the cold
earth, that they lay still. And therewithal Sir Tristram rode forth
sore wounded to the lady, and found her abiding him at a postern.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How Sir Tristram came to the lady, and how her husband fought with Sir
  Tristram._

And there she welcomed him fair, and so she let put up his horse in the
best wise, and then she unarmed him: and so they supped lightly, and
within a while there came one that warned her that her lord was near
hand, within a bow draft. So she made Sir Tristram to arise, and so he
armed him, and took his horse, and so departed. By then was come Sir
Segwarides, and when he found that there had been a knight, Ah, false
traitress, then he said, why hast thou betrayed me? And therewithal he
swung out a sword, and said, But if thou tell me who hath been here,
here thou shalt die. Ah, my lord, mercy, said the lady, and held up her
hands, saying, Slay me not, and I shall tell you all who hath been
here. Tell anon, said Sir Segwarides, to me all the truth. Anon for
dread she said, Here was Sir Tristram with me, and by the way as he
came to me ward he was sore wounded. Ah, thou false traitress, said Sir
Segwarides, where is he become? Sir, she said, he is armed, and
departed on horseback, not yet hence half-a-mile. Ye say well, said
Segwarides. Then he armed him lightly, and gat his horse, and rode
after Sir Tristram, that rode straightway unto Tintagil. And within a
while he overtook Sir Tristram, and then he bad him turn, false traitor
knight, and Sir Tristram anon turned him against him. And therewithal
Segwarides smote Sir Tristram with a spear that it all to-brast; and
then he swung out his sword, and smote fast at Sir Tristram. Sir
knight, said Sir Tristram, I counsel you that ye smite no more,
howbeit, for the wrongs that I have done you, I will forbear you as
long as I may. Nay, said Segwarides, that shall not be, for either thou
shalt die or I. Then Sir Tristram drew out his sword, and hurtled his
horse unto him fiercely, and through the waist of the body he smote Sir
Segwarides that he fell to the earth in a swoon. And so Sir Tristram
departed and left him there, and so he rode unto Tintagil, and took his
lodging secretly, for he would not be known that he was hurt. Also, Sir
Segwarides’s men rode after their master, whom they found lying in the
field sore wounded, and brought him home on his shield, and there he
lay long or that he were whole, but at the last he recovered. Also king
Mark would not be aknown of, that Sir Tristram and he had met that
time. And as for Sir Tristram, he wist not that it had been king Mark
that had met with him. And so the king’s assistance came to Sir
Tristram, to comfort him as he lay sick in his bed. But as long as king
Mark lived he loved never Sir Tristram after that: though there was
fair speech, love was there none. And thus it passed many weeks and
days, and all was forgiven and forgotten. For Sir Segwarides durst not
have ado with Sir Tristram, because of his noble prowess, and also
because he was nephew unto king Mark, therefore he let it over slip,
for he that hath a privy hurt is loth to have a shame outward.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How Sir Bleoberis demanded the fairest lady in king Mark’s court, whom
  he took away, and how he was fought with._

Then it befel upon a day, that the good knight Bleoberis de Ganis,
brother to Blamore de Ganis, and nigh cousin unto the good knight Sir
Launcelot du Lake,—this Bleoberis came unto the court of king Mark,
and there he asked of king Mark a boon, to give him what gift he would
ask in his court. When the king heard him ask so, he marvelled of his
asking, but because he was a knight of the Round Table, and of a great
renown, king Mark granted him his whole asking. Then, said Sir
Bleoberis, I will have the fairest lady in your court that me list to
choose. I may not say nay, said king Mark; now choose at your
adventure. And so Sir Bleoberis did chose Sir Segwarides’s wife, and
took her by the hand, and so went his way with her, and so he took his
horse and let set her behind his squire, and rode upon his way. When
Sir Segwarides heard tell that his lady was gone with a knight of king
Arthur’s court, then anon he armed him, and rode after that knight for
to rescue his lady. So when Bleoberis was gone with this lady, king
Mark and all the court was wroth that she was away. Then were there
certain ladies that knew that there was great love between Sir Tristram
and her, and also that lady loved Sir Tristram above all other knights.
Then there was one lady that rebuked Sir Tristram in the horriblest
wise, and called him coward knight, that he would for shame of his
knighthood see a lady so shamefully taken away from his uncle’s court.
But Sir Tristram answered her thus: Fair lady, it is not my part to
have ado in such matters, while her lord and husband is present here.
And if it had been that her lord had not been here in this court, then
for the worship of this court peradventure I would have been her
champion, and if so be Sir Segwarides speed not well, it may happen
that I will speak with that good knight or ever he pass from this
country. Then within awhile came one of Sir Segwarides’s squires, and
told in the court that Sir Segwarides was beaten sore and wounded to
the point of death: as he would have rescued his lady Sir Bleoberis
overthrew him, and sore hath wounded him. Then was king Mark heavy
thereof, and all the court. When Sir Tristram heard of this he was
ashamed and sore grieved. And then was he soon armed and on horseback,
and Gouvernail his servant bare his shield and spear. And so as Sir
Tristram rode fast he met with Sir Andret his cousin, that by the
commandment of king Mark was sent to bring forth, and ever it lay in
his power two knights of king Arthur’s court, that rode by the country
to seek their adventures. When Sir Tristram saw Sir Andret he asked him
what tidings. Truly, said Sir Andret, there was never worse with me,
for here by the commandment of king Mark I was sent to fetch two
knights of king Arthur’s court, and that one beat me and wounded me,
and set nought by my message. Fair cousin, said Sir Tristram, ride on
your way, and if I may meet them it may happen I shall revenge you. So
Sir Andret rode into Cornwall, and Sir Tristram rode after the two
knights, the which one hight Sagramore le Desirous, and that other
hight Dodinas le Savage.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How Sir Tristram fought with two knights of the Round Table._

Then within awhile Sir Tristram saw them afore him two likely knights.
Sir, said Gouvernail unto his master, Sir, I would counsel you not to
have ado with them, for they be two proved knights of Arthur’s court.
As for that, said Sir Tristram, have ye no doubt but I will have ado
with them to encrease my worship, for it is many day sithen I did any
deeds of arms. Do as ye list, said Gouvernail. And therewithal anon Sir
Tristram asked them from whence they came, and whither they would, and
what they did in those marches. Sir Sagramore looked upon Sir Tristram,
and had scorn of his words, and asked him again, Fair knight, be ye a
knight of Cornwall? Whereby ask ye it? said Sir Tristram. For it is
seldom seen, said Sir Sagramore, that ye Cornish knights be valiant men
of arms: for within these two hours there met us one of you Cornish
knights, and great words he spake, and anon with little might he was
laid to the earth. And, as I trow, said Sir Sagramore, ye shall have
the same handsel that he had. Fair lords, said Sir Tristram, it may so
happen that I may better withstand than he did, and whether ye will or
nill I will have ado with you, because he was my cousin that ye beat.
And therefore here do your best; and wit ye well but if ye quit you the
better here upon this ground one knight of Cornwall shall beat you
both. When Sir Dodinas le Savage heard him say so, he gat a spear in
his hand, and said, Sir knight, keep well thyself. And then they
departed, and came together as it had been thunder. And Sir Dodinas’
spear brast in sunder, but Sir Tristram smote him with a more might,
that he smote him clean over the horse croup, that nigh he had broken
his neck. When Sir Sagramore saw his fellow have such a fall he
marvelled what knight he might be, and he dressed his spear with all
his might, and Sir Tristram against him, and they came together as the
thunder, and there Sir Tristram smote Sir Sagramore a strong buffet,
that he bare his horse and him to the earth, and in the falling he
brake his thigh. When this was done Sir Tristram asked them, Fair
knights, will ye any more? Be there no bigger knights in the court of
king Arthur? It is to you shame to say of us knights of Cornwall
dishonour, for it may happen a Cornish knight may match you. That is
truth, said Sir Sagramore, that have we well proved; but I require
thee, said Sir Sagramore, tell us your right name, by the faith and
truth that ye owe to the high order of knighthood. Ye charge me with a
great thing, said Sir Tristram, and sithen ye list to wit it, ye shall
know and understand that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, king
Meliodas’ son, and nephew unto king Mark. Then were they two knights
fain that they had met with Sir Tristram, and so they prayed him to
abide in their fellowship. Nay, said Sir Tristram, for I must have ado
with one of your fellows, his name is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis. God speed
you well, said Sir Sagramore and Dodinas. Sir Tristram departed, and
rode onward on his way, and then was he ware before him in a valley
where rode Sir Bleoberis with Sir Segwarides’s lady, that rode behind
his squire upon a palfrey.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Bleoberis for a lady, and how the
  lady was put to choice to whom she would go._

Then Sir Tristram rode more than a pace until that he had overtaken
him. Then spake Sir Tristram: Abide, he said, knight of Arthur’s court,
bring again that lady, or deliver her to me. I will do neither, said
Sir Bleoberis, for I dread no Cornish knight so sore that me list to
deliver her. Why, said Sir Tristram, may not a Cornish knight do as
well as another knight? This same day two knights of your court, within
this three mile met with me, and or ever we departed they found a
Cornish knight good enough for them both. What were their names? said
Bleoberis. They told me, said Sir Tristram, that the one of them hight
Sir Sagramore le Desirous, and the other hight Dodinas le Savage. Ah,
said Sir Bleoberis, have ye met with them? Truly they were two good
knights, and men of great worship, and if ye have beat them both ye
must needs be a good knight: but if it so be that ye have beat them
both, yet shall ye not fear me, but ye shall beat me or ever ye have
this lady. Then defend you, said Sir Tristram. So they departed and
came together like thunder, and either bare other down, horse and all,
to the earth. Then they avoided their horses and lashed together
eagerly with swords, and mightily, now tracing and traversing on the
right hand and on the left hand more than two hours. And sometimes they
rushed together with such a might that they lay both groveling on the
ground. Then Sir Bleoberis de Ganis start aback, and said thus: Now,
gentle good knight, a while hold your hands and let us speak together.
Say what ye will, said Sir Tristram, and I will answer you. Sir, said
Bleoberis, I would wit of whence ye be, and of whom ye be come, and
what is your name? Truly, said Sir Tristram, I fear not to tell you my
name: wit ye well I am king Meliodas’ son, and my mother is king Mark’s
sister, and my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and king Mark is mine
uncle. Truly, said Bleoberis, I am right glad of you, for ye are he
that slew Marhaus, knight, hand for hand in an island for the truage of
Cornwall; also ye overcame Sir Palamides the good knight at a
tournament in an island, where ye beat Sir Gawaine and his nine
fellows. Wit ye well, said Sir Tristram, that I am the same knight. Now
I have told you my name, tell me yours with good will. Wit ye well that
my name is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, and my brother hight Sir Blamor de
Ganis, that is called a good knight, and we be sister’s children unto
my lord Sir Launcelot du Lake, that we call one of the best knights of
the world. That is truth, said Sir Tristram; Sir Launcelot is called
peerless of courtesy and of knighthood; and for his sake, said Sir
Tristram, I will not with my good will fight no more with you, for the
great love I have to Sir Launcelot du Lake. In good faith, said
Bleoberis, as for me, I will be loth to fight with you. But since ye
follow me here to have this lady, I shall proffer you kindness,
courtesy, and gentleness, right here upon this ground. This lady shall
be betwixt us both, and to whom that she will go, let him have her in
peace. I will well, said Tristram, for, as I deem, she will leave you
and come to me. Ye shall prove it anon, said Bleoberis.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How the lady forsook Sir Tristram and abode with Sir Bleoberis, and
  how she desired to go to her husband._

So when she was set betwixt them both, she said these words unto Sir
Tristram: Wit ye well, Sir Tristram de Liones, that but late thou was
the man in the world that I most loved and trusted, and I wend thou
haddest loved me again above all ladies. But when thou sawest this
knight lead me away, thou madest no cheer to rescue me, but suffered my
lord Sir Segwarides to ride after me, but until that time I wend thou
haddest loved me, and therefore now I will leave thee, and never love
thee more. And therewithal she went unto Sir Bleoberis. When Sir
Tristram saw her do so, he was wonderly wroth with that lady, and
ashamed to come to the court. Sir Tristram, said Sir Bleoberis, ye are
in the default, for I hear, by this lady’s words, she, before this day,
trusted you above all earthly knights, and, as she saith, ye have
deceived her; therefore, wit ye well, there may no man hold that will
away, and rather than ye should be heartily displeased with me, I would
ye had her and she would abide with you. Nay, said the lady, I will
never go with him, for he that I loved most I wend he had loved me. And
therefore, Sir Tristram, she said, ride as thou came for though thou
haddest overcome this knight, as ye were likely, with thee never would
I have gone. And I shall pray this knight so fair of his knighthood,
that or ever he pass this country he will lead me to the abbey where my
lord Sir Segwarides lieth. Truly, said Bleoberis, I let you wit, good
knight Sir Tristram, because king Mark gave me the choice of a gift in
this court, and so this lady liked me best, notwithstanding she is
wedded and hath a lord, and I have fulfilled my quest, she shall be
sent unto her husband again, and in especial most for your sake Sir
Tristram: and if she would go with you I would ye had her. I thank you,
said Sir Tristram, but for her love I shall be ware what manner of lady
I shall love or trust. For had her lord Sir Segwarides been away from
the court I should have been the first that should have followed you,
but since ye have refused me, as I am a true knight I shall her know
passingly well that I shall love or trust. And so they took their leave
one from the other and departed. And so Sir Tristram rode unto
Tintagil, and Sir Bleoberis rode unto the abbey where Sir Segwarides
lay sore wounded, and there he delivered his lady and departed as a
noble knight. And when Sir Segwarides saw his lady he was greatly
comforted. And then she told him that Sir Tristram had done great
battle with Sir Bleoberis, and caused him to bring her again. These
words pleased Sir Segwarides right well, that Sir Tristram would do so
much; and so that lady told all the battle unto king Mark betwixt Sir
Tristram and Sir Bleoberis.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How King Mark sent Sir Tristram for La Beale Isoud toward Ireland, and
  how by fortune he arrived into England._

Then when this was done king Mark cast always in his heart how he might
destroy Sir Tristram. And then he imagined in himself to send Sir
Tristram into Ireland for La Beale Isoud. For Sir Tristram had so
praised her beauty and her goodness that king Mark said he would wed
her, whereupon he prayed Sir Tristram to take his way into Ireland for
him on message. And all this was done to the intent to slay Sir
Tristram. Notwithstanding, Sir Tristram would not refuse the message
for no danger nor peril that might fall for the pleasure of his uncle,
but to go he made him ready in the most goodliest wise that might be
devised. For Sir Tristram took with him the most goodliest knights that
he might find in the court, and they were arrayed after the guise that
was then used in the goodliest manner. So Sir Tristram departed and
took the sea with all his fellowship. And anon as he was in the broad
sea, a tempest took him and his fellowship and drove them back into the
coast of England, and there they arrived fast by Camelot, and full fain
they were to take the land. And when they were landed Sir Tristram set
up his pavilion upon the land of Camelot, and there he let hang his
shield upon the pavilion. And that day came two knights of king
Arthur’s, that one was Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Morganor. And they
touched the shield and bad him come out of the pavilion for to just,
and he would just. Ye shall be answered, said Sir Tristram, and ye will
tarry a little while. So he made him ready, and first he smote down Sir
Ector de Maris, and after he smote down Sir Morganor, all with one
spear, and sore bruised them. And when they lay upon the earth they
asked Sir Tristram what he was, and of what country he was knight. Fair
lords, said Sir Tristram, wit ye well that I am of Cornwall. Alas, said
Sir Ector, now am I ashamed that ever any Cornish knight should
overcome me. And then for despite Sir Ector put off his armour from
him, and went on foot, and would not ride.


                               CHAP. XX.

_How king Anguish of Ireland was summoned to come unto king Arthur’s
  court for treason._

Then it fell that Sir Bleoberis and Sir Blamor de Ganis that were
brethren, they had summoned the king Anguish of Ireland to come to
Arthur’s court, upon pain of forfeiture of king Arthur’s good grace.
And if the king of Ireland came not in at the day assigned and set, the
king should lose his lands. So by it happened that at the day assigned,
king Arthur neither Sir Launcelot might not be there for to give the
judgment, for king Arthur was with Sir Launcelot at the castle Joyous
Gard. And so king Arthur assigned king Carados and the king of Scots to
be there that day as judges. So when the kings were at Camelot king
Anguish of Ireland was come to know his accusers. Then was there Blamor
de Ganis, and appealed the king of Ireland of treason, that he had
slain a cousin of his in his court in Ireland by treason. The king was
sore abashed of his accusation, for why? he was come at the summoning
of king Arthur, and or that he came at Camelot he wist not wherefore he
was sent after. And when the king heard Sir Blamor say his will, he
understood full well there was none other remedy but to answer him
knightly. For the custom was such in those days, that and any man were
appealed of any treason or murder, he should fight body for body, or
else to find another knight for him. And all manner of murderers in
those days were called treason. So when king Anguish understood his
accusing he was passing heavy, for he knew Sir Blamor de Ganis that he
was a noble knight, and of noble knights come. Then the king of Ireland
was simply purveyed of his answer, therefore the judges gave him
respite by the third day to give his answer. So the king departed unto
his lodging. The mean while there came a lady by Sir Tristram’s
pavilion making great dole. What aileth you, said Sir Tristram, that ye
make such dole? Ah, fair knight, said the lady, I am ashamed unless
that some good knight help me, for a great lady of worship sent by me a
fair child and a rich unto Sir Launcelot du Lake, and hereby there met
with me a knight and threw me down from my palfrey, and took away the
child from me. Well my lady, said Sir Tristram, and for my lord Sir
Launcelot’s sake I shall get you that child again, or else I shall be
beaten for it. And so Sir Tristram took his horse, and asked the lady
which way the knight rode. And then she told him. And he rode after
him, and within a mile he overtook that knight. And then Sir Tristram
bad him turn and give again the child.


                               CHAP. XXI.

_How Sir Tristram rescued a child from a knight, and how Gouvernail
  told him of king Anguish._

The knight turned his horse, and he made him ready for to fight. And
then Sir Tristram smote him with a sword such a buffet that he tumbled
to the earth. And then he yielded him unto Sir Tristram. Then come thy
way, said Sir Tristram, and bring the child to the lady again. So he
took his horse meekly and rode with Sir Tristram, and then by the way
Sir Tristram asked him his name. Then he said, My name is Breuse Saunce
Pité. So when he had delivered that child to the lady he said, Sir, as
in this the child is well remedied. Then Sir Tristram let him go again,
that sore repented him after, for he was a great foe unto many good
knights of king Arthur’s court. Then when Sir Tristram was in his
pavilion, Gouvernail his man came and told him how that king Anguish of
Ireland was come thither, and he was put in great distress, and there
Gouvernail told Sir Tristram how king Anguish was summoned and appealed
of murder. Truly, said Sir Tristram, these be the best tidings that
ever came to me this seven year, for now shall the king of Ireland have
need of my help, for I dare say there is no knight in this country that
is not of Arthur’s court dare do battle with Sir Blamor de Ganis, and
for to win the love of the king of Ireland I will take the battle upon
me, and therefore Gouvernail bring me, I charge thee, to the king. Then
Gouvernail went unto king Anguish of Ireland and saluted him fair. The
king welcomed him and asked him what he would. Sir, said Gouvernail,
here is a knight near hand that desireth to speak with you: he bad me
say he would do you service. What knight is he, said the king. Sir, he
said, it is Sir Tristram de Liones, that for your good grace ye shewed
him in your lands will reward you in these countries. Come on fellow,
said the king, with me anon, and shew me unto Sir Tristram. So the king
took a little hackney and but few fellowship with him until he came
unto Sir Tristram’s pavilion. And when Sir Tristram saw the king, he
ran unto him and would have holden his stirrup. But the king lept from
his horse lightly, and either halsed other in arms. My gracious lord,
said Sir Tristram, gramercy of your great goodnesses shewed unto me in
your marches and lands: and at that time I promised you to do my
service and ever it lay in my power. And gentle knight, said the king
unto Sir Tristram, now have I great need of you; never had I so great
need of no knight’s help. How so, my good lord? said Sir Tristram. I
shall tell you, said the king. I am summoned and appealed from my
country for the death of a knight that was kin unto the good knight Sir
Launcelot, wherefore Sir Blamor de Ganis, brother to Sir Bleoberis,
hath appealed me to fight with him, other to find a knight in my stead.
And well I wot, said the king, these that are come of king Ban’s blood,
as Sir Launcelot and these other, are passing good knights, and hard
men for to win in battle as any that I know now living. Sir, said Sir
Tristram, for the good lordship ye shewed me in Ireland, and for my
lady your daughter’s sake, La Beale Isoud, I will take the battle for
you upon this condition that ye shall grant me two things: that one is,
that ye shall swear to me that ye are in the right, that ye were never
consenting to the knight’s death; Sir, then, said Sir Tristram, when
that I have done this battle, if God give me grace that I speed, that
ye shall give me a reward, what thing reasonable that I will ask of
you. Truly, said the king, ye shall have whatsoever ye will ask. It is
well said, said Sir Tristram.


                              CHAP. XXII.

_How Sir Tristram fought for Sir Anguish and overcame his adversary,
  and how his adversary would never yield him._

Now make your answer that your champion is ready, for I shall die in
your quarrel rather than to be recreant. I have no doubt of you, said
the king, that and ye should have ado with Sir Launcelot du Lake. Sir,
said Sir Tristram, as for Sir Launcelot, he is called the noblest
knight of the world, and wit ye well that the knights of his blood are
noble men and dread shame; and as for Sir Bleoberis, brother to Sir
Blamor, I have done battle with him, therefore upon my head it is no
shame to call him a good knight. It is noised, said the king, that
Blamor is the hardier knight. Sir, as for that, let him be, he shall
never be refused, and as he were the best knight that now beareth
shield or spear. So king Anguish departed unto king Carados and the
kings that were that time as judges, and told them that he had found
his champion ready. And then by the commandments of the kings Sir
Blamor de Ganis and Sir Tristram were sent for, to hear the charge. And
when they were come before the judges, there were many kings and
knights beheld Sir Tristram, and much speech they had of him because he
slew Sir Marhaus the good knight, and because he forjusted Sir
Palamides the good knight. So when they had taken their charge they
withdrew them for to make them ready to do battle. Then said Sir
Bleoberis to his brother Sir Blamor, Fair dear brother, remember of
what kin we be come of, and what a man is Sir Launcelot du Lake,
neither further nor nearer but brothers’ children, and there was never
none of our kin that ever was shamed in battle, and rather suffer
death, brother, than to be shamed. Brother, said Blamor, have ye no
doubt of me, for I shall never shame none of my blood, how be it I am
sure that yonder knight is called a passing good knight, as of his time
one of the world, yet shall I never yield me, nor say the loth word:
well may he happen to smite me down with his great might of chivalry,
but rather shall he slay me than I shall yield me as recreant. God
speed you well, said Bleoberis, for ye shall find him the mightiest
knight that ever ye had ado withall, for I know him, for I have had ado
with him. God me speed, said Blamor de Ganis. And therewith he took his
horse at the one end of the lists, and Sir Tristram at the other end of
the lists, and so they feutred their spears and came together as it had
been thunder, and there Sir Tristram through great might smote down Sir
Blamor and his horse to the earth. Then anon Sir Blamor avoided his
horse, and pulled out his sword and threw his shield afore him, and bad
Sir Tristram alight; for though an horse hath failed me, I trust the
earth will not fail me. And then Sir Tristram alight and dressed him
unto battle, and there they lashed together strongly as racing and
tracing, foining and dashing many sad strokes, that the kings and
knights had great wonder that they might stand, for ever they fought
like wood men, so that there were never knights seen fight more
fiercely than they did, for Sir Blamor was so hasty that he would have
no rest, that all men wondered that they had breath to stand on their
feet; and all the place was bloody that they fought in. And at the
last, Sir Tristram smote Sir Blamor such a buffet upon the helm that he
there fell down upon his side, and Sir Tristram stood and beheld him.


                              CHAP. XXIII.

_How Sir Blamor desired Tristram to slay him, and how Sir Tristram
  spared him, and how they took appointment._

Then when Sir Blamor might speak, he said thus: Sir Tristram de Liones,
I require thee, as thou art a noble knight, and the best knight that
ever I found, that thou wilt slay me out, for I would not live to be
made lord of all the earth, for I had lever die with worship than live
with shame; and needs, Sir Tristram, thou must slay me, or else thou
shalt never win the field, for I will never say the loth word. And
therefore if thou dare slay me, slay me I require thee. When Sir
Tristram heard him say so knightly, he wist not what to do with him; he
remembering him of both parties; of what blood he was come, and for Sir
Launcelot’s sake he would be full loth to slay him, and in the other
party in no wise he might not choose but he must make him to say the
loth word, or else to slay him. Then Sir Tristram start aback, and went
to the kings that were judges, and there he kneeled down before them,
and besought them for their worships, and for king Arthur’s, and Sir
Launcelot’s sake, that they would take this matter in their hands. For
my fair lords, said Sir Tristram, it were shame and pity that this
noble knight that yonder lieth should be slain, for ye hear well shamed
will he not be, and I pray to God that he never be slain nor shamed for
me. And as for the king for whom I fight for, I shall require him, as I
am his true champion and true knight in this field, that he will have
mercy upon this good knight. Truly, said king Anguish to Sir Tristram,
I will for your sake be ruled as ye will have me. For I know you for my
true knight. And therefore I will heartily pray the kings that be here
as judges to take it in their hands. And the kings that were judges
called Sir Bleoberis to them, and asked him his advice. My lords, said
Bleoberis, though my brother be beaten, and hath the worse through
might of arms, I dare say, though Sir Tristram hath beaten his body he
hath not beaten his heart, and I thank God, he is not shamed this day.
And rather than he should be shamed I require you, said Bleoberis, let
Sir Tristram slay him out. It shall not be so, said the kings, for his
part adversary, both the king and the champion, have pity of Sir
Blamor’s knighthood. My lords, said Bleoberis, I will right well as ye
will.

Then the kings called the king of Ireland, and found him good and
treatable. And then, by all their advices, Sir Tristram and Sir
Bleoberis took up Sir Blamor, and the two brethren were accorded with
king Anguish, and kissed and made friends for ever. And then Sir Blamor
and Sir Tristram kissed together, and there they made their oaths that
they would never none of them two brethren fight with Sir Tristram, and
Sir Tristram made the same oath. And for that gentle battle all the
blood of Sir Launcelot loved Sir Tristram for ever.

Then king Anguish and Sir Tristram took their leave, and sailed into
Ireland with great nobleness and joy. So when they were in Ireland the
king let make it known throughout all the land, how and in what manner
Sir Tristram had done for him. Then the queen and all that there were
made the most of him that they might. But the joy that La Beale Isoud
made of Sir Tristram there might no tongue tell, for of men earthly she
loved him most.


                              CHAP. XXIV.

_How Sir Tristram demanded La Beale Isoud for king Mark, and how Sir
  Tristram and Isoud drank the love drink._

Then upon a day king Anguish asked Sir Tristram why he asked not his
boon, for whatsoever he had promised him he should have it without
fail. Sir, said Sir Tristram, now is it time, this is all that I will
desire, that ye will give me La Beale Isoud your daughter, not for
myself, but for mine uncle king Mark, that shall have her to wife, for
so have I promised him. Alas, said the king, I had lever than all the
land that I have ye would wed her yourself. Sir, and I did, then were I
shamed for ever in this world, and false of my promise. Therefore, said
Sir Tristram, I pray you hold your promise that ye promised me, for
this is my desire, that ye will give me La Beale Isoud to go with me
into Cornwall, for to be wedded to king Mark mine uncle. As for that,
said king Anguish, ye shall have her with you, to do with her what it
please you, that is for to say if that ye list to wed her yourself,
that is to me levest: and if ye will give her unto king Mark your
uncle, that is in your choice.

So to make a short conclusion, La Beale Isoud was made ready to go with
Sir Tristram, and dame Bragwaine went with her for her chief
gentlewoman, with many other. Then the queen, Isoud’s mother, gave to
her and dame Bragwaine, her daughter’s gentlewoman, and unto
Gouvernail, a drink, and charged them that what day king Mark should
wed, that same day they should give him that drink, so that king Mark
should drink to La Beale Isoud; and then, said the queen, I undertake
either shall love other the days of their life. So this drink was given
unto dame Bragwaine and unto Gouvernail. And then anon Sir Tristram
took the sea and La Beale Isoud; and when they were in their cabin, it
happed so that they were thirsty, and they saw a little flacket of gold
stand by them, and it seemed by the colour and the taste that it was
noble wine. Then Sir Tristram took the flacket in his hand, and said,
Madam Isoud, here is the best drink that ever ye drank, that dame
Bragwaine your maiden, and Gouvernail my servant, have kept for
themselves. Then they laughed and made good cheer, and either drank to
other freely, and they thought never drink that ever they drank to
other was so sweet nor so good. But by that their drink was in their
bodies, they loved either other so well that never their love departed
for weal neither for woe. And thus it happed the love first betwixt Sir
Tristram and La Beale Isoud, the which love never departed the days of
their life. So then they sailed till by fortune they came nigh a castle
that hight Pluere, and thereby arrived for to repose them, weening to
them to have had good harbourage. But anon as Sir Tristram was within
the castle they were taken prisoners, for the custom of the castle was
such, who that rode by that castle, and brought any lady, he must needs
fight with the lord, that hight Breunor. And if it were so that Breunor
wan the field, then the knight stranger and his lady he put to death,
what that ever they were; and if it were so that the strange knight wan
the field of Sir Breunor, then should he die and his lady both. This
custom was used many winters, for it was called the Castle Pluere, that
is to say the weeping castle.


                               CHAP. XXV.

_How Sir Tristram and Isoud were in prison, and how he fought for her
  beauty, and smote off another lady’s head._

Thus as Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud were in prison, it happed a
knight and a lady came unto them where they were, to cheer them. I have
marvel, said Tristram unto the knight and the lady, what is the cause
the lord of this castle holdeth us in prison: it was never the custom
of no place of worship that ever I came in, that when a knight and a
lady asked harbour, and they to receive them, and after to destroy them
that be his guests. Sir, said the knight, this is the old custom of
this castle, that when a knight cometh here, he must needs fight with
our lord, and he that is the weaker must lose his head. And when that
is done, if his lady that he bringeth be fouler than our lord’s wife,
she must lose her head: and if she be fairer proved than is our lady,
then shall the lady of this castle lose her head. Now, said Sir
Tristram, this is a foul custom and a shameful. But one advantage have
I, said Sir Tristram, I have a lady is fair enough, fairer saw I never
in all my life days, and I doubt not for lack of beauty she shall not
lose her head, and rather than I should lose my head I will fight for
it on a fair field. Wherefore, sir knight, I pray you tell your lord
that I will be ready as to-morn with my lady, and myself to battle, if
it be so I may have my horse and mine armour. Sir, said that knight, I
undertake that your desire shall be sped right well.

And then he said, Take your rest, and look that ye be up by times to
make you ready and your lady, for ye shall want no thing that you
behoveth. And therewith he departed, and on the morn betimes that same
knight came to Sir Tristram and fetched him out and his lady, and
brought him horse and armour that was his own, and bad him make him
ready to the field, for all the estates and commons of that lordship
were there ready to behold that battle and judgment. Then came Sir
Breunor, the lord of that castle, with his lady in his hand muffled,
and asked Sir Tristram where was his lady:—For and thy lady be fairer
than mine, with thy sword smite off my lady’s head, and if my lady be
fairer than thine, with my sword I must strike off her head. And if I
may win thee, yet shall thy lady be mine, and thou shalt lose thy head.
Sir, said Tristram, this is a foul custom and horrible; and rather than
my lady should lose her head, yet had I lever lose my head. Nay, nay,
said Sir Breunor, the ladies shall be first shewed together, and the
one shall have her judgment. Nay, I will not so, said Sir Tristram, for
here is none that will give righteous judgment. But I doubt not, said
Sir Tristram, my lady is fairer than thine, and that will I prove and
make good with my hand. And whosoever he be that will say the contrary
I will prove it on his head. And therewith Sir Tristram shewed La Beale
Isoud, and turned her thrice about with his naked sword in his hand.
And when Sir Breunor saw that, he did the same wise turn his lady. But
when Sir Breunor beheld La Beale Isoud, him thought he never saw a
fairer lady, and then he dread his lady’s head should be off. And so
all the people that were there present gave judgment that La Beale
Isoud was the fairer lady, and the better made. How now, said Sir
Tristram, me seemeth it were pity that my lady should lose her head,
but because that thou and she of long time have used this wicked
custom, and by you both there have many good knights and ladies been
destroyed, for that cause it were no loss to destroy you both. Truly,
said Sir Breunor, for to say the sooth, thy lady is fairer than mine,
and that me sore repenteth. And so I hear the people privily say; for
of all women I saw none so fair, and therefore if thou wilt slay my
lady, I doubt not but I shall slay thee and have thy lady. Thou shalt
win her, said Sir Tristram, as dear as ever knight won lady, and
because of thine own judgment, as thou wouldest have done to my lady if
that she had been fouler, and because of the evil custom, give me thy
lady, said Tristram. And therewithall Sir Tristram strode unto him and
took his lady from him, and with an awk stroke he smote off her head
clean. Well knight, said Sir Breunor, now hast thou done me a despite.


                              CHAP. XXVI.

_How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Breunor, and at the last smote off
  his head._

Now take thy horse: since I am ladyless I will win thy lady and I may.
Then they took their horses and came together as it had been the
thunder; and Sir Tristram smote Sir Breunor clean from his horse, and
lightly he rose up; and as Sir Tristram came again by him he thrust his
horse throughout both the shoulders, that his horse hurled here and
there and fell dead to the ground. And ever Sir Breunor ran after to
have slain Sir Tristram, but Sir Tristram was light and nimble and
voided his horse lightly. And or ever Sir Tristram might dress his
shield and his sword, the other gave him three or four sad strokes.
Then they rushed together like two boars, tracing and traversing
mightily and wisely as two noble knights. For this Sir Breunor was a
proved knight, and had been, or then, the death of many good knights,
that it was pity that he had so long endured. Thus they fought, hurling
here and there nigh two hours, and either were wounded sore. Then at
the last Sir Breunor rushed upon Sir Tristram, and took him in his
arms, for he trusted much in his strength. Then was Sir Tristram called
the strongest and the highest knight of the world, for he was called
bigger than Sir Launcelot, but Sir Launcelot was better breathed. So
anon Sir Tristram thrust Sir Breunor down groveling, and then he
unlaced his helm and strake off his head. And then all they that longed
to the castle came to him and did him homage and fealty, praying him
that he would abide there still a little while to fordo that foul
custom. Sir Tristram granted thereto. The meanwhile one of the knights
of the castle rode unto Sir Galahad, the haut prince, the which was Sir
Breunor’s son, which was a noble knight, and told him what misadventure
his father had and his mother.


                              CHAP. XXVII.

_How Sir Galahad fought with Sir Tristram, and how Sir Tristram yielded
  him and promised to fellowship with Launcelot._

Then came Sir Galahad and the king with the hundred knights with him,
and this Sir Galahad proffered to fight with Sir Tristram hand for
hand. And so they made them ready to go unto battle on horseback with
great courage. Then Sir Galahad and Sir Tristram met together so hard
that either bare other down, horse and all, to the earth. And then they
avoided their horses as noble knights, and dressed their shields and
drew their swords with ire and rancour, and they lashed together many
sad strokes, and one while striking, another while foining, tracing and
traversing as noble knights, thus they fought long, near half a day,
and either were sore wounded. At the last Sir Tristram waxed light and
big, and doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Galahad aback on the one
side and on the other, so that he was like to have been slain. With
that came the king with the hundred knights, and all that fellowship
went fiercely upon Sir Tristram. When Sir Tristram saw them coming upon
him, then he wist well he might not endure. Then as a wise knight of
war, he said to Sir Galahad the haut prince, Sir, ye shew to me no
knighthood, for to suffer all your men to have ado with me all at once,
and as me seemeth ye be a noble knight of your hands, it is a great
shame to you. Truly, said Sir Galahad, there is none other way but thou
must yield thee to me, other else to die, said Sir Galahad to Sir
Tristram. I will rather yield me to you than die, for that is more for
the might of your men than for the might of your hands. And therewith
Sir Tristram took his own sword by the point, and put the pommel in the
hand of Sir Galahad. Therewithall came the king with the hundred
knights, and hard began to assail Sir Tristram. Let be, said Sir
Galahad, be ye not so hardy to touch him, for I have given this knight
his life. That is your shame, said the king with the hundred knights;
hath he not slain your father and your mother? As for that, said Sir
Galahad, I may not blame him greatly, for my father had him in prison,
and enforced him to do battle with him, and my father had such a
custom, that was a shameful custom, that what knight came there to ask
harbour, his lady must needs die but if she were fairer than my mother,
and if my father overcame that knight he must needs die. This was a
shameful custom and usage, a knight for his harbour asking to have such
harbourage. And for this custom I would never draw about him. Truly,
said the king, this was a shameful custom. Yea, said Sir Galahad, so
seemed me, and me seemed it had been great pity that this knight should
have been slain, for I dare say he is the noblest man that beareth
life, but if it were Sir Launcelot du Lake. Now fair knight, said Sir
Galahad, I require thee tell me thy name, and of whence thou art, and
whither thou wilt. Sir, he said, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, and
from king Mark of Cornwall I was sent on message unto king Anguish of
Ireland, for to fetch his daughter to be his wife, and here she is
ready to go with me into Cornwall, and her name is La Beale Isoud. And
Sir Tristram, said Sir Galahad the haut prince, well be ye found in
these marches, and so ye will promise me to go unto Sir Launcelot du
Lake and accompany with him, ye shall go where ye will, and your fair
lady with you. And I shall promise you never in all my days shall such
customs be used in this castle as have been used. Sir, said Sir
Tristram, now I let you wit I wend ye had been Sir Launcelot du Lake
when I saw you first, and, therefore I dread you the more; and Sir, I
promise you, said Sir Tristram, as soon as I may I will see Sir
Launcelot and enfellowship me with him, for of all the knights of the
world I most desire his fellowship.


                             CHAP. XXVIII.

_How Sir Launcelot met with Sir Carados bearing away Sir Gawaine, and
  of the rescue of Sir Gawaine._

And then Sir Tristram took his leave when he saw his time, and took the
sea. And in the mean while word came unto Sir Launcelot and to Sir
Tristram that Sir Carados the mighty king, that was made like a giant,
had fought with Sir Gawaine, and gave him such strokes that he swooned
in his saddle, and after that he took him by the collar and pulled him
out of his saddle, and fast bound him to the saddle bow, and so rode
his way with him towards his castle. And as he rode, by fortune Sir
Launcelot met with Sir Carados, and anon he knew Sir Gawaine that lay
bound after him. Ah, said Sir Launcelot unto Sir Gawaine, how stands it
with you? Never so hard, said Sir Gawaine, unless that ye help me, for
without ye rescue me I know no knight that may, but either you or Sir
Tristram. Wherefore Sir Launcelot was heavy of Sir Gawaine’s words. And
then Sir Launcelot bad Sir Carados, Lay down that knight, and fight
with me. Thou art but a fool, said Sir Carados, for I will serve you in
the same wise. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, spare me not, for I
warn thee I will not spare thee. And then he bound Sir Gawaine hand and
foot, and so threw him to the ground. And then he gat his spear of his
Squire and departed from Sir Launcelot to fetch his course. And so
either met with other, and brake their spears to their hands, and then
they pulled out swords and hurtled together on horseback more than an
hour. And at the last Sir Launcelot smote Sir Carados such a buffet
upon the helm that it perched his brain-pan. So then Sir Launcelot took
Sir Carados by the collar and pulled him under his horse feet, and then
he alight and pulled off his helm and strake off his head. And then Sir
Launcelot unbound Sir Gawaine. So this same tale was told to Sir
Galahad and to Sir Tristram:—here may ye hear the nobleness that
followeth Sir Launcelot. Alas, said Sir Tristram, and I had not this
message in hand with this fair lady, truly I would never stint or I had
found Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud went to the
sea and came into Cornwall, and there all the barons met them.


                              CHAP. XXIX.

_Of the wedding of king Mark to La Beale Isoud, and of Bragwaine her
  maid, and of Palamides._

And anon they were richly wedded with great nobley. But ever, as the
French book saith, Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud loved ever together.

Then was there great justs and great tourneying, and many lords and
ladies were at that feast, and Sir Tristram was most praised of all
other. Thus dured the feast long, and after the feast was done, within
a little while after, by the assent of two ladies that were with queen
Isoud, they ordained for hate and envy to destroy dame Bragwaine, that
was maiden and lady unto La Beale Isoud, and she was sent into the
forest for to fetch herbs, and there she was met, and bound feet and
hand to a tree, and so she was bounden three days. And by fortune Sir
Palamides found dame Bragwaine and there he delivered her from the
death, and brought her to a nunnery there beside to be recovered. When
Isoud the queen missed her maiden wit ye well she was right heavy as
ever was any queen, for of all earthly women she loved her best, the
cause was for she came with her out of her country.

And so upon a day the queen Isoud walked into the forest to put away
her thoughts, and there she went herself unto a well and made great
moan. And suddenly there came Sir Palamides to her, and had heard all
her complaint, and said, Madame Isoud, and if ye will grant me my boon
I shall bring to you dame Bragwaine safe and sound. And the queen was
so glad of his proffer that suddenly unadvised she granted all his
asking. Well madam, said Sir Palamides, I trust to your promise, and if
ye will abide here half an hour I shall bring her to you. I shall abide
you, said La Beale Isoud. Then Sir Palamides rode forth his way to that
nunnery, and lightly he came again with dame Bragwaine; but by her good
will she would not have come again, because for love of the queen she
stood in adventure of her life. Notwithstanding, half against her will,
she went with Sir Palamides unto the queen. And when the queen saw her
she was passing glad. Now madam, said Palamides, remember upon your
promise, for I have fulfilled my promise. Sir Palamides, said the
queen, I wot not what is your desire, but I will that ye wit howbeit I
promised you largely I thought none evil, nor I warn you none ill will
I do. Madam, said Sir Palamides, as at this time ye shall not know my
desire, but before my lord your husband there shall ye know that I will
have my desire that ye have promised me. And therewith the queen
departed and rode home to the king, and Sir Palamides rode after her.
And when Sir Palamides came before the king he said, Sir king, I
require you as ye be a righteous king, that ye will judge me the right.
Tell me the cause, said the king, and ye shall have right.


                               CHAP. XXX.

_How Palamides demanded queen Isoud, and how Lambegus rode after to
  rescue her, and of the escape of Isoud._

Sir, said Palamides, I promised your queen Isoud to bring again dame
Bragwaine that she had lost, upon this covenant, that she should grant
me a boon that I would ask, and without grudging other advisement she
granted me. What say ye, my lady? said the king. It is truly as he
saith, said the queen, to say the sooth I promised him his asking for
love and joy that I had to see her. Well madam, said the king, and if
ye were hasty to grant him what boon he would ask, I will well that ye
perform your promise. Then said Sir Palamides, I will that ye wit that
I will have your queen to lead her and govern her where as me list.
Therewith the king stood still, and bethought him of Sir Tristram, and
deemed that he would rescue her. And then hastily the king answered,
Take her with the adventures that shall fall of it, for Sir Palamides
as I suppose thou wilt not keep her no while. As for that, said Sir
Palamides, I dare right well abide the adventure. And so to make short
tale, Sir Palamides took her by the hand and said, Madam, grudge not to
go with me, for I desire nothing but your own promise. As for that,
said the queen, I fear not greatly to go with thee, howbeit thou hast
me at advantage upon my promise. For I doubt not I shall be
worshipfully rescued from thee. As for that, said Sir Palamides, be it
as it be may. So queen Isoud was set behind Palamides, and rode his
way. Anon the king sent after Sir Tristram, but in no wise he could be
found, for he was in the forest an hunting; for that was always his
custom, but if he used arms, to chase and to hunt in the forests. Alas,
said the king, now I am shamed for ever, that by mine own assent my
lady and my queen shall be devoured. Then came forth a knight, his name
was Lambegus, and he was a knight of Sir Tristram. My lord, said this
knight, sith ye have trust in my lord Sir Tristram, wit ye well for his
sake I will ride after your queen and rescue her, or else I shall be
beaten. Gramercy, said the king, and I live, Sir Lambegus, I shall
deserve it. And then Sir Lambegus armed him, and rode after as fast as
he might. And then within awhile he overtook Sir Palamides: and then
Sir Palamides left the queen. What art thou? said Sir Palamides, art
thou Tristram? Nay, he said, I am his servant, and my name is Sir
Lambegus. That me repenteth, said Sir Palamides, I had lever thou hadst
been Sir Tristram. I believe you well, said Sir Lambegus, but when thou
meetest with Sir Tristram thou shalt have thy hands full. And then they
hurtled together and all to-brast their spears, and then they pulled
out their swords and hewed on helms and hauberks. At the last Sir
Palamides gave Sir Lambegus such a wound that he fell down like a dead
knight to the earth. Then he looked after La Beale Isoud, and then she
was gone he nist where. Wit ye well Sir Palamides was never so heavy.
So the queen ran into the forest, and there she found a well, and
therein she had thought to have drowned herself. And as good fortune
would, there came a knight to her that had a castle thereby, his name
was Sir Adtherp. And when he found the queen in that mischief he
rescued her, and brought her to his castle. And when he wist what she
was, he armed him and took his horse, and said he would be avenged upon
Palamides, and so he rode till he met with him, and there Sir Palamides
wounded him sore, and by force he made him to tell him the cause why he
did battle with him, and how he had led the queen unto his castle. Now
bring me there, said Palamides, or thou shalt die of my hands. Sir,
said Sir Adtherp, I am so wounded I may not follow, but ride you this
way, and it shall bring you into my castle, and there within is the
queen. And then Sir Palamides rode still till he came to the castle,
and at a window La Beale Isoud saw Sir Palamides, then she made the
gates to be shut strongly. And when he saw he might not come within the
castle, he put off his bridle and his saddle, and put his horse to
pasture, and set himself down at the gate like a man that was out of
his wit that recked not of himself.


                              CHAP. XXXI.

_How Sir Tristram rode after Palamides, and how he found him and fought
  with him, and by the mean of Isoud the battle ceased._

Now turn we unto Sir Tristram, that when he was come home and wist La
Beale Isoud was gone with Sir Palamides, wit ye well he was wroth out
of measure. Alas, said Sir Tristram, I am this day shamed. Then he
cried to Gouvernail his man, Haste thee that I were armed and on
horseback, for well I wot Lambegus hath no might nor strength to
withstand Sir Palamides; alas, that I had not been in his stead. So
anon as he was armed and horsed Sir Tristram and Gouvernail rode after
into the forest, and within a while he found his knight Lambegus almost
wounded to the death, and Sir Tristram bare him to a forester, and
charged him to keep him well. And then he rode forth, and there he
found Sir Adtherp sore wounded, and he told him how the queen would
have drowned herself and he had not been, and how for her sake and love
he had taken upon him to do battle with Sir Palamides. Where is my
lady? said Sir Tristram. Sir, said the knight, she is sure enough
within my castle, and she can hold her within it. Gramercy, said Sir
Tristram, of thy great goodness. And so he rode till he came nigh to
that castle, and then Sir Tristram saw where Sir Palamides sat at the
gate sleeping, and his horse pastured fast afore him. Now go thou
Gouvernail, said Sir Tristram, and bid him awake and make him ready. So
Gouvernail rode unto him and said, Sir Palamides, arise and take to
thee thine harness. But he was in such a study that he heard not what
Gouvernail said. So Gouvernail came again and told Sir Tristram that he
slept, or else he was mad. Go thou again, said Sir Tristram, and bid
him arise, and tell him that I am here his mortal foe. So Gouvernail
rode again and put upon him the butt of his spear, and said, Sir
Palamides make thee ready, for wit ye well Sir Tristram hoveth yonder,
and sendeth thee word he is thy mortal foe. And therewithal Sir
Palamides arose stilly without words, and gat his horse and saddled him
and bridled him, and lightly he lept upon him, and gat his spear in his
hand, and either feutred their spears, and hurtled fast together; and
there Sir Tristram smote down Sir Palamides over his horse tail. Then
lightly Sir Palamides put his shield afore him and drew his sword, and
there began strong battle on both parties, for both they fought for the
love of one lady, and ever she lay on the walls and beheld them how
they fought out of measure, and either were wounded passing sore, but
Palamides was much sorer wounded. Thus they fought tracing and
traversing more than two hours, that well nigh for dole and sorrow La
Beale Isoud swooned. Alas, said she, that one I loved and yet do, and
the other I love not, yet it were great pity that I should see Sir
Palamides slain, for well I know by that time the end be done Sir
Palamides is but a dead knight, and because he is not christened I
would be loth that he should die a Saracen. And therewithal she came
down and besought Sir Tristram to fight no more. Ah madam, said he,
what mean you? will ye have me shamed? Well ye know I will be ruled by
you. I will not your dishonour, said La Beale Isoud, but I would that
ye would for my sake spare this unhappy Saracen Palamides. Madam, said
Sir Tristram, I will leave fighting at this time for your sake.

Then she said to Sir Palamides: This shall be your charge, that thou
shalt go out of this country while I am therein. I will obey your
commandment, said Sir Palamides, the which is sore against my will.
Then take thy way, said La Beale Isoud, unto the court of king Arthur,
and there recommend me unto queen Guenever, and tell her that I send
her word that there be within the land but four lovers, that is Sir
Launcelot du Lake and queen Guenever, and Sir Tristram de Liones and
queen Isoud.


                              CHAP. XXXII.

_How Sir Tristram brought queen Isoud home, and of the debate of king
  Mark and Sir Tristram._

And so Sir Palamides departed with great heaviness. And Sir Tristram
took the queen and brought her again to king Mark, and then was there
made great joy of her home coming. Who was cherished but Sir Tristram!
Then Sir Tristram let fetch Sir Lambegus his knight from the forester’s
house, and it was long or he was whole, but at the last he was well
recovered. Thus they lived with joy and play a long while. But ever Sir
Andred, that was nigh cousin unto Sir Tristram, lay in a watch to wait
betwixt Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud, for to take them and slander
them. So upon a day Sir Tristram talked with La Beale Isoud in a
window, and that espied Sir Andred, and told it to the king. Then king
Mark took a sword in his hand and came to Sir Tristram, and called him
false traitor, and would have stricken him. But Sir Tristram was nigh
him, and ran under his sword, and took it out of his hand. And then the
king cried, Where are my knights and my men? I charge you slay this
traitor. But at that time there was not one would move for his words.
When Sir Tristram saw there was not one would be against him, he shook
the sword to the king, and made countenance as though he would have
stricken him. And then king Mark fled, and Sir Tristram followed him,
and smote upon him five or six strokes flatling on the neck that he
made him to fall upon the nose. And then Sir Tristram went his way and
armed him, and took his horse and his man, and so he rode into that
forest. And there upon a day Sir Tristram met with two brethren that
were knights with king Mark, and there he strake off the head of the
one, and wounded the other to the death, and he made him to bear his
brother’s head in his helm unto the king, and thirty more there he
wounded. And when that knight came before the king to say his message,
he there died afore the king and the queen. Then king Mark called his
council unto him and asked advice of his barons what was best to do
with Sir Tristram. Sir, said the barons, in especial Sir Dinas the
seneschal, Sir, we will give you counsel for to send for Sir Tristram,
for we will that ye wit many men will hold with Sir Tristram and he
were hard bested. And sir, said Sir Dinas, ye shall understand that Sir
Tristram is called peerless and matchless of any christian knight, and
of his might and his hardiness we knew none so good a knight, but if it
be Sir Launcelot du Lake. And if he depart from your court and go to
king Arthur’s court, wit ye well he will get him such friends there
that he will not set by your malice. And therefore, sir, I counsel you
to take him to your grace. I will well, said the king, that he be sent
for, that we may be friends. Then the barons sent for Sir Tristram
under a safe conduct. And so when Sir Tristram came to the king, he was
welcome, and no rehearsal was made, and there was game and play. And
then the king and the queen went on hunting, and Sir Tristram.


                             CHAP. XXXIII.

_How Sir Lamorak justed with thirty knights, and Sir Tristram at
  request of king Mark smote his horse down._

The king and the queen made their pavilions and their tents in that
forest beside a river, and there was daily hunting and justing, for
there were ever thirty knights ready to just unto all them that came in
at that time. And there by fortune came Sir Lamorak de Galis and Sir
Driant, and there Sir Driant justed right well, but at the last he had
a fall. Then Sir Lamorak proffered to just. And when he began he fared
so with the thirty knights that there was not one of them but that he
gave him a fall, and some of them were sore hurt. I marvel, said king
Mark, what knight he is that doth such deeds of arms. Sir, said Sir
Tristram, I know him for a noble knight as few now be living, and his
name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. It were great shame, said the king, that
he should go thus away, unless that some of you met with him better.
Sir, said Sir Tristram, me seemeth it were no worship for a noble man
for to have ado with him; and for because at this time he hath done
overmuch for any mean knight living, therefore, as me seemeth, it were
great shame and villainy to tempt him any more at this time, insomuch
as he and his horse are weary both; for the deeds of arms that he hath
done this day, and they be well considered, were enough for Sir
Launcelot du Lake.

As for that, said king Mark, I require you as ye love me and my lady
the queen La Beale Isoud, take your arms and just with Sir Lamorak de
Galis. Sir, said Sir Tristram, ye bid me do a thing that is against
knighthood, and well I can deem that I shall give him a fall, for it is
no mastery, for my horse and I be fresh both, and so is not his horse
and he; and wit ye well that he will take it for great unkindness, for
ever one good is loth to take another at disadvantage. But because I
will not displease you, as ye require me so will I do, and obey your
commandment. And so Sir Tristram armed him anon and took his horse, and
put him forth, and there Sir Lamorak met him mightily, and what with
the might of his own spear, and of Sir Tristram’s spear, Sir Lamorak’s
horse fell to the earth, and he sitting in the saddle. Then anon as
lightly as he might he avoided the saddle and his horse, and put his
shield afore him, and drew his sword. And then he bad Sir Tristram,
Alight, thou knight, and thou darest. Nay, said Sir Tristram, I will no
more have ado with thee, for I have done to thee overmuch unto my
dishonour, and to thy worship. As for that, said Sir Lamorak, I can
thee no thank: since thou hast forjusted me on horseback, I require
thee, and I beseech thee, and thou be Sir Tristram, fight with me on
foot. I will not so, said Sir Tristram; and wit ye well my name is Sir
Tristram de Liones, and well I know ye be Sir Lamorak de Galis, and
this that I have done to you was against my will, but I was required
thereto; but to say that I will do at your request as at this time, I
will have no more ado with you, for me shameth of that I have done. As
for the shame, said Sir Lamorak, on thy part or on mine, bear thou it
and thou wilt, for though a mare’s son hath failed me, now a queen’s
son shall not fail thee; and therefore, and thou be such a knight as
men call thee, I require thee, alight, and fight with me. Sir Lamorak,
said Sir Tristram, I understand your heart is great, and cause why ye
have, to say the sooth: for it would grieve me and any knight should
keep himself fresh and then to strike down a weary knight, for that
knight nor horse was never formed that alway might stand or endure. And
therefore, said Sir Tristram, I will not have ado with you, for me
forthinketh of that I have done. As for that, said Sir Lamorak, I shall
quit you and ever I see my time.


                              CHAP. XXXIV.

_How Sir Lamorak sent an horn to king Mark in despite of Sir Tristram,
  and how Sir Tristram was driven into a chapel._

So he departed from him with Sir Driant, and by the way they met with a
knight that was sent from Morgan le Fay unto king Arthur, and this
knight had a fair horn harnessed with gold, and the horn had such a
virtue that there might no lady nor gentlewoman drink of that horn but
if she were true to her husband, and if she were false she should spill
all the drink, and if she were true to her lord she might drink
peaceably. And because of queen Guenever, and in the despite of Sir
Launcelot, this horn was sent unto king Arthur, and by force Sir
Lamorak made that knight to tell all the cause why he bare that horn.
Now shalt thou bear this horn, said Lamorak unto king Mark, or else
choose thou to die for it. For I tell thee plainly, in despite and
reproof of Sir Tristram thou shalt bear that horn unto king Mark his
uncle, and say thou to him that I sent it him for to assay his lady,
and if she be true to him he shall prove her. So the knight went his
way unto king Mark, and brought him that rich horn, and said that Sir
Lamorak sent it him, and thereto he told him the virtue of that horn.
Then the king made queen Isoud to drink thereof, and an hundred ladies,
and there were but four ladies of all those that drank clean. Alas,
said king Mark, this is a great despite; and sware a great oath that
she should be burnt, and the other ladies. Then the barons gathered
them together, and said plainly, they would not have those ladies burnt
for an horn made by sorcery, that came from as false a sorceress and
witch as then was living. For that horn did never good, but caused
strife and debate, and always in her days she had been an enemy to all
true lovers. So there were many knights made their avow, if ever they
met with Morgan le Fay that they would shew her short courtesy. Also
Sir Tristram was passing wroth that Sir Lamorak sent that horn unto
king Mark, for well he knew that it was done in the despite of him; and
therefore he thought to quit Sir Lamorak. Then, always, Sir Tristram
used to go to queen Isoud when he might, and ever Sir Andred his cousin
watched him night and day, for to take him with La Beale Isoud. And so,
upon a day, Sir Andred his cousin espied the hour and the time when Sir
Tristram went to his lady. And then Sir Andred gat unto him twelve
knights, and he set upon Sir Tristram secretly and suddenly, and there
Sir Tristram was taken with La Beale Isoud, and then was he bound hand
and foot, and so was he kept until the next day. And then by assent of
king Mark, and of Sir Andred, and of some of the barons, Sir Tristram
was led unto a chapel which stood upon the sea rocks, there for to take
his judgment; and so he was led bound with forty knights. And when Sir
Tristram saw there was none other remedy but needs that he must die,
then said he, Fair lords, remember what I have done for the country of
Cornwall, and in what jeopardy I have been in for the weal of you all.
For when I fought for the truage of Cornwall with Sir Marhaus the good
knight, I was promised for to be better rewarded, when ye all refused
to take the battle; therefore, as ye be good gentle knights, see me not
thus shamefully to die, for it is shame to all knighthood thus to see
me die. For I dare well say, said Sir Tristram, that I never yet met
with no knight but I was as good as he, or better. Fie upon thee, said
Sir Andred, false traitor that thou art with thy vaunting, for all thy
boast thou shalt die this day. O Andred, Andred, said Sir Tristram,
thou shouldst be my kinsman, and now thou art to me full unfriendly,
but and there were no more but thou and I, thou wouldst not put me to
death. No! said Sir Andred, and therewith he drew his sword and would
have slain him. When Sir Tristram saw him make such countenance, he
looked upon both his hands that were fast bound unto two knights, and
suddenly he pulled them both to him and unwrast his hands, and then he
lept unto his cousin Andred and wrested his sword out of his hands,
then he smote Sir Andred that he fell to the earth, and so Sir Tristram
fought till he had killed ten knights. So then Sir Tristram gat the
chapel and kept it mightily. Then the cry was great, and the people
drew fast unto Sir Andred, more than an hundred. When Sir Tristram saw
the people draw unto him, he remembered that he was naked, and shut
fast the chapel door, and brake the bars of a window, and so he lept
out and fell upon the crags in the sea. And so at that time Sir Andred
nor none of his fellows might get to him at that time.


                              CHAP. XXXV.

_How Sir Tristram was holpen by his men, and of queen Isoud which was
  put in a lazar-cote, and how Tristram was hurt._

So when they were departed, Gouvernail and Sir Lambegus, and Sir
Sentraille de Lushon, that were Sir Tristram’s men, sought their
master. When they heard he was escaped, then they were passing glad,
and on the rocks they found him, and with towels they pulled him up.
And then Sir Tristram asked them where La Beale Isoud was, for he wend
she had been had away of Andred’s people. Sir, said Gouvernail, she is
put in a lazar-cote. Alas, said Sir Tristram, this is a full ungoodly
place for such a fair lady; and if I may she shall not be long there.
And so he took his men, and went there as was La Beale Isoud, and
fetched her away, and brought her into a forest to a fair manor, and
Sir Tristram there abode with her. So the good knight bad his men go
from him,—For at this time I may not help you. So they departed all
save Gouvernail. And so upon a day Sir Tristram went into the forest
for to desport him, and then it happened that he fell there on sleep.
And there came a man that Sir Tristram afore hand had slain his
brother; and when this man had found him he shot him through the
shoulder with an arrow, and Sir Tristram lept up and killed that man.
And in the mean while it was told king Mark how Sir Tristram and La
Beale Isoud were in that same manor, and as soon as ever he might
thither he came with many knights to slay Sir Tristram. And when he
came there he found him gone; and there he took La Beale Isoud home
with him, and kept her strait that by no means never she might wit nor
send unto Tristram, nor he unto her. And then when Sir Tristram came
toward the old manor, he found the track of many horses, and thereby he
wist his lady was gone. And then Sir Tristram took great sorrow, and
endured with great pain long time, for the arrow that he was hurt
withall was envenomed.

Then by the means of La Beale Isoud she told a lady that was cousin
unto dame Bragwaine, and she came to Sir Tristram, and told him that he
might not be whole by no means,—For thy lady La Beale Isoud may not
help thee; therefore she biddeth you haste into Britanny to king Howel,
and there ye shall find his daughter Isoud la Blanche Mains, and she
shall help thee. Then Sir Tristram and Gouvernail gat them shipping,
and so sailed into Britanny. And when king Howel wist that it was Sir
Tristram he was full glad of him. Sir, he said, I am come into this
country to have help of your daughter, for it is told me that there is
none other may heal me but she. And so within a while she healed him.


                              CHAP. XXXVI.

_How Sir Tristram served in war king Howel of Britanny and slew his
  adversary in the field._

There was an earl that hight Grip, and this earl made great war upon
the king, and put the king to the worse, and besieged him. And on a
time Sir Kehydius, that was son to king Howel, as he issued out he was
sore wounded nigh to the death. Then Gouvernail went to the king and
said, Sir, I counsel you to desire my lord, Sir Tristram, as in your
need to help you. I will do by your counsel, said the king. And so he
went unto Sir Tristram and prayed him in his wars for to help him, for
my son Sir Kehydius may not go into the field. Sir, said Sir Tristram,
I will go to the field, and do what I may. Then Sir Tristram issued out
of the town with such fellowship as he might make, and did such deeds
that all Britanny spake of him. And then at the last, by great might
and force, he slew the earl Grip with his own hands, and more than an
hundred knights he slew that day. And then Sir Tristram was received
right worshipfully with procession. Then king Howel embraced him in his
arms and said, Sir Tristram, all my kingdom I will resign to thee. God
defend, said Sir Tristram, for I am beholden unto you for your
daughter’s sake to do for you. Then by the great means of king Howel
and Kehydius his son, by great proffers there grew great love betwixt
Isoud and Sir Tristram, for that lady was both good and fair, and a
woman of noble blood and fame. And for because that Sir Tristram had
such cheer and riches, and all other pleasance that he had, almost he
had forsaken La Beale Isoud. And so upon a time Sir Tristram agreed to
wed Isoud la Blanche Mains. And at the last they were wedded, and
solemnly held their marriage.

And in the mean while there was a knight in Britanny, his name was
Suppinabiles, and he came over the sea into England, and then he came
unto the court of king Arthur, and there he met with Sir Launcelot du
Lake, and told him of the marriage of Sir Tristram. Then said Sir
Launcelot, Fie upon him, untrue knight to his lady; that so noble a
knight as Sir Tristram is, should be found to his first lady false, La
Beale Isoud, queen of Cornwall. But say ye him this, said Sir
Launcelot, that of all knights in the world I loved him most, and had
most joy of him, and all was for his noble deeds; and let him wit the
love between him and me is done for ever, and that I give him warning
from this day forth as his mortal enemy.


                             CHAP. XXXVII.

_How Sir Suppinabiles told Sir Tristram how he was defamed in the court
  of king Arthur, and of Sir Lamorak._

Then departed Sir Suppinabiles unto Britanny again, and there he found
Sir Tristram, and told him that he had been in king Arthur’s court.
Then said Sir Tristram, Heard ye any thing of me? Truly, said Sir
Suppinabiles, there I heard Sir Launcelot speak of you great shame, and
that ye be a false knight to your lady, and he bad me to do you to wit
that he will be your mortal enemy in every place where he may meet you.
That me repenteth, said Tristram, for of all knights I loved to be in
his fellowship. So Sir Tristram made great moan, and was ashamed that
noble knights should defame him for the sake of his lady. And in this
mean while La Beale Isoud made a letter unto queen Guenever,
complaining her of the untruth of Sir Tristram, and how he had wedded
the king’s daughter of Britanny. Queen Guenever sent her another
letter, and bad her be of good cheer, for she should have joy after
sorrow, for Sir Tristram was so noble a knight called, that by crafts
of sorcery ladies would make such noble men to wed them, but in the
end, queen Guenever said, it shall be thus, that he shall hate her, and
love you better than ever he did tofore.

So leave we Sir Tristram in Britanny, and speak we of Sir Lamorak de
Galis, that as he sailed his ship fell on a rock and perished all, save
Sir Lamorak and his squire, and there he swam mightily, and fishers of
the Isle of Servage took him up, and his squire was drowned, and the
shipmen had great labour to save Sir Lamorak’s life for all the comfort
that they could do. And the lord of that isle hight Sir Nabon le Noire,
a great mighty giant. And this Sir Nabon hateth all the knights of king
Arthur, and in no wise he would do them favor. And these fishers told
Sir Lamorak all the guise of Sir Nabon, how there came never knight of
king Arthur’s but he destroyed him. And at the last battle that he did
was slain Sir Nanowne le Petite, the which he put to a shameful death
in despite of king Arthur, for he was drawn limb-meal. That forthinketh
me, said Sir Lamorak, for that knight’s death, for he was my cousin.
And if I were at mine ease as well as ever I was, I would revenge his
death. Peace, said the fishers, and make here no words, for, or ye
depart from hence, Sir Nabon must know that ye have been here, or else
we should die for your sake. So that I be whole, said Lamorak, of my
disease that I have taken in the sea, I will that ye tell him that I am
a knight of king Arthur’s, for I was never afeard to deny my lord.


                             CHAP. XXXVIII.

_How Sir Tristram and his wife arrived in Wales, and how he met there
  with Sir Lamorak._

Now turn we unto Sir Tristram, that upon a day he took a little barge,
and his wife Isoud la Blanch Mains, with Sir Kehydius her brother, to
play them in the coasts. And when they were from the land, there was a
wind drove them into the coast of Wales upon this Isle of Servage,
where as was Sir Lamorak, and there the barge all to-rove, and there
dame Isoud was hurt, and as well as they might they gat into the
forest, and there by a well he saw Segwarides and a damsel. And then
either saluted other. Sir, said Segwarides, I know you for Sir Tristram
de Liones, the man in the world that I have the most cause to hate,
because ye departed the love between me and my wife; but as for that,
said Segwarides, I will never hate a noble knight for a light lady, and
therefore I pray you be my friend, and I will be yours unto my power,
for wit ye well ye are hard bested in this valley, and we shall have
enough to do either of us to succour other. And then Sir Segwarides
brought Sir Tristram unto a lady thereby that was born in Cornwall, and
she told him all the perils of that valley, and how there came never
knight there but he were taken prisoner or slain. Wit you well fair
lady, said Sir Tristram, that I slew Sir Marhaus, and delivered
Cornwall from the truage of Ireland, and I am he that delivered the
king of Ireland from Sir Blamor de Ganis, and I am he that beat Sir
Palamides, and wit ye well, I am Sir Tristram de Liones, that by the
grace of God shall deliver this woful Isle of Servage. So Sir Tristram
was well eased; then one told him there was a knight of king Arthur’s
that was wrecked on the rocks. What is his name? said Sir Tristram. We
wot not, said the fishers, but he keepeth it no counsel but that he is
a knight of king Arthur’s, and by the mighty lord of this isle he
setteth nought by. I pray you, said Sir Tristram, and ye may bring him
hither that I may see him; and if he be any of the knights of Arthur’s
I shall know him. Then the lady prayed the fishers to bring him to her
place. So, on the morrow they brought him thither in a fisher’s
raiment. And as soon as Sir Tristram saw him he smiled upon him and
knew him well, but he knew not Sir Tristram. Fair knight, said Sir
Tristram, me seemeth by your cheer ye have been diseased but late, and
also me thinketh I should know you heretofore. I will well, said Sir
Lamorak, that ye have seen me and met with me. Fair sir, said Sir
Tristram, tell me your name. Upon a covenant I will tell you, said Sir
Lamorak, that is, that ye will tell me whether ye be lord of this
island or no, that is called Nabon le Noire. For sooth, said Sir
Tristram, I am not he, nor I hold not of him, I am his foe as well ye
be, and so shall I be found or I depart out of this isle. Well, said
Sir Lamorak, since ye have said so largely unto me, my name is Sir
Lamorak de Galis, son unto king Pellinore. For sooth, I trow well, said
Sir Tristram, for, and ye said other, I know the contrary. What are ye,
said Sir Lamorak, that knoweth me? I am Sir Tristram de Liones. Ah,
sir, remember ye not of the fall ye did give me once, and after ye
refused me to fight on foot. That was not for fear I had of you, said
Sir Tristram, but me shamed at that time to have more ado with you, for
me seemed ye had enough; but, Sir Lamorak, for my kindness many ladies
ye put to a reproof, when ye sent the horn from Morgan le Fay to king
Mark, where as ye did this in despite of me. Well, said he, and it were
to do again, so would I do, for I had lever strife and debate fell in
king Mark’s court rather than Arthur’s court, for the honour of both
courts be not alike. As to that, said Sir Tristram, I know well. But
that that was done, it was for despite of me, but all your malice hurt
not greatly. Therefore, said Sir Tristram, ye shall leave all your
malice and so will I, and let us assay how we may win worship between
you and me upon this giant Sir Nabon le Noire, that is lord of this
island, to destroy him. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, now I understand your
knighthood, it may not be false that all men say, for of your bounty,
nobless, and worship, of all knights ye are peerless; and for courtesy
and gentleness I shewed you ungentleness, and that now me repenteth.


                              CHAP. XXXIX.

_How Sir Tristram fought with Sir Nabon and overcame him, and made Sir
  Lamorak lord of the isle._

In the mean time came word that Sir Nabon had made a cry that all the
people of that isle should be at his castle the fifth day after. And
the same day the son of Nabon should be made knight, and all the
knights of that valley and thereabout should be there to just, and all
those of the realm of Logris should be there to just with them of North
Wales; and thither came five hundred knights, and they of the country
brought there Sir Lamorak, and Sir Tristram, and Sir Kehydius, and Sir
Segwarides, for they durst none otherwise do. And then Sir Nabon lent
Sir Lamorak horse and armour at Sir Lamorak’s desire, and Sir Lamorak
justed and did such deeds of arms that Nabon and all the people said
there was never knight that ever they saw do such deeds of arms. For,
as the French book saith, he forjusted all that were there, for the
most part of five hundred knights, that none abode him in his saddle.
Then Sir Nabon proffered to play with him his play:—For I saw never no
knight do so much upon a day. I will well, said Sir Lamorak, play as I
may, but I am weary and sore bruised: and there either gat a spear, but
Nabon would not encounter with Sir Lamorak, but smote his horse in the
forehead and so slew him, and then Sir Lamorak went on foot and turned
his shield and drew his sword, and there began strong battle on foot.
But Sir Lamorak was so sore bruised and short breathed, that he traced
and traversed somewhat aback. Fair fellow, said Sir Nabon, hold thy
hand, and I shall shew thee more courtesy than ever I shewed knight,
because I have seen this day thy noble knighthood. And therefore stand
thou by, and I will wit whether any of thy fellows will have ado with
me. Then when Sir Tristram heard that, he stept forth and said, Nabon,
lend me horse and sure armour, and I will have ado with thee. Well
fellow, said Sir Nabon, go thou to yonder pavilion, and arm thee of the
best thou findest there, and I shall play a marvellous play with thee.
Then, said Sir Tristram, look ye play well, or else peradventure I
shall learn you a new play. That is well said, fellow, said Sir Nabon.
So when Sir Tristram was armed as him liked best, and well shielded and
sworded, he dressed to him on foot, for well he knew that Sir Nabon
would not abide a stroke with a spear, therefore he would slay all
knights’ horses. Now fair fellow, said Sir Nabon, let us play. So then
they fought long on foot, tracing and traversing, smiting and foining
long without any rest. At the last Sir Nabon prayed him to tell him his
name. Sir Nabon, I tell thee my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, a
knight of Cornwall under king Mark. Thou art welcome, said Sir Nabon,
for of all knights I have most desired to fight with thee or with Sir
Launcelot. So then they went eagerly together, and Sir Tristram slew
Sir Nabon, and so forthwith he lept to his son and strake off his head.
And then all the country said they would hold of Sir Tristram. Nay,
said Sir Tristram, I will not so: here is a worshipful knight Sir
Lamorak de Galis that for me he shall be lord of this country, for he
hath done here great deeds of arms. Nay, said Sir Lamorak, I will not
be lord of this country, for I have not deserved it as well as ye,
therefore give ye it where ye will, for I will none have. Well, said
Sir Tristram, since ye nor I will not have it, let us give it to him
that hath not so well deserved it. Do as ye list, said Sir Lamorak, for
the gift is yours, for I will none have and I had deserved it. So it
was given to Segwarides, wherefore he thanked him, and so was he lord,
and worshipfully he did govern it. And then Sir Segwarides delivered
all prisoners, and set good governance in that valley; and so he
returned into Cornwall, and told king Mark and La Beale Isoud how Sir
Tristram had advanced him to the Isle of Servage, and there he
proclaimed in all Cornwall of all the adventures of these two knights,
so was it openly known. But full woe was La Beale Isoud when she heard
tell that Sir Tristram was wedded to Isoud La Blanche Mains.


                               CHAP. XL.

_How Sir Lamorak departed from Sir Tristram, and how he met with Sir
  Frol, and after with Sir Launcelot._

So turn we unto Sir Lamorak, that rode toward Arthur’s court; and Sir
Tristram and his wife and Kehydius took a vessel and sailed into
Britanny unto king Howel, where he was welcome. And when he heard of
these adventures they marvelled of his noble deeds. Now turn we unto
Sir Lamorak, that when he was departed from Sir Tristram, he rode out
of the forest till he came to an hermitage. When the hermit saw him he
asked him from whence he came. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, I come from this
valley. Sir, said the hermit, thereof I greatly marvel, for this twenty
winter I saw never no knight pass this country but he was either slain
or villainously wounded, or passed as a poor prisoner. Those ill
customs, said Sir Lamorak, are fordone; for Sir Tristram slew your lord
Sir Nabon, and his son. Then was the hermit glad, and all his brethren,
for he said there was never such a tyrant among Christian men,—and
therefore, said the hermit, this valley and franchise we will hold of
Sir Tristram. So on the morrow Sir Lamorak departed. And as he rode he
saw four knights fight against one, and that one knight defended him
well, but at the last the four knights had him down. And then Sir
Lamorak went betwixt them, and asked them why they would slay that one
knight, and said it was shame four against one. Thou shalt well wit,
said the four knights, that he is false. That is your tale, said Sir
Lamorak, and when I hear him also speak I will say as ye say. Then said
Lamorak, Ah knight, can ye not excuse you but that ye are a false
knight? Sir, said he, yet can I excuse me both with my words and with
my hands, that I will make good upon one of the best of them, my body
to his body. Then spake they all at once: We will not jeopard our
bodies as for thee; but wit thou well, they said, and king Arthur were
here himself, it should not lie in his power to save his life. That is
too much said, said Sir Lamorak, but many speak behind a man more than
they will say to his face. And because of your words, ye shall
understand that I am one of the simplest of king Arthur’s court: in the
worship of my lord now do your best, and in despite of you I shall
rescue him. And then they lashed all at once to Sir Lamorak; but anon
at two strokes Sir Lamorak had slain two of them, and then the other
two fled. So then Sir Lamorak turned again to that knight and asked him
his name. Sir, he said, my name is Sir Frol of the Out Isles. Then he
rode with Sir Lamorak and bare him company; and as they rode by the way
they saw a seemly knight riding against them, and all in white. Ah,
said Frol, yonder knight justed late with me, and smote me down,
therefore I will just with him. Ye shall not do so, said Sir Lamorak,
by my counsel, and ye will tell me your quarrel, whether ye justed at
his request, or he at yours. Nay, said Sir Frol, I justed with him at
my request. Sir, said Lamorak, then will I counsel you deal no more
with him, for me seemeth by his countenance he should be a noble knight
and no jester, for me thinketh he should be of the Table Round.
Therefore I will not spare, said Sir Frol; and then he cried and said,
Sir knight, make thee ready to just. That needeth not, said the knight,
for I have no lust to just with thee. But yet they feutred their
spears, and the white knight overthrew Sir Frol, and then he rode his
way a soft pace. Then Sir Lamorak rode after him, and prayed him to
tell him his name, For me seemeth ye should be of the fellowship of the
Round Table. Upon a covenant, said he, I will tell you my name, so that
ye will not discover my name, and also that ye will tell me yours.
Then, said he, my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. And my name is Sir
Launcelot du Lake. Then they put up their swords, and kissed heartily
together, and either made great joy of other. Sir, said Sir Lamorak,
and it please you I will do you service. God defend, said Sir
Launcelot, that any of so noble blood as ye be should do me service.
Then he said more, I am in a quest that I must do myself alone. Now God
speed you, said Sir Lamorak, and so they departed. Then Sir Lamorak
came to Sir Frol and horsed him again. What knight is that? said Sir
Frol. Sir, said he, it is not for you to know, nor it is no point of my
charge. Ye are the more uncourteous, said Sir Frol, and therefore I
will depart from you. Ye may do as ye list, said Sir Lamorak, and yet
by my company you have saved the fairest flower of your garland. So
they departed.


                               CHAP. XLI.

_How Sir Lamorak slew Sir Frol, and of the courteous fighting with Sir
  Belliance his brother._

Then within two or three days Sir Lamorak found a knight at a well
sleeping, and his lady sat with him and waked. Right so came Sir
Gawaine and took the knight’s lady, and set her up behind his squire.
So Sir Lamorak rode after Sir Gawaine, and said, Sir Gawaine, turn
again. And then said Sir Gawaine, What will ye do with me? for I am
nephew to king Arthur. Sir, said he, for that cause I will spare you,
else that lady should abide with me, or else ye should just with me.
Then Sir Gawaine turned him and ran to him that owned the lady with his
spear. But the knight with pure might smote down Sir Gawaine, and took
his lady with him. All this Sir Lamorak saw, and said to himself, But I
revenge my fellow, he will say of me dishonour in king Arthur’s court.
Then Sir Lamorak returned and proffered that knight to just. Sir, said
he, I am ready. And so they came together with all their might, and
there Sir Lamorak smote the knight through both sides, that he fell to
the earth dead. Then the lady rode to that knight’s brother that hight
Sir Belliance le Orgulous, that dwelled fast thereby, and then she told
him how his brother was slain. Alas, said he, I will be revenged. And
so horsed him and armed him, and within a while he overtook Sir
Lamorak, and bad him, Turn, and leave that lady, for thou and I must
play a new play, for thou hast slain my brother Sir Frol, that was a
better knight than ever were thou. It might well be, said Sir Lamorak,
but this day in the field I was found the better. So they rode
together, and unhorsed other, and turned their shields and drew their
swords, and fought mightily as noble knights proved by the space of two
hours. So then Sir Belliance prayed him to tell his name. Sir, said he,
my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. Ah, said Sir Belliance, thou art the
man in the world that I most hate, for I slew my sons for thy sake,
where I saved thy life, and now thou hast slain my brother Sir Frol.
Alas, how should I be accorded with thee? therefore defend thee, for
thou shalt die: there is none other remedy. Alas, said Sir Lamorak,
full well me ought to know you, for ye are the man that most have done
for me. And therewithal Sir Lamorak kneeled down and besought him of
grace. Arise, said Sir Belliance, or else there as thou kneelest I
shall slay thee. That shall not need, said Sir Lamorak, for I will
yield me unto you, not for fear of you, nor for your strength, but your
goodness maketh me full loth to have ado with you; wherefore I require
you, for God’s sake, and for the honour of knighthood, forgive me all
that I have offended unto you. Alas, said Belliance, leave thy
kneeling, or else I shall slay thee without mercy. Then they went again
unto battle, and either wounded other, that all the ground was bloody
there as they fought. And at the last Belliance withdrew him aback and
set him down softly upon a little hill, for he was so faint for
bleeding that he might not stand. Then Sir Lamorak threw his shield
upon his back, and asked him, What cheer? Well, said Sir Belliance. Ah
sir, yet shall I shew you favour in your mal-ease. Ah knight, Sir
Belliance said, Sir Lamorak thou art a fool, for and I had thee at such
advantage as thou hast done me I should slay thee, but thy gentleness
is so good and large that I must needs forgive thee mine evil will. And
then Sir Lamorak kneeled down and unlaced first his umberere, and then
his own. And then either kissed other with weeping tears. Then Sir
Lamorak led Sir Belliance to an abbey fast by, and there Sir Lamorak
would not depart from Belliance till he was whole. And then they swore
together that none of them should never fight against other. So Sir
Lamorak departed and went to the court of king Arthur.

Here leue we of sire Lamorak and of sir Tristram. And here begynneth the
                    historye of La cote male tayle.




                            The Ninth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How a young man came into the court of king Arthur, and how Sir Kay
  called him in scorn La Cote Male Taile._

At the court of king Arthur there came a young man and bigly made, and
he was richly beseen, and he desired to be made knight of the king, but
his over garment sat overthwartly, howbeit it was rich cloth of gold.
What is your name? said king Arthur. Sir, said he, my name is Breunor
le Noire, and within short space ye shall know that I am of good kin.
It may well be, said Sir Kay the seneschal, but in mockage ye shall be
called La Cote Male Taile, that is as much as to say, the evil-shapen
coat. It is a great thing that thou askest, said the king; and for what
cause wearest thou that rich coat? tell me; for I can well think for
some cause it is. Sir, said he, I had a father a noble knight, and as
he rode on hunting, upon a day it happed him to lay him down to sleep.
And there came a knight that had been long his enemy. And when he saw
he was fast on sleep, he all to-hewed him; and this same coat had my
father on the same time, and that maketh this coat to sit so evil upon
me, for the strokes be on it as I found it, and never shall be amended
for me. Thus to have my father’s death in remembrance I wear this coat
till I be revenged; and because ye are called the most noblest king in
the world I come to you that ye should make me knight. Sir, said Sir
Lamorak and Sir Gaheris, it were well done to make him knight, for him
beseemeth well of person and of countenance, that he shall prove a good
man, and a good knight and a mighty; for Sir, and ye be remembered,
even such one was Sir Launcelot du Lake when he came first into this
court, and full few of us knew from whence he came, and now he is
proved the most man of worship in the world, and all your court and all
your Round Table is by Sir Launcelot worshipped and amended more than
by any knight now living. That is truth, said the king, and to-morrow
at your request I shall make him knight. So on the morrow there was an
hart found, and thither rode king Arthur with a company of his knights
to slay the hart. And this young man that Sir Kay named La Cote Male
Taile was there left behind with queen Guenever, and by sudden
adventure there was an horrible lion kept in a strong tower of stone,
and it happened that he at that time brake loose, and came hurling
afore the queen and her knights. And when the queen saw the lion, she
cried, and fled, and prayed her knights to rescue her. And there was
none of them all but twelve that abode, and all the other fled. Then
said La Cote Male Taile, Now I see well that all coward knights be not
dead: and therewithal he drew his sword and dressed him afore the lion.
And that lion gaped wide, and came upon him ramping to have slain him.
And he then smote him in the midst of the head such a mighty stroke
that it clave his head in sunder, and dashed to the earth. Then was it
told the queen how that the young man that Sir Kay named by scorn La
Cote Male Taile had slain the lion. With that the king came home. And
when the queen told him of that adventure he was well pleased, and
said, Upon pain of mine head he shall prove a noble man, and a faithful
knight, and true of his promise. Then the king forthwithal made him
knight. Now Sir, said this young knight, I require you and all the
knights of your court, that ye call me by none other name but La Cote
Male Taile; insomuch as Sir Kay so hath named me, so will I be called.
I assent me well thereto, said the king.


                               CHAP. II.

_How a damsel came unto the court and desired a knight to take on him
  an inquest, which La Cote Male Taile emprized._

Then that same day there came a damsel into the king’s court, and she
brought with her a great black shield, with a white hand in the midst
holding a sword. Other picture was there none in that shield. When king
Arthur saw her, he asked her from whence she came, and what she would.
Sir, she said, I have ridden long and many a day with this shield many
ways, and for this cause I am come to your court:—There was a good
knight that owned this shield, and this knight had undertaken a great
deed of arms to achieve it, and so it misfortuned him another strong
knight met with him by sudden adventure, and there they fought long,
and either wounded other passing sore, and they were so weary that they
left that battle even hand. So this knight that owned this shield saw
none other way but he must die; and then he commanded me to bear this
shield to the court of king Arthur, he requiring and praying some good
knight to take this shield, and that he would fulfil the quest that he
was in. Now what say ye to this quest? said king Arthur. Is there any
of you here that will take upon him to weld this shield? Then was there
not one that would speak one word. Then Sir Kay took the shield in his
hands. Sir knight, said the damsel, what is your name? Wit ye well,
said he, my name is Sir Kay the seneschal, that widewhere is known.
Sir, said that damsel, lay down that shield, for wit ye well it falleth
not for you, for he must be a better knight than ye that shall weld
this shield. Damsel, said Sir Kay, wit ye well I took this shield in my
hands by your leave for to behold it, not to that intent, but go
wheresoever thou wilt, for I will not go with you. Then the damsel
stood still a great while, and beheld many of those knights. Then spake
the knight La Cote Male Taile, Fair damsel, I will take the shield and
that adventure upon me, so I wist I should know whither ward my journey
might be, for because I was this day made knight I would take this
adventure upon me. What is your name, fair young man? said the damsel.
My name is, said he, La Cote Male Taile. Well mayest thou be called so,
said the damsel, the knight with the evil-shapen coat, but and thou be
so hardy to take upon thee to bear that shield and to follow me, wit
thou well thy skin shall be as well hewn as thy coat. As for that, said
La Cote Male Taile, when I am so hewn I will ask you no salve to heal
me withal. And forthwithal there came into the court two squires, and
brought him great horses and his armour and his spears, and anon he was
armed, and took his leave. I would not by my will, said the king, that
ye took upon you that hard adventure. Sir, said he, this adventure is
mine, and the first that ever I took upon me, and that will I follow
whatsoever come of me. Then that damsel departed, and La Cote Male
Taile followed first after. And within a while he overtook the damsel.
And anon she missaid him in the foullest manner.


                               CHAP. III.

_How La Cote Male Taile overthrew Sir Dagonet the king’s fool, and of
  the rebuke that he had of the damsel._

Then Sir Kay ordained Sir Dagonet, king Arthur’s fool, to follow after
La Cote Male Taile, and there Sir Kay ordained that Sir Dagonet was
horsed and armed, and bad him follow La Cote Male Taile and proffer him
to just, and so he did, and when he saw La Cote Male Taile he cried and
bad him make him ready to just. So Sir La Cote Male Taile smote Sir
Dagonet over his horse croup. Then the damsel mocked La Cote Male
Taile, and said, Fie for shame, now art thou shamed in Arthur’s court
when they send a fool to have ado with thee, and specially at thy first
justs. Thus she rode long and chid. And within a while there came Sir
Bleoberis the good knight, and there he justed with La Cote Male Taile,
and there Sir Bleoberis smote him so sore that horse and all fell to
the earth. Then La Cote Male Taile arose up lightly and dressed his
shield and drew his sword, and would have done battle to the utterance,
for he was wood wroth. Not so, said Bleoberis de Ganis, as at this time
I will not fight upon foot. Then the damsel Maledisant rebuked him in
the foullest manner, and bad him, turn again coward. Ah damsel, he
said, I pray you of mercy to missay me no more, my grief is enough
though ye give me no more. I call myself never the worse knight when a
mare’s son faileth me, and also I count me never the worse knight for a
fall of Sir Bleoberis. So thus he rode with her two days, and by
fortune there came Sir Palamides and encountered with him, and he in
the same wise served him as did Bleoberis toforehand. What dost thou
here in my fellowship, said the damsel Maledisant, thou canst not sit
no knight nor withstand him one buffet, but if it were Sir Dagonet. Ah
fair damsel, I am not the worse to take a fall of Sir Palamides, and
yet great disworship have I none, for neither Bleoberis nor yet
Palamides would not fight with me on foot. As for that, said the
damsel, wit thou well they have disdain and scorn to light off their
horses to fight with such a mean knight as thou art. So in the
meanwhile there came Sir Mordred, Sir Gawaine’s brother, and so he fell
in the fellowship with the damsel Maledisant. And then they came afore
the castle Orgulous, and there was such a custom that there might no
knight come by that castle but either he must just or be prisoner, or
at the least to lose his horse and his harness. And there came out two
knights against them, and Sir Mordred justed with the foremost, and
that knight of the castle smote Sir Mordred down off his horse. And
then anon La Cote Male Taile justed with that other, and either of them
smote other down, horse and all to the earth. And when they avoided
their horses, then either of them took other’s horses. And then La Cote
Male Taile rode into that knight that smote down Sir Mordred, and
justed with him; and there Sir La Cote Male Taile hurt and wounded him
passing sore, and put him from his horse as he had been dead. So he
turned unto him that met him afore, and he took the flight toward the
castle, and Sir La Cote Male Taile rode after him into the castle
Orgulous, and there La Cote Male Taile slew him.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How La Cote Male Taile fought against an hundred knights, and how he
  escaped by the mean of a lady._

And anon there came an hundred knights about him and assailed him; and
when he saw his horse should be slain he alight and voided his horse,
and put the bridle under his feet, and so put him out of the gate. And
when he had so done, he hurled in among them, and dressed his back unto
a lady’s chamber-wall, thinking himself that he had lever die there
with worship than to abide the rebukes of the damsel Maledisant. And in
the mean time as he stood and fought, that lady whose was the chamber,
went out slily at her postern, and without the gates she found La Cote
Male Taile’s horse, and lightly she gat him by the bridle and tied him
to the postern. And then she went unto her chamber slily again for to
behold how that one knight fought against an hundred knights. And so
when she had beheld him long, she went to a window behind his back and
said, Thou knight thou fightest wonderly well, but for all that at the
last thou must needs die, but and thou canst through thy mighty prowess
win unto yonder postern, for there have I fastened thy horse to abide
thee; but wit thou well thou must think on thy worship and think not to
die, for thou mayest not win unto that postern without thou do nobly
and mightily. When La Cote Male Taile heard her say so, he griped his
sword in his hands, and put his shield fair afore him, and through the
thickest press he thrulled through them. And when he came to the
postern he found there ready four knights, and at two the first strokes
he slew two of the knights, and the other fled, and so he won his horse
and rode from them. And all as it was, it was rehearsed in king
Arthur’s court, how he slew twelve knights within the castle Orgulous.
And so he rode on his way. And in the mean while the damsel said to Sir
Mordred, I ween my foolish knight be either slain or taken prisoner.
Then were they ware where he came riding. And when he was come unto
them, he told all how he had sped, and escaped in despite of them all,
and some of the best of them will tell no tales. Thou liest falsely,
said the damsel, that dare I make good, but as a fool and a dastard to
all knighthood they have let thee pass. That may ye prove, said La Cote
Male Taile. With that she sent a courier of hers that rode alway with
her, for to know the truth of this deed. And so he rode thither
lightly, and asked how and in what manner that Sir La Cote Male Taile
was escaped out of the castle. Then all the knights cursed him and said
that he was fiend and no man; for he hath slain here twelve of our best
knights, and we wend unto this day that it had been too much for Sir
Launcelot du Lake, or for Sir Tristram de Liones. And in despite of us
all he is departed from us, and maugre our heads.

With this answer the courier departed, and came to Maledisant his lady,
and told her all how Sir La Cote Male Taile had sped at the castle
Orgulous. Then she smote down her head, and said little. By my head,
said Sir Mordred to the damsel, ye are greatly to blame so to rebuke
him, for I warn you plainly he is a good knight, and I doubt not but he
shall prove a noble knight, but as yet he may not sit sure on
horseback: for he that shall be a good horseman it must come of usage
and exercise. But when he cometh to the strokes of his sword he is then
noble and mighty, and that saw Sir Bleoberis and Sir Palamides, for wit
ye well they are wily men of arms, and anon they know when they see a
young knight by his riding, how they are sure to give him a fall from
his horse or a great buffet. But for the most part they will not light
on foot with young knights, for they are wight and strongly armed. For
in likewise Sir Launcelot du Lake when he was first made knight he was
often put to the worse upon horseback, but ever upon foot he recovered
his renown, and slew and defoiled many knights of the Round Table. And
therefore the rebukes that Sir Launcelot did to many knights causeth
them that be men of prowess to beware, for often I have seen the old
proved knights rebuked and slain by them that were but young beginners.
Thus they rode sure talking by the way together.

Here leave we off a while of this tale, and speak we of Sir Launcelot
du Lake.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Sir Launcelot came to the court and heard of La Cote Male Taile,
  and how he followed after him, and how La Cote Male Taile was
  prisoner._

That when he was come to the court of king Arthur, then heard he tell
of the young knight La Cote Male Taile, how he slew the lion, and how
he took upon him the adventure of the black shield, the which was named
at that time the hardiest adventure of the world. Truly, said Sir
Launcelot unto many of his fellows, it was shame to all the noble
knights to suffer such a young knight to take such adventure upon him
for his destruction: for I will that ye wit, said Sir Launcelot, that
that damsel Maledisant hath borne that shield many a day for to seek
the most proved knights, and that was she that Breuse Sance Pité took
that shield from her, and after Tristram de Liones rescued that shield
from him and gave it to the damsel again. A little afore that time Sir
Tristram fought with my nephew Sir Blamor de Ganis for a quarrel that
was betwixt the king of Ireland and him. Then many knights were sorry
that Sir La Cote Male Taile was gone forth to that adventure. Truly,
said Sir Launcelot, I cast me to ride after him. And within seven days
Sir Launcelot overtook La Cote Male Taile. And then he saluted him and
the damsel Maledisant. And when Sir Mordred saw Sir Launcelot then he
left their fellowship. And so Sir Launcelot rode with them all a day,
and ever that damsel rebuked La Cote Male Taile, and then Sir Launcelot
answered for him; then she left off and rebuked Sir Launcelot. So this
mean time Sir Tristram sent by a damsel a letter unto Sir Launcelot
excusing him of the wedding of Isoud la Blanche Mains, and passing
courteously and gently Sir Tristram wrote unto Sir Launcelot, ever
beseeching him to be his good friend, and unto La Beale Isoud of
Cornwall, and that Sir Launcelot would excuse him if that ever he saw
her. And within short time said Sir Tristram that he would speak with
La Beale Isoud and with him right hastily. Then Sir Launcelot departed
from the damsel and from Sir La Cote Male Taile, for to oversee that
letter, and for to write another letter unto Sir Tristram de Liones.
And in the mean while La Cote Male Taile rode with the damsel until
they came unto a castle that hight Pendragon, and there were six
knights stood afore him, and one of them proffered to just with La Cote
Male Taile. And there La Cote Male Taile smote him over his horse
croup. And then the five knights set upon him all at once with their
spears, and there they smote La Cote Male Taile down, horse and man,
and then they alight suddenly, and set their hands upon him all at once
and took him prisoner, and so led him unto the castle and kept him as
prisoner. And on the morn Sir Launcelot arose and delivered the damsel
with letters unto Sir Tristram, and then he took his way after La Cote
Male Taile, and by the way upon a bridge there was a knight proffered
Sir Launcelot to just, and Sir Launcelot smote him down, and then they
fought upon foot a noble battle together, and a mighty. And at the last
Sir Launcelot smote him down groveling upon his hands and his knees;
and then that knight yielded him, and Sir Launcelot received him fair.
Sir, said the knight, I require thee tell me your name, for much my
heart giveth unto you. Nay, said Sir Launcelot, as at this time I will
not tell you my name, unless then that ye tell me your name. Certainly,
said the knight, my name is Sir Nerovens, that was made knight of my
lord Sir Launcelot du Lake. Ah, Nerovens de Lile, said Sir Launcelot, I
am right glad that ye are proved a good knight, for now wit ye well my
name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Alas, said Nerovens de Lile, what have I
done. And therewithall flatling he fell to his feet, and would have
kissed them, but Sir Launcelot would not let him; and then either made
great joy of other. And then Sir Nerovens told Sir Launcelot that he
should not go by the castle of Pendragon, For there is a lord, a mighty
knight, and many knights with him, and this night I heard say that they
took a knight prisoner yesterday that rode with a damsel, and they say
he is a knight of the Round Table.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Launcelot fought with six knights, and after with Sir Brian,
  and how he delivered the prisoners._

Ah, said Sir Launcelot, that knight is my fellow, and him shall I
rescue, or else I shall lose my life therefore. And therewithal he rode
fast till he came before the castle of Pendragon, and anon therewithal
there came six knights, and all made them ready to set upon Sir
Launcelot at once. Then Sir Launcelot feutred his spear, and smote the
foremost that he brake his back in sunder, and three of them hit and
three failed. And then Sir Launcelot past through them, and lightly he
turned in again, and smote another knight through the breast and
throughout the back, and more than an ell, and therewithal his spear
brake. So then all the remnant of the four knights drew their swords,
and lashed at Sir Launcelot, and at every stroke Sir Launcelot bestowed
so his strokes that at four strokes sundry they avoided their saddles,
passing sore wounded, and forthwithal he rode hurling into that castle.
And, anon the lord of the castle that was that time called Sir Brian de
les isles, the which was a noble man, and a great enemy unto king
Arthur, within awhile he was armed and upon horseback: and then they
feutred their spears, and hurled together so strongly that both their
horses rashed to the earth. And then they avoided their saddles, and
dressed their shields, and drew their swords, and flung together as
wood men, and there were many strokes given in a while. At the last Sir
Launcelot gave to Sir Brian such a buffet that he kneeled upon his
knees, and then Sir Launcelot rashed upon him, and with great force he
pulled him off his helm, and when Sir Brian saw that he should be
slain, he yielded him, and put him in his mercy and in his grace. Then
Sir Launcelot made him to deliver all his prisoners that he had within
his castle, and therein Sir Launcelot found of Arthur’s knights thirty,
and forty ladies, and so he delivered them and then he rode his way.
And anon as La Cote Male Taile was delivered he gat his horse and his
harness, and his damsel Maledisant. The mean while Sir Nerovens, that
Sir Launcelot had fought withall afore at the bridge, he sent a damsel
after Sir Launcelot for to wit how he sped at the castle of Pendragon.
And then they within the castle marvelled what knight he was when Sir
Brian and his knights delivered all those prisoners. Have ye no marvel,
said the damsel, for the best knight in this world was here, and did
this tourney, and wit ye well, she said, it was Sir Launcelot. Then was
Sir Brian full glad, and so was his lady and all his knights that such
a man should win them. And when the damsel and La Cote Male Taile
understood that it was Sir Launcelot du Lake that had ridden with them
in fellowship, and that she remembered her how she had rebuked him and
called him coward, then was she passing heavy.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Sir Launcelot met with the damsel named Maledisant, and how he
  named her the damsel Bienpensant._

So then they took their horses and rode forth a pace after Sir
Launcelot. And within two mile they overtook him, and saluted him, and
thanked him, and the damsel cried Sir Launcelot mercy of her evil deed,
and saying, For now I know the flower of all knighthood is parted even
between Sir Tristram and you. For I have sought you my lord Sir
Launcelot, and Sir Tristram, long, and now I thank God I have met with
you; and once at Camelot, I met with Sir Tristram, and there he rescued
this black shield with the white hand holding a naked sword, which Sir
Breuse Sance Pité had taken away from me. Now, fair damsel, said Sir
Launcelot, who told you my name? Sir, said she, there came a damsel
from a knight that ye fought withall at the bridge, and she told me
your name was Sir Launcelot du Lake. Blame have she then, said Sir
Launcelot, but her lord Sir Nerovens hath told her. But damsel, said
Sir Launcelot, upon this covenant I will ride with you, so that ye will
not rebuke this knight Sir La Cote Male Taile no more, for he is a good
knight, and I doubt not he shall prove a noble knight, and for his
sake, and pity that he should not be destroyed, I followed him to
succour him in this great need. Ah, God thank you, said the damsel, for
now I will say unto you and to him both, I rebuked him never for no
hate that I hated him, but for great love that I had to him: for ever I
supposed that he had been too young and too tender to take upon him
these adventures, and, therefore by my will I would have driven him
away for jealousy that I had of his life; for it may be no young
knight’s deed that shall achieve this adventure to the end. Perdy, said
Sir Launcelot, it is well said, and where ye are called the damsel
Maledisant, I will call you the damsel Bienpensant. And so they rode
forth a great while until they came to the border of the country of
Surluse, and there they found a fair village with a strong bridge like
a fortress. And when Sir Launcelot and they were at the bridge, there
start forth afore them of gentlemen and yeomen many that said, Fair
lords, ye may not pass this bridge and this fortress because of that
black shield that I see one of you bear, and therefore there shall not
pass but one of you at once; therefore choose which of you shall enter
within this bridge first. Then Sir Launcelot proffered himself first to
enter within this bridge. Sir, said La Cote Male Taile, I beseech you
let me enter first within this fortress, and if I may speed well I will
send for you, and if it happen that I be slain, there it goeth. And if
so be that I am a prisoner taken, then may ye rescue me. I am loth,
said Sir Launcelot, to let you pass this passage. Sir, said La Cote
Male Taile, I pray you let me put my body in this adventure. Now go
your way, said Sir Launcelot, and Jesu be your speed. So he entered,
and anon there met with him two brethren, the one hight Sir Plaine de
Force, and the other hight Sir Plaine de Amours; and anon they met with
Sir La Cote Male Taile, and first La Cote Male Taile smote down Sir
Plaine de Force, and soon after he smote down Plaine de Amours, and
then they dressed them to their shields and swords, and bad La Cote
Male Taile alight, and so he did, and there was dashing and foining
with swords, and so they began to assail full hard La Cote Male Taile,
and many great wounds they gave him upon his head and upon his breast
and upon his shoulders. And as he might ever among he gave sad strokes
again. And then the two brethren traced and traversed for to be of both
hands of Sir La Cote Male Taile, but he by fine force and knightly
prowess gat them afore him. And then when he felt himself so wounded
then he doubled his strokes and gave them so many wounds that he felled
them to the earth, and would have slain them had they not yielded them.
And right so Sir La Cote Male Taile took the best horse that there was
of them three, and so rode forth his way to the other fortress and
bridge, and there he met with the third brother, whose name was Sir
Plenorius, a full noble knight, and there they justed together, and
either smote other down horse and man to the earth. And then they
avoided their horses, and dressed their shields, and drew their swords,
and gave many sad strokes, and one while the one knight was afore on
the bridge, and another while the other. And thus they fought two hours
and more, and never rested, and ever Sir Launcelot and the damsel
beheld them. Alas, said the damsel, my knight fighteth passing sore and
over long. Now may ye see, said Sir Launcelot, that he is a noble
knight, for to consider his first battle, and his grievous wounds. And
even forth with all so wounded as he is, it is great marvel that he may
endure this long battle with that good knight.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How La Cote Male Taile was taken prisoner, and after rescued by Sir
  Launcelot, and how Sir Launcelot overcame four brethren._

This mean while Sir La Cote Male Taile sank right down upon the earth,
what for-wounded and what for-bled he might not stand. Then the other
knight had pity of him, and said, Fair young knight, dismay you not,
for had ye been fresh when ye met with me, as I was, I well wot that I
should not have endured so long as ye have done, and therefore for your
noble deeds of arms I shall shew to you kindness and gentleness in all
that I may. And forth withal this noble knight Sir Plenorius took him
up in his arms, and led him into his tower. And then he commanded him
the wine, and made to search him, and to stop his bleeding wounds. Sir,
said La Cote Male Taile, withdraw you from me, and hie you to yonder
bridge again, for there will meet you another manner knight than ever I
was. Why, said Sir Plenorius, is there another manner knight behind of
your fellowship? Yea, said La Cote Male Taile, there is a much better
knight than I am. What is his name? said Plenorius. Ye shall not know
for me, said La Cote Male Taile. Well, said the knight, he shall be
encountered withal, whatsoever he be. Then Sir Plenorius heard a knight
call that said, Sir Plenorius, where art thou? either thou must deliver
me the prisoner that thou hast led unto thy tower, or else come and do
battle with me. Then Sir Plenorius gat his horse, and came with a spear
in his hand, galloping towards Sir Launcelot, and then they began to
feutre their spears, and came together as thunder, and smote either
other so mightily that their horses fell down under them. And then they
avoided their horses, and pulled out their swords, and like two bulls
they lashed together with great strokes and foins, but ever Sir
Launcelot recovered ground upon him, and Sir Plenorius traced to have
gone about him. But Sir Launcelot would not suffer that, but bare him
backer and backer till he came nigh his tower gate. And then said Sir
Launcelot, I know thee well for a good knight, but wit thou well thy
life and death is in my hand, and therefore yield thee to me, and thy
prisoner. The other answered no word, but strake mightily upon Sir
Launcelot’s helm, that fire sprang out of his eyen; then Sir Launcelot
doubled his strokes so thick, and smote at him so mightily, that he
made him kneel upon his knees, and therewith Sir Launcelot lept upon
him and pulled him groveling down. Then Sir Plenorius yielded him, and
his tower, and all his prisoners, at his will. And then Sir Launcelot
received him and took his troth, and then he rode to the other bridge,
and there Sir Launcelot justed with other three of his brethren, the
one hight Pillounes, and the other hight Pellogris, and the third Sir
Pellandris. And first upon horseback Sir Launcelot smote them down, and
afterward he beat them on foot, and made them to yield them unto him,
and then he returned unto Sir Plenorius, and there he found in his
prison king Carados of Scotland and many other knights, and all they
were delivered. And then Sir La Cote Male Taile came to Sir Launcelot,
and then Sir Launcelot would have given him all these fortresses and
these bridges. Nay, said La Cote Male Taile, I will not have Sir
Plenorius’s livelihood: with that he will grant you, my lord Sir
Launcelot, to come unto king Arthur’s court, and to be his knight, and
all his brethren, I will pray you, my lord, to let him have his
livelihood. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, with this that he will
come to the court of king Arthur, and become his man, and his brethren
five. And as for you, Sir Plenorius, I will undertake, said Sir
Launcelot, at the next feast, so there be a place voided, that ye shall
be knight of the Round Table. Sir, said Sir Plenorius, at the next
feast of Pentecost I will be at Arthur’s court, and at that time I will
be guided and ruled as king Arthur and ye will have me. Then Sir
Launcelot and Sir La Cote Male Tail reposed them there unto the time
that Sir La Cote Male Taile was whole of his wounds, and there they had
merry cheer, and good rest, and many games, and there were many fair
ladies.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Sir Launcelot made La Cote Male Taile lord of the castle of
  Pendragon, and after was made knight of the Round Table._

And in the mean while there came Sir Kay the seneschal, and Sir
Brandiles, and anon they fellowshipped with them. And then within ten
days then departed those knights of king Arthur’s court from these
fortresses. And as Sir Launcelot came by the castle of Pendragon, there
he put Sir Brian de les isles from his lands, because he would never be
withold with king Arthur, and all that castle of Pendragon, and all the
lands thereof, he gave to Sir La Cote Male Taile. And then Sir
Launcelot sent for Sir Nerovens, that he made once knight, and he made
him to have all the rule of that castle and of that country under La
Cote Male Taile. And so they rode to Arthur’s court all wholly
together. And at Pentecost next following there was Sir Plenorius, and
Sir La Cote Male Taile, called otherwise by right Sir Breunor le Noire,
both made knights of the Table Round, and great lands king Arthur gave
them; and there Breunor le Noire wedded that damsel Maledisant. And
after she was called Beauvivante: but ever after for the more part he
was called La Cote Male Taile, and he proved a passing noble knight and
mighty, and many worshipful deeds he did after in his life, and Sir
Plenorius proved a noble knight and full of prowess. And all the days
of their life for the most part they awaited upon Sir Launcelot. And
Sir Plenorius’s brethren were ever knights of king Arthur. And also as
the French book maketh mention, Sir La Cote Male Taile avenged his
father’s death.


                                CHAP. X.

_How La Beale Isoud sent letters unto Sir Tristram by her maid
  Bragwaine, and of divers adventures of Sir Tristram._

Now leave we here Sir La Cote Male Taile, and turn we unto Sir Tristram
de Liones that was in Britanny. When La Beale Isoud understood that he
was wedded she sent unto him by her maiden Bragwaine as piteous letters
as could be thought and made, and her conclusion was, that, and it
pleased Sir Tristram, that he would come to her court and bring with
him Isoud la Blanche Mains, and they should be kept as well as she
herself. Then Sir Tristram called unto him Sir Kehydius and asked him
whether he would go with him into Cornwall secretly. He answered him
that he was ready at all times. And then he let ordain privily a little
vessel, and therein they went, Sir Tristram, Kehydius, dame Bragwaine,
and Gouvernail Sir Tristram’s squire. So when they were in the sea, a
contrarious wind blew them on the coasts of North Wales, nigh the
castle perilous. Then said Sir Tristram, Here shall ye abide me these
ten days, and Gouvernail my squire with you. And if so be I come not
again by that day, take the next way into Cornwall, for in this forest
are many strange adventures as I have heard say, and some of them I
cast me to prove or I depart: and when I may I shall hie me after you.
Then Sir Tristram and Kehydius took their horses and departed from
their fellowship. And so they rode within that forest a mile and more.
And at the last Sir Tristram saw afore him a likely knight armed,
sitting by a well, and a strong mighty horse passing nigh him tied to
an oak, and a man hoving and riding by him, leading an horse laden with
spears. And this knight that sat at the well seemed by his countenance
to be passing heavy. Then Sir Tristram rode near him and said, Fair
knight, why sit ye so drooping? Ye seem to be a knight errant by your
arms and harness, and therefore dress you to just with one of us or
with both. Therewithal that knight made no words, but took his shield
and buckled it about his neck, and lightly he took his horse and lept
upon him. And then he took a great spear of his squire, and departed
his way a furlong. Sir Kehydius asked leave of Sir Tristram to just
first. Do your best, said Sir Tristram. So they met together, and there
Sir Kehydius had a fall, and was sore wounded on high above the breast.
Then Sir Tristram said, Knight, that is well justed, now make you ready
unto me. I am ready, said the knight. And then that knight took a
greater spear in his hand and encountered with Sir Tristram, and there
by great force that knight smote down Sir Tristram from his horse, and
he had a great fall. Then Sir Tristram was sore ashamed, and lightly he
avoided his horse and put his shield afore his shoulder, and drew his
sword. And then Sir Tristram required that knight of his knighthood to
alight upon foot and fight with him. I will well, said the knight. And
so he alight upon foot and avoided his horse, and cast his shield upon
his shoulder, and drew his sword, and there they fought a long battle
together full nigh two hours.

Then Sir Tristram said, Fair knight, hold thy hand, and tell me of
whence thou art, and what is thy name. As for that, said the knight, I
will be advised, but and thou wilt tell me thy name, peradventure I
will tell thee mine.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Sir Tristram met with Sir Lamorak de Galis, and how they fought,
  and after accorded never to fight together._

Now fair knight, he said, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones. Sir, said
the other knight, and my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. Ah Sir Lamorak,
said Sir Tristram, well be we met, and bethink thee now of the despite
that thou didst me of the sending of the horn unto king Mark’s court,
to the intent to have slain or dishonoured my lady the queen La Beale
Isoud. And therefore wit thou well, said Sir Tristram, the one of us
shall die or we depart. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, remember that we were
together in the isle of Servage, and at that time ye promised me great
friendship. Then Sir Tristram would make no longer delays, but lashed
at Sir Lamorak, and thus they fought long, till either were weary of
other. Then Sir Tristram said to Sir Lamorak, In all my life met I
never with such a knight that was so big and well breathed as ye be;
therefore, said Sir Tristram, it were pity that any of us both should
here be mischieved. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, for your renown and name I
will that ye have the worship of this battle, and therefore I will
yield me unto you. And therewith he took the point of his sword to
yield him. Nay, said Sir Tristram, ye shall not do so, for I know well
your proffers are more of your gentleness than for any fear or dread ye
have of me. And therewithal Sir Tristram proffered him his sword, and
said, Sir Lamorak, as an overcome knight I yield me unto you, as to a
man of the most noble prowess that ever I met withal. Nay, said Sir
Lamorak, I will do you gentleness. I require you let us be sworn
together that never none of us shall after this day have ado with
other. And there withal Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak sware that never
none of them should fight against other, nor for weal nor for woe.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Palamides followed the questing beast, and he smote down both
  Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak with one spear._

And this mean while there came Sir Palamides the good knight following
the questing beast that had in shape a head like a serpent’s head, and
a body like a libbard, haunches like a lion, and footed like a hart,
and in his body there was such a noise as it had been the noise of
thirty couple of hounds questing, and such a noise that beast made
wheresoever he went. And this beast evermore Sir Palamides followed,
for it was called his quest. And right so as he followed this beast it
came by Sir Tristram, and soon after came Palamides, and to brief this
matter he smote down Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak both with one spear,
and so he departed after the beast Glatisant, that was called the
questing beast, wherefore these two knights were passing wroth that Sir
Palamides would not fight on foot with them.

Here men may understand that be of worship, that he was never formed
that all times might stand, but some time he was put to the worse by
mal-fortune. And at some time the worse knight put the better knight to
a rebuke. Then Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak gat Sir Kehydius upon a
shield betwixt them both, and led him to a forester’s lodge, and there
they gave him in charge to keep him well, and with him they abode three
days. Then the two knights took their horses and at the cross they
parted. And then said Sir Tristram to Sir Lamorak, I require you if ye
hap to meet with Sir Palamides, say him that he shall find me at the
same well there I met him, and there I, Sir Tristram, shall prove
whether he be better knight than I. And so either departed from other a
sundry way, and Sir Tristram rode nigh there as was Sir Kehydius, and
Sir Lamorak rode until he came to a chapel, and there he put his horse
unto pasture. And anon there came Sir Meliagaunce that was king
Bagdemagus’s son, and he there put his horse to pasture, and was not
ware of Sir Lamorak, and then this knight Sir Meliagaunce made his moan
of the love that he had to queen Guenever, and there he made a woful
complaint. All this heard Sir Lamorak, and on the morn Sir Lamorak took
his horse and rode unto the forest, and there he met two knights hoving
under the wood shawe. Fair knights, said Sir Lamorak, what do ye hoving
here and watching, and if ye be knights errant that will just, lo I am
ready. Nay, sir knight, they said, not so, we abide not here for to
just with you, but we lie here in await of a knight that slew our
brother. What knight was that, said Sir Lamorak, that ye would fain
meet withal. Sir, they said, it is Sir Launcelot that slew our brother,
and if ever we may meet with him he shall not escape but we shall slay
him. Ye take upon you a great charge, said Sir Lamorak, for Sir
Launcelot is a noble proved knight. As for that we doubt not, for there
is none of us but we are good enough for him. I will not believe that,
said Sir Lamorak, for I heard never yet of no knight the days of my
life but Sir Launcelot was too big for him.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Sir Lamorak met with Sir Meliagaunce, and how they fought together
  for the beauty of queen Guenever._

Right so as they stood talking thus, Sir Lamorak was ware how Sir
Launcelot came riding straight toward them; then Sir Lamorak saluted
him, and he him again. And then Sir Lamorak asked Sir Launcelot if
there were any thing that he might do for him in these marches. Nay,
said Sir Launcelot, not at this time, I thank you. Then either departed
from other, and Sir Lamorak rode again there as he left the two
knights, and then he found them hid in the leaved wood. Fie on you,
said Sir Lamorak, false cowards, pity and shame it is that any of you
should take the high order of knighthood. So Sir Lamorak departed from
them, and within a while he met with Sir Meliagaunce, and then Sir
Lamorak asked him why he loved queen Guenever as he did: For I was not
far from you when ye made your complaint by the chapel. Did ye so, said
Sir Meliagaunce, then will I abide by it: I love queen Guenever; what
will ye with it? I will prove and make good that she is the fairest
lady and most of beauty in the world. As to that, said Sir Lamorak, I
say nay thereto, for queen Morgause of Orkney, mother to Sir Gawaine,
and his mother is the fairest queen and lady that beareth the life.
That is not so, said Sir Meliagaunce, and that will I prove with my
hands upon thy body. Will ye so, said Sir Lamorak, and in a better
quarrel keep I not to fight. Then they departed either from other in
great wrath. And then they came riding together as it had been thunder,
and either smote other so sore that their horses fell backward to the
earth. And then they avoided their horses, and dressed their shields,
and drew their swords. And then they hurtled together as wild boars,
and thus they fought a great while. For Meliagaunce was a good man and
of great might, but Sir Lamorak was hard big for him, and put him
always aback; but either had wounded other sore. And as they stood thus
fighting, by fortune came Sir Launcelot and Sir Bleoberis riding. And
then Sir Launcelot rode betwixt them, and asked them for what cause
they fought so together, and ye are both knights of king Arthur.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How Sir Meliagaunce told for what cause they fought, and how Sir
  Lamorak justed with king Arthur._

Sir, said Meliagaunce, I shall tell you for what cause we do this
battle. I praised my lady queen Guenever, and said she was the fairest
lady of the world, and Sir Lamorak said nay thereto, for he said queen
Morgause of Orkney was fairer than she, and more of beauty. Ah Sir
Lamorak, why sayest thou so? It is not thy part to dispraise thy
princess that thou art under her obeisance and we all. And therewith he
alight on foot, and said, For this quarrel make thee ready, for I will
prove upon thee that queen Guenever is the fairest lady and most of
bounty in the world. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, I am loth to have ado with
you in this quarrel. For every man thinketh his own lady fairest; and
though I praise the lady that I love most, ye should not be wroth. For
though my lady queen Guenever be fairest in your eye, wit ye well queen
Morgause of Orkney is fairest in mine eye, and so every knight thinketh
his own lady fairest; and, wit ye well, Sir, ye are the man in the
world, except Sir Tristram, that I am most lothest to have ado withal.
But and ye will needs fight with me, I shall endure you as long as I
may. Then spake Sir Bleoberis, and said, My lord Sir Launcelot, I wist
you never so misadvised as ye are now. For Sir Lamorak saith you but
reason and knightly. For I warn you I have a lady, and me thinketh that
she is the fairest lady of the world. Were this a great reason that ye
should be wroth with me for such language? And well ye wot that Sir
Lamorak is as noble a knight as I know, and he hath owed you and us
ever good will, and therefore I pray you be good friends. Then Sir
Launcelot said unto Sir Lamorak: I pray you forgive me mine evil will;
and if I was misadvised I will amend it. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, the
amends is soon made betwixt you and me. And so Sir Launcelot and Sir
Bleoberis departed. And Sir Meliagaunce and Sir Lamorak took their
horses, and either departed from other. And within a while came king
Arthur, and met with Sir Lamorak, and justed with him, and there he
smote down Sir Lamorak, and wounded him sore with a spear, and so he
rode from him, wherefore Sir Lamorak was wroth that he would not fight
with him on foot; how be it that Sir Lamorak knew not king Arthur.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How Sir Kay met with Sir Tristram, and after of the shame spoken of
  the knights of Cornwall, and how they justed._

Now leave we of this tale, and speak we of Sir Tristram, that as he
rode he met with Sir Kay the seneschal, and there Sir Kay asked Sir
Tristram of what country he was. He answered that he was of the country
of Cornwall. It may well be, said Sir Kay, for yet heard I never that
ever good knight came out of Cornwall. That is evil spoken, said Sir
Tristram, but and it please you to tell me your name I require you.
Sir, wit ye well, said Sir Kay, that my name is Sir Kay the seneschal.
Is that your name? said Sir Tristram; now wit ye well that ye are named
the shamefullest knight of your tongue that now is living, how be it ye
are called a good knight, but ye are called unfortunate, and passing
overthwart of your tongue. And thus they rode together till they came
to a bridge. And there was a knight would not let them pass till one of
them justed with him. And so that knight justed with Sir Kay, and there
that knight gave Sir Kay a fall; his name was Sir Tor, Sir Lamorak’s
half brother. And then they two rode to their lodging, and there they
found Sir Brandiles; and Sir Tor came thither anon after.

And as they sat at supper, these four knights, three of them spake all
shame by Cornish knights. Sir Tristram heard all that they said, and he
said but little, but he thought the more; but at that time he
discovered not his name. Upon the morn Sir Tristram took his horse and
abode them upon their way; and there Sir Brandiles proffered to just
with Sir Tristram, and Sir Tristram smote him down, horse and all, to
the earth. Then Sir Tor le Fise de Vayshoure encountered with Sir
Tristram, and there Sir Tristram smote him down. And then he rode his
way, and Sir Kay followed him, but he would not of his fellowship. Then
Sir Brandiles came to Sir Kay, and said, I would wit fain what is that
knight’s name. Come on with me, said Sir Kay, and we shall pray him to
tell us his name. So they rode together till they came nigh him; and
then they were ware where he sat by a well, and had put off his helm to
drink at the well. And when he saw them come, he laced on his helm
lightly, and took his horse, and proffered them to just. Nay, said Sir
Brandiles, we justed late enough with you; we come not in that intent.
But for this we come, to require you of knighthood to tell us your
name. My fair knights, since that is your desire, and to please you, ye
shall wit that my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, nephew unto king Mark
of Cornwall. In good time, said Sir Brandiles, and well ye be found;
and wit ye well that we be right glad that we have found you, and we be
of a fellowship that would be right glad of your company. For ye are
the knight in the world that the noble fellowship of the Round Table
most desireth to have the company of. I thank them, said Sir Tristram,
of their great goodness; but as yet I feel well that I am unable to be
of their fellowship. For I was never of such deeds of worthiness to be
in the company of such a fellowship. Ah, said Sir Kay, and ye be Sir
Tristram de Liones, ye are the man now called most of prowess, except
Sir Launcelot du Lake. For he beareth not the life, christian ne
heathen, that can find such another knight, to speak of his prowess,
and of his hands, and his truth withal. For yet could there never
creature say of him dishonour and make it good. Thus they talked a
great while; and then they departed either from other, such ways as
them seemed best.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How king Arthur was brought into the forest perilous, and how Sir
  Tristram saved his life._

Now shall ye hear what was the cause that king Arthur came into the
forest perilous, that was in North Wales, by the means of a lady. Her
name was Annowre, and this lady came to king Arthur at Cardiff, and
she, by fair promise and fair behests, made king Arthur to ride with
her into that forest perilous; and she was a great sorceress, and many
days she had loved king Arthur, and therefore she came into that
country. So when the king was gone with her, many of his knights
followed after king Arthur when they missed him, as Sir Launcelot,
Brandiles, and many other. And when she had brought him to her tower,
she desired him to love her. And then the king remembered him of his
lady, and would not love her for no craft that she could do. Then every
day she would make him ride into that forest with his own knights, to
the intent to have had king Arthur slain. For when this lady Annowre
saw that she might not have him at her will, then she laboured by false
means to have destroyed king Arthur and slain. Then the Lady of the
lake, that was alway friendly to king Arthur, she understood by her
subtle crafts that king Arthur was like to be destroyed. And therefore
this Lady of the lake, that hight Nimue, came into that forest to seek
after Sir Launcelot du Lake, or Sir Tristram, for to help king Arthur;
for as that same day this Lady of the lake knew well that king Arthur
should be slain, unless that he had help of one of these two knights.
And thus she rode up and down till she met with Sir Tristram, and anon
as she saw him she knew him. O my lord Sir Tristram, she said, well be
ye met, and blessed be the time that I have met with you; for this same
day, and within these two hours, shall be done the foulest deed that
ever was done in this land. O fair damsel, said Sir Tristram, may I
amend it? Come on with me, she said, and that in all the haste ye may,
for ye shall see the most worshipfullest knight of the world hard
bested. Then said Sir Tristram, I am ready to help such a noble man. He
is neither better nor worse, said the Lady of the lake, but the noble
king Arthur himself. God defend, said Sir Tristram, that ever he should
be in such distress. Then they rode together a great pace, until they
came to a little turret or castle, and underneath that castle they saw
a knight standing upon foot fighting with two knights; and so Sir
Tristram beheld them, and at the last the two knights smote down the
one knight, and that one of them unlaced his helm to have slain him.
And the lady Annowre gat king Arthur’s sword in her hand to have
stricken off his head. And therewithal came Sir Tristram with all his
might, crying, Traitress, traitress, leave that. And anon there Sir
Tristram smote one of the knights through the body, that he fell dead;
and then he rashed to the other and smote his back in sunder, and in
the mean while the Lady of the lake cried to king Arthur, Let not that
false lady escape. Then king Arthur overtook her, and with the same
sword he smote off her head; and the Lady of the lake took up her head,
and hung it up by the hair on her saddle bow. And then Sir Tristram
horsed king Arthur, and rode forth with him, but he charged the Lady of
the lake not to discover his name as at that time. When the king was
horsed he thanked heartily Sir Tristram, and desired to wit his name;
but he would not tell him, but that he was a poor knight adventurous.
And so he bare king Arthur fellowship till he met with some of his
knights. And within a mile he met with Sir Ector de Maris, and he knew
not king Arthur nor Sir Tristram, and he desired to just with one of
them. Then Sir Tristram rode unto Sir Ector, and smote him from his
horse. And when he had done so he came again to the king, and said: My
lord, yonder is one of your knights, he may bear you fellowship; and
another day by that deed that I have done for you, I trust ye shall
understand that I would do you service. Alas, said king Arthur, let me
wit what ye are. Not at this time, said Sir Tristram. So he departed,
and left king Arthur and Sir Ector together.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How Sir Tristram came to La Beale Isoud, and how Kehydius began to
  love La Beale Isoud, and of a letter that Tristram found._

And then at a day set Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak met at the well; and
then they took Kehydius at the forester’s house, and so they rode with
him to the ship where they left dame Bragwaine and Gouvernail, and so
they sailed into Cornwall all wholly together; and by assent and
information of dame Bragwaine, when they were landed they rode unto Sir
Dinas the seneschal, a trusty friend of Sir Tristram’s. And so dame
Bragwaine and Sir Dinas rode to the court of king Mark, and told the
queen, La Beale Isoud, that Sir Tristram was nigh her in that country.
Then for very pure joy La Beale Isoud swooned: and when she might
speak, she said, Gentle knight seneschal, help that I might speak with
him, or else my heart will brast.

Then Sir Dinas and dame Bragwaine brought Sir Tristram and Kehydius
privily unto the court, unto a chamber whereas La Beale Isoud assigned
it; and to tell the joy that was between La Beale Isoud and Sir
Tristram, there is no tongue can tell it, nor heart think it, nor pen
write it. And, as the French book maketh mention, at the first time
that ever Sir Kehydius saw La Beale Isoud, he was so enamoured upon her
that for very pure love he might never withdraw it. And at the last, as
ye shall hear or the book be ended, Sir Kehydius died for the love of
La Beale Isoud. And then privily he wrote unto her letters and ballads
of the most goodliest that were used in those days. And when La Beale
Isoud understood his letters, she had pity of his complaint, and
unadvised she wrote another letter to comfort him withal. And Sir
Tristram was all this while in a turret, at the commandment of La Beale
Isoud, and when she might she came unto Sir Tristram. So on a day king
Mark played at the chess under a chamber window; and at that time Sir
Tristram and Sir Kehydius were within the chamber, over king Mark, and
as it mishapped Sir Tristram found the letter that Kehydius sent to La
Beale Isoud; also he had found the letter that she wrote unto Kehydius,
and at that same time La Beale Isoud was in the same chamber. Then Sir
Tristram came unto La Beale Isoud, and said; Madam, here is a letter
that was sent unto you, and here is the letter that ye sent unto him
that sent you that letter. Alas, madam, the good love that I have loved
you, and many lands and riches have I forsaken for your love, and now
ye are a traitress to me, the which doth me great pain. But as for
thee, Sir Kehydius, I brought thee out of Britanny into this country,
and thy father, king Howel, I won his lands; howbeit, I wedded thy
sister, Isoud la Blanche Mains, for the goodness which she did to me;
but wit thou well Sir Kehydius for this falsehood and treason thou hast
done me, I will revenge it upon thee. And therewithal Sir Tristram drew
out his sword, and said, Sir Kehydius keep thee, and then La Beale
Isoud swooned to the earth. And when Sir Kehydius saw Sir Tristram come
upon him, he saw none other boot, but lept out at a bay window, even
over the head where sat king Mark playing at the chess. And when the
king saw one come hurling over his head, he said, Fellow, what art
thou, and what is the cause thou leapest out of that window? My lord
the king, said Kehydius, it fortuned me that I was asleep in the window
above your head, and as I slept I slumbered, and so I fell down. And
thus Sir Kehydius excused him.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How Sir Tristram departed from Tintagil, and how he sorrowed, and was
  so long in a forest till he was out of his mind._

Then Sir Tristram dread sore lest he were discovered unto the king that
he was there, wherefore he drew him to the strength of the tower, and
armed him in such armour as he had, for to fight with them that would
withstand him. And so when Sir Tristram saw there was no resistance
against him, he sent Gouvernail for his horse and for his spear, and
knightly he rode forth out of the castle openly that was called the
castle of Tintagil. And even at the gate he met with Gingalin, Sir
Gawaine’s son. And anon Sir Gingalin put his spear in his rest, and ran
upon Sir Tristram, and brake his spear, and Sir Tristram at that time
had but a sword, and gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell
down from his saddle, and his sword slid down and carved asunder his
horse neck. And so Sir Tristram rode his way into the forest, and all
this doing saw king Mark. And then he sent a squire unto the hurt
knight, and commanded him to come to him, and so he did. And when king
Mark wist that it was Sir Gingalin, he welcomed him, and gave him a
horse, and asked him what knight it was that had encountered with him.
Sir, said Sir Gingalin, I wot not what knight he was, but well I wot
that he sigheth, and maketh great dole. Then Sir Tristram within a
while met with a knight of his own, that hight Sir Fergus. And when he
had met with him he made great sorrow, insomuch that he fell down off
his horse in a swoon, and in such sorrow he was in three days and three
nights. Then at the last Sir Tristram sent unto the court by Sir
Fergus, for to ask what tidings. And so as he rode by the way he met
with a damsel that came from Sir Palamides, to know and seek how Sir
Tristram did. Then Sir Fergus told her how he was almost out of his
mind. Alas, said the damsel, where shall I find him? In such a place,
said Sir Fergus. Then Sir Fergus found queen Isoud sick in her bed,
making the greatest dole that ever any earthly woman made. And when the
damsel found Sir Tristram, she made great dole because she might not
amend him; for the more she made of him the more was his pain. And at
the last Sir Tristram took his horse and rode away from her. And then
was it three days or that she could find him, and then she brought him
meat and drink, but he would none. And then another time Sir Tristram
escaped away from the damsel, and it happed him to ride by the same
castle where Sir Palamides and Sir Tristram did battle when La Beale
Isoud departed them. And there by fortune the damsel met with Sir
Tristram again, making the greatest dole that ever earthly creature
made, and she went to the lady of that castle, and told her of the
misadventure of Sir Tristram. Alas, said the lady of that castle, where
is my lord Sir Tristram? Right here by your castle, said the damsel. In
good time, said the lady, is he so nigh me: he shall have meat and
drink of the best, and a harp I have of his whereupon he taught
me,—for of goodly harping he beareth the prize in the world. So this
lady and the damsel brought him meat and drink, but he eat little
thereof. Then upon a night he put his horse from him, and then he
unlaced his armour, and then Sir Tristram would go into the wilderness,
and brast down the trees and boughs; and otherwhile, when he found the
harp that the lady sent him, then would he harp and play thereupon and
weep together. And sometime when Sir Tristram was in the wood, that the
lady wist not where he was, then would she sit her down and play upon
that harp: then would Sir Tristram come to that harp and hearken
thereto, and sometime he would harp himself. Thus he there endured a
quarter of a year. Then at the last he ran his way, and she wist not
where he was become. And then was he naked, and waxed lean and poor of
flesh, and so he fell into the fellowship of herdmen and shepherds, and
daily they would give him of their meat and drink. And when he did any
shrewd deed they would beat him with rods, and so they clipped him with
shears and made him like a fool.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How Sir Tristram soused Dagonet in a well, and how Palamides sent a
  damsel to seek Tristram, and how Palamides met with king Mark._

And upon a day Sir Dagonet, king Arthur’s fool, came into Cornwall,
with two squires with him, and as they rode through that forest they
came by a fair well where Sir Tristram was wont to be, and the weather
was hot, and they alight to drink of that well, and in the mean while
their horses brake loose. Right so Sir Tristram came unto them, and
first he soused Sir Dagonet in that well, and after his squires, and
thereat laughed the shepherds, and forthwithal he ran after their
horses, and brought them again one by one, and right so, wet as they
were, he made them leap up and ride their ways. Thus Sir Tristram
endured there an half year naked, and would never come in town nor
village. The mean while the damsel that Sir Palamides sent to seek Sir
Tristram she went unto Sir Palamides, and told him all the mischief
that Sir Tristram endured. Alas, said Sir Palamides, it is great pity
that ever so noble a knight should be so mischieved for the love of a
lady. But nevertheless I will go and seek him, and comfort him and I
may. Then a little before that time La Beale Isoud had commanded Sir
Kehydius out of the country of Cornwall. So Sir Kehydius departed with
a dolorous heart. And by adventure he met with Sir Palamides, and they
enfellowshipped together, and either complained to other of their love,
that they loved La Beale Isoud. Now let us, said Sir Palamides, seek
Sir Tristram that loved her as well as we, and let us prove whether we
may recover him. So they rode into that forest, and three days and
three nights they would never take their lodging, but ever sought Sir
Tristram. And upon a time by adventure they met with king Mark that was
ridden from his men all alone. When they saw him, Sir Palamides knew
him, but Sir Kehydius knew him not. Ah, false king, said Sir Palamides,
it is pity thou hast thy life, for thou art a destroyer of all
worshipful knights, and by thy mischief, and thy vengeance, thou hast
destroyed that most noble knight Sir Tristram de Liones; and therefore
defend thee, said Sir Palamides, for thou shalt die this day. That were
shame, said king Mark, for ye two are armed, and I am unarmed. As for
that, said Sir Palamides, I shall find a remedy therefore. Here is a
knight with me, and thou shalt have his harness. Nay, said king Mark, I
will not have ado with you, for cause have ye none to me. For all the
misease that Sir Tristram hath was for a letter that he found; for, as
to me, I did to him no displeasure, and I am full sorry for his disease
and malady. So when the king had thus excused him, they were friends,
and king Mark would have had them unto Tintagil, but Sir Palamides
would not, but turned unto the realm of Logris, and Sir Kehydius said
he would go into Britanny.

Now turn we unto Sir Dagonet again, then when he and his squires were
upon horseback, he deemed that the shepherds had sent that fool to
array them so because that they laughed at them, and so they rode unto
the keepers of beasts, and all to beat them. Sir Tristram saw them
beaten that were wont to give him meat and drink, then he ran thither
and gat Sir Dagonet by the head, and gave him such a fall to the earth
that he bruised him sore, so that he lay still. And then he wrast his
sword out of his hand and therewith he ran to one of his squires and
smote off his head, and the other fled. And so Sir Tristram took his
way with that sword in his hand, running as he had been wild wood. Then
Sir Dagonet rode to king Mark and told him how he had sped in that
forest. And therefore, said Sir Dagonet, beware, king Mark, that thou
come not about that well in the forest, for there is a fool naked, and
that fool and I fool met together, and he had almost slain me. Ah, said
king Mark, that is Sir Matto le Breune, that fell out of his wit
because he lost his lady. For when Sir Gaheris smote down Sir Matto and
won his lady of him, never since was he in his mind, and that was pity,
for he was a good knight.


                               CHAP. XX.

_How it was noised how Sir Tristram was dead, and how La Beale Isoud
  would have slain herself._

Then Sir Andred that was cousin unto Sir Tristram, made a lady that was
his paramour to say and noise it that she was with Sir Tristram or ever
he died. And this tale she brought unto king Mark’s court, that she
buried him by a well, and that or he died he besought king Mark to make
his cousin, Sir Andred, king of the country of Liones, of the which Sir
Tristram was lord of. All this did Sir Andred because he would have had
Sir Tristram’s lands. And when king Mark heard tell that Sir Tristram
was dead, he wept and made great dole. But when queen Isoud heard of
these tidings, she made such sorrow that she was nigh out of her mind.
And so upon a day she thought to slay herself, and never to live after
Sir Tristram’s death. And so upon a day La Beale Isoud gat a sword
privily, and bare it into her garden, and there she pight the sword
through a plum tree up to the hilts, so that it stack fast, and it
stood breast high. And as she would have run upon the sword and to have
slain herself, all this espied king Mark, how she kneeled down and
said, Sweet Lord Jesu have mercy upon me, for I may not live after the
death of Sir Tristram de Liones, for he was my first love, and he shall
be the last. And with these words came king Mark and took her in his
arms, and then he took up the sword, and bare her away with him into a
strong tower, and there he made her to be kept, and watched her surely.
And after that she lay long sick, nigh at the point of death. This mean
while ran Sir Tristram naked in the forest with the sword in his hand,
and so he came to an hermitage, and there he laid him down and slept,
and in the mean while the hermit stale away his sword, and laid meat
down by him. Thus was he kept there a ten days, and at the last he
departed and came to the herdmen again. And there was a giant in that
country that hight Tauleas, and for fear of Sir Tristram more than
seven years he durst never much go at large, but for the most part he
kept him in a sure castle of his own. And so this Tauleas heard tell
that Sir Tristram was dead, by the noise of the court of king Mark.
Then this Tauleas went daily at large. And so it happed upon a day he
came to the herdmen wandering and lingering, and there he set him down
to rest among them. The mean while there came a knight of Cornwall that
led a lady with him, and his name was Sir Dinant. And when the giant
saw him, he went from the herdmen and hid him under a tree, and so the
knight came to the well, and there he alight to repose him. And as soon
as he was from his horse, the giant Tauleas came betwixt this knight
and his horse, and took the horse and lept upon him. So forthwith he
rode unto Sir Dinant and took him by the collar, and pulled him afore
him upon his horse, and there would have stricken off his head. Then
the herdmen said unto Sir Tristram, Help yonder knight. Help ye him,
said Sir Tristram. We dare not, said the herdmen. Then Sir Tristram was
ware of the sword of the knight there as it lay, and so thither he ran,
and took up the sword and strake off Sir Tauleas’s head, and so he went
his way to the herdmen again.


                               CHAP. XXI.

_How king Mark found Sir Tristram naked, and made him to be borne home
  to Tintagil, and how he was there known by a brachet._

Then the knight took up the giant’s head, and bare it with him unto
king Mark, and told him what adventure betid him in the forest, and how
a naked man rescued him from the grimly giant Tauleas. Where had ye
this adventure? said king Mark. Forsooth, said Sir Dinant, at the fair
fountain in your forest where many adventurous knights meet, and there
is the mad man. Well, said king Mark, I will see that wild man. So
within a day or two king Mark commanded his knights and his hunters,
that they should be ready on the morn for to hunt, and on the morn he
went unto that forest. And when the king came to that well, he found
there lying by that well a fair naked man, and a sword by him. Then
king Mark blew and straked, and therewith his knights came to him. And
then the king commanded his knights to take that naked man with
fairness, and bring him to my castle. So they did softly and fair, and
cast mantles upon Sir Tristram, and so led him unto Tintagil; and there
they bathed him and washed him, and gave him hot suppings, till they
had brought him well to his remembrance. But all this while there was
no creature that knew Sir Tristram, nor what man he was. So it fell
upon a day that the queen La Beale Isoud heard of such a man that ran
naked in the forest, and how the king had brought him home to the
court. Then La Beale Isoud called unto her dame Bragwaine, and said,
Come on with me, for we will go see this man that my lord brought from
the forest the last day. So they passed forth, and asked where was the
sick man. And then a squire told the queen that he was in the garden
taking his rest, and reposing him against the sun. So when the queen
looked upon Sir Tristram she was not remembered of him. But ever she
said unto dame Bragwaine, Me seemeth I should have seen him heretofore
in many places. But as soon as Sir Tristram saw her he knew her well
enough, and then he turned away his visage and wept. Then the queen had
always a little brachet with her, that Sir Tristram gave her the first
time that ever she came into Cornwall, and never would that brachet
depart from her, but if Sir Tristram was nigh there as was La Beale
Isoud; and this brachet was sent from the king’s daughter of France
unto Sir Tristram for great love. And anon as this little brachet felt
a savour of Sir Tristram, she leaped upon him, and licked his cheeks
and his ears, and then she whined and quested, and she smelled at his
feet and at his hands, and on all parts of his body that she might come
to. Ah, my lady, said dame Bragwaine unto La Beale Isoud, alas, alas!
said she, I see it is mine own lord, Sir Tristram. And thereupon Isoud
fell down in a swoon, and so lay a great while; and when she might
speak, she said, My lord Sir Tristram, blessed be God ye have your
life; and now I am sure ye shall be discovered by this little brachet,
for she will never leave you; and also I am sure as soon as my lord
king Mark do know you, he will banish you out of the country of
Cornwall, or else he will destroy you. Therefore mine own lord, grant
king Mark his will, and then draw you unto the court of king Arthur,
for there are ye beloved. And ever when I may I shall send unto you,
and when ye list ye may come to me, and at all times early and late I
will be at your commandment to live as poor a life as ever did queen or
lady. O madam, said Sir Tristram, go from me, for mickle anger and
danger have I escaped for your love.


                              CHAP. XXII.

_How king Mark, by the advice of his council, banished Sir Tristram out
  of Cornwall the term of ten years._

Then the queen departed, but the brachet would not from him. And
therewithal came king Mark, and the brachet sat upon him, and bayed at
them all. Therewithal Sir Andred spake and said, Sir, this is Sir
Tristram, I see by the brachet. Nay, said the king, I cannot suppose
that. So the king asked him upon his faith what he was, and what was
his name. Truly, said he, my name is Sir Tristram de Liones, now do by
me what ye list. Ah, said king Mark, me repenteth of your recovery. And
then he let call his barons to judge Sir Tristram to death. Then many
of his barons would not assent thereto, and in especial Sir Dinas the
seneschal and Sir Fergus. And so by the advice of them all Sir Tristram
was banished out of the country for ten year, and thereupon he took his
oath upon a book before the king and his barons. And so he was made to
depart out of the country of Cornwall, and there were many barons
brought him into his ship, of the which some were his friends, and some
his foes. And in the mean while there came a knight of king Arthur’s,
his name was Dinadan, and his coming was to seek after Sir Tristram.
Then they shewed him where he was armed at all points, going to the
ship. Now, fair knight, said Sir Dinadan, or ye pass this court, that
ye will just with me I require you. With a good will, said Sir
Tristram, and these lords will give me leave. Then the barons granted
thereto, and so they ran together, and there Sir Tristram gave Sir
Dinadan a fall. And then he prayed Sir Tristram to give him leave to go
in his fellowship. Ye shall be right welcome, said then Sir Tristram.
And so they took their horses and rode to their ships together. And
when Sir Tristram was in the sea, he said, Greet well king Mark and all
mine enemies, and say them I will come again when I may. And well am I
rewarded for the fighting with Sir Marhaus, and delivering all this
country from servage, and well I am rewarded for the fetching and costs
of La Beale Isoud out of Ireland, and the danger that I was in first
and last, and by the way coming home what danger I had to bring again
queen Isoud from the castle Pluere. And well am I rewarded when I
fought with Sir Bleoberis for Sir Segwarides’ wife. And well am I
rewarded when I fought with Sir Blamor de Ganis for king Anguish,
father unto La Beale Isoud. And well am I rewarded when I smote down
the good knight Sir Lamorak de Galis at king Mark’s request. And well
am I rewarded when I fought with the king with the hundred knights, and
the king of Northgalis, and both these would have put his land in
servage, and by me they were put to a rebuke. And well am I rewarded
for the slaying of Tauleas the mighty giant, and many more deeds have I
done for him, and now have I my warison. And tell king Mark that many
noble knights of the Table Round have spared the barons of this country
for my sake. Also am I not well rewarded when I fought with the good
knight Sir Palamides, and rescued queen Isoud from him. And at that
time king Mark said afore all his barons, I should have been better
rewarded. And forthwithal he took the sea.


                              CHAP. XXIII.

_How a damsel sought help to help Sir Launcelot against thirty knights,
  and how Sir Tristram fought with them._

And at the next landing, fast by the sea, there met with Sir Tristram
and with Sir Dinadan Sir Ector de Maris and Sir Bors de Ganis. And
there Sir Ector justed with Sir Dinadan and he smote him and his horse
down. And then Sir Tristram would have justed with Sir Bors, and Sir
Bors said he would not just with no Cornish knights, for they are not
called men of worship. And all this was done upon a bridge. And with
this came Sir Bleoberis and Sir Driant, and Sir Bleoberis proffered to
just with Sir Tristram, and there Sir Tristram smote down Sir
Bleoberis. Then said Sir Bors de Ganis, I wist never Cornish knight of
so great valour nor so valiant as that knight that beareth the
trappours embroidered with crowns. And then Sir Tristram and Sir
Dinadan departed from them into a forest, and there met them a damsel
that came for the love of Sir Launcelot to seek after some noble
knights of king Arthur’s court for to rescue Sir Launcelot. And so Sir
Launcelot was ordained, for by the treason of queen Morgan le Fay to
have slain Sir Launcelot, and for that cause she ordained thirty
knights for to lie in a wait for Sir Launcelot, and this damsel knew
this treason. And for this cause the damsel came for to seek noble
knights to help Sir Launcelot. For that night, or the day after, Sir
Launcelot should come where these thirty knights were. And so this
damsel met with Sir Bors, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Ector, and Sir Driant, and
there she told them all four of the treason of Morgan le Fay. And then
they promised her that they would be nigh where Sir Launcelot should
meet with the thirty knights, and if so be they set upon him we will do
rescues as we can. So the damsel departed, and by adventure the damsel
met with Sir Tristram and with Sir Dinadan, and there the damsel told
them all the treason that was ordained for Sir Launcelot. Fair damsel,
said Sir Tristram, bring me to that same place where they should meet
with Sir Launcelot. Then said Sir Dinadan, What will ye do? it is not
for us to fight with thirty knights, and wit you well I will not
thereof, as to match one knight two or three is enough, and they be
men. But for to match fifteen knights, that will I never undertake. Fie
for shame, said Sir Tristram, do but your part. Nay, said Sir Dinadan,
I will not thereof, but if ye will lend me your shield, for ye bear a
shield of Cornwall, and for the cowardice that is named to the knights
of Cornwall, by your shields ye be ever forborn. Nay, said Sir
Tristram, I will not depart from my shield for her sake that gave it
me. But one thing, said Sir Tristram, I promise thee Sir Dinadan, but
if thou wilt promise me to abide with me, here I shall slay thee: for I
desire no more of thee but to answer one knight, and if thy heart will
not serve thee, stand by and look upon me and them. Sir, said Sir
Dinadan, I promise you to look upon and to do what I may to save
myself, but I would I had not met with you. So then anon these thirty
knights came fast by these four knights, and they were ware of them,
and either of other. And so these thirty knights let them pass for this
cause, that they would not wrath them if cause be that they had ado
with Sir Launcelot, and the four knights let them pass to this intent,
that they would see and behold what they would do with Sir Launcelot.
And so the thirty knights past on, and came by Sir Tristram and Sir
Dinadan. And then Sir Tristram cried on high, Lo here is a knight
against you for the love of Sir Launcelot. And there he slew two with
one spear, and ten with his sword. And then came in Sir Dinadan, and he
did passing well. And so of the thirty knights there went but ten away,
and they fled. All this battle saw Sir Bors de Ganis, and his three
fellows. And then they saw well it was the same knight that justed with
them at the bridge. Then they took their horses and rode unto Sir
Tristram, and praised him, and thanked him of his good deeds, and they
all desired Sir Tristram to go with them to their lodging. And he said
nay, he would not go to no lodging. Then they all four knights prayed
him to tell them his name. Fair lords, said Sir Tristram, as at this
time I will not tell you my name.


                              CHAP. XXIV.

_How Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan came to a lodging where they must
  just with two knights._

Then Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan rode forth their way till they came
to the shepherds and to the herdmen, and there they asked them if they
knew any lodging or harbour there nigh hand. Forsooth sirs, said the
herdmen, hereby is good lodging in a castle, but there is such a custom
that there shall no knight be harboured but if he just with two
knights, and if he be but one knight he must just with two. And as ye
be therein, soon shall ye be matched. There is shrewd harbour, said Sir
Dinadan, lodge where ye will, for I will not lodge there. Fie for
shame, said Sir Tristram, are ye not a knight of the Table Round,
wherefore ye may not with your worship refuse your lodging. Not so,
said the herdmen, for and ye be beaten and have the worse ye shall not
be lodged there, and if ye beat them ye shall be well harboured. Ah,
said Sir Dinadan, they are two sure knights. Then Sir Dinadan would not
lodge there in no manner, but as Sir Tristram required him of his
knighthood, and so they rode thither. And to make short tale, Sir
Tristram and Sir Dinadan smote them down both, and so they entered into
the castle, and had good cheer as they could think or devise. And when
they were unarmed, and thought to be merry and in good rest, there came
in at the gates Sir Palamides and Sir Gaheris, requiring to have the
custom of the castle. What array is this? said Sir Dinadan, I would
have my rest. That may not be, said Sir Tristram; now must we needs
defend the custom of this castle, insomuch as we have the better of the
lords of this castle, and therefore, said Sir Tristram, needs must ye
make you ready. In the devil’s name, said Sir Dinadan, came I into your
company. And so they made them ready. And Sir Gaheris encountered with
Sir Tristram, and Sir Gaheris had a fall, and Sir Palamides encountered
with Sir Dinadan, and Sir Dinadan had a fall; then was it fall for
fall. So then must they fight on foot. That would not Sir Dinadan, for
he was so sore bruised of the fall that Sir Palamides gave him. Then
Sir Tristram unlaced Sir Dinadan’s helm, and prayed him to help him. I
will not, said Sir Dinadan, for I am sore wounded of the thirty knights
that we had but late ago to do withal. But ye fare, said Sir Dinadan
unto Sir Tristram, as a mad man, and as a man that is out of his mind,
that would cast himself away, and I may curse the time that ever I saw
you. For in all the world are not two such knights that be so wood as
is Sir Launcelot and ye Sir Tristram: for once I fell in the fellowship
of Sir Launcelot as I have now done with you, and he set me a work that
a quarter of a year I kept my bed. Defend me, said Sir Dinadan, from
such two knights, and specially from your fellowship. Then, said Sir
Tristram, I will fight with them both. Then Sir Tristram bad them come
forth both, for I will fight with you. Then Sir Palamides and Sir
Gaheris dressed them and smote at them both. Then Dinadan smote at Sir
Gaheris a stroke or two, and turned from him. Nay, said Sir Palamides,
it is too much shame for us two knights to fight with one. And then he
did bid Sir Gaheris stand aside with that knight that hath no list to
fight. Then they rode together and fought long, and at the last Sir
Tristram doubled his strokes and drove Sir Palamides aback more than
three strides. And then by one assent Sir Gaheris and Sir Dinadan went
betwixt them and departed them in sunder. And then by assent of Sir
Tristram, they would have lodged together. But Sir Dinadan would not
lodge in that castle, and then he cursed the time that ever he came in
their fellowship. And so he took his horse and his harness and
departed. Then Sir Tristram prayed the lords of that castle to lend him
a man to bring him to a lodging. And so they did, and overtook Sir
Dinadan, and rode to their lodging two miles thence with a good man in
a priory, and there they were well at ease. And that same night, Sir
Bors, and Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Ector, and Sir Driant, abode still in
the same place there as Sir Tristram fought with the thirty knights,
and there they met with Sir Launcelot the same night, and had made
promise to lodge with Sir Colgrevance the same night.


                               CHAP. XXV.

_How Sir Tristram justed with Sir Kay and Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and
  how Sir Gawaine turned Sir Tristram from Morgan le Fay._

But anon as the noble knight Sir Launcelot heard of the shield of
Cornwall, then wist he well that it was Sir Tristram that fought with
his enemies. And then Sir Launcelot praised Sir Tristram, and called
him the man of most worship in the world. So there was a knight in that
priory that hight Pellinore, and he desired to wit the name of Sir
Tristram, but in no wise he could not. And so Sir Tristram departed and
left Sir Dinadan in the priory, for he was so weary and so sore bruised
that he might not ride. Then this knight, Sir Pellinore, said to Sir
Dinadan, Sithen that ye will not tell me that knight’s name, I will
ride after him and make him to tell me his name, or he shall die
therefore. Beware, sir knight, said Sir Dinadan, for and ye follow him
ye shall repent it. So that knight, Sir Pellinore, rode after Sir
Tristram, and required him of justs. Then Sir Tristram smote him down,
and wounded him through the shoulder, and so he past on his way. And on
the next day following Sir Tristram met with pursuivants, and they told
him that there was made a great cry of tournament between king Carados
of Scotland and the king of North Wales, and either should just against
other at the Castle of Maidens. And these pursuivants sought all the
country after the good knights, and in especial king Carados let make
seeking for Sir Launcelot, and the king of Northgalis let seek after
Sir Tristram de Liones. And at that time Sir Tristram thought to be at
that justs, and so by adventure they met with Sir Kay the seneschal and
Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and Sir Kay required Sir Tristram to just,
and Sir Tristram in a manner refused him, because he would not be hurt
nor bruised against the great justs that should be before the Castle of
Maidens, and therefore he thought to repose him, and to rest him. And
alway Sir Kay cried, Sir knight of Cornwall, just with me, or else
yield thee to me as recreant. When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he
turned to him, and then Sir Kay refused him, and turned his back. Then
Sir Tristram said, As I find thee shall I take thee. Then Sir Kay
turned with evil will, and Sir Tristram smote Sir Kay down, and so he
rode forth. Then Sir Sagramor le Desirous rode after Sir Tristram and
made him to just with him. And there Sir Tristram smote down Sir
Sagramor le Desirous from his horse, and rode his way, and the same day
he met with a damsel that told him that he should win great worship of
a knight adventurous, that did much harm in all that country.

When Sir Tristram heard her say so, he was glad to go with her to win
worship. So Sir Tristram rode with that damsel a six mile, and then met
him Sir Gawaine, and therewithal Sir Gawaine knew the damsel, that she
was a damsel of queen Morgan le Fay. Then Sir Gawaine understood that
she led that knight to some mischief. Fair knight, said Sir Gawaine,
whither ride you now with that damsel? Sir, said Sir Tristram, I wot
not whither I shall ride, but as the damsel will lead me. Sir, said Sir
Gawaine, ye shall not ride with her, for she and her lady did never
good, but ill. And then Sir Gawaine pulled out his sword, and said,
Damsel, but if thou tell me anon for what cause thou leadest this
knight with thee, thou shalt die for it right anon. I know all your
lady’s treason and yours. Mercy, Sir Gawaine, she said, and if ye will
save my life I will tell you. Say on, said Sir Gawaine, and thou shalt
have thy life. Sir, she said, queen Morgan le Fay, my lady, hath
ordained a thirty ladies to seek and espy after Sir Launcelot or Sir
Tristram, and by the trains of these ladies, who that may first meet
with any of these two knights, they should turn them unto Morgan le
Fay’s castle, saying that they should do deeds of worship, and if any
of those two knights came there, there be thirty knights lying and
watching in a tower to wait upon Sir Launcelot, or upon Sir Tristram.
Fie for shame, said Sir Gawaine, that ever such false treason should be
wrought or used in a queen and a king’s sister, and a king and queen’s
daughter.


                              CHAP. XXVI.

_How Sir Tristram and Sir Gawaine rode to have fought against the
  thirty knights, but they durst not come out._

Sir, said Sir Gawaine, will ye stand with me, and we will see the
malice of these thirty knights? Sir, said Sir Tristram, go ye to them
and it please you, and ye shall see I will not fail you, for it is not
long ago since I and a fellow met with thirty knights of that queen’s
fellowship; and God speed us so that we may win worship. So then Sir
Gawaine and Sir Tristram rode toward the castle where Morgan le Fay
was, and ever Sir Gawaine deemed well that he was Sir Tristram de
Liones, because he heard that two knights had slain and beaten thirty
knights. And when they came afore the castle Sir Gawaine spake on high,
and said, Queen Morgan le Fay, send out your knights that ye have laid
in a watch for Sir Launcelot, and for Sir Tristram. Now, said Sir
Gawaine, I know your false treason, and through all places where that I
ride men shall know of your false treason. And now let see Sir Gawaine
whether ye dare come out of your castle ye thirty knights. Then the
queen spake and all the thirty knights at once, and said, Sir Gawaine,
full well wotest thou what thou dost and sayest; for we know thee
passing well; but all that thou speakest and dost thou sayest it upon
pride of that good knight that is there with thee. For there be some of
us that know full well the hands of that knight over all well, and wit
thou well, Sir Gawaine, it is more for his sake than for thine that we
will not come out of this castle. For wit ye well, Sir Gawaine, that
knight that beareth the arms of Cornwall we know him, and what he is.
Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Tristram departed, and rode on their ways a
day or two together, and there by adventure they met with Sir Kay and
Sir Sagramor le Desirous. And then they were glad of Sir Gawaine, and
he of them, but they wist not what he was with the shield of Cornwall
but by deeming. And thus they rode together a day or two. And then they
were ware of Sir Breuse Sance Pité chasing a lady for to have slain
her, for he had slain her lover before. Hold you all still, said Sir
Gawaine, and shew none of you forth, and ye shall see me reward yonder
false knight, for and he espy you he is so well horsed that he will
escape away. And then Sir Gawaine rode betwixt Sir Breuse and the lady,
and said, False knight, leave her and have ado with me. When Sir Breuse
saw no more but Sir Gawaine he feutred his spear, and Sir Gawaine
against him, and there Sir Breuse overthrew Sir Gawaine, and then he
rode over him and overthwart him twenty times, to have destroyed him;
and when Sir Tristram saw him do so villainous a deed, he hurled out
against him. And when Sir Breuse saw him with the shield of Cornwall,
he knew him well that it was Sir Tristram, and then he fled, and Sir
Tristram followed after him. And Sir Breuse Sance Pité was so horsed
that he went his way quite. And Sir Tristram followed him long, for he
would fain have been avenged upon him. And so when he had long chased
him he saw a fair well, and thither he rode to repose him, and tied his
horse to a tree.


                              CHAP. XXVII.

_How damsel Bragwaine found Tristram sleeping by a well, and how she
  delivered letters to him from La Beale Isoud._

And then he pulled off his helm, and washed his visage and his hands,
and so he fell on sleep. In the mean while came a damsel that had
sought Sir Tristram many ways and days within this land. And when she
came to the well she looked upon him, and had forgotten him as in
remembrance of Sir Tristram, but by his horse she knew him, that hight
Passe-Brewel, that had been Sir Tristram’s horse many years. For when
he was mad in the forest, Sir Fergus kept him. So this lady dame
Bragwaine abode still till he was awake. So when she saw him wake she
saluted him, and he her again, for either knew other of old
acquaintance. Then she told him how she had sought him long and broad,
and there she told him how she had letters from queen La Beale Isoud.
Then anon Sir Tristram read them, and wit ye well he was glad, for
therein was many a piteous complaint. Then Sir Tristram said, Lady
Bragwaine, ye shall ride with me till that tournament be done at the
Castle of Maidens; and then shall ye bear letters and tidings with you.
And then Sir Tristram took his horse and sought lodging, and there he
met with a good ancient knight that prayed him to lodge with him. Right
so came Gouvernail unto Sir Tristram, that was glad of that lady. So
this old knight’s name was Sir Pellounes, and he told of the great
tournament that should be at the Castle of Maidens. And there Sir
Launcelot and thirty-two knights of his blood had ordained shields of
Cornwall. And right so there came one unto Sir Pellounes and told him
that Sir Persides de Bloise was come home, and then that knight held up
his hands and thanked God of his coming home, and there Sir Pellounes
told Sir Tristram that in two years he had not seen his son Sir
Persides. Sir, said Sir Tristram, I know your son well enough for a
good knight. So on a time Sir Tristram and Sir Persides came to their
lodging both at once, and so they unarmed them, and put upon them their
clothing. And then these two knights each welcomed other. And when
Persides understood that Sir Tristram was of Cornwall, he said he was
once in Cornwall,—and there I justed afore king Mark, and so it happed
me at that time to overthrow ten knights, and then came to me Sir
Tristram de Liones and overthrew me, and took my lady from me, and that
I shall never forget, but I shall remember me and ever I see my time.
Ah, said Sir Tristram, now I understand that ye hate Sir Tristram. What
deem ye, ween ye that Sir Tristram is not able to withstand your
malice? Yes, said Sir Persides, I know well that Sir Tristram is a
noble knight, and a much better knight than I, yet shall I not owe him
my good will. Right as they stood thus talking at a bay window of that
castle, they saw many knights riding to and fro toward the tournament.
And then was Sir Tristram ware of a likely knight riding upon a great
black horse, and a black covered shield. What knight is that, said Sir
Tristram, with the black horse and the black shield? He seemeth to be a
good knight. I know him well, said Sir Persides, he is one of the best
knights of the world. Then is it Sir Launcelot, said Sir Tristram. Nay,
said Sir Persides, it is Sir Palamides, that is yet unchristened.


                             CHAP. XXVIII.

_How Sir Tristram had a fall of Sir Palamides, and how Launcelot
  overthrew two knights._

Then they saw much people of the country salute Sir Palamides. And
within a while after there came a squire of the castle that told Sir
Pellounes, that was lord of that castle, that a knight with a black
shield had smitten down thirteen knights. Fair brother, said Sir
Tristram unto Sir Persides, let us cast upon us our cloaks, and let us
go see the play. Not so, said Sir Persides, we will not go like knaves
thither, but we will ride like men and good knights to withstand our
enemies. So they armed them, and took their horses, and great spears,
and thither they went, there as many knights assayed themselves before
the tournament. And anon Sir Palamides saw Sir Persides, and then he
sent a squire unto him, and said, Go thou to the yonder knight with a
green shield and therein a lion of gold, and say to him I require him
to just with me, and tell him that my name is Sir Palamides. When Sir
Persides understood that request of Sir Palamides he made him ready.
And there anon they met together, but Sir Persides had a fall. Then Sir
Tristram dressed him to be revenged upon Sir Palamides. And that saw
Sir Palamides, that was ready, and so was not Sir Tristram, and took
him at advantage, and smote him over his horse tail when he had no
spear in his rest. Then start up Sir Tristram, and took his horse
lightly, and was wroth out of measure, and sore ashamed of that fall.
Then Sir Tristram sent unto Sir Palamides by Gouvernail his squire, and
prayed him to just with him at his request. Nay, said Sir Palamides, as
at this time I will not just with that knight, for I know him better
than he weeneth. And if he be wroth, he may right it to-morn at the
Castle of Maidens, where he may see me and many other knights. With
that came Sir Dinadan, and when he saw Sir Tristram wroth he list not
to jest. Lo, said Sir Dinadan, here may a man prove, be a man never so
good yet may he have a fall, and he was never so wise but he might be
overseen, and he rideth well that never fell. So Sir Tristram was
passing wroth, and said to Sir Persides and Sir Dinadan, I will revenge
me. Right so as they stood talking there, there came by Sir Tristram a
likely knight, riding passing soberly and heavily, with a black shield.
What knight is that? said Sir Tristram unto Sir Persides. I know him
well, said Sir Persides, for his name is Sir Briant of North Wales: so
he past on among other knights of North Wales. And there came in Sir
Launcelot du Lake with a shield of the arms of Cornwall, and he sent a
squire unto Sir Briant, and required him to just with him. Well, said
Sir Briant, since I am required to just I will do what I may. And there
Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Briant from his horse a great fall. And
then Sir Tristram marvelled what knight he was that bare the shield of
Cornwall. Whatsoever he be, said Sir Dinadan, I warrant you he is of
king Ban’s blood, the which be knights of the most noble prowess in the
world, for to account so many for so many. Then there came two knights
of Northgalis, the one hight Hew de la Montaine, and the other Sir
Madok de la Montaine, and they challenged Sir Launcelot foot hot. Sir
Launcelot not refusing them, but made him ready, with one spear he
smote them down both over their horse croups, and so Sir Launcelot rode
his way. By my faith, said Sir Tristram, he is a good knight that
beareth the shield of Cornwall, and me seemeth he rideth in the best
manner that ever I saw knight ride. Then the king of Northgalis rode
unto Sir Palamides, and prayed him heartily for his sake to just with
that knight that hath done us of Northgalis despite. Sir, said Sir
Palamides, I am full loth to have ado with that knight, and cause why
is for as to-morn the great tournament shall be, and therefore I will
keep myself fresh by my will. Nay, said the king of Northgalis, I pray
you require him of justs. Sir, said Sir Palamides, I will just at your
request, and require that knight to just with me; and often I have seen
a man have a fall at his own request.


                              CHAP. XXIX.

_How Sir Launcelot justed with Palamides and overthrew him, and after
  he was assailed with twelve knights._

Then Sir Palamides sent unto Sir Launcelot a squire, and required him
of justs. Fair fellow, said Sir Launcelot, tell me thy lord’s name.
Sir, said the squire, my lord’s name is Sir Palamides the good knight.
In good hour, said Sir Launcelot, for there is no knight that I saw
this seven years that I had lever have ado withal than with him. And so
either knights made them ready with two great spears. Nay, said Sir
Dinadan, ye shall see that Sir Palamides will quit him right well. It
may be so, said Sir Tristram, but I undertake that knight with the
shield of Cornwall shall give him a fall. I believe it not, said Sir
Dinadan. Right so they spurred their horses, and feutred their spears,
and either hit other, and Sir Palamides brake a spear upon Sir
Launcelot, and he sat and moved not, but Sir Launcelot smote him so
lightly that he made his horse to avoid the saddle, and the stroke
brake his shield and the hauberk, and had he not fallen he had been
slain. How now, said Sir Tristram, I wist well by the manner of their
riding both that Sir Palamides should have a fall. Right so Sir
Launcelot rode his way, and rode to a well to drink and to repose him,
and they of Northgalis espied him whither he rode, and then there
followed him twelve knights for to have mischieved him, for this cause,
that upon the morn, at the tournament of the Castle of Maidens, that he
should not win the victory. So they came upon Sir Launcelot suddenly,
and scarcely he might put upon him his helm and take his horse but they
were in hands with him. And then Sir Launcelot gat his spear and rode
through them, and there he slew a knight, and brake his spear in his
body. Then he drew his sword and smote upon the right hand and upon the
left hand, so that within a few strokes he had slain other three
knights, and the remnant that abode he wounded them sore, all that did
abide. Thus Sir Launcelot escaped from his enemies of North Wales, and
then he rode forth on his way to a friend, and lodged him till on the
morn, for he would not the first day have ado in the tournament,
because of his great labour. And on the first day he was with king
Arthur, there as he was set on high upon a scaffold, to discern who was
best worthy of his deeds. So Sir Launcelot was with king Arthur, and
justed not the first day.


                               CHAP. XXX.

_How Sir Tristram behaved him the first day of the tournament, and
  there he had the prize._

Now turn we unto Sir Tristram de Liones, that commanded Gouvernail his
servant to ordain him a black shield with none other remembrance
therein. And so Sir Persides and Sir Tristram departed from their host
Sir Pellounes and they rode early toward the tournament, and then they
drew them to king Carados’ side of Scotland: and anon knights began the
field, what of the king of Northgalis’ part, and what of king Carados’
part, and there began great party. Then there was hurling and rashing.
Right so came in Sir Persides and Sir Tristram, and so they did fare
that they put the king of Northgalis aback. Then came in Sir Bleoberis
de Ganis and Sir Gaheris with them of Northgalis, and then was Sir
Persides smitten down and almost slain, for more than forty horsemen
went over him. For Sir Bleoberis did great deeds of arms, and Sir
Gaheris failed him not. When Sir Tristram beheld them, and saw them do
such deeds of arms, he marvelled what they were. Also Sir Tristram
thought shame that Sir Persides was so done to; and then he gat a great
spear in his hand, and then he rode to Sir Gaheris and smote him down
from his horse. And then was Bleoberis wroth, and gat a spear and rode
against Sir Tristram in great ire, and there Sir Tristram met with him,
and smote Sir Bleoberis from his horse. So then the king with the
hundred knights was wroth, and he horsed Sir Bleoberis and Sir Gaheris
again, and there began a great meddle; and ever Sir Tristram held them
passing short, and ever Sir Bleoberis was passing busy upon Sir
Tristram. And there came Sir Dinadan against Sir Tristram, and Sir
Tristram gave him such a buffet that he swooned in his saddle. Then
anon Sir Dinadan came to Sir Tristram, and said, Sir, I know thee
better than thou weenest, but here I promise thee my troth I will never
come against thee more, for I promise thee that sword of thine shall
never come on my helm. With that came Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Tristram
gave him such a buffet that down he laid his head: and then he caught
him so sore by the helm that he pulled him under his horse feet. And
then king Arthur blew to lodging. Then Sir Tristram departed to his
pavilion, and Sir Dinadan rode with him. And Sir Persides and king
Arthur then, and the kings upon both parties, marvelled what knight
that was with the black shield. Many said their advice, and some knew
him for Sir Tristram, and held their peace, and would nought say. So
that first day king Arthur and all the kings and lords that were judges
gave Sir Tristram the prize, how be it they knew him not, but named him
the knight with the black shield.


                              CHAP. XXXI.

_How Sir Tristram returned against king Arthur’s party, because he saw
  Sir Palamides on that party._

Then upon the morn Sir Palamides returned from the king of Northgalis,
and rode to king Arthur’s side, where was king Carados, and the king of
Ireland, and Sir Launcelot’s kin, and Sir Gawaine’s kin. So Sir
Palamides sent the damsel unto Sir Tristram that he sent to seek him
when he was out of his mind in the forest; and this damsel asked Sir
Tristram what he was, and what was his name. As for that, said Sir
Tristram, tell Sir Palamides he shall not wit as at this time, unto the
time I have broken two spears upon him. But let him wit thus much, said
Sir Tristram, that I am the same knight that he smote down in over
evening at the tournament, and tell him plainly, on what part that Sir
Palamides be I will be on the contrary part. Sir, said the damsel, ye
shall understand that Sir Palamides will be on king Arthur’s side,
where the most noble knights of the world be. Then, said Sir Tristram,
will I be with the king of Northgalis, because Sir Palamides will be on
king Arthur’s side, and else I would not but for his sake. So when king
Arthur was come they blew unto the field, and then there began a great
party, and so king Carados justed with the king with the hundred
knights, and there king Carados had a fall; then there was hurling and
rashing, and right so came in knights of king Arthur’s, and they bare
back the king of Northgalis’ knights. Then Sir Tristram came in, and
began so roughly and so bigly that there was none might withstand him,
and thus Sir Tristram endured long. And at the last Sir Tristram fell
among the fellowship of king Ban, and there fell upon him Sir Bors de
Ganis, and Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Blamor de Ganis, and many other
knights. And then Sir Tristram smote on the right hand and on the left
hand, that all lords and ladies spake of his noble deeds. But at the
last Sir Tristram should have had the worse had not the king with the
hundred knights been. And then he came with his fellowship and rescued
Sir Tristram, and brought him away from those knights that bare the
shields of Cornwall. And then Sir Tristram saw another fellowship by
themselves, and there were a forty knights together, and Sir Kay the
seneschal was their governor. Then Sir Tristram rode in amongst them,
and there he smote down Sir Kay from his horse, and there he fared
among those knights like a grey hound among conies. Then Sir Launcelot
found a knight that was sore wounded upon the head. Sir, said Sir
Launcelot, who wounded you so sore? Sir, he said, a knight that beareth
a black shield, and I may curse the time that ever I met with him, for
he is a devil and no man. So Sir Launcelot departed from him, and
thought to meet with Sir Tristram, and so he rode with his sword drawn
in his hand to seek Sir Tristram, and then he espied him how he hurled
here and there, and at every stroke Sir Tristram well nigh smote down a
knight. O mercy, said the king, sith the time I bare arms saw I never
no knight do so marvellous deeds of arms. And if I should set upon this
knight, said Sir Launcelot to himself, I did shame to myself; and
therewithal Sir Launcelot put up his sword. And then the king with the
hundred knights and a hundred more of North Wales set upon the twenty
of Sir Launcelot’s kin: and they twenty knights held them ever together
as wild swine, and none would fail other. And so when Sir Tristram
beheld the noblesse of these twenty knights, he marvelled of their good
deeds, for he saw by their fare and by their rule, that they had lever
die than avoid the field. Now, said Sir Tristram, well may he be
valiant and full of prowess that hath such a sort of noble knights unto
his kin, and full like is he to be a noble man that is their leader and
governor. He meant it by Sir Launcelot du Lake. So when Sir Tristram
had beholden them long, he thought shame to see two hundred knights
battering upon twenty knights. Then Sir Tristram rode unto the king
with the hundred knights and said, Sir, leave your fighting with those
twenty knights, for ye win no worship of them, ye be so many, and they
so few; and wit ye well they will not out of the field, I see by their
cheer and countenance; and worship get ye none and ye slay them.
Therefore leave your fighting with them, for I to increase my worship I
will ride to the twenty knights and help them with all my might and
power. Nay, said the king with the hundred knights, ye shall not do so.
Now I see your courage and courtesy I will withdraw my knights for your
pleasure, for evermore a good knight will favour another, and like will
draw to like.


                              CHAP. XXXII.

_How Sir Tristram found Palamides by a well, and brought him with him
  to his lodging._

Then the king with the hundred knights withdrew his knights. And all
this while, and long tofore, Sir Launcelot had watched upon Sir
Tristram with a very purpose to have fellowshipped with him. And then
suddenly Sir Tristram, Sir Dinadan, and Gouvernail his man, rode their
way into the forest, that no man perceived where they went. So then
king Arthur blew unto lodging, and gave the king of Northgalis the
prize, because Sir Tristram was upon his side. Then Sir Launcelot rode
here and there, so wood as lion that wanted his fill, because he had
lost Sir Tristram, and so he returned unto king Arthur. And then in all
the field was a noise that with the wind it might be heard two mile
thence, how the lords and ladies cried. The knight with the black
shield hath won the field. Alas, said king Arthur, where is that knight
become? It is shame to all those in the field so to let him escape away
from you; but with gentleness and courtesy ye might have brought him
unto me to the Castle of Maidens. Then the noble king Arthur went unto
his knights, and comforted them in the best wise that he could, and
said, My fair fellows be not dismayed, howbeit ye have lost the field
this day. And many were hurt and sore wounded, and many were whole. My
fellows, said king Arthur, look that ye be of good cheer, for to-morrow
I will be in the field with you, and revenge you of your enemies.

So that night king Arthur and his knights reposed themselves. The
damsel that came from La Beale Isoud unto Sir Tristram, all the while
the tournament was a doing she was with queen Guenever, and ever the
queen asked her for what cause she came into that country. Madam, she
answered, I come for none other cause but from my lady La Beale Isoud
to wit of your welfare. For in no wise she would not tell the queen
that she came for Sir Tristram’s sake. So this lady, dame Bragwaine,
took her leave of queen Guenever, and she rode after Sir Tristram. And
as she rode through the forest she heard a great cry, then she
commanded her squire to go into that forest to wit what was that noise.
And so he came to a well, and there he found a knight bound to a tree,
crying as he had been wood, and his horse and his harness standing by
him. And when he espied the squire, therewith he started and brake
himself loose, and took his sword in his hand, and ran to have slain
that squire. Then he took his horse and fled all that ever he might
unto dame Bragwaine again, and told her of his adventure. Then she rode
unto Sir Tristram’s pavilion, and told Sir Tristram what adventure she
had found in the forest. Alas, said Sir Tristram, upon my head there is
some good knight at mischief. Then Sir Tristram took his horse and his
sword and rode thither, and there he heard how the knight complained
unto himself, and said, I, woeful knight, Sir Palamides, what
misadventure befalleth me, that thus am defoiled with falsehood and
treason, through Sir Bors and Sir Ector. Alas, he said, why live I so
long! And then he gat his sword in his hands, and made many strange
signs and tokens, and so through his raging he threw his sword into
that fountain. Then Sir Palamides wailed and wrang his hands. And at
the last, for pure sorrow, he ran into that fountain over his middle,
and sought after his sword. Then Sir Tristram saw that, and ran upon
Sir Palamides, and held him in his arms fast. What art thou, said Sir
Palamides, that holdeth me so? I am a man of this forest that would
thee none harm. Alas, said Sir Palamides, I may never win worship where
Sir Tristram is, for ever where he is and I be there then get I no
worship, and if he be away for the most part I have the gree, unless
that Sir Launcelot du Lake be there or Sir Lamorak. Then Sir Palamides
said: Once in Ireland Sir Tristram put me to the worse, and another
time in Cornwall, and in other places in this land. What would ye do,
said Sir Tristram, and ye had Sir Tristram? I would fight with him,
said Sir Palamides, and ease my heart upon him, and yet, to say the
sooth, Sir Tristram is the gentlest knight in this world living. What
will ye do? said Sir Tristram, will ye go with me to your lodging? Nay,
said he, I will go to the king with the hundred knights, for he rescued
me from Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Ector, and else had I been slain
traitourly. Sir Tristram said him such kind words that Sir Palamides
went with him to his lodging. Then Gouvernail went tofore and charged
dame Bragwaine to go out of the way to her lodging, and bid ye Sir
Persides that he make him no quarrels. And so they rode together till
they came to Sir Tristram’s pavilion, and there Sir Palamides had all
the cheer that might be had all that night. But in no wise Sir
Palamides might not know what was Sir Tristram. And so after supper
they went to rest, and Sir Tristram for great travail slept till it was
day. And Sir Palamides might not sleep for anguish, and in the dawning
of the day he took his horse privily and rode his way unto Sir Gaheris
and to Sir Sagramor le Desirous, where they were in their pavilions,
for they three were fellows at the beginning of the tournament. And
then upon the morn the king blew unto the tournament upon the third day.


                             CHAP. XXXIII.

_How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Palamides, and how he justed with king
  Arthur, and other feats._

So the king of Northgalis and the king with the hundred knights, they
two encountered with king Carados and with the king of Ireland, and
there the king with the hundred knights smote down king Carados, and
the king of Northgalis smote down the king of Ireland. With that came
in Sir Palamides, and when he came he made great work, for by his
indented shield he was well known. So came in king Arthur and did great
deeds of arms together, and put the king of Northgalis and the king
with the hundred knights to the worse. With this came in Sir Tristram
with his black shield, and anon he justed with Sir Palamides, and there
by fine force Sir Tristram smote Sir Palamides over his horse croup.
Then king Arthur cried, Knight with the black shield make thee ready to
me. And in the same wise Sir Tristram smote king Arthur. And then by
force of king Arthur’s knights the king and Sir Palamides were horsed
again. Then king Arthur with a great eager heart gat a spear in his
hand, and there upon the one side he smote Sir Tristram over his horse.
Then foot-hot Sir Palamides came upon Sir Tristram as he was on foot,
to have over-ridden him. Then Sir Tristram was ware of him, and there
he stooped aside, and with great ire he gat him by the arm, and pulled
him down from his horse. Then Sir Palamides lightly arose, and then
they dashed together mightily with their swords, and many kings,
queens, and lords stood and beheld them. And at the last Sir Tristram
smote Sir Palamides upon the helm three mighty strokes, and at every
stroke that he gave him he said, Have this for Sir Tristram’s sake.
With that Sir Palamides fell to the earth groveling. And then came the
king with the hundred knights and brought Sir Tristram an horse, and so
was he horsed again. By then was Sir Palamides horsed, and with great
ire he justed upon Sir Tristram with his spear as it was in the rest,
and gave him a great dash with his spear. Then Sir Tristram avoided his
spear and gat him by the neck with his both hands, and pulled him clean
out of his saddle, and so he bare him afore him the length of ten
spears, and then in the presence of them all he let him fall at his
adventure. Then Sir Tristram was ware of king Arthur with a naked sword
in his hand, and with his spear Sir Tristram ran upon king Arthur, and
then king Arthur boldly abode him, and with his sword he smote a-two
his spear, and therewithal Sir Tristram was astonished, and so king
Arthur gave him three or four great strokes or he might get out his
sword, and at the last Sir Tristram drew his sword and assailed other
passing hard. With that the great press parted, then Sir Tristram rode
here and there and did his great pain, that eleven of the good knights
of the blood of king Ban, that was of Sir Launcelot’s kin, that day Sir
Tristram smote down, that all the estates marvelled of his great deeds,
and all cried upon the knight with the black shield.


                              CHAP. XXXIV.

_How Sir Launcelot hurt Sir Tristram, and how after Sir Tristram smote
  down Palamides._

Then this cry was so large that Sir Launcelot heard it. And then he gat
a great spear in his hand, and came towards the cry. Then Sir Launcelot
cried, The knight with the black shield, make thee ready to just with
me. When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he gat his spear in his hand,
and either abashed down their heads, and came together as thunder, and
Sir Tristram’s spear brake in pieces, and Sir Launcelot by mal-fortune
struck Sir Tristram on the side a deep wound nigh to the death. But yet
Sir Tristram avoided not his saddle, and so the spear brake:
therewithal Sir Tristram that was wounded gat out his sword, and he
rashed to Sir Launcelot, and gave him three great strokes upon the helm
that the fire spang there out, and Sir Launcelot abashed his head lowly
toward his saddle-bow. And therewithal Sir Tristram departed from the
field, for he felt him so wounded that he wend he should have died. And
Sir Dinadan espied him, and followed him into the forest. Then Sir
Launcelot abode and did many marvellous deeds. So when Sir Tristram was
departed by the forest side, he alight, and unlaced his harness and
refreshed his wound. Then wend Sir Dinadan that he should have died.
Nay, nay, said Sir Tristram, Dinadan never dread thee, for I am heart
whole, and of this wound I shall soon be whole by the mercy of God. By
that Sir Dinadan was ware where came Sir Palamides riding straight upon
them. And then Sir Tristram was ware that Sir Palamides came to have
destroyed him. And so Sir Dinadan gave him warning and said, Sir
Tristram, my lord, ye are so sore wounded that ye may not have ado with
him, therefore I will ride against him and do to him what I may; and if
I be slain ye may pray for my soul, and in the meanwhile ye may
withdraw you and go into the castle, or into the forest, that he shall
not meet with you. Sir Tristram smiled and said, I thank you, Sir
Dinadan, of your good will, but ye shall wit that I am able to handle
him. And then anon hastily he armed him and took his horse and gat a
great spear in his hand, and said to Sir Dinadan, Adieu, and rode
toward Sir Palamides a soft pace.

Then when Sir Palamides saw that, he made countenance to amend his
horse; but he did it for this cause, for he abode Sir Gaheris that came
after him. And when he was come, he rode toward Sir Tristram. Then Sir
Tristram sent unto Sir Palamides and required him to just with him; and
if he smote down Sir Palamides he would do no more to him; and if it so
happened that Sir Palamides smote down Sir Tristram he bad him do his
utterance. So they were accorded. Then they met together, and Sir
Tristram smote down Sir Palamides, that he had a grievous fall, so that
he lay still as he had been dead. And then Sir Tristram ran upon Sir
Gaheris, and he would not have justed, but whether he would or not Sir
Tristram smote him over his horse croup, that he lay still as though he
had been dead. And then Sir Tristram rode his way, and left Sir
Persides’ squire within the pavilions, and Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan
rode to an old knight’s place to lodge them. And that old knight had
five sons at the tournament, for whom he prayed heartily for their
coming home. And so, as the French book saith, they came home all five
well beaten.

And when Sir Tristram departed into the forest, Sir Launcelot held
alway the fight like hard as a man enraged that took no heed to
himself, and wit ye well there was many a noble knight against him. And
when king Arthur saw Sir Launcelot do so marvellous deeds of arms, he
then armed him, and took his horse and armour, and rode into the field
to help Sir Launcelot, and so many knights came in with king Arthur.
And to make short tale, in conclusion, the king of Northgalis and the
king of the hundred knights were put to the worse, and because Sir
Launcelot abode and was the last in the field, the prize was given him.
But Sir Launcelot would neither for king, queen, nor knight have the
prize. But where the cry was cried through the field, Sir Launcelot,
Sir Launcelot, hath won the field this day, Sir Launcelot let make
another cry contrary, Sir Tristram hath won the field, for he began
first, and last he hath endured, and so hath he done the first day, the
second, and the third day.


                              CHAP. XXXV.

_How the prize of the third day was given to Sir Launcelot, and Sir
  Launcelot gave it unto Sir Tristram._

Then all the estates and degrees high and low said of Sir Launcelot
great worship for the honour that he did unto Sir Tristram, and for
that honour doing to Sir Tristram he was at that time more praised and
renowned than if he had overthrown five hundred knights: and all the
people wholly for this gentleness, first the estates both high and low,
and after the commonalty, cried at once, Sir Launcelot hath won the
field, whosoever say nay. Then was Sir Launcelot wroth and ashamed, and
so therewithal he rode to king Arthur. Alas, said the king, we are all
dismayed that Sir Tristram is thus departed from us. Truly, said king
Arthur, he is one of the noblest knights that ever I saw hold spear or
sword in hand, and the most courteyest knight in his fighting, for full
hard I saw him, said king Arthur, when he smote Sir Palamides upon his
helm, thrice that he abashed his helm with his strokes, and also he
said, here is a stroke for Sir Tristram, and thus thrice he said. Then
king Arthur, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Dodinas le Savage took their horses
to seek Sir Tristram, and by the means of Sir Persides he had told king
Arthur where Sir Tristram was in his pavilion, but when they came there
Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan were gone. Then king Arthur and Sir
Launcelot were heavy, and returned again to the Castle of Maidens
making great dole for the hurt of Sir Tristram, and his sudden
departing. Truly, said king Arthur, I am more heavy that I cannot meet
with him than for all the hurts that all my knights have had at the
tournament. Right so came Sir Gaheris and told to king Arthur how Sir
Tristram had smitten down Sir Palamides, and it was at Sir Palamides’s
own request. Alas, said king Arthur, that was great dishonour to Sir
Palamides, inasmuch as Sir Tristram was sore wounded, and now may we
all, kings, and knights, and men of worship, say that Sir Tristram may
be called a noble knight, and one of the best knights that ever I saw
the days of my life. For I will that ye all kings and knights know,
said king Arthur, that I never saw knight do so marvellously as he hath
done these three days, for he was the first that began, and that
longest held on, save this last day. And though he was hurt, it was a
manly adventure of two noble knights: and when two noble men encounter
needs must the one have the worse, like as God will suffer at that
time. As for me, said Sir Launcelot, for all the lands that ever my
father left me I would not have hurt Sir Tristram and I had known him
at that time. That I hurt him was for I saw not his shield, for if I
had seen his black shield I would not have meddled with him for many
causes, for late he did as much for me as ever knight did, and that is
well known that he had ado with thirty knights, and no help save Sir
Dinadan. And one thing shall I promise, said Sir Launcelot, Sir
Palamides shall repent it, as in his unkindly dealing for to follow
that noble knight that I by mishap hurt thus. Sir Launcelot said all
the worship that might be said by Sir Tristram. Then king Arthur made a
great feast to all that would come.

And thus let we pass king Arthur, and a little we will turn unto Sir
Palamides, that, after he had a fall of Sir Tristram, he was nigh hand
enraged out of his wit for despite of Sir Tristram. And so he followed
him by adventure. And as he came by a river in his woodness he would
have made his horse to have lept over; and the horse failed footing and
fell in the river, wherefore Sir Palamides was adread lest he should
have been drowned, and then he avoided his horse and swam to the land,
and let his horse go down by adventure.


                              CHAP. XXXVI.

_How Sir Palamides came to the castle where Sir Tristram was, and of
  the quest that Sir Launcelot and ten knights made for Sir Tristram._

And when he came to the land he took off his harness, and sat roaring
and crying as a man out of his mind. Right so came a damsel even by Sir
Palamides, that was sent from Sir Gawaine and his brother unto Sir
Mordred, that lay sick in the same place with that old knight where Sir
Tristram was. For, as the French book saith, Sir Persides hurt so Sir
Mordred a ten days afore; and had it not been for the love of Sir
Gawaine and his brother, Sir Persides had slain Sir Mordred. And so
this damsel came by Sir Palamides, and she and he had language
together, the which pleased neither of them: and so the damsel rode her
ways till she came to the old knight’s place, and there she told that
old knight how she had met with the woodest knight by adventure that
ever she met withal. What bare he in his shield? said Sir Tristram. It
was indented with white and black, said the damsel. Ah, said Sir
Tristram, that was Sir Palamides the good knight, for well I know him,
said Sir Tristram, for one of the best knights living in this realm.
Then that old knight took a little hackney, and rode for Sir Palamides,
and brought him unto his own manor; and then full well knew Sir
Tristram Sir Palamides, but he said but little, for at that time Sir
Tristram was walking upon his feet, and well amended of his hurts, and
always when Sir Palamides saw Sir Tristram he would behold him full
marvellously. And ever him seemed that he had seen him. Then would he
say to Sir Dinadan, And ever I may meet with Sir Tristram, he shall not
escape my hands. I marvel, said Sir Dinadan, that ye boast behind Sir
Tristram, for it is but late that he was in your hands, and ye in his
hands; why would ye not hold him when ye had him? for I saw myself
twice or thrice that ye gat but little worship of Sir Tristram. Then
was Sir Palamides ashamed. So leave we them a little while in the
castle with the old knight Sir Darras.

Now shall we speak of king Arthur, that said to Sir Launcelot, Had not
ye been, we had not lost Sir Tristram, for he was here daily unto the
time ye met with him, and in an evil time, said Arthur, ye encountered
with him. My lord Arthur, said Launcelot, ye put upon me that I should
be cause of his departure: truly it was against my will. But when men
be hot in deeds of arms, often they hurt their friends as well as their
foes; and my lord, said Sir Launcelot, ye shall understand that Sir
Tristram is a man that I am loth to offend, for he hath done for me
more than ever I did for him as yet. But then Sir Launcelot made to
bring forth a book, and then Sir Launcelot said, Here we are ten
knights that will swear upon a book never to rest one night where we
rest another, this twelvemonth, until that we find Sir Tristram. And as
for me, said Sir Launcelot, I promise you upon this book that and I may
meet with him, either by fairness or foulness I shall bring him to this
court, or else I shall die therefore. And the names of these ten
knights that had undertaken this quest were these following. First was
Sir Launcelot; Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, and Bleoberis,
and Sir Blamor de Ganis, and Lucan the butler, Sir Uwaine, Sir Galihud,
Sir Lionel, and Galiodin. So these ten noble knights departed from the
court of king Arthur; and so they rode upon their quest together until
they came to a cross where departed four highways, and there departed
the fellowship in four, to seek Sir Tristram. And as Sir Launcelot rode
by adventure he met with dame Bragwaine, that was sent into that
country to seek Sir Tristram, and she fled as fast as her palfrey might
go. So Sir Launcelot met with her, and asked her why she fled. Ah, fair
knight, said dame Bragwaine, I flee for dread of my life, for here
followeth me Sir Breuse Sance Pité to slay me. Hold you nigh me, said
Sir Launcelot. Then when Sir Launcelot saw Sir Breuse Sance Pité, Sir
Launcelot cried unto him and said, False knight, destroyer of ladies
and damsels, now thy last days be come. When Sir Breuse Sance Pité saw
Sir Launcelot’s shield he knew it well, for at that time he bare not
the arms of Cornwall, but he bare his own shield. And then Sir Breuse
fled, and Sir Launcelot followed after him. But Sir Breuse was so well
horsed, that when him list to flee he might well flee, and also abide
when him list. And then Sir Launcelot returned unto dame Bragwaine, and
she thanked him of his great labour.


                             CHAP. XXXVII.

_How Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan were taken and put in
  prison._

Now will we speak of Sir Lucan the butler, that by fortune came riding
to the same place there as was Sir Tristram, and in he came in none
other intent but to ask harbour. Then the porter asked what was his
name. Tell your lord that my name is Sir Lucan the butler, a knight of
the Round Table. So the porter went unto Sir Darras, lord of the place,
and told him who was there to ask harbour. Nay, nay, said Sir Daname,
that was nephew unto Sir Darras, say him that he shall not be lodged
here. But let him wit that I Sir Daname will meet with him anon, and
bid him make him ready. So Sir Daname came forth on horseback, and
there they met together with spears, and Sir Lucan smote down Sir
Daname over his horse croup, and then he fled into that place, and Sir
Lucan rode after him, and asked after him many times. Then Sir Dinadan
said to Sir Tristram, It is shame to see the lord’s cousin of this
place defoiled. Abide, said Sir Tristram, and I shall redress it. And
in the mean while Sir Dinadan was on horseback, and he justed with
Lucan the butler, and there Sir Lucan smote Dinadan through the thick
of the thigh, and so he rode his way, and Sir Tristram was wroth that
Sir Dinadan was hurt, and followed after, and thought to avenge him.
And within a mile he overtook Sir Lucan and bade him turn: and so they
met together, so that Sir Tristram hurt Sir Lucan passing sore, and
gave him a fall. With that came Sir Uwaine, a gentle knight, and when
he saw Sir Lucan so hurt, he called Sir Tristram to just with him. Fair
knight, said Sir Tristram, tell me your name I require you. Sir knight,
wit ye well my name is Sir Uwaine le Fise de Roy Ureine. Ah, said Sir
Tristram, by my will I would not have ado with you at no time. Ye shall
not so, said Sir Uwaine, but ye shall have ado with me. And then Sir
Tristram saw none other boot, but rode against him, and overthrew Sir
Uwaine, and hurt him in the side, and so he departed unto his lodging
again. And when Sir Dinadan understood that Sir Tristram had hurt Sir
Lucan, he would have ridden after Sir Lucan to have slain him, but Sir
Tristram would not suffer him.

Then Sir Uwaine let ordain an horse-litter, and brought Sir Lucan to
the abbey of Ganis, and the castle thereby hight the castle of Ganis,
of the which Sir Bleoberis was lord. And at that castle Sir Launcelot
promised all his fellows to meet in the quest of Sir Tristram. So when
Sir Tristram was come to his lodging, there came a damsel that told Sir
Darras that three of his sons were slain at that tournament, and two
grievously wounded that they were never like to help themselves, and
all this was done by a noble knight that bare the black shield, and
that was he that bare the prize. Then came there one and told Sir
Darras that the same knight was within him that bare the black shield.
Then Sir Darras went unto Sir Tristram’s chamber, and there he found
his shield and shewed it to the damsel. Ah, sir, said the damsel, that
same is he that slew your three sons. Then without any tarrying Sir
Darras put Sir Tristram, and Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan within a
strong prison, and there Sir Tristram was like to have died of great
sickness, and every day Sir Palamides would reprove Sir Tristram of old
hate betwixt them. And ever Sir Tristram spake fair and said little.
But when Sir Palamides saw the falling of sickness of Sir Tristram then
was he heavy for him, and comforted him in all the best wise he could.
And, as the French book saith, there came forty knights to Sir Darras
that were of his own kin, and they would have slain Sir Tristram and
his two fellows, but Sir Darras would not suffer that, but kept them in
prison, and meat and drink they had. So Sir Tristram endured there
great pain, for sickness had undertaken him, and that is the greatest
pain a prisoner may have. For all the while a prisoner may have his
health of body, he may endure under the mercy of God, and in hope of
good deliverance; but when sickness toucheth a prisoner’s body, then
may a prisoner say all wealth is him bereft, and then he hath cause to
wail and to weep. And so did Sir Tristram when sickness had undertaken
him, for then he took such sorrow that he had almost slain himself.


                             CHAP. XXXVIII.

_How king Mark was sorry for the good renown of Sir Tristram: some of
  king Arthur’s knights justed with knights of Cornwall._

Now will we speak, and leave Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir
Dinadan in prison, and speak we of other knights that sought after Sir
Tristram many divers parts of this land. And some went into Cornwall,
and by adventure Sir Gaheris, nephew unto king Arthur, came unto king
Mark, and there he was well received, and sat at king Mark’s own table
and eat of his own mess. Then king Mark asked Sir Gaheris what tidings
there were in the realm of Logris. Sir, said Sir Gaheris, the king
reigneth as a noble knight, and now but late there was a great justs
and tournament as ever I saw any in the realm of Logris, and the most
noble knights were at that justs. But there was one knight that did
marvellously three days, and he bare a black shield, and of all knights
that ever I saw he proved the best knight. Then said king Mark, That
was Sir Launcelot, or Sir Palamides the Paynim. Not so, said Sir
Gaheris, for both Sir Launcelot and Sir Palamides were on the contrary
part against the knight with the black shield. Then it was Sir
Tristram, said the king. Yea, said Sir Gaheris. And therewith the king
smote down his head, and in his heart he feared sore that Sir Tristram
should get him such worship in the realm of Logris, where through that
he himself should not be able to withstand him. Thus Sir Gaheris had
great cheer with king Mark, and with queen La Beale Isoud, the which
was glad of Sir Gaheris’ words; for well she wist by his deeds and
manners that it was Sir Tristram. And then the king made a feast royal,
and unto that feast came Sir Uwaine le Fise de Roy Ureine, and some
folk called him Uwaine le Blanche Mains. And this Sir Uwaine challenged
all the knights of Cornwall. Then was the king wood wroth that he had
no knights to answer him. Then Sir Andred, nephew unto king Mark, lept
up and said, I will encounter with Sir Uwaine. Then he went and armed
him, and horsed him in the best manner. And there Sir Uwaine met with
Sir Andred and smote him down, that he swooned on the earth. Then was
king Mark sorry and wroth out of measure that he had no knight to
revenge his nephew Sir Andred. So the king called unto him Sir Dinas
the seneschal, and prayed him for his sake to take upon him to just
with Sir Uwaine. Sir, said Sir Dinas, I am full loth to have ado with
any knight of the Round Table. Yet, said the king, for my love take
upon thee to just. So Sir Dinas made him ready, and anon they
encountered together with great spears, but Sir Dinas was overthrown,
horse and man, a great fall. Who was wroth but king Mark? Alas, he
said, have I no knight that will encounter with yonder knight. Sir,
said Sir Gaheris, for your sake I will just. So Sir Gaheris made him
ready, and when he was armed he rode into the field. And when Sir
Uwaine saw Sir Gaheris’ shield, he rode unto him and said, Sir, ye do
not your part; for, sir, the first time ye were made knight of the
Round Table ye sware that ye should not have ado with your fellowship
wittingly. And pardy Sir Gaheris, ye knew me well enough by my shield,
and so do I know you by your shield, and though ye would break your
oath I would not break mine, for there is not one here, nor ye, that
shall think I am afraid of you, but I durst right well have ado with
you, but we be sisters’ sons. Then was Sir Gaheris ashamed. And so
therewithal every knight went his way, and Sir Uwaine rode into the
country. Then king Mark armed him and took his horse and his spear,
with a squire with him. And then he rode afore Sir Uwaine, and suddenly
at a gap he ran upon him as he that was not ware of him, and there he
smote him almost through the body, and there left him. So within a
while there came Sir Kay, and found Sir Uwaine, and asked him how he
was hurt. I wot not, said Sir Uwaine, why, nor wherefore, but by
treason I am sure I gat this hurt, for here came a knight suddenly upon
me or that I was ware, and suddenly hurt me. Then there was come Sir
Andred to seek king Mark. Thou traitor knight, said Sir Kay, and I wist
it were thou that thus traitourly hast hurt this noble knight, thou
shouldst never pass my hands. Sir, said Sir Andred, I did never hurt
him, and that I will report me to himself. Fie on you, false knights,
said Sir Kay, for ye of Cornwall are nought worth. So Sir Kay made
carry Sir Uwaine to the abbey of the black cross, and there he was
healed. And then Sir Gaheris took his leave of king Mark. But or he
departed he said, Sir king, ye did a foul shame unto you and your court
when ye banished Sir Tristram out of this country, for ye needed not to
have doubted no knight and he had been here. And so he departed.


                              CHAP. XXXIX.

_Of the treason of king Mark, and how Sir Gaheris, smote him down and
  Andred his cousin._

Then there came Sir Kay the seneschal unto king Mark, and there he had
good cheer shewing outward. Now fair lords, said he, will ye prove any
adventures in the forest of Morris, in the which I know well is as hard
an adventure as I know any. Sir, said Sir Kay, I will prove it. And Sir
Gaheris said he would be advised, for king Mark was ever full of
treason. And therewithal Sir Gaheris departed and rode his way. And by
the same way that Sir Kay should ride he laid him down to rest,
charging his squire to wait upon Sir Kay,—and warn me when he cometh.
So within a while Sir Kay came riding that way. And then Sir Gaheris
took his horse and met him, and said, Sir Kay, ye are not wise to ride
at the request of king Mark, for he dealeth all with treason. Then said
Sir Kay, I require you let us prove this adventure. I shall not fail
you, said Sir Gaheris. And so they rode that time till a lake that was
that time called the perilous lake, and there they abode under the
shawe of the wood. The mean while king Mark within the castle of
Tintagil avoided all his barons, and all other save such as were privy
with him were all avoided out of his chamber. And then he let call his
nephew Sir Andred, and bad arm him and horse him lightly, and by that
time it was midnight. And so king Mark was armed in black, horse and
all. And so at a privy postern they two issued out with their varlets
with them, and rode till they came to that lake. Then Sir Kay espied
them first, and gat his spear, and proffered to just. And king Mark
rode against him, and smote each other full hard, for the moon shone as
the bright day. And there at that justs Sir Kay’s horse fell down, for
his horse was not so big as the king’s horse was, and Sir Kay’s horse
bruised him full sore. Then Sir Gaheris was wroth that Sir Kay had a
fall. Then he cried, Knight, sit thou fast in thy saddle, for I will
revenge my fellow. Then king Mark was afeard of Sir Gaheris, and so
with evil will king Mark rode against him: and Sir Gaheris gave him
such a stroke that he fell down. So then forthwithal Sir Gaheris ran
unto Sir Andred, and smote him from his horse quite that his helm smote
in the earth and nigh had broken his neck. And therewith Sir Gaheris
alight, and gat up Sir Kay. And then they went both on foot to them,
and bad them yield them and tell their names, or else they should die.
Then with great pain Sir Andred spake first and said, It is king Mark
of Cornwall, therefore beware what ye do, and I am Sir Andred his
cousin. Fie on you both, said Sir Gaheris, for a false traitor, and
false treason hast thou wrought and he both, under the feigned cheer
that ye made us. It were pity, said Sir Gaheris, that thou shouldst
live any longer. Save my life, said king Mark, and I will make amends;
and consider that I am a king anointed. It were the more shame, said
Sir Gaheris, to save thy life; thou art a king anointed with crism, and
therefore thou shouldest hold with all men of worship; and therefore
thou art worthy to die. With that he lashed at king Mark without saying
any more; and he covered him with his shield, and defended him as he
might. And then Sir Kay lashed at Sir Andred. And therewithal king Mark
yielded him unto Sir Gaheris, and then he kneeled down, and made his
oath upon the cross of the sword that never while he lived he would be
against errant knights. And also he sware to be good friend unto Sir
Tristram, if ever he came into Cornwall. By then Sir Andred was on the
earth, and Sir Kay would have slain him. Let be, said Sir Gaheris, slay
him not I pray you. It were pity, said Sir Kay, that he should live any
longer, for this is nigh cousin unto Sir Tristram, and ever he hath
been a traitor unto him, and by him he was exiled out of Cornwall, and
therefore I will slay him, said Sir Kay. Ye shall not, said Sir
Gaheris; sithen I have given the king his life, I pray you give him his
life. And therewithal Sir Kay let him go. And so Sir Kay and Sir
Gaheris rode forth their way unto Dinas the seneschal, for because they
heard say that he loved well Sir Tristram. So they reposed them there.
And soon after they rode unto the realm of Logris. And so within a
little while they met with Sir Launcelot, that had always dame
Bragwaine with him, to that intent he wend to have met sooner with Sir
Tristram, and Sir Launcelot asked what tidings in Cornwall, and whether
they heard of Sir Tristram or not. Sir Kay and Sir Gaheris answered and
said that they heard not of him. Then they told Sir Launcelot word by
word of their adventure. Then Sir Launcelot smiled, and said, Hard it
is to take out of the flesh that is bred in the bone. And so made them
merry together.


                               CHAP. XL.

_How after that Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, and Sir Dinadan had been
  long in prison they were delivered._

Now leave we off this tale and speak we of Sir Dinas that loved a lady
within the castle, and she loved another knight better than him. And so
when Sir Dinas went out on hunting she slipped down by a towel, and
took with her two brachets, and so she went to the knight that she
loved. And when Sir Dinas came home and missed his lady, and his
brachets, then was he more wroth for his brachets than for the lady. So
then he rode after the knight that had his lady, and bad him turn and
just. So Sir Dinas smote him down, that with the fall he brake his leg
and his arm. And then his lady cried Sir Dinas mercy, and said she
would love him better than ever she did. Nay, said Sir Dinas, I shall
never trust them that once betrayed me, and therefore as ye have begun
so end, for I will never meddle with you. And so Sir Dinas departed and
took his brachets with him, and so rode to his castle.

Now will we turn unto Sir Launcelot, that was right heavy that he could
never hear no tidings of Sir Tristram, for all this while he was in
prison with Sir Darras, Palamides, and Dinadan. Then dame Bragwaine
took her leave to go into Cornwall, and Sir Launcelot, Sir Kay, and Sir
Gaheris rode to seek Sir Tristram in the country of Surluse. Now
speaketh this tale of Sir Tristram and of his two fellows, for every
day Sir Palamides brawled and said language against Sir Tristram. I
marvel, said Sir Dinadan, of thee Sir Palamides: and thou hadst Sir
Tristram here thou wouldst do him no harm; for and a wolf and a sheep
were together in prison, the wolf would suffer the sheep to be in
peace. And wit thou well, said Sir Dinadan, this same is Sir Tristram
at a word, and now mayest thou do thy best with him, and let see now
how ye can shift it with your hands. Then was Sir Palamides abashed and
said little. Sir Palamides, said Sir Tristram, I have heard much of
your ill-will against me, but I will not meddle with you as at this
time by my will, because I dread the lord of this place that hath us in
governance, for and I dread him more than I do thee, soon should it be
shift. So they appeased themselves. Right so came in a damsel and said,
Knights, be of good cheer, for ye are sure of your lives, and that I
heard say my lord Sir Darras. Then were they glad all three, for daily
they wend they should have died. Then soon after this Sir Tristram fell
sick, that he wend to have died. Then Sir Dinadan wept, and so did Sir
Palamides under them both making great sorrow. So a damsel came into
them, and found them mourning. Then she went to Sir Darras and told him
how that mighty knight that bare the black shield was likely to die.
That shall not be, said Sir Darras, for God defend when any knights
come to me for succour that I should suffer them to die within my
prison. Therefore, said Sir Darras to the damsel, fetch that knight and
his fellows afore me. And then anon when Sir Darras saw Sir Tristram
afore him, he said, Sir knight, me repenteth of thy sickness, for thou
art called a full noble knight, and so it seemeth by thee. And wit ye
well, it shall never be said that Sir Darras shall destroy such a noble
knight as thou art in prison, howbeit that thou hast slain three of my
sons, whereby I was greatly agrieved. But now shalt thou go and thy
fellows, and your harness and horses have been fair and clean kept, and
ye shall go where it liketh you, upon this covenant, that thou, knight,
will promise me to be good friend to my sons two that be now on live,
and also that thou tell me thy name. Sir, said he, as for me, my name
is Sir Tristram de Liones, and in Cornwall was I born, and nephew I am
unto king Mark. And as for the death of your sons, I might not do
withal, for and they had been the next kin that I have, I might have
done none otherwise. And if I had slain them by treason or treachery, I
had been worthy to have died. All this I consider, said Sir Darras,
that all that ye did was by force of knighthood, and that was the cause
I would not put you to death. But since ye be Sir Tristram the good
knight, I pray you heartily to be my good friend and to my sons. Sir,
said Sir Tristram, I promise you by the faith of my body ever while I
live I will do you service, for ye have done to us but as a natural
knight ought to do. Then Sir Tristram reposed him there till that he
was amended of his sickness. And when he was big and strong they took
their leave, and every knight took their horses and so departed, and
rode together till they came to a cross way. Now fellows, said Sir
Tristram, here will we depart in sundry ways. And because Sir Dinadan
had the first adventure, of him I will begin.


                               CHAP. XLI.

_How Sir Dinadan rescued a lady from Sir Breuse Sance Pité, and how Sir
  Tristram received a shield of Morgan le Fay._

So as Sir Dinadan rode by a well, he found a lady making great dole.
What aileth you? said Sir Dinadan. Sir knight, said the lady, I am the
wofullest lady of the world, for within these five days here came a
knight called Sir Breuse Sance Pité, and he slew mine own brother, and
ever since he hath kept me at his own will, and of all men in the world
I hate him most. And therefore I require you of knighthood to avenge
me, for he will not tarry but be here anon. Let him come, said Sir
Dinadan, and because of honour of all women I will do my part. With
this came Sir Breuse, and when he saw a knight with his lady, he was
wood wroth. And then he said, Sir knight, keep thee from me. So they
hurled together as thunder, and either smote other passing sore. But
Sir Dinadan put him through the shoulder a grievous wound, and or ever
Sir Dinadan might turn him, Sir Breuse was gone and fled. Then the lady
prayed him to bring her to a castle there beside but four mile thence.
And so Sir Dinadan brought her there, and she was welcome, for the lord
of that castle was her uncle. And so Sir Dinadan rode his way upon his
adventure.

Now turn we this tale unto Sir Tristram, that by adventure he came to a
castle to ask lodging, wherein was queen Morgan le Fay. And so when Sir
Tristram was let into that castle he had good cheer all that night. And
upon the morn when he would have departed, the queen said, Wit ye well
ye shall not depart lightly, for ye are here as a prisoner. God defend,
said Sir Tristram, for I was but late a prisoner. Fair knight, said the
queen, ye shall abide with me till that I wit what ye are, and from
whence ye come. And ever the queen would set Sir Tristram on her side,
and her paramour on the other side, and ever queen Morgan would behold
Sir Tristram, and thereat the knight was jealous, and was in will
suddenly to have run upon Sir Tristram with a sword, but he left it for
shame. Then the queen said to Sir Tristram, Tell me thy name, and I
shall suffer you to depart when you will. Upon that covenant I tell you
my name is Sir Tristram de Liones. Ah, said Morgan le Fay, and I had
wist that thou shouldst not have departed so soon as thou shalt: but
sithen I have made a promise I will hold it, with that thou wilt
promise me to bear upon thee a shield that I shall deliver thee, unto
the castle of the Hard Rock, where king Arthur hath cried a great
tournament, and there I pray you that ye will be, and to do for me as
much deeds of arms as ye may do. For at that Castle of Maidens, Sir
Tristram, ye did marvellous deeds of arms as ever I heard knight do.
Madam, said Sir Tristram, let me see the shield that I shall bear. So
the shield was brought forth, and the shield was goldish, with a king
and a queen therein painted, and a knight standing above them, with one
foot upon the king’s head, and the other upon the queen’s. Madam, said
Sir Tristram, this is a fair shield and a mighty; but what signifieth
this king and this queen and that knight standing upon both their
heads. I shall tell you, said Morgan le Fay, it signifieth king Arthur
and queen Guenever, and a knight that holdeth them both in bondage and
servage. Who is that knight? said Sir Tristram. That shall ye not wit
as at this time, said the queen. But, as the French book saith, queen
Morgan loved Sir Launcelot best, and ever she desired him, and he would
never love her, nor do nothing at her request, and therefore she held
many knights together for to have taken him by strength. And because
she deemed that Sir Launcelot loved queen Guenever, and she him again,
therefore queen Morgan le Fay ordained that shield to put Sir Launcelot
to a rebuke, to that intent that king Arthur might understand the love
between them. Then Sir Tristram took that shield and promised her to
bear it at the tournament at the castle of the Hard Rock. But Sir
Tristram knew not that shield was ordained against Sir Launcelot, but
afterward he knew it.


                              CHAP. XLII.

_How Sir Tristram took with him the shield, and also how he slew the
  paramour of Morgan le Fay._

So then Sir Tristram took his leave of the queen, and took the shield
with him. Then came the knight that held queen Morgan le Fay, his name
was Sir Hemison, and he made him ready to follow Sir Tristram. Fair
friend, said Morgan, ride not after that knight, for ye shall win no
worship of him. Fie on him, coward, said Sir Hemison, for I wist never
good knight come out of Cornwall, but if it were Sir Tristram de
Liones. What and that be he, said she. Nay, nay, said he, he is with La
Beale Isoud, and this is but a daffish knight. Alas my fair friend, ye
shall find him the best knight that ever ye met withal, for I know him
better than ye do. For your sake, said Sir Hemison, I shall slay him.
Ah, fair friend, said the queen, me repenteth that ye will follow that
knight, for I fear me sore of your again coming. With this, this knight
rode his way wood wroth, and he rode after Sir Tristram as fast as he
had been chased with knights. When Sir Tristram heard a knight come
after him so fast, he returned about, and saw a knight coming against
him. And when he came nigh to Sir Tristram, he cried on high, Sir
knight, keep thee from me. Then they rushed together as it had been
thunder, and Sir Hemison bruised his spear upon Sir Tristram, but his
harness was so good that he might not hurt him. And Sir Tristram smote
him harder, and bare him through the body, and he fell over his horse
croup. Then Sir Tristram turned to have done more with his sword, but
he saw so much blood go from him, that him seemed he was likely to die;
and so he departed from him and came to a fair manor to an old knight,
and there Sir Tristram lodged.


                              CHAP. XLIII.

_How Morgan le Fay buried her paramour, and how Sir Tristram praised
  Sir Launcelot and his kin._

Now leave we to speak of Sir Tristram, and speak we of the knight that
was wounded to the death. Then his varlet alight, and took off his
helm; and then he asked his master whether there were any life in him.
There is in me life, said the knight, but it is but little, and
therefore leap thou up behind me, when thou hast holpen me up; and hold
me fast that I fall not, and bring me to queen Morgan le Fay, for deep
draughts of death draw to my heart, that I may not live, for I would
fain speak with her or I died. For else my soul will be in great peril
and I die. And with great pain his varlet brought him to the castle,
and there Sir Hemison fell down dead. When Morgan le Fay saw him dead,
she made great sorrow out of reason. And then she let despoil him unto
his shirt, and so she let him put into a tomb. And about the tomb she
let write: Here lieth Sir Hemison, slain by the hands of Sir Tristram
de Liones. Now turn we unto Sir Tristram, that asked the knight, his
host, if he saw late any knights adventurous. Sir, he said, the last
night here lodged with me Sir Ector de Maris and a damsel with him, and
that damsel told me that he was one of the best knights of the world.
That is not so, said Sir Tristram, for I know four better knights of
his own blood; and the first is Sir Launcelot du Lake, call him the
best knight; and Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Blamor de Ganis,
and Sir Gaheris. Nay, said his host, Sir Gawaine is a better knight
than he. That is not so, said Sir Tristram, for I have met with them
both, and I felt Sir Gaheris for the better knight; and Sir Lamorak, I
call him as good as any of them, except Sir Launcelot. Why name ye not
Sir Tristram, said his host, for I account him as good as any of them.
I know not Sir Tristram, said Tristram. Thus they talked and jested as
long as them list, and then went to rest. And on the morn Sir Tristram
departed and took his leave of his host, and rode towards the
Roche-dure, and none adventure had Sir Tristram but that, and so he
rested not till he came to the castle, where he saw five hundred tents.


                              CHAP. XLIV.

_How Sir Tristram at a tournament bare the shield that Morgan le Fay
  had delivered him._

Then the king of Scots and the king of Ireland held against king
Arthur’s knights, and there began a great meddle. So came in Sir
Tristram and did marvellous deeds of arms, for there he smote down many
knights. And ever he was afore king Arthur with that shield. And when
king Arthur saw that shield, he marvelled greatly in what intent it was
made. But queen Guenever deemed as it was, wherefore she was heavy.
Then was there a damsel of queen Morgan in a chamber by king Arthur,
and when she heard king Arthur speak of that shield, then she spake
openly unto king Arthur, Sir king, wit ye well this shield was ordained
for you, to warn you of your shame and dishonour, and that longeth to
you and to your queen. And then anon the damsel piked her away privily,
that no man wist where she was become. Then was king Arthur sad and
wroth, and asked from whence came that damsel. There was not one that
knew her, nor wist where she was become. Then queen Guenever called to
her Sir Ector de Maris, and there she made her complaint to him, and
said, I wot well this shield was made by Morgan le Fay, in despite of
me and Sir Launcelot, wherefore I dread sore lest I should be
destroyed. And ever the king beheld Sir Tristram that did so marvellous
deeds of arms, that he wondered sore what knight he might be, and well
he wist it was not Sir Launcelot. And it was told him that Sir Tristram
was in Petit Britain with Isoud la Blanche Mains, for he deemed, and he
had been in the realm of Logris, Sir Launcelot or some of his fellows
that were in the quest of Sir Tristram, that they should have found him
or that time. So king Arthur had marvel what knight he might be. And
ever Sir Arthur’s eye was on that shield. All that espied the queen,
and that made her sore afeard. Then ever Sir Tristram smote down
knights, wonderly to behold, what upon the right hand and upon the left
hand, that unneth no knight might withstand him. And the king of Scots
and the king of Ireland began to withdraw them. When Arthur espied
that, he thought that that knight with the strange shield should not
escape him. Then he called unto him Sir Uwaine la Blanche Mains, and
bade him arm him and make him ready. So anon king Arthur and Sir Uwaine
dressed them before Sir Tristram, and required him to tell them where
he had that shield. Sir, he said, I had it of queen Morgan le Fay,
sister unto king Arthur.

Soo here endeth this history of this book, for it is the firste book of
  sire Tristram de lyones, and the second book of sir tristram foloweth.

Here begynneth the second book of sire Tristram. Howe syre Tristram
  smote doune kyng Arthur and sir Uwayne, by cause he wold not telle
  hem wherfor that shelde was made. But to say the sothe sire Tristram
  coude not telle the cause, for he knewe it not.




                            The Tenth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Tristram justed and smote down king Arthur, because he told
  him not the cause why he bare that shield._

And if so be ye can describe what ye bear, ye are worthy to bear the
arms. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I will answer you. This shield
was given me, not desired, of queen Morgan le Fay. And as for me, I
cannot describe these arms, for it is no point of my charge, and yet I
trust to bear them with worship. Truly, said king Arthur, ye ought to
bear none arms but if ye wist what ye bear. But I pray you tell me your
name. To what intent? said Sir Tristram. For I would wit, said king
Arthur. Sir, ye shall not wit as at this time. Then shall ye and I do
battle together, said king Arthur. Why, said Sir Tristram, will ye do
battle with me but if I tell you my name? and that little needeth you
and ye were a man of worship, for ye have seen me this day have had
great travail; and therefore ye are a villainous knight to ask battle
of me, considering my great travail, howbeit I will not fail you, and
have ye no doubt that I fear not you; though ye think ye have me at a
great advantage, yet shall I right well endure you. And therewithal
king Arthur dressed his shield and his spear, and Sir Tristram against
him, and they came so eagerly together. And there king Arthur brake his
spear all to pieces upon Sir Tristram’s shield. But Sir Tristram hit
king Arthur again, that horse and man fell to the earth. And there was
king Arthur wounded on the left side a great wound and a perilous. Then
when Sir Uwaine saw his lord Arthur lie on the ground sore wounded he
was passing heavy. And then he dressed his shield and spear, and cried
aloud unto Sir Tristram, and said, Knight, defend thee. So they came
together as thunder, and Sir Uwaine brake his spear all to pieces upon
Sir Tristram’s shield. And Sir Tristram smote him harder and sorer,
with such a might that he bare him clean out of his saddle to the
earth. With that Sir Tristram turned about and said, Fair knights, I
had no need to just with you, for I have had enough to do this day.
Then arose Arthur and went to Sir Uwaine, and said to Sir Tristram, We
have as we have deserved, for through our pride we demanded battle of
you, and yet we knew not your name. Nevertheless, said Sir Uwaine, by
saint cross he is a strong knight at mine advice as any is now living.

Then Sir Tristram departed, and in every place he asked and demanded
after Sir Launcelot, but in no place he could not hear of him whether
he were dead or on live, wherefore Sir Tristram made great dole and
sorrow. So Sir Tristram rode by a forest, and then was he ware of a
fair tower by a marsh on that one side, and on that other side a fair
meadow. And there he saw ten knights fighting together. And ever the
nearer he came he saw how there was but one knight did battle against
nine knights, and that one knight did so marvellously that Sir Tristram
had great wonder that ever one knight might do so great deeds of arms.
And then within a little while he had slain half their horses and
unhorsed them, and their horses ran in the fields and forest. Then Sir
Tristram had so great pity upon that one knight that endured so great
pain, and ever he thought it should be Sir Palamides by his shield. And
so he rode unto the knights and cried unto them, and bad them cease of
their battle, for they did themselves great shame, so many knights to
fight with one. Then answered the master of those knights, his name was
called Breuse Sance Pité, that was at that time the most mischievousest
knight living, and said thus: Sir knight, what have ye ado with us to
meddle; and therefore and ye be wise depart on your way as ye came, for
this knight shall not escape us. That were pity, said Sir Tristram,
that so good a knight as he is should be slain so cowardly. And
therefore I warn you I will succour him with all my puissance.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Sir Tristram saved Sir Palamides’ life, and how they promised to
  fight together within a fortnight._

So Sir Tristram alight off his horse because they were on foot, that
they should not slay his horse, and then dressed his shield with his
sword in his hand: and he smote on the right hand and on the left hand
passing sore, that well nigh at every stroke he strake down a knight.
And when they espied his strokes they fled all with Breuse Sance Pité
unto the tower; and Sir Tristram followed fast after with his sword in
his hand. But they escaped into the tower and shut Sir Tristram without
the gate. And when Sir Tristram saw this he returned back unto Sir
Palamides, and found him sitting under a tree sore wounded. Ah, fair
knight, said Sir Tristram, well be ye found. Gramercy, said Sir
Palamides, of your great goodness, for ye have rescued me of my life,
and saved me from my death. What is your name? said Sir Tristram. He
said, my name is Sir Palamides. Oh, said Sir Tristram, thou hast a fair
grace of me this day that I should rescue thee, and thou art the man in
the world that I most hate. But now make thee ready, for I will do
battle with thee. What is your name? said Sir Palamides. My name is Sir
Tristram, your mortal enemy. It may be so, said Sir Palamides, but ye
have done overmuch for me this day that I should fight with you, for
inasmuch as ye have saved my life, it will be no worship for you to
have ado with me, for ye are fresh, and I am wounded sore. And
therefore and ye will needs have ado with me, assign me a day, and then
I shall meet with you without fail. Ye say well, said Sir Tristram.
Now, I assign you to meet me in the meadow by the river of Camelot,
where Merlin set the peron. So they were agreed. Then Sir Tristram
asked Sir Palamides why the ten knights did battle with him. For this
cause, said Sir Palamides, as I rode on mine adventures in a forest
here beside, I espied where lay a dead knight, and a lady weeping
beside him. And when I saw her making such dole, I asked her who slew
her lord? Sir, she said, the falsest knight of the world now living:
and he is the most villain that ever man heard speak of, and his name
is Sir Breuse Sance Pité. Then for pity I made the damsel to leap on
her palfrey, and I promised her to be her warrant, and to help her to
inter her lord. And so, suddenly, as I came riding by this tower, there
came out Sir Breuse Sance Pité, and suddenly he strake me from my
horse. And then or I might recover my horse, this Sir Breuse slew the
damsel. And so I took my horse again, and I was sore ashamed, and so
began the meddle betwixt us. And this is the cause wherefore we did
this battle. Well, said Sir Tristram, now I understand the manner of
your battle. But in any wise have remembrance of your promise that ye
have made with me to do battle with me this day fortnight. I shall not
fail you, said Sir Palamides. Well, said Sir Tristram, as at this time
I will not fail you till that ye be out of the danger of your enemies.
So they mounted upon their horses, and rode together unto that forest,
and there they found a fair well, with clear water burbling. Fair sir,
said Sir Tristram, to drink of that water have I courage. And then they
alight off their horses. And then were they ware by them where stood a
great horse tied to a tree, and ever he neighed. And then were they
ware of a fair knight armed under a tree, lacking no piece of harness,
save his helm lay under his head. Truly, said Sir Tristram, yonder
lieth a wellfaring knight, what is best to do? Awake him, said Sir
Palamides. So Sir Tristram wakened him with the butt of his spear. And
so the knight arose up hastily, and put his helm upon his head, and gat
a great spear in his hand, and without any more words he hurled unto
Sir Tristram, and smote him clean from his saddle to the earth, and
hurt him on the left side, that Sir Tristram lay in great peril. Then
he galloped farther, and fet his course, and came hurling upon Sir
Palamides, and there he strake him a part through the body, that he
fell from his horse to the earth. And then this strange knight left
them there, and took his way through the forest. With this Sir
Palamides and Sir Tristram were on foot, and gat their horses again,
and either asked counsel of other what was best to do. By my head, said
Sir Tristram, I will follow this strong knight that thus hath shamed
us. Well, said Sir Palamides, and I will repose me hereby with a friend
of mine. Beware, said Sir Tristram unto Palamides, that ye fail not
that day that ye have set with me to do battle, for, as I deem, ye will
not hold your day, for I am much bigger than ye. As for that, said Sir
Palamides, be it as it be may, for I fear you not: for and I be not
sick nor prisoner I will not fail you. But I have cause for to have
more doubt of you that ye will not meet with me, for ye ride after
yonder strong knight, and if ye meet with him it is an hard adventure
and ever ye escape his hands. Right so Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides
departed, and either took their ways diverse.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Tristram sought a strong knight that had smitten him down, and
  many other knights of the Round Table._

So Sir Tristram rode long after this strong knight. And at the last he
saw where lay a lady overthwart a dead knight. Fair lady, said Sir
Tristram, who hath slain your lord? Sir, said she, there came a knight
riding as my lord and I rested us here, and asked him of whence he was,
and my lord said of Arthur’s court. Therefore, said the strong knight,
I will just with thee, for I hate all these that be of Arthur’s court.
And my lord that lieth here dead mounted upon his horse, and the strong
knight and my lord encountered together, and there he smote my lord
through out with his spear. And thus he hath brought me in great woe
and damage. That me repenteth, said Sir Tristram, of your great anger;
and it please you tell me your husband’s name? Sir, said she, his name
was Galardoun, that would have proved a good knight. So departed Sir
Tristram from that dolorous lady, and had much evil lodging. Then on
the third day Sir Tristram met with Sir Gawaine and with Sir Bleoberis
in a forest at a lodge: and either were sore wounded. Then Sir Tristram
asked Sir Gawaine and Sir Bleoberis if they met with such a knight,
with such a cognisance, with a covered shield. Fair sir, said these
knights, such a knight met with us to our great damage. And first he
smote down my fellow Sir Bleoberis, and sore wounded him because he bad
me I should not have ado with him, for why, he was over strong for me.
That strong knight took his words at scorn, and said he said it for
mockery. And then they rode together, and so he hurt my fellow. And
when he had done so, I might not for shame but I must just with him.
And at the first course, he smote me down and my horse to the earth.
And there he had almost slain me, and from us he took his horse and
departed, and in an evil time we met with him. Fair knights, said Sir
Tristram, so he met with me and with another knight that hight
Palamides, and he smote us both down with one spear, and hurt us right
sore. By my faith, said Sir Gawaine, by my counsel ye shall let him
pass and seek him no farther, for at the next feast of the Round Table
upon pain of my head ye shall find him there. By my faith, said Sir
Tristram, I shall never rest till that I find him. And then Sir Gawaine
asked him his name. Then he said, My name is Sir Tristram. And so
either told other their names. And then departed Sir Tristram, and rode
his way. And by fortune in a meadow Sir Tristram met with Sir Kay the
seneschal and Sir Dinadan. What tidings with you, said Sir
Tristram,—with you knights? Not good, said these knights. Why so? said
Sir Tristram, I pray you tell me, for I ride to seek a knight. What
cognisance beareth he? said Sir Kay. He beareth, said Sir Tristram, a
covered shield close with a cloth. By my head, said Sir Kay, that is
the same knight that met with us, for this night we were lodged within
a widow’s house, and there was that knight lodged. And when he wist we
were of Arthur’s court, he spake great villainy by the king, and
specially by the queen Guenever. And then on the morrow we waged battle
with him for that cause. And at the first recounter, said Sir Kay, he
smote me down from my horse, and hurt me passing sore. And when my
fellow Sir Dinadan saw me smitten down and hurt, he would not revenge
me, but fled from me. And thus is he departed. And then Sir Tristram
required them to tell him their names, and so either told other their
names. And so Sir Tristram departed from Sir Kay and from Sir Dinadan,
and so he passed through a great forest into a plain, till he was ware
of a priory, and there he reposed him with a good man six days.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and Sir Dodinas
  le Savage._

And then he sent his man that hight Gouvernail, and commanded him to go
to a city there by to fetch him new harness; for it was long time afore
that that Sir Tristram had been refreshed; his harness was bruised and
broken. And when Gouvernail his servant was come with his apparel, he
took his leave at the widow, and mounted upon his horse, and rode his
way early on the morn. And, by sudden adventure Sir Tristram met with
Sir Sagramor le Desirous, and with Sir Dodinas le Savage. And these two
knights met with Sir Tristram and questioned with him, and asked him if
he would just with them. Fair knights, said Sir Tristram, with a good
will I would just with you, but I have promised at a day set near hand
to do battle with a strong knight. And therefore I am loth to have ado
with you, for and it misfortuned me here to be hurt, I should not be
able to do my battle which I promised. As for that, said Sir Sagramor,
maugre your head ye shall just with us or ye pass from us. Well, said
Sir Tristram, if ye enforce me thereto, I must do what I may. And then
they dressed their shields, and came running together with great ire.
But through Sir Tristram’s great force, he strake Sir Sagramor from his
horse. Then he hurled his horse farther, and said to Sir Dodinas,
Knight, make thee ready. And so through fine force Sir Tristram strake
Dodinas from his horse. And when he saw them lie on the earth he took
his bridle, and rode forth on his way, and his man Gouvernail with him.
Anon as Sir Tristram was past, Sir Sagramor and Sir Dodinas gat again
their horses, and mounted up lightly, and followed after Sir Tristram.
And when Sir Tristram saw them come so fast after him, he returned with
his horse to them, and asked them what they would. It is not long ago
since I smote you down to the earth at your own request and desire: I
would have ridden by you but ye would not suffer me, and now me seemeth
ye would do more battle with me. That is truth, said Sir Sagramor and
Sir Dodinas, for we will be revenged of the despite that ye have done
to us. Fair knights, said Sir Tristram, that shall little need you, for
all that I did to you ye caused it, wherefore I require you of your
knighthood leave me as at this time, for I am sure and I do battle with
you I shall not escape without great hurts, and as I suppose ye shall
not escape all lotless. And this is the cause why I am so loth to have
ado with you. For I must fight within these three days with a good
knight and as valiant as any is now living, and if I be hurt I shall
not be able to do battle with him. What knight is that, said Sir
Sagramor, that ye shall fight withal? Sir, said he, it is a good knight
called Sir Palamides. By my head, said Sir Sagramor and Sir Dodinas, ye
have cause to dread him, for ye shall find him a passing good knight
and a valiant. And because ye shall have ado with him we will forbear
you as at this time, and else ye should not escape us lightly. But fair
knight, said Sir Sagramor, tell us your name. Sir, said he, my name is
Sir Tristram de Liones. Ah, said Sagramor and Sir Dodinas, well be ye
found, for much worship have we heard of you. And then either took
leave of other, and departed on their way.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Sir Tristram met at the peron with Sir Launcelot, and how they
  fought together unknown._

Then departed Sir Tristram and rode straight unto Camelot, to the peron
that Merlin had made tofore, where Sir Lanceor, that was the king’s son
of Ireland, was slain by the hands of Balin. And in that same place was
the fair lady Columbe slain, that was love unto Sir Lanceor, for after
he was dead she took his sword and thrust it through her body. And by
the craft of Merlin he made to inter this knight Sir Lanceor and his
lady Columbe under one stone. And at that time Merlin prophesied that
in that same place should fight two the best knights that ever were in
Arthur’s days, and the best lovers. So when Sir Tristram came to the
tomb where Lanceor and his lady were buried, he looked about him after
Sir Palamides. Then was he ware of a seemly knight came riding against
him all in white, with a covered shield. When he came nigh Sir
Tristram, he said on high, Ye be welcome, Sir knight, and well and
truly have ye holden your promise. And then they dressed their shields
and spears, and came together with all their mights of their horses.
And they met so fiercely that both their horses and knights fell to the
earth. And as fast as they might they avoided their horses, and put
their shields before them, and they strake together with bright swords,
as men that were of might, and either wounded other wonderly sore, that
the blood ran out upon the grass. And thus they two fought the space of
four hours, that never one would speak to other one word, and of their
harness they had hewn off many pieces. Oh, said Gouvernail, I have
marvel greatly of the strokes my master hath given to your master. By
my head, said Sir Launcelot’s servant, your master hath not given so
many but your master hath received as many or more. Oh, said
Gouvernail, it is too much for Sir Palamides to suffer, or Sir
Launcelot, and yet pity it were that either of these good knights
should destroy other’s blood. So they stood and wept both, and made
great dole when they saw the bright swords over covered with blood of
their bodies. Then at the last spake Sir Launcelot and said: Knight,
thou fightest wonderly well as ever I saw knight, therefore and it
please you tell me your name. Sir, said Sir Tristram, that is me loth
to tell any man my name. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, and I were
required, I was never loth to tell my name. It is well said, quoth Sir
Tristram, then I require you to tell me your name. Fair knight, he
said, my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Alas, said Sir Tristram, what
have I done, for ye are the man in the world that I love best. Fair
knight, said Sir Launcelot, tell me your name. Truly, said he, my name
is Sir Tristram de Liones. Oh, said Sir Launcelot, what adventure is
befallen me! And therewith Sir Launcelot kneeled down and yielded him
up his sword. And therewithal Sir Tristram kneeled adown, and yielded
him up his sword. And so either gave other the degree. And then they
both forthwithal went to the stone, and set them down upon it, and took
off their helms to cool them, and either kissed other an hundred times.
And then anon after they took their helms and rode to Camelot. And
there they met with Sir Gawaine and with Sir Gaheris that had made
promise to Arthur never to come again to the court till they had
brought Sir Tristram with them.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Launcelot brought Sir Tristram to the court, and of the great
  joy that the king and other made for the coming of Sir Tristram._

Return again, said Sir Launcelot, for your quest is done, for I have
met with Sir Tristram: lo here is his own person. Then was Sir Gawaine
glad, and said to Sir Tristram, Ye are welcome, for now have ye eased
me greatly of my labour. For what cause, said Sir Gawaine, came ye into
this court? Fair sir, said Sir Tristram, I came into this country
because of Sir Palamides, for he and I had assigned at this day to have
done battle together at the peron, and I marvel I hear not of him. And
thus by adventure my lord Sir Launcelot and I met together. With this
came king Arthur. And when he wist that there was Sir Tristram, then he
ran unto him and took him by the hand and said, Sir Tristram, ye be as
welcome as any knight that ever came to this court. And when the king
had heard how Sir Launcelot and he had foughten, and either had wounded
other wonderly sore, then the king made great dole. Then Sir Tristram
told the king how he came thither for to have had ado with Sir
Palamides. And then he told the king how he had rescued him from the
nine knights and Breuse Sance Pité, and how he found a knight lying by
a well, and that knight smote down Sir Palamides and me, but his shield
was covered with a cloth. So Sir Palamides left me, and I followed
after that knight. And in many places I found where he had slain
knights, and forjusted many. By my head, said Sir Gawaine, that same
knight smote me down and Sir Bleoberis, and hurt us sore both, he with
the covered shield. Ah, said Sir Kay, that knight smote me adown and
hurt me passing sore, and fain would I have known him, but I might not.
Mercy, said Arthur, what knight was that with the covered shield? I
know not, said Sir Tristram; and so said they all. Now, said king
Arthur, then wot I, for it is Sir Launcelot. Then they all looked upon
Sir Launcelot and said, Ye have beguiled us with your covered shield.
It is not the first time, said Arthur, he hath done so. My lord, said
Sir Launcelot, truly wit ye well I was the same knight that bare the
covered shield. And because I would not be known that I was of your
court I said no worship of your house. That is truth, said Sir Gawaine,
Sir Kay, and Sir Bleoberis. Then king Arthur took Sir Tristram by the
hand, and went to the Table Round. Then came queen Guenever and many
ladies with her, and all the ladies said at one voice, Welcome, Sir
Tristram. Welcome, said the damsels: Welcome, said the knights:
Welcome, said Arthur, for one of the best knights and the gentlest of
the world, and the man of most worship. For of all manner of hunting
thou bearest the prize, and of all measures of blowing thou art the
beginning, and of all the terms of hunting and hawking ye are the
beginner: of all instruments of music ye are the best; therefore,
gentle knight, said Arthur, ye are welcome to this court. And also I
pray you, said Arthur, grant me a boon. It shall be at your
commandment, said Tristram. Well, said Arthur, I will desire of you
that ye will abide in my court. Sir, said Sir Tristram, thereto is me
loth, for I have ado in many countries. Not so, said Arthur, ye have
promised it me, ye may not say nay. Sir, said Sir Tristram, I will as
ye will. Then went Arthur unto the sieges about the Round Table, and
looked in every siege the which were void that lacked knights. And then
the king saw in the siege of Marhaus letters that said, This is the
siege of the noble knight Sir Tristram. And then Arthur made Sir
Tristram knight of the Table Round with great nobley and great feast as
might be thought. For Sir Marhaus was slain afore by the hands of Sir
Tristram in an island, and that was well known at that time in the
court of Arthur; for this Marhaus was a worthy knight. And for evil
deeds that he did unto the country of Cornwall Sir Tristram and he
fought. And they fought so long tracing and traversing till they fell
bleeding to the earth, for they were so sore wounded that they might
not stand for bleeding. And Sir Tristram by fortune recovered, and Sir
Marhaus died through the stroke on the head. So leave we of Sir
Tristram, and speak we of king Mark.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How for the despite of Sir Tristram king Mark came with two knights
  into England, and how he slew one of the knights._

Then king Mark had great despite of the renown of Sir Tristram, and
then he chased him out of Cornwall: yet was he nephew unto king Mark,
but he had great suspicion unto Sir Tristram, because of his queen, La
Beale Isoud: for him seemed that there was too much love between them
both. So when Sir Tristram departed out of Cornwall into England, king
Mark heard of the great prowess that Sir Tristram did there, the which
grieved him sore. So he sent on his party men to espy what deeds he
did. And the queen sent privily on her part spies to know what deeds he
had done, for great love was between them twain. So when the messagers
were come home, they told the truth as they had heard, that he passed
all other knights, but if it were Sir Launcelot. Then king Mark was
right heavy of these tidings, and as glad was La Beale Isoud. Then in
great despite he took with him two good knights and two squires, and
disguised himself, and took his way into England, to the intent for to
slay Sir Tristram. And one of these two knights hight Sir Bersules, and
the other knight was called Sir Amant. So as they rode, king Mark asked
a knight that he met where he should find king Arthur. He said, at
Camelot. Also he asked that knight after Sir Tristram, whether he heard
of him in the court of king Arthur. Wit you well, said that knight, ye
shall find Sir Tristram there for a man of as great worship as is now
living, for through his prowess he won the tournament of the Castle of
Maidens, that standeth by the Hard Rock. And sithen he hath won with
his own hands thirty knights that were men of great honour. And the
last battle that ever he did he fought with Sir Launcelot, and that was
a marvellous battle. And not by force Sir Launcelot brought Sir
Tristram to the court, and of him king Arthur made passing great joy,
and so made him knight of the Table Round, and his seat was where the
good knight’s Sir Marhaus seat was. Then was king Mark passing sorry
when he heard of the honour of Sir Tristram, and so they departed. Then
said king Mark unto his two knights, Now will I tell you my counsel; ye
are the men that I trust most to on live; and I will that ye wit my
coming hither is to this intent, for to destroy Sir Tristram by wiles
or by treason; and it shall be hard if ever he escape our hands. Alas,
said Bersules, what mean you? for ye be set in such a way ye are
disposed shamefully. For Sir Tristram is the knight of most worship
that we know living, and therefore I warn you plainly I will never
consent to do him to the death; and therefore I will yield my service,
and forsake you. When king Mark heard him say so, suddenly he drew his
sword, and said, A traitor! and smote Sir Bersules on the head, that
the sword went to his teeth. When Amant the knight saw him do that
villainous deed, and his squires, they said it was foul done and
mischievously, wherefore we will do thee no more service; and wit ye
well we will appeach thee of treason afore Arthur. Then was king Mark
wonderly wroth, and would have slain Amant; but he and the two squires
held them together, and set nought by his malice. When king Mark saw he
might not be revenged on them, he said thus unto the knight Amant, Wit
thou well, and thou appeach me of treason I shall thereof defend me
afore king Arthur; but I require thee that thou tell not my name that I
am king Mark, whatsoever come of me. As for that, said Sir Amant, I
will not discover your name. And so they parted; and Amant and his
fellows took the body of Bersules and buried it.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How king Mark came to a fountain where he found Sir Lamorak
  complaining for the love of king Lot’s wife._

Then king Mark rode till he came to a fountain, and there he rested
him, and stood in a doubt whether he would ride to Arthur’s court or
none, or return again to his country. And as he thus rested him by that
fountain, there came by him a knight well armed on horseback, and he
alight and tied his horse unto a tree, and set him down by the brink of
the fountain, and there he made great languor and dole, and made the
dolefullest complaint of love that ever man heard; and all this while
was he not ware of king Mark. And this was a great part of his
complaint, he cried and wept, saying, O fair queen of Orkney, king
Lot’s wife, and mother of Sir Gawaine, and to Sir Gaheris, and mother
to many other, for thy love I am in great pains. Then king Mark arose,
and went near him, and said, Fair knight, ye have made a piteous
complaint. Truly, said the knight, it is an hundred part more rueful
than my heart can utter. I require you, said king Mark, tell me your
name. Sir, said he, as for my name, I will not hide it from no knight
that beareth a shield, and my name is Sir Lamorak de Galis. But when
Sir Lamorak heard king Mark speak, then wist he well by his speech that
he was a Cornish knight. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, I understand by your
tongue ye be of Cornwall, wherein there dwelleth the shamefullest king
that is now living, for he is a great enemy to all good knights; and
that proveth well, for he hath chased out of that country Sir Tristram,
that is the worshipfullest knight that now is living, and all knights
speak of him worship, and for jealousy of his queen he hath chased him
out of his country. It is pity, said Sir Lamorak, that ever any such
false knight-coward as king Mark is should be matched with such a fair
lady and good as La Beale Isoud is, for all the world of him speaketh
shame, and of her worship that any queen may have. I have not ado in
this matter, said king Mark, neither nought will I speak thereof. Well
said, said Sir Lamorak. Sir, can ye tell me any tidings? I can tell
you, said Sir Lamorak, that there shall be a great tournament in haste
beside Camelot, at the castle of Jagent. And the king with the hundred
knights, and the king of Ireland, as I suppose, make that tournament.

Then there came a knight, that was called Sir Dinadan, and saluted them
both. And when he wist that king Mark was a knight of Cornwall, he
reproved him for the love of king Mark a thousand fold more than did
Sir Lamorak. Then he proffered to just with king Mark. And he was full
loth thereto; but Sir Dinadan edged him so, that he justed with Sir
Lamorak. And Sir Lamorak smote king Mark so sore that he bare him on
his spear end over his horse tail. And then king Mark arose again, and
followed after Sir Lamorak. But Sir Dinadan would not just with Sir
Lamorak, but he told king Mark that Sir Lamorak was Sir Kay the
seneschal. That is not so, said king Mark, for he is much bigger than
Sir Kay. And so he followed and overtook him, and bad him abide. What
will ye do? said Sir Lamorak. Sir, he said, I will fight with a sword,
for ye have shamed me with a spear. And therewith they dashed together
with swords, and Sir Lamorak suffered him and forbare him. And king
Mark was passing hasty, and smote thick strokes. Sir Lamorak saw he
would not stint, and waxed somewhat wroth, and doubled his strokes, for
he was one of the noblest knights of the world, and he beat him so on
the helm that his head hung nigh on the saddle bow. When Sir Lamorak
saw him fare so, he said, Sir knight, what cheer? me seemeth ye have
nigh your fill of fighting; it were pity to do you any more harm for ye
are but a mean knight, therefore I give you leave to go where ye list.
Gramercy, said king Mark, for ye and I be not matches. Then Sir Dinadan
mocked king Mark and said, Ye are not able to match a good knight. As
for that, said king Mark, at the first time that I justed with this
knight ye refused him. Think ye that it is a shame to me? said Sir
Dinadan: nay, sir, it is ever worship to a knight to refuse that thing
that he may not attain: therefore your worship had been much more, to
have refused him as I did: for I warn you plainly he is able to beat
five such as ye and I be; for ye knights of Cornwall are no men of
worship, as other knights are. And because ye are no men of worship, ye
hate all men of worship; for never was bred in your country such a
knight as Sir Tristram.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How king Mark, Sir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan came to a castle, and how
  king Mark was known there._

Then they rode forth all together, king Mark, Sir Lamorak, and Sir
Dinadan, till that they came unto a bridge. And at the end thereof
stood a fair tower. Then saw they a knight on horseback, well armed,
brandishing a spear, crying and proffering himself to just. Now, said
Sir Dinadan unto king Mark, yonder are two brethren, that one hight
Allein, and that other hight Trian, that will just with any that
passeth this passage. Now proffer yourself, said Dinadan to king Mark,
for ever ye be laid to the earth. Then king Mark was ashamed, and
therewith he feutred his spear, and hurtled to Sir Trian, and either
brake their spears all to pieces, and passed through anon. Then Sir
Trian sent king Mark another spear to just more; but in no wise he
would not just no more. Then they came to the castle, all three
knights, and they prayed the lord of the castle for harbour. Ye are
right welcome, said the knights of the castle, for the love of the lord
of this castle, the which hight Sir Tor le Fise Aries. And then they
came into a fair court, well repaired. And they had passing good cheer
till the lieutenant of this castle that hight Berluse espied king Mark
of Cornwall. Then said Berluse, Sir knight, I know you better than ye
ween, for ye are king Mark, that slew my father afore mine own eyes,
and me had ye slain had I not escaped into a wood; but wit ye well for
the love of my lord of this castle, I will neither hurt you ne harm
you, nor none of your fellowship. But wit ye well when ye are past this
lodging I shall hurt you and I may, for ye slew my father traitourly.
But first for the love of my lord Sir Tor, and for the love of Sir
Lamorak the honourable knight that here is lodged, ye shall have none
ill lodging. For it is pity that ever ye should be in the company of
good knights, for ye are the most villainous knight or king that is now
known on live; for ye are a destroyer of good knights, and all that ye
do is but treason.


                                CHAP. X.

_How Sir Berluse met with king Mark, and how Sir Dinadan took his part._

Then was king Mark sore ashamed, and said but little again. But when
Sir Lamorak and Sir Dinadan wist that he was king Mark they were sorry
of his fellowship. So after supper they went to lodging. So on the morn
they arose early, and king Mark and Sir Dinadan rode together; and
three mile from their lodging there met with them three knights, and
Sir Berluse was one, and the other his two cousins. Sir Berluse saw
king Mark, and then he cried on high, Traitor, keep thee from me, for
wit thou well that I am Berluse. Sir knight, said Sir Dinadan, I
counsel you to leave off at this time, for he is riding to king Arthur;
and because I have promised to conduct him to my lord king Arthur,
needs must I take a part with him, howbeit I love not his condition,
and fain I would be from him. Well Dinadan, said Sir Berluse, me
repenteth that ye will take part with him, but now do your best. And
then he hurtled to king Mark, and smote him sore upon the shield that
he bare him clean out of his saddle to the earth. That saw Sir Dinadan,
and he feutred his spear, and ran to one of Berluse’s fellows, and
smote him down off his saddle. Then Dinadan turned his horse, and smote
the third knight in the same wise to the earth, for Sir Dinadan was a
good knight on horseback. And there began a great battle, for Berluse
and his fellows held them together strongly on foot. And so through the
great force of Sir Dinadan, king Mark had Sir Berluse to the earth, and
his two fellows fled; and had not been Sir Dinadan, king Mark would
have slain him; and so Sir Dinadan rescued him of his life, for king
Mark was but a murderer. And then they took their horses and departed,
and left Sir Berluse there sore wounded. Then king Mark and Sir Dinadan
rode forth a four leagues English till that they came to a bridge,
where hoved a knight on horseback, armed and ready to just. Lo, said
Sir Dinadan unto king Mark, yonder hoveth a knight that will just, for
there shall none pass this bridge but he must just with that knight. It
is well, said king Mark, for this justs falleth with thee. Sir Dinadan
knew the knight well that he was a noble knight, and fain he would have
justed, but he had lever king Mark had justed with him, but by no mean
king Mark would not just. Then Sir Dinadan might not refuse him in no
manner. And then either dressed their spears and their shields and
smote together, so that through fine force Sir Dinadan was smitten to
the earth. And lightly he arose up, and gat his horse, and required
that knight to do battle with swords. And he answered and said, Fair
knight, as at this time I may not have ado with you no more; for the
custom of this passage is such. Then was Sir Dinadan passing wroth,
that he might not be revenged of that knight; and so he departed. And
in no wise would that knight tell his name; but ever Sir Dinadan
thought that he should know him by his shield that it should be Sir Tor.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How king Mark mocked Sir Dinadan, and how they met with six knights of
  the Round Table._

So as they rode by the way, king Mark then began to mock Sir Dinadan,
and said, I wend you knights of the Table Round might in no wise find
their matches. Ye say well, said Sir Dinadan, as for you, on my life I
call you none of the best knights; but sith ye have such a despite at
me, I require you to just with me, to prove my strength. Not so, said
king Mark, for I will not have ado with you in no manner. But I require
you of one thing, that when ye come to Arthur’s court, discover not my
name, for I am there so hated. It is shame to you, said Sir Dinadan,
that ye govern yourself so shamefully; for I see by you ye are full of
cowardice, and ye are a murderer, and that is the greatest shame that a
knight may have, for never a knight being a murderer hath worship, nor
never shall have. For I saw but late through my force ye would have
slain Sir Berluse, a better knight than ye, or ever ye shall be, and
more of prowess.

Thus they rode forth talking, till they came to a fair place where
stood a knight, and prayed them to take their lodging with him. So at
the request of that knight they reposed them there, and made them well
at ease, and had great cheer. For all errant knights were welcome to
him, and especially all those of Arthur’s court. Then Sir Dinadan
demanded his host, what was the knight’s name that kept the bridge. For
what cause ask you it? said his host. For it is not long ago, said Sir
Dinadan, since he gave me a fall. Ah, fair knight, said his host,
thereof have ye no marvel, for he is a passing good knight, and his
name is Sir Tor, the son of Aries le Vaysher. Ah, said Sir Dinadan, was
that Sir Tor, for truly so ever me thought. Right as they stood thus
talking together, they saw come riding to them over a plain six knights
of the court of king Arthur, well armed at all points. And there by
their shields Sir Dinadan knew them well. The first was the good knight
Sir Uwaine, the son of king Uriens; the second was the noble knight Sir
Brandiles; the third was Ozana le Cure Hardy; the fourth was Uwaine les
Adventurous; the fifth was Sir Agravaine; the sixth Sir Mordred,
brother to Sir Gawaine. When Sir Dinadan had seen these six knights, he
thought in himself he would bring king Mark by some wile to just with
one of them. And anon they took their horses and ran after these
knights well a three mile English. Then was king Mark ware where they
sat all six about a well, and eat and drank such meats as they had, and
their horses walking and some tied, and their shields hung in divers
places about them. Lo, said Sir Dinadan, yonder are knights errant that
will just with us. God forbid, said king Mark, for they be six, and we
but two. As for that, said Sir Dinadan, let us not spare, for I will
assay the foremost. And therewith he made him ready. When king Mark saw
him do so, as fast as Sir Dinadan rode toward them king Mark rode
froward them with all his menial company. So when Sir Dinadan saw king
Mark was gone, he set the spear out of the rest, and threw his shield
upon his back, and came riding to the fellowship of the Table Round.
And anon Sir Uwaine knew Sir Dinadan, and welcomed him, and so did all
his fellowship.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How the six knights sent Sir Dagonet to just with king Mark, and how
  king Mark refused him._

And then they asked him of his adventures, and whether he had seen Sir
Tristram, or Sir Launcelot. Truly, said Sir Dinadan, I saw none of them
since I departed from Camelot. What knight is that, said Sir Brandiles,
that so suddenly departed from you, and rode over yonder field? Sir,
said he, it was a knight of Cornwall, and the most horrible coward that
ever bestrode horse. What is his name? said all the knights. I wot not,
said Sir Dinadan. So when they had reposed them, and spoken together,
they took their horses and rode to a castle where dwelled an old knight
that made all knights errant good cheer. Then in the mean while that
they were talking came into the castle Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, and
there was he welcome, and they asked him whether he had seen Sir
Launcelot or Sir Tristram? Sirs, he answered, I saw him not since he
departed from Camelot. So as Sir Dinadan walked and beheld the castle,
thereby in a chamber he espied king Mark, and then he rebuked him, and
asked him why he departed so? Sir, said he, for I durst not abide
because they were so many. But how escaped ye? said king Mark. Sir,
said Sir Dinadan, they were better friends than I wend they had been.
Who is captain of that fellowship? said the king. Then for to fear him
Sir Dinadan said it was Sir Launcelot. Oh, said the king, might I know
Sir Launcelot by his shield? Yea, said Dinadan, for he beareth a shield
of silver and black bends. All this he said to fear the king, for Sir
Launcelot was not in his fellowship. Now I pray you, said king Mark,
that ye will ride in my fellowship? That is me loth to do, said Sir
Dinadan, because ye forsook my fellowship. Right so Sir Dinadan went
from king Mark and went to his own fellowship. And so they mounted upon
their horses, and rode on their ways, and talked of the Cornish knight,
for Dinadan told them that he was in the castle where they were lodged.
It is well said, said Sir Griflet, for here have I brought Sir Dagonet
king Arthur’s fool, that is the best fellow and the merriest in the
world. Will ye do well? said Sir Dinadan; I have told the Cornish
knight that here is Sir Launcelot, and the Cornish knight asked me what
shield he bare. Truly I told him that he bare the same shield that Sir
Mordred beareth. Will ye do well? said Sir Mordred; I am hurt and may
not well bear my shield nor harness, and therefore put my shield and my
harness upon Sir Dagonet, and let him set upon the Cornish knight. That
shall be done, said Sir Dagonet, by my faith. Then anon was Dagonet
armed in Mordred’s harness and his shield, and he was set on a great
horse and a spear in his hand. Now, said Dagonet, shew me the knight,
and I trow I shall bear him down. So all these knights rode to a wood
side, and abode till king Mark came by the way. Then they put forth Sir
Dagonet, and he came on all the while his horse might run, straight
upon king Mark. And when he came nigh king Mark, he cried as he were
wood, and said, Keep thee, knight of Cornwall, for I will slay thee.
Anon as king Mark beheld his shield he said to himself, Yonder is Sir
Launcelot: alas, now am I destroyed. And therewithal he made his horse
to run as fast as it might through thick and thin. And ever Sir Dagonet
followed king Mark crying and rating him as a wood man through a great
forest. When Sir Uwaine and Sir Brandiles saw Dagonet so chase king
Mark, they laughed all as they were wood. And then they took their
horses and rode after to see how Sir Dagonet sped. For they would not
for no good that Sir Dagonet were hurt, for king Arthur loved him
passing well, and made him knight with his own hands. And at every
tournament he began to make king Arthur to laugh. Then the knights rode
here and there crying and chasing after king Mark, that all the forest
rang of the noise.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Sir Palamides by adventure met king Mark flying, and how he
  overthrew Dagonet and other knights._

So king Mark rode by fortune by a well in the way where stood a knight
errant on horseback armed at all points with a great spear in his hand.
And when he saw king Mark coming flying he said, Knight, return again
for shame, and stand with me, and I shall be thy warrant. Ah, fair
knight, said king Mark, let me pass, for yonder cometh after me the
best knight of the world, with the black bended shield. Fie for shame,
said the knight, he is none of the worthy knights. And if he were Sir
Launcelot or Sir Tristram I should not doubt to meet the better of them
both. When king Mark heard him say that word he turned his horse and
abode by him. And then that strong knight bare a spear to Dagonet, and
smote him so sore that he bare him over his horse tail, and nigh he had
broken his neck. And anon after him came Sir Brandiles, and when he saw
Dagonet have that fall he was passing wroth, and cried, Keep thee
knight! And so they hurtled together wonderous sore. But the knight
smote Sir Brandiles so sore that he went to the earth, horse and man.
Sir Uwaine came after and saw all this. Truly, said he, yonder is a
strong knight. And then they feutred their spears, and this knight came
so eagerly that he smote down Sir Uwaine. Then came Ozana with the
hardy heart, and he was smitten down. Now, said Sir Griflet, by my
counsel let us send to yonder errant knight, and wit whether he be of
Arthur’s court, for, as I deem, it is Sir Lamorak de Galis. So they
sent unto him, and prayed the strange knight to tell his name, and
whether he were of Arthur’s court or not. As for my name they shall not
wit, but tell them I am a knight errant as they are: and let them wit
that I am no knight of king Arthur’s court. And so the squire rode
again to them, and told them his answer of him. By my head, said Sir
Agravaine, he is one of the strongest knights that ever I saw, for he
hath overthrown three noble knights, and needs we must encounter with
him for shame. So Sir Agravaine feutred his spear, and that other was
ready, and smote him down over his horse to the earth. And in the same
wise he smote Sir Uwaine les Avoutres and also Sir Griflet. Then had he
served them all but Sir Dinadan, for he was behind, and Sir Mordred was
unarmed, and Dagonet had his harness. So when this was done this strong
knight rode on his way a soft pace, and king Mark rode after him
praising him much, but he would answer no words, but sighed wonderly
sore, hanging down his head, taking no heed to his words. Thus they
rode well a three mile English, and then this knight called to him a
varlet and bad him, Ride until yonder fair manor, and recommend me to
the lady of that castle and place, and pray her to send me refreshing
of good meats and drinks. And if she ask thee what I am, tell her that
I am the knight that followeth the glatisant beast,—that is in English
to say the questing beast. For that beast wheresoever he went he
quested with such a noise as it had been a thirty couple of hounds.

Then the varlet went his way, and came to the manor and saluted the
lady, and told her from whence he came. And when she understood that he
came from the knight that followed the questing beast, O sweet Lord
Jesu, she said, when shall I see that noble knight, my dear son
Palamides. Alas, will he not abide with me! And therewith she swooned
and wept and made passing great dole. And then all so soon as she might
she gave the varlet all that he asked. And the varlet returned unto Sir
Palamides, for he was a varlet of king Mark. And as soon as he came he
told the knight’s name was Sir Palamides. I am well pleased, said king
Mark, but hold thee still and say nothing. Then they alight, and set
them down and reposed them awhile. Anon withal king Mark fell on sleep.
When Sir Palamides found him sound asleep he took his horse and rode
his way, and said to them, I will not be in the company of a sleeping
knight. And so he rode forth a great pace.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How king Mark and Sir Dinadan heard Sir Palamides making great sorrow
  and mourning for La Beale Isoud._

Now turn we unto Sir Dinadan that found these seven knights passing
heavy. And when he wist how that they sped, as heavy was he. My lord
Uwaine, said Dinadan, I dare lay my head it is Sir Lamorak de Galis; I
promise you all I shall find him and he may be found in this country.
And so Sir Dinadan rode after this knight. And so did king Mark, that
sought him through the forest. So as king Mark rode after Sir
Palamides, he heard a noise of a man that made great dole. Then king
Mark rode as nigh that noise as he might and as he durst. Then was he
ware of a knight that was descended off his horse and had put off his
helm, and there he made a piteous complaint and a dolorous of love.

Now leave we that, and talk we of Sir Dinadan, that rode to seek Sir
Palamides. And as he came within a forest, he met with a knight a
chaser of a deer. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, met ye with a knight with a
shield of silver and lions’ heads? Yea, fair knight, said the other,
with such a knight met I with but a while ago, and straight yonder way
be went. Gramercy, said Sir Dinadan, for might I find the track of his
horse, I should not fail to find that knight. Right so as Sir Dinadan
rode in the even late, he heard a doleful noise, as it were of a man.
Then Sir Dinadan rode toward that noise. And when he came nigh that
noise, he alight off his horse and went near him on foot. Then was he
ware of a knight that stood under a tree, and his horse tied by him,
and the helm off his head. And ever that knight made a doleful
complaint as ever made knight. And always he made his complaint of La
Beale Isoud the queen of Cornwall, and said, Ah fair lady, why love I
thee, for thou art fairest of all other, and yet shewest thou never
love to me nor bounty. Alas, yet must I love thee. And I may not blame
thee fair lady, for mine eyes be cause of this sorrow. And yet to love
thee I am but a fool, for the best knight of the world loveth thee, and
ye him again, that is Sir Tristram de Liones. And the falsest king and
knight is your husband, and the most coward and full of treason is your
lord king Mark. Alas, that ever so fair a lady and peerless of all
other should be matched with the most villainous knight of the world.
All this language heard king Mark what Sir Palamides said by him.
Wherefore he was adread when he saw Sir Dinadan, lest, and he espied
him, that he would tell Sir Palamides that he was king Mark; and
therefore he withdrew him, and took his horse and rode to his men where
he commanded them to abide. And so he rode as fast as he might unto
Camelot. And the same day he found there Amant the knight ready, that
before king Arthur had appealed him of treason. And so lightly the king
commanded them to do battle. And by misadventure king Mark smote Amant
through the body. And yet was Amant in the righteous quarrel. And right
so he took his horse and departed from the court for dread of Sir
Dinadan, that he would tell Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides what he was.
Then were there maidens that La Beale Isoud had sent to Sir Tristram
that knew Sir Amant well.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How king Mark had slain Sir Amant wrongfully tofore king Arthur, and
  Sir Launcelot fetched king Mark to king Arthur._

Then by the licence of king Arthur they went to him, and spake with
him, for while the truncheon of the spear stuck in his body he spake:
Ah, fair damsels, said Amant, recommend me unto La Beale Isoud, and
tell her that I am slain for the love of her and of Sir Tristram. And
there he told the damsels how cowardly king Mark had slain him and Sir
Bersules his fellow:—And for that deed I appealed him of treason, and
here I am slain in a righteous quarrel; and all was because Sir
Bersules and I would not consent by treason to slay the noble knight
Sir Tristram. Then the two maidens cried aloud that all the court might
hear it, and said, O sweet Lord Jesu that knoweth all hid things, why
sufferest thou so false a traitor to vanquish and slay a true knight
that fought in a righteous quarrel! Then anon it was sprung to the king
and the queen, and to all lords and ladies, that it was king Mark that
had slain Sir Amant, and Sir Bersules afore hand, wherefore they did
their battle. Then was king Arthur wroth out of measure, and so were
all the other knights.

But when Sir Tristram knew all the matter, he made great dole out of
measure, and wept for sorrow for loss of the noble knights Sir Bersules
and Sir Amant. When Sir Launcelot espied Sir Tristram weep, he went
hastily to king Arthur, and said, Sir, I pray you give me leave to
return again to yonder false king and knight. I pray you, said king
Arthur, fetch him again, but I would not that ye slew him for my
worship. Then Sir Launcelot armed him in all haste, and mounted upon a
great horse, and took a spear in his hand and rode after king Mark. And
from thence a three mile English Sir Launcelot overtook him, and bad
him—Turn recreant king and knight: for whether thou wilt or not thou
shalt go with me to king Arthur’s court. King Mark returned and looked
upon Sir Launcelot and said, Fair sir, what is your name? Wit thou
well, said he, my name is Sir Launcelot, and therefore defend thee. And
when king Mark wist that it was Sir Launcelot, and came so fast upon
him with a spear, he cried then aloud, I yield me to thee Sir
Launcelot, honourable knight. But Sir Launcelot would not hear him, but
came fast upon him. King Mark saw that, and made no defence, but
tumbled down out of his saddle to the earth as a sack, and there he lay
still, and cried Sir Launcelot mercy.—Arise, recreant knight and
king.—I will not fight, said king Mark; but whither that ye will I
will go with you. Alas, alas, said Sir Launcelot, that I may not give
thee one buffet for the love of Sir Tristram and of La Beale Isoud, and
for the two knights that thou hast slain traitourly. And so he mounted
upon his horse, and brought him to king Arthur. And there king Mark
alight in that same place, and threw his helm from him upon the earth,
and his sword, and fell flat to the earth of king Arthur’s feet, and
put him in his grace and mercy. Truly, said Arthur, ye are welcome in a
manner, and in a manner ye are not welcome. In this manner ye are
welcome, that ye come hither maugre your head, as I suppose. That is
truth, said king Mark, and else I had not been here: for my lord Sir
Launcelot brought me hither through his fine force, and to him am I
yielden to as recreant. Well, said Arthur, ye understand ye ought to do
me service, homage, and fealty, and never would ye do me none, but ever
ye have been against me, and a destroyer of my knights: now how will ye
acquit you? Sir, said king Mark, right as your lordship will require
me, unto my power I will make a large amends. For he was a fair speaker
and false there under. Then for great pleasure of Sir Tristram, to make
them twain accorded, the king withheld king Mark as at that time, and
made a broken love day between them.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How Sir Dinadan told Sir Palamides of the battle between Sir Launcelot
  and Sir Tristram._

Now turn we again unto Sir Palamides, how Sir Dinadan comforted him in
all that he might from his great sorrow. What knight are ye? said Sir
Palamides. Sir, I am a knight errant as ye be, that hath sought you
long by your shield. Here is my shield, said Sir Palamides, wit ye
well, and ye will aught therewith, I will defend it. Nay, said Sir
Dinadan, I will not have ado with you but in good manner. And if ye
will ye shall find me soon ready. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, whitherward
ride you this way? By my head, said Sir Palamides, I wot not, but as
fortune leadeth me. Heard ye or saw ye ought of Sir Tristram?—Truly of
Sir Tristram I both heard and saw, and not for then we loved not
inwardly well together, yet at my mischief Sir Tristram rescued me from
my death: and yet or he and I departed, by both our assents we assigned
a day that we should have met at the stony grave that Merlin set beside
Camelot, and there to have done battle together, howbeit I was letted,
said Sir Palamides, that I might not hold my day, the which grieveth me
sore; but I have a large excuse, for I was prisoner with a lord, and
many other more, and that shall Sir Tristram right well understand,
that I brake it not of fear of cowardice. And then Sir Palamides told
Sir Dinadan the same day that they should have met. Truly, said Sir
Dinadan, that same day met Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram at the same
grave of stone. And there was the most mightiest battle that ever was
seen in this land betwixt two knights, for they fought more than two
hours, and there they both bled so much blood that all men marvelled
that ever they might endure it. And so at the last by both their
assents they were made friends and sworn brethren for ever, and no man
can judge the better knight. And now is Sir Tristram made a knight of
the Round Table, and he sitteth in the siege of the noble knight Sir
Marhaus. By my head, said Sir Palamides, Sir Tristram is far bigger
than Sir Launcelot, and the hardier knight. Have ye assayed them both?
said Sir Dinadan. I have seen Sir Tristram fight, said Sir Palamides,
but never Sir Launcelot to my witting.—But at the fountain where Sir
Launcelot lay on sleep, there with one spear he smote down Sir Tristram
and Sir Palamides, but at that time they knew not either other. Fair
knight, said Sir Dinadan, as for Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram let
them be, for the worst of them will not be lightly matched of no knight
that I know living. No, said Sir Palamides; but and I had a quarrel to
the better of them both, I would with as good a will fight with him as
with you. Sir, said Sir Dinadan, I require you tell me your name, and
in good faith I shall hold you company till that we come to Camelot,
and there ye shall have great worship now at this great tournament; for
there shall be queen Guenever and La Beale Isoud of Cornwall. Wit you
well, Sir knight, said Sir Palamides, for the love of La Beale Isoud I
will be there, and else not, but I will not have ado in king Arthur’s
court. Sir, said Dinadan, I shall ride with you and do you service, so
ye will tell me your name. Sir knight, ye shall understand that my name
is Sir Palamides, brother to Sir Safere, the good and noble knight, and
Sir Segwarides and I we be Saracens born of father and mother. Sir,
said Sir Dinadan, I thank you much for the telling of your name. For I
am glad of that I know your name, and I promise you by the faith of my
body ye shall not be hurt by me by my will, but rather be advanced. And
thereto will I help you with all my power I promise you, doubt ye not.
And certainly on my life ye shall win great worship in the court of
king Arthur, and be right welcome. So then they dressed on their helms
and put on their shields, and mounted upon their horses, and took the
broad way toward Camelot. And then were they ware of a castle that was
fair and rich, and also passing strong as any was within this realm.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How Sir Lamorak justed with divers knights of the castle wherein was
  Morgan le Fay._

Sir Palamides, said Dinadan, here is a castle that I know well, and
therein dwelleth queen Morgan le Fay, king Arthur’s sister, and king
Arthur gave her this castle, the which he hath repented him since a
thousand times; for since king Arthur and she have been at debate and
strife; but this castle could he never get nor win of her by no manner
of engine; and ever as she might she made war on king Arthur. And all
dangerous knights she withholdeth with her for to destroy all these
knights that king Arthur loveth. And there shall no knight pass this
way but he must just with one knight, or with two or with three. And if
it hap that king Arthur’s knight be beaten, he shall lose his horse and
his harness and all that he hath, and hard if that he escape but that
he shall be prisoner. Truly, said Palamides, this is a shameful custom,
and a villainous usage for a queen to use, and, namely, to make such
war upon her own lord that is called the flower of chivalry that is
christian or heathen, and with all my heart I would destroy that
shameful custom. And I will that all the world wit she shall have no
service of me. And if she send out any knights, as I suppose she will,
for to just, they shall have both their hands full. And I shall not
fail you, said Sir Dinadan, unto my puissance, upon my life. So as they
stood on horseback afore the castle there came a knight with a red
shield, and two squires after him. And he came straight unto Sir
Palamides the good knight, and said to him, Fair and gentle knight
errant, I require thee for the love thou owest unto knighthood, that ye
will not have ado here with these men of this castle. (For this was Sir
Lamorak that thus said.) For I came hitherto to seek this deed, and it
is my request. And therefore I beseech you, knight, let me deal, and if
I be beaten revenge me. Well, said Palamides, let see how ye will
speed, and we shall behold you. Then anon came forth a knight of the
castle, and proffered to just with the knight with the red shield. Anon
they encountered together, and he with the red shield smote him so hard
that he bare him over to the earth. Therewith anon came another knight
of the castle, and he was smitten so sore that he avoided his saddle.
And forthwith came the third knight, and the knight with the red shield
smote him to the earth. Then came Sir Palamides and besought him that
he might help him to just. Fair knight, said he unto him, suffer me as
at this time to have my will, for and they were twenty knights I shall
not doubt them. And ever there were upon the walls of the castle many
lords and ladies that cried and said, Well have ye justed, knight with
the red shield. But as soon as the knight had smitten them down, his
squire took their horses and avoided the saddles and bridles of their
horses, and turned them into the forest, and made the knights to be
kept to the end of the justs. Right so came out of the castle the
fourth knight, and freshly proffered to just with the knight with the
red shield. And he was ready, and he smote him so hard that horse and
man fell to the earth, and the knight’s back brake with the fall, and
his neck also. Truly, said Sir Palamides, that yonder is a passing good
knight, and the best juster that ever I saw. By my head, said Sir
Dinadan, he is as good as ever was Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram, what
knight somever he be.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How Sir Palamides would have justed for Sir Lamorak with the knights
  of the castle._

Then forthwithal came out a knight of the castle with a shield bended
with black and with white. And anon the knight with the red shield and
he encountered together so hard that he smote the knight of the castle
through the bended shield and through the body, and brake the horse’s
back. Fair knight, said Sir Palamides, ye have overmuch in hand,
therefore I pray you let me just, for ye had need to be reposed. Why
sir, said the knight, seem ye that I am weak and feeble? and, sir, me
thinketh ye proffer me wrong, and to me shame, when I do well enough. I
tell you now as I told you erst, for and they were twenty knights I
shall beat them. And if I be beaten or slain then may ye revenge me.
And if ye think that I be weary, and ye have an appetite to just with
me, I shall find you justing enough. Sir, said Palamides, I said it not
because I would just with you, but me seemeth that ye have overmuch on
hand. And therefore, and ye were gentle, said the knight with the red
shield, ye should not proffer me shame; therefore I require you to just
with me, and ye shall find that I am not weary. Sith ye require me,
said Sir Palamides, take keep to yourself. Then they two knights came
together as fast as their horses might run, and the knight smote Sir
Palamides so sore on the shield that the spear went into his side, a
great wound and a perilous. And therewithal Sir Palamides voided his
saddle. And that knight turned unto Sir Dinadan. And when he saw him
coming, he cried aloud and said, Sir, I will not have ado with you. But
for that he let it not, but came straight upon him. So Sir Dinadan for
shame put forth his spear and all to-shivered it upon the knight. But
he smote Sir Dinadan again so hard that he smote him clean from his
saddle; but their horses he would not suffer his squires to meddle
with, and because they were knights errant. Then he dressed him again
to the castle, and justed with seven knights more, and there was none
of them might withstand him, but he bare him to the earth. And of these
twelve knights he slew in plain justs four. And the eight knights he
made them to swear on the cross of a sword that they should never use
the evil customs of the castle. And when he had made them to swear that
oath, he let them pass. And ever stood the lords and the ladies on the
castle walls crying and saying, Knight with the red shield, ye have
marvellously well done, as ever we saw knight do. And therewith came a
knight out of the castle unarmed, and said, Knight with the red shield,
overmuch damage hast thou done to us this day, therefore return whither
thou wilt, for here are no more that will have ado with thee, for we
repent sore that ever thou camest here, for by thee is fordone the old
custom of this castle. And with that word he turned again into the
castle, and shut the gates. Then the knight with the red shield turned
and called his squires, and so past forth on his way, and rode a great
pace. And when he was past, Sir Palamides went to Sir Dinadan and said,
I had never such a shame of one knight that ever I met, and therefore I
cast me to ride after him, and to be revenged with my sword. For a
horseback I deem I shall get no worship of him. Sir Palamides, said
Dinadan, ye shall not meddle with him by my counsel, for ye shall get
no worship of him, and for this cause,—ye have seen him this day have
had overmuch to do, and overmuch travailed. Truly, said Sir Palamides,
I shall never be at ease till that I have had ado with him. Sir, said
Dinadan, I shall give you my beholding. Well, said Sir Palamides, then
shall ye see how we shall redress our mights. So they took their horses
of their varlets, and rode after the knight with the red shield; and
down in a valley beside a fountain they were ware where he was alight
to repose him, and had done off his helm for to drink at the well.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How Sir Lamorak justed with Sir Palamides and hurt him grievously._

Then Palamides rode fast till he came nigh him. And then he said,
Knight, remember ye of the shame ye did to me right now at the castle,
therefore dress thee, for I will have ado with thee. Fair knight, said
he unto Sir Palamides, of me ye win no worship, for ye have seen this
day that I have been travailed sore. As for that, said Palamides, I
will not let; for wit ye well I will be revenged. Well, said the
knight, I may happen to endure you. And therewithal he mounted upon his
horse, and took a great spear in his hand, ready for to just. Nay, said
Palamides, I will not just, for I am sure at justing I get no prize.
Fair knight, said that knight, it would beseem a knight to just and to
fight on horseback. Ye shall see what I will do, said Palamides. And
therewith he alight down upon foot, and dressed his shield afore him,
and pulled out his sword. Then the knight with the red shield descended
down from his horse, and dressed his shield afore him, and so he drew
out his sword. And then they came together a soft pace, and wonderly
they lashed together passing thick, the mountenance of an hour, or ever
they breathed. Then they traced and traversed, and waxed wonderly
wroth, and either behight other death. They hewed so fast with their
swords, that they cut in down half their swords and mails, that the
bare flesh in some places stood above their harness. And when Sir
Palamides beheld his fellow’s sword over covered with his blood, it
grieved him sore. Somewhile they foined, somewhile they strake as wild
men. But at the last Sir Palamides waxed faint, because of his first
wound that he had at the castle with a spear, for that wound grieved
him wonderly sore. Fair knight, said Palamides, me seemeth we have
assayed either other passing sore, and if it may please thee I require
thee of thy knighthood tell me thy name. Sir, said the knight to
Palamides, that is me loth to do, for thou hast done me wrong and no
knighthood to proffer me battle, considering my great travail: but and
thou wilt tell me thy name, I will tell thee mine. Sir, said he, wit
thou well my name is Palamides. Ah sir, ye shall understand my name is
Sir Lamorak de Galis, son and heir unto the good knight and king, king
Pellinore; and Sir Tor the good knight is my half brother. When Sir
Palamides heard him say so, he kneeled down and asked mercy: For
outrageously have I done to you this day, considering the great deeds
of arms I have seen you do, shamefully and unknightly I have required
you to do battle. Ah, Sir Palamides, said Sir Lamorak, over much have
ye done and said to me. And therewith he embraced him with both his
hands, and said, Palamides the worthy knight, in all this land is no
better than ye, nor of more prowess, and me repented sore that we
should fight together. So it doth not me, said Sir Palamides, and yet
am I sorer wounded than ye be; but as for that, I shall soon thereof be
whole. But certainly I would not for the fairest castle in this land
but if thou and I had met, for I shall love you the days of my life
afore all other knights, except my brother Sir Safere. I say the same,
said Sir Lamorak, except my brother Sir Tor. Then came Sir Dinadan, and
he made great joy of Sir Lamorak. Then their squires dressed both their
shields and their harness, and stopped their wounds. And thereby at a
priory they rested them all night.


                               CHAP. XX.

_How it was told Sir Launcelot that Dagonet chased king Mark, and how a
  knight overthrew him and six knights._

Now turn we again, when Sir Uwaine and Sir Brandiles with his fellows
came to the court of king Arthur: they told the king, Sir Launcelot,
and Sir Tristram how Sir Dagonet the fool chased king Mark through the
forest, and how the strong knight smote them down all seven with one
spear. There was great laughing and jesting at king Mark and at Sir
Dagonet. But all these knights could not tell what knight it was that
rescued king Mark. Then they asked king Mark if that he knew him. And
he answered and said, He named himself the knight that followed the
questing beast, and on that name he sent one of my varlets to a place
where was his mother, and when she heard from whence he came, she made
passing great dole, and discovered to my varlet his name, and said, O
my dear son, Sir Palamides, why wilt thou not see me? and therefore,
Sir, said king Mark, it is to understand his name is Sir Palamides, a
noble knight. Then were all these seven knights glad that they knew his
name. Now turn we again, for on the morn they took their horses, both
Sir Lamorak, Palamides, and Dinadan, with their squires and varlets,
till they saw a fair castle that stood on a mountain well closed. And
thither they rode, and there they found a knight that hight Galahalt,
that was lord of that castle. And there they had great cheer, and were
well eased. Sir Dinadan, said Sir Lamorak, what will ye do? O sir, said
Dinadan, I will to-morrow to the court of king Arthur. By my head, said
Sir Palamides, I will not ride these three days, for I am sore hurt and
much have I bled, and therefore I will repose me here. Truly, said Sir
Lamorak, and I will abide here with you. And when ye ride then will I
ride, unless that ye tarry over long, then will I take my horse.
Therefore I pray you, Sir Dinadan, abide and ride with us. Faithfully,
said Dinadan, I will not abide, for I have such a talent to see Sir
Tristram that I may not abide long from him. Ah, Dinadan, said Sir
Palamides, now do I understand that ye love my mortal enemy, and
therefore how should I trust you? Well, said Dinadan, I love my lord
Sir Tristram above all other, and him will I serve and do honour. So
shall I, said Sir Lamorak, in all that may lie in my power. So on the
morn Sir Dinadan rode unto the court of king Arthur. And by the way as
he rode he saw where stood an errant knight, and made him ready for to
just. Not so, said Sir Dinadan, for I have no will to just. With me
shall ye just, said the knight, or that ye pass this way. Whether ask
ye justs? by love or by hate? The knight answered, Wit ye well I ask it
for love, and not for hate. It may well be so, said Sir Dinadan, but ye
proffer me hard love, when ye will just with me with a sharp spear. But
fair knight, said Sir Dinadan, sith ye will just with me, meet with me
in the court of king Arthur, and there shall I just with you. Well,
said the knight, sith ye will not just with me, I pray you tell me your
name. Sir knight, said he, my name is Sir Dinadan. Ah, said the knight,
full well know I you for a good knight and a gentle, and wit you well I
love you heartily. Then shall here be no justs, said Dinadan, betwixt
us. So they departed. And the same day he came to Camelot where lay
king Arthur. And there he saluted the king and the queen, Sir Launcelot
and Sir Tristram. And all the court was glad of Sir Dinadan, for he was
gentle, wise, and courteous, and a good knight. And in especial the
valiant knight Sir Tristam loved Sir Dinadan passing well above all
other knights save Sir Launcelot. Then the king asked Sir Dinadan what
adventures he had seen. Sir, said Dinadan, I have seen many adventures,
and of some king Mark knoweth, but not all. Then the king hearkened Sir
Dinadan how he told that Sir Palamides and he were afore the castle of
Morgan le Fay, and how Sir Lamorak took the justs afore them, and how
he forjusted twelve knights, and of them four he slew, and how after he
smote down Sir Palamides and me both. I may not believe that, said the
king, for Sir Palamides is a passing good knight. That is very truth,
said Sir Dinadan, but yet I saw him better proved hand for hand. And
then he told the king all that battle, and how Sir Palamides was more
weaker and more hurt, and more lost of his blood. And without doubt,
said Sir Dinadan, had the battle longer lasted Palamides had been
slain. Oh, said king Arthur, this is to me a great marvel. Sir, said
Tristram, marvel ye no thing thereof, for at mine advice there is not a
valianter knight in all the world living, for I know his might. And now
I will say you, I was never so weary of knight but if it were Sir
Launcelot. And there is no knight in the world except Sir Launcelot I
would did so well as Sir Lamorak. Truly, said the king, I would that
knight Sir Lamorak came to this court. Sir, said Dinadan, he will be
here in short space and Sir Palamides both. But I fear that Palamides
may not yet travel.


                               CHAP. XXI.

_How king Arthur let do cry a justs, and how Sir Lamorak came in and
  overthrew Sir Gawaine and many other._

Then within three days after the king let make a justing at a priory.
And there made them ready many knights of the Round Table. For Sir
Gawaine and his brethren made them ready to just. But Tristram,
Launcelot, nor Dinadan, would not just, but suffered Sir Gawaine, for
the love of king Arthur, with his brethren, to win the gree if they
might. Then on the morn they apparelled them to just, Sir Gawaine and
his four brethren, and did there great deeds of arms. And Sir Ector de
Maris did marvellously well; but Sir Gawaine passed all that
fellowship, wherefore king Arthur and all the knights gave Sir Gawaine
the honour at the beginning. Right so king Arthur was ware of a knight
and two squires the which came out of a forest side, with a shield
covered with leather, and then he came slily and hurtled here and
there, and anon with one spear he had smitten down two knights of the
Round Table. Then with his hurtling he lost the covering of his shield.
Then was the king and all other ware that he bare a red shield. Oh,
said king Arthur, see where rideth a stout knight, he with the red
shield. And there was noise and crying, Beware the knight with the red
shield. So within a little while he had overthrown three brethren of
Sir Gawaine’s. Truly, said king Arthur, me seemeth yonder is the best
juster that ever I saw. With that he saw him encounter with Sir
Gawaine, and he smote him down with so great force, that he made his
horse to avoid his saddle. How now, said the king, Sir Gawaine hath a
fall, well were me and I knew what knight he were with the red shield.
I know him well, said Dinadan, but as at this time ye shall not know
his name. By my head, said Sir Tristram, he justed better than Sir
Palamides, and if ye list to know his name, wit ye well his name is Sir
Lamorak de Galis. As they stood thus talking, Sir Gawaine and he
encountered together again, and there he smote Sir Gawaine from his
horse, and bruised him sore. And in the sight of king Arthur he smote
down twenty knights beside Sir Gawaine and his brethren. And so clearly
was the prize given him as a knight peerless. Then slily and
marvellously Sir Lamorak withdrew him from all the fellowship into the
forest side. All this espied king Arthur, for his eye went never from
him.

Then the king, Sir Launcelot, Sir Tristram, and Sir Dinadan took their
hacknies and rode straight after the good knight Sir Lamorak de Galis,
and there found him. And thus said the king, Ah fair knight, well be ye
found. When he saw the king he put off his helm and saluted him. And
when he saw Sir Tristram he alight down off his horse, and ran to him
for to take him by the thighs; but Sir Tristram would not suffer him,
but he alight or that he came, and either took other in arms, and made
great joy of other. The king was glad, and also was all the fellowship
of the Round Table, except Sir Gawaine and his brethren. And when they
wist that he was Sir Lamorak, they had great despite at him, and were
wonderly wroth with him, that he had put them to dishonour that day.
Then Gawaine called privily in counsel all his brethren, and to them
said thus: Fair brethren, here may ye see whom that we hate king Arthur
loveth, and whom that we love he hateth. And wit ye well, my fair
brethren, that this Sir Lamorak will never love us, because we slew his
father king Pellinore, for we deemed that he slew our father, king of
Orkney. And for the despite of Pellinore Sir Lamorak did us a shame to
our mother, therefore I will be revenged. Sir, said Sir Gawaine’s
brethren, let see how ye will or may be revenged, and ye shall find us
ready. Well, said Sir Gawaine, hold you still, and we shall espy our
time.


                              CHAP. XXII.

_How king Arthur made king Mark to be accorded with Sir Tristram, and
  how they departed toward Cornwall._

Now pass we our matter, and leave we Sir Gawaine, and speak of king
Arthur that on a day said unto king Mark, Sir, I pray you to give me a
gift that I shall ask you. Sir, said king Mark, I will give you
whatsoever ye desire, and it be in my power. Sir, gramercy, said king
Arthur: this I will ask you, that ye will be good lord unto Sir
Tristram, for he is a man of great honour; and that ye will take him
with you into Cornwall, and let him see his friends, and there cherish
him for my sake. Sir, said king Mark, I promise you by the faith of my
body, and by the faith I owe to God and to you, I shall worship him for
your sake in all that I can or may. Sir, said Arthur, and I will
forgive you all the evil will that ever I owed you, and so be that ye
swear that upon a book afore me. With a good will, said king Mark. And
so he there sware upon a book afore him and all his knights, and
therewith king Mark and Sir Tristram took either other by the hands
hard knit together. But for all this king Mark thought falsely, as it
proved after, for he put Sir Tristram in prison, and cowardly would
have slain him. Then soon after king Mark took his leave to ride into
Cornwall, and Sir Tristram made him ready to ride with him, wherefore
the most part of the Round Table were wroth and heavy; and in especial
Sir Launcelot, and Sir Lamorak, and Sir Dinadan were wroth out of
measure. For well they wist king Mark would slay or destroy Sir
Tristram. Alas, said Dinadan, that my lord Sir Tristram shall depart.
And Sir Tristram took such sorrow that he was amazed like a fool. Alas,
said Sir Launcelot unto king Arthur, what have ye done, for ye shall
lose the most man of worship that ever came into your court? It was his
own desire, said Arthur, and therefore I might not do withal; for I
have done all that I can, and made them at accord. Accord, said Sir
Launcelot, fie upon that accord, for ye shall hear that he shall slay
Sir Tristram, or put him in a prison, for he is the most coward and the
villainest king and knight that is now living. And therewith Sir
Launcelot departed, and came to king Mark, and said to him thus: Sir
king, wit thou well, the good knight Sir Tristram shall go with thee.
Beware, I counsel thee, of treason; for and thou mischieve that knight,
by any manner of falsehood or treason, by the faith I owe to God and to
the order of knighthood, I shall slay thee with mine own hands. Sir
Launcelot, said the king, over much have ye said to me; and I have
sworn and said over largely afore king Arthur, in hearing of all his
knights, that I shall not slay nor betray him. It were to me overmuch
shame to break my promise. Ye say well, said Sir Launcelot, but ye are
called so false and full of treason that no man may believe you.
Forsooth, it is known well wherefore ye came into this country, and for
none other cause but for to slay Sir Tristram. So with great dole king
Mark and Sir Tristram rode together; for it was by Sir Tristram’s will
and his means to go with king Mark, and all was for the intent to see
La Beale Isoud; for without the sight of her Sir Tristram might not
endure.


                              CHAP. XXIII.

_How Sir Percivale was made knight of king Arthur, and how a dumb maid
  spake, and brought him to the Round Table._

Now turn we again unto Sir Lamorak, and speak we of his brethren. Sir
Tor, which was king Pellinore’s first son; and Sir Aglavale was his
next son; Sir Lamorak, Dornar, Percivale, these were his sons too. So
when king Mark and Sir Tristram were departed from the court, there was
made great dole and sorrow for the departing of Sir Tristram. Then the
king and his knights made no manner of joys eight days after. And at
the eight days’ end, there came to the court a knight, with a young
squire with him; and when this knight was unarmed, he went to the king,
and required him to make the young squire a knight. Of what lineage is
he come? said king Arthur. Sir, said the knight, he is the son of king
Pellinore, that did you sometime good service, and he is brother unto
Lamorak de Galis the good knight. Well, said the king, for what cause
desire ye that of me, that I should make him knight? Wit you well, my
lord the king, that this young squire is brother to me, as well as to
Sir Lamorak, and my name is Aglavale. Sir Aglavale, said Arthur, for
the love of Sir Lamorak, and for his father’s love, he shall be made
knight to-morrow. Now tell me, said Arthur, what is his name? Sir, said
the knight, his name is Percivale de Galis.

So on the morn the king made him knight in Camelot. But the king and
all the knights thought it would be long or that he proved a good
knight. Then at the dinner when the king was set at the table, and
every knight after he was of prowess, the king commanded him to be set
among mean knights; and so was Sir Percivale set as the king commanded.
Then was there a maiden in the queen’s court that was come of high
blood; and she was dumb, and never spake word. Right so she came
straight into the hall, and went unto Sir Percivale, and took him by
the hand, and said aloud, that the king and all the knights might hear
it, Arise, Sir Percivale the noble knight and God’s knight, and go with
me; and so he did. And there she brought him to the right side of the
siege-perilous, and said, Fair knight, take here thy siege, for that
siege appertaineth to thee, and to none other. Right so she departed
and asked a priest. And as she was confessed and houselled; then she
died. Then the king and all the court made great joy of Sir Percivale.


                              CHAP. XXIV.

_How Sir Lamorak visited king Lot’s wife, and how Sir Gaheris slew her
  which was his own mother._

Now turn we unto Sir Lamorak, that much was there praised. Then, by the
mean of Sir Gawaine and his brethren, they sent for their mother there
besides fast by a castle beside Camelot; and all was to that intent to
slay Sir Lamorak. The queen of Orkney was there but a while, but Sir
Lamorak wist of her being, and was full fain; and for to make an end of
this matter he sent unto her, and there betwixt them was a time
assigned that Sir Lamorak should come to her. Thereof was ware Sir
Gaheris, and there he rode afore, the same time, and waited upon Sir
Lamorak. And then he saw where he came all armed; and where Sir Lamorak
alight, he tied his horse to a privy postern, and so he went into a
parlour and unarmed him; and then he went unto the queen, and she made
of him passing great joy, and he of her again, for either loved other
passing sore. So when the knight, Sir Gaheris, saw his time, he came
unto them, all armed, with his sword naked, and suddenly gat his mother
by the hair, and strake off her head. When Sir Lamorak saw the blood
dash upon him all hot, the which he loved passing well, wit you well he
was sore abashed and dismayed of that dolorous knight. And therewithal
Sir Lamorak leaped up as a knight dismayed, saying thus: Ah Sir
Gaheris, knight of the Table Round, foul and evil have ye done, and to
you great shame. Alas, why have ye slain your mother that bare you;
with more right ye should have slain me. The offence hast thou done,
said Gaheris, notwithstanding a man is born to offer his service, but
yet shouldest thou beware with whom thou meddlest, for thou hast put me
and my brethren to a shame, and thy father slew our father; and thou to
love our mother is too much shame for us to suffer. And as for thy
father king Pellinore, my brother Sir Gawaine and I slew him. Ye did
him the more wrong, said Sir Lamorak, for my father slew not your
father; it was Balan le Savage; and as yet my father’s death is not
revenged. Leave those words, said Gaheris, for and thou speak
feloniously I will slay thee, but because thou art unarmed I am ashamed
to slay thee. But wit thou well, in what place I may get thee I shall
slay thee; and now my mother is quit of thee; and therefore withdraw
thee and take thine armour, that thou were gone. Sir Lamorak saw there
was none other boot, but fast armed him, and took his horse, and rode
his way, making great sorrow. But for the shame and dolour he would not
ride to king Arthur’s court, but rode another way. But when it was
known that Gaheris had slain his mother, the king was passing wroth,
and commanded him to go out of his court. Wit ye well, Sir Gawaine was
wroth that Gaheris had slain his mother, and let Sir Lamorak escape.
And for this matter was the king passing wroth, and so was Sir
Launcelot, and many other knights. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, here is a
great mischief befallen by felony, and by forecast treason, that your
sister is thus shamefully slain. And I dare say that it was wrought by
treason, and I dare say ye shall lose that good knight Sir Lamorak, the
which is great pity. I wote well and am sure, and Sir Tristram wist it
he would never more come within your court, the which should grieve you
much more, and all your knights. God defend, said the noble king
Arthur, that I should lose Sir Lamorak or Sir Tristram, for then twain
of my chief knights of the Table Round were gone. Sir, said Sir
Launcelot, I am sure that ye shall lose Sir Lamorak, for Sir Gawaine
and his brethren will slay him by one mean or other, for they among
them have concluded and sworn to slay him and ever they may see their
time. That shall I let, said Arthur.


                               CHAP. XXV.

_How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred met with a knight fleeing, and how
  they both were overthrown, and of Sir Dinadan._

Now leave we of Sir Lamorak, and speak of Sir Gawaine’s brethren, and
specially of Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred. As they rode on their
adventures, they met with a knight flying sore wounded, and they asked
him what tidings? Fair knights, said he, here cometh a knight after me
that will slay me. With that came Sir Dinadan, riding to them by
adventure, but he would promise them no help. But Sir Agravaine and Sir
Mordred promised him to rescue him. Therewithal came that knight
straight unto them. And anon he proffered to just. That saw Sir
Mordred, and rode to him; but he strake Sir Mordred over his horse
tail. That saw Sir Agravaine, and straight he rode toward that knight.
And right so as he served Mordred, so he served Agravaine, and said to
them, Sirs, wit ye well both, that I am Breuse Sance Pité, that hath
done this to you. And yet he rode over Agravaine five or six times.
When Dinadan saw this, he must needs just with him for shame. And so
Dinadan and he encountered together, that with pure strength Sir
Dinadan smote him over his horse tail. Then he took his horse and fled.
For he was on foot one of the valiantest knights in Arthur’s days, and
a great destroyer of all good knights. Then rode Sir Dinadan unto Sir
Mordred and unto Sir Agravaine. Sir knight, said they all, well have ye
done, and well have ye revenged us; wherefore we pray you tell us your
name. Fair sirs, ye ought to know my name, the which is called Sir
Dinadan. When they understood that it was Dinadan, they were more wroth
than they were before, for they hated him out of measure, because of
Sir Lamorak. For Dinadan had such a custom that he loved all good
knights that were valiant, and he hated all those that were destroyers
of good knights. And there were none that hated Dinadan but those that
ever were called murderers. Then spake the hurt knight that Breuse
Sance Pité had chased, his name was Dalan, and said, If thou be
Dinadan, thou slewest my father. It may well be so, said Dinadan, but
then it was in my defence, and at his request. By my head, said Dalan,
thou shalt die therefore. And therewith he dressed his spear and his
shield. And to make the shorter tale, Sir Dinadan smote him down off
his horse, that his neck was nigh broken. And in the same wise he smote
Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine. And after, in the quest of the
Sancgreal, cowardly and feloniously they slew Dinadan, the which was
great damage, for he was a great jester and a passing good knight. And
so Sir Dinadan rode to a castle that hight Beale-Valet, and there he
found Sir Palamides, that was not yet whole of the wound that Sir
Lamorak gave him. And there Dinadan told Palamides all the tidings that
he heard and saw of Sir Tristram, and how he was gone with king Mark,
and with him he hath all his will and desire. Therewith Sir Palamides
waxed wroth, for he loved La Beale Isoud, and then he wist well that
Sir Tristram should see her.


                              CHAP. XXVI.

_How king Arthur, the queen, and Launcelot received letters out of
  Cornwall, and of the answer again._

Now leave we Sir Palamides and Sir Dinadan, in the Castle of
Beale-Valet, and turn we again unto king Arthur. There came a knight
out of Cornwall, his name was Fergus, a fellow of the Round Table, and
there he told the king and Sir Launcelot good tidings of Sir Tristram,
and there were brought goodly letters, and how he left him in the
Castle of Tintagil. Then came the damsel that brought goodly letters
unto king Arthur and unto Sir Launcelot; and there she had passing good
cheer of the king and of the queen Guenever, and of Sir Launcelot. Then
they wrote goodly letters again. But Sir Launcelot had ever Sir
Tristram beware of king Mark; for ever he called him in his letters
king Fox, as who saith, He fareth all with wiles and treason: whereof
Sir Tristram in his heart thanked Sir Launcelot. Then the damsel went
unto La Beale Isoud, and bare her letter from the king and from Sir
Launcelot, whereof she was in passing great joy. Fair damsel, said La
Beale Isoud, how fareth my lord Arthur, and the queen Guenever, and the
noble knight, Sir Launcelot du Lake? She answered, and to make short
tale, Much the better that ye and Sir Tristram be in joy. Truly, said
La Beale Isoud, Sir Tristram suffereth great pain for me, and I for
him. So the damsel departed, and brought letters to king Mark. And when
he had read them, and understood them, he was wroth with Sir Tristram,
for he deemed that he had sent the damsel unto king Arthur; for Arthur
and Launcelot in a manner threatened king Mark. And as king Mark read
these letters he deemed treason by Sir Tristram. Damsel, said king
Mark, will ye ride again, and bear letters from me unto king Arthur?
Sir, she said, I will be at your commandment to ride when ye will. Ye
say well, said the king; come again, said the king, to-morn, and fetch
your letters. Then she departed, and told them how she should ride
again with letters unto Arthur. Then, we pray you, said La Beale Isoud
and Sir Tristram, that when ye have received your letters, that ye
would come by us, that we may see the privity of your letters. All that
I may do, madam, ye wot well I must do for Sir Tristram, for I have
been long his own maiden. So on the morn the damsel went to king Mark,
to have had his letters, and to depart. I am not advised, said king
Mark, at this time to send my letters. Then privily and secretly he
sent letters unto king Arthur, and unto queen Guenever, and unto Sir
Launcelot. So the varlet departed, and found the king and queen in
Wales, at Carlion. And as the king and the queen were at mass the
varlet came with the letters; and when mass was done the king and the
queen opened the letters privily by themselves. And the beginning of
the king’s letters spake wonderly short unto king Arthur, and bade him
intermeddle with himself, and with his wife, and of his knights, for he
was able enough to rule and keep his wife.


                              CHAP. XXVII.

_How Sir Launcelot was wroth with the letter that he received from king
  Mark, and of Dinadan which made a lay of king Mark._

When king Arthur understood the letter he mused of many things, and
thought on his sister’s words, queen Morgan le Fay, that she had said
betwixt queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot. And in this thought he
studied a great while. Then he bethought him again how his sister was
his own enemy, and that she hated the queen and Sir Launcelot, and so
he put all that out of his thought. Then king Arthur read the letter
again, and the latter clause said that king Mark took Sir Tristram for
his mortal enemy, wherefore he put Arthur out of doubt he would be
revenged of Sir Tristram. Then was king Arthur wroth with king Mark.
And when queen Guenever read her letter, and understood it, she was
wroth out of measure, for the letter spake shame by her, and by Sir
Launcelot. And so privily she sent the letter unto Sir Launcelot. And
when he wist the intent of the letter, he was so wroth that he laid him
down on his bed to sleep, whereof Sir Dinadan was ware, for it was his
manner to be privy with all good knights. And as Sir Launcelot slept he
stole the letter out of his hand, and read it word by word; and then he
made great sorrow for anger. And so Sir Launcelot awaked, and went to a
window, and read the letter again, the which made him angry. Sir, said
Dinadan, wherefore be ye angry? discover your heart to me. For sooth ye
wot well I owe you good will, howbeit I am a poor knight, and a
servitor unto you and to all good knights. For though I be not of
worship myself, yet I love all those that be of worship. It is truth,
said Sir Launcelot, ye are a trusty knight, and for great trust I will
shew you my counsel. And when Dinadan understood all, he said, This is
my counsel: set you right nought by these threats, for king Mark is so
villainous that by fair speech shall never man get of him. But ye shall
see what I shall do. I will make a lay for him, and when it is made I
shall make an harper to sing it afore him. So anon he went and made it,
and taught it an harper that hight Eliot, and when he knew it, he
taught it to many harpers. And so by the will of Sir Launcelot, and of
Arthur, the harpers went straight into Wales and into Cornwall, to sing
the lay that Sir Dinadan made by king Mark, which was the worst lay
that ever harper sang with harp or with any other instruments.


                             CHAP. XXVIII.

_How Sir Tristram was hurt, and of a war made to king Mark; and of Sir
  Tristram, how he promised to rescue him._

Now turn we again unto Sir Tristram and to king Mark. As Sir Tristram
was at justs and at tournament it fortuned he was sore hurt, both with
a spear and with a sword. But yet he wan always the degree. And for to
repose him he went to a good knight that dwelled in Cornwall in a
castle, whose name was Sir Dinas the seneschal. Then by misfortune
there came out of Sessoin a great number of men of arms, and an hideous
host; and they entered nigh the castle of Tintagil; and their captain’s
name was Elias, a good man of arms. When king Mark understood his
enemies were entered into his land, he made great dole and sorrow, for
in no wise by his will king Mark would not send for Sir Tristram, for
he hated him deadly. So when his council was come, they devised and
cast many perils of the strength of their enemies; and then they
concluded all at once, and said thus unto king Mark, Sir, wit ye well
ye must send for Sir Tristram the good knight, or else they will never
be overcome. For by Sir Tristram they must be fought withal, or else we
row against the stream. Well, said king Mark, I will do by your
counsel. But yet he was full loth thereto, but need constrained him to
send for him. Then was he sent for in all haste that might be, that he
should come to king Mark. When Sir Tristram understood that the king
had sent for him, he mounted upon a soft ambler and rode to king Mark.
And when he was come, the king said thus: Fair nephew Sir Tristram,
this is all: here be come our enemies of Sessoin, that are here nigh
hand; and without tarrying they must be met with shortly, or else they
will destroy this country. Sir, said Sir Tristram, wit ye well, all my
power is at your commandment; and wit ye well Sir, these eight days may
I bear none arms, for my wounds be not yet whole. And by that day I
shall do what I may. Ye say well, said king Mark: then go ye again, and
repose you, and make you fresh; and I shall go and meet the Sessoins
with all my power. So the king departed unto Tintagil, and Sir Tristram
went to repose him. And the king made a great host, and departed them
in three. The first part led Sir Dinas the seneschal, and Sir Andred
led the second part, and Sir Arguis led the third part, and he was of
the blood of king Mark. And the Sessoins had three great battles, and
many good men of arms. And so king Mark, by the advice of his knights,
issued out of the castle of Tintagil upon his enemies. And Dinas the
good knight rode out afore, and slew two knights with his own hands;
and then began the battles. And there was marvellous breaking of
spears, and smiting of swords, and slew down many good knights, and
ever was Sir Dinas the seneschal the best of king Mark’s part. And thus
the battle endured long with great mortality. But at the last king Mark
and Sir Dinas, were they never so loth, they withdrew them to the
castle of Tintagil, with great slaughter of people, and the Sessoins
followed on fast, that ten of them were put within the gates, and four
slain with the portcullis. Then king Mark sent for Sir Tristram by a
varlet, that told him all the mortality. Then he sent the varlet again,
and bade him, Tell king Mark that I will come as soon as I am whole,
for erst I may do him no good. Then king Mark had his answer. Therewith
came Elias, and bade the king yield up the castle, for ye may not hold
it no while. Sir Elias, said the king, so will I yield up the castle,
if I be not soon rescued. Anon king Mark sent again for rescue to Sir
Tristram. By then Sir Tristram was whole, and he had gotten him ten
good knights of Arthur’s, and with them he rode unto Tintagil. And when
he saw the great host of Sessoins he marvelled wonder greatly. And then
Sir Tristram rode by the woods and by the ditches as secretly as he
might, till he came nigh the gates. And there dressed a knight to him,
when he saw that Sir Tristram would enter; and Sir Tristram smote him
down dead. And so he served three more. And every each of these ten
knights slew a man of arms. So Sir Tristram entered into the castle of
Tintagil. And when king Mark wist that Sir Tristram was come, he was
glad of his coming, and so was all the fellowship, and of him they made
great joy.


                              CHAP. XXIX.

_How Sir Tristram overcame the battle, and how Elias desired a man to
  fight body for body._

So on the morn, Elias the captain came and bade king Mark come out and
do battle. For now the good knight Sir Tristram is entered, it will be
a shame to thee, said Elias, for to keep thy walls. When king Mark
understood this, he was wroth, and said no word, but went unto Sir
Tristram and asked him his counsel. Sir, said Sir Tristram, will ye
that I give him his answer? I will well, said king Mark. Then Sir
Tristram said thus to the messager, Bear thy lord word from the king
and me, that we will do battle with him to-morn in the plain field.
What is your name? said the messager. Wit thou well my name is Sir
Tristram de Liones. Therewithal the messager departed, and told his
lord Elias all that he had heard. Sir, said Sir Tristram unto king
Mark, I pray you give me leave to have the rule of the battle. I pray
you take the rule, said king Mark. Then Sir Tristram let devise the
battle in what manner that it should be. He let depart his host in six
parts, and ordained Sir Dinas the seneschal to have the fore ward, and
other knights to rule the remnant: and the same night Sir Tristram
burnt all the Sessoins’ ships unto the cold water. Anon as Elias wist
that, he said, It was of Sir Tristram’s doing, for he casteth that we
shall never escape, mother’s son of us; therefore, fair fellows, fight
freely to-morrow, and miscomfort you nought for any knight, though he
be the best knight in the world: he may not have ado with us all. Then
they ordained their battles in four parts, wonderly well apparelled and
garnished with men of arms. Thus they within issued, and they without
set freely upon them; and there Sir Dinas did great deeds of arms. Not
for then Sir Dinas and his fellowship were put to the worse. With that
came Sir Tristram, and slew two knights with one spear. Then he slew on
the right hand and on the left hand, that men marvelled that ever he
might do such deeds of arms. And then he might see sometime the battle
was driven a bow draught from the castle, and sometime it was at the
gates of the castle. Then came Elias the captain rashing here and
there, and hit king Mark so sore upon the helm that he made him to
avoid the saddle; and then Sir Dinas gat king Mark again to horseback.
Therewithal came in Sir Tristram like a lion, and there he met with
Elias, and he smote him so sore upon the helm that he avoided his
saddle. And thus they fought till it was night, and for great
slaughter, and for wounded people, evereach party drew to their rest.
And when king Mark was come within the castle of Tintagil, he lacked of
his knights an hundred; and they without lacked two hundred: and they
searched the wounded men on both parties. And then they went to
council; and wit you well, either party were loth to fight more, so
that either might escape with their worship.

When Elias the captain understood the death of his men, he made great
dole; and when he wist that they were loth to go to battle again he was
wroth out of measure. Then Elias sent word unto king Mark in great
despite, whether he would find a knight that would fight for him, body
for body, and if that he might slay king Mark’s knight, he to have the
truage of Cornwall yearly: and if that his knight slay mine, I fully
release my claim for ever. Then the messager departed unto king Mark,
and told him how that his lord Elias had sent him word to find a knight
to do battle with him, body for body. When king Mark understood the
messager he bad him abide, and he should have his answer. Then called
he all the baronage together, to wit what was the best counsel. They
said, all at once, To fight in a field we have no lust, for had not
been Sir Tristram’s prowess, it had been likely that we never should
have escaped. And therefore, sir, as we deem, it were well done to find
a knight that would do battle with him, for he knightly proffereth.


                               CHAP. XXX.

_How Sir Elias and Sir Tristram fought together for the truage, and how
  Sir Tristram slew Elias in the field._

Not for then, when all this was said, they could find no knight that
would do battle with him. Sir king, said they all, here is no knight
that dare fight with Elias. Alas, said king Mark, then am I utterly
shamed, and utterly destroyed, unless that my nephew Sir Tristram will
take the battle upon him. Wit ye well, they said all, he had yesterday
over much on hand, and he is weary for travail, and sore wounded. Where
is he? said king Mark. Sir, said they, he is in his bed to repose him.
Alas, said king Mark, but I have the succour of my nephew Sir Tristram
I am utterly destroyed for ever. Therewith one went to Sir Tristram
where he lay, and told him what king Mark had said. And therewith Sir
Tristram arose lightly, and put on him a long gown, and came afore the
king and all the lords. And when he saw them all so dismayed, he asked
the king and the lords what tidings were with them. Never worse, said
the king. And therewith he told him all how he had word of Elias to
find a knight to fight for the truage of Cornwall, and none can I find;
and as for you, said the king and all the lords, we may ask no more of
you for shame, for through your hardiness yesterday ye saved all our
lives. Sir, said Sir Tristram, now I understand ye would have my
succour, reason would that I should do all that lieth in my power to
do, saving my worship and my life, howbeit I am sore bruised and hurt.
And sithen Sir Elias proffereth so largely, I shall fight with him, or
else I will be slain in the field, or else I will deliver Cornwall from
the old truage. And therefore lightly call his messager, and he shall
be answered: for as yet my wounds be green, and they will be sorer a
seven night after than they be now, and therefore he shall have his
answer, that I will do battle to-morn with him. Then was the messager
departed brought before king Mark. Hark my fellow, said Sir Tristram,
go fast unto thy lord, and bid him make true assurance on his part, for
the truage, as the king here shall make on his part; and then tell thy
lord Sir Elias, that I, Sir Tristram, king Arthur’s knight, and knight
of the Table Round, will as to-morn meet with thy lord on horseback, to
do battle as long as my horse may endure, and after that to do battle
with him on foot to the utterance. The messager beheld Sir Tristram
from the top to the toe; and therewithal he departed, and came to his
lord, and told him how he was answered of Sir Tristram. And therewithal
was made hostage on both parties, and made it as sure as it might be,
that whether party had the victory, so to end. And then were both hosts
assembled, on both parts of the field without the castle of Tintagil,
and there was none but Sir Tristram and Sir Elias armed. So when the
appointment was made, they departed in sunder, and they came together
with all the might that their horses might run. And either knight smote
other so hard that both horses and knights went to the earth. Not for
then they both lightly arose, and dressed their shields on their
shoulders, with naked swords in their hands, and they dashed together
that it seemed a flaming fire about them. Thus they traced and
traversed, and hewed on helms and hauberks, and cut away many cantels
of their shields, and either wounded other passing sore, so that the
hot blood fell freshly upon the earth. And by then they had fought the
mountenance of an hour Sir Tristram waxed faint and for-bled, and gave
sore aback. That saw Sir Elias, and followed fiercely upon him, and
wounded him in many places. And ever Sir Tristram traced and traversed,
and went froward him here and there, and covered him with his shield as
he might all weakly, that all men said he was overcome. For Sir Elias
had given him twenty strokes against one. Then was there laughing of
the Sessoins’ party, and great dole on king Mark’s party. Alas, said
the king, we are ashamed and destroyed all for ever. For, as the book
saith, Sir Tristram was never so matched, but if it were Sir Launcelot.
Thus as they stood and beheld both parties, that one party laughing,
and the other part weeping, Sir Tristram remembered him of his lady, La
Beale Isoud, that looked upon him, and how he was likely never to come
in her presence. Then he pulled up his shield, that erst hung full low;
and then he dressed up his shield unto Elias, and gave him many sad
strokes, twenty against one, and all to-brake his shield and his
hauberk, that the hot blood ran down to the earth. Then began king Mark
to laugh and all Cornish men, and that other party to weep. And ever
Sir Tristram said to Sir Elias, Yield thee! Then when Sir Tristram saw
him so staggering on the ground, he said, Sir Elias, I am right sorry
for thee, for thou art a passing good knight as ever I met withal,
except Sir Launcelot. Therewithal Sir Elias fell to the earth, and
there died. What shall I do? said Sir Tristram unto king Mark, for this
battle is at an end. Then they of Elias’s party departed; and king Mark
took of them many prisoners, to redress the harms and the scathes that
he had of them, and the remnant he sent into their country to ransom
out their fellows. Then was Sir Tristram searched and well healed. Yet
for all this king Mark would fain have slain Sir Tristram. But for all
that ever Sir Tristram saw or heard by king Mark, yet would he never
beware of his treason, but ever he would be there as La Beale Isoud was.


                              CHAP. XXXI.

_How at a great feast that king Mark made, an harper came and sang the
  lay that Dinadan had made._

Now will we pass of this matter, and speak we of the harper that Sir
Launcelot and Sir Dinadan had sent into Cornwall. And at the great
feast that king Mark made for joy that the Sessoins were put out of his
country, then came Eliot the harper, with the lay that Dinadan had
made, and secretly brought it unto Sir Tristram, and told him the lay
that Dinadan had made by king Mark. And when Sir Tristram heard it, he
said: That Dinadan can make wonderly well and ill, there as it shall
be. Sir, said Eliot, dare I sing this song afore king Mark? Yea, on my
peril, said Sir Tristram, for I shall be thy warrant. Then at the meat
came in Eliot the harper, and because he was a curious harper men heard
him sing the same lay that Dinadan had made, the which spake the most
villainy by king Mark of his treason that ever man heard. When the
harper had sung his song to the end, king Mark was wonderly wroth, and
said, Thou harper, how durst thou be so bold on thy head to sing this
song before me? Sir, said Eliot, wit you well I am a minstrel, and I
must do as I am commanded of these lords that I bear the arms of. And,
sir, wit you well that Sir Dinadan, a knight of the Table Round, made
this song, and made me to sing it afore you. Thou sayest well, said
king Mark, and because thou art a minstrel thou shalt go quit, but I
charge thee hie thee fast out of my sight. So the harper departed, and
went to Sir Tristram, and told him how he had sped. Then Sir Tristram
let make letters, as goodly as he could, to Launcelot, and to Sir
Dinadan. And so he let conduct the harper out of the country. But to
say that king Mark was wonderly wroth, he was; for he deemed that the
lay that was sung afore him was made by Sir Tristram’s counsel,
wherefore he thought to slay him and all his well-willers in that
country.


                              CHAP. XXXII.

_How king Mark slew by treason his brother Boudwin, for good service
  that he had done to him._

Now turn we to another matter, that fell between king Mark and his
brother that was called the good prince Sir Boudwin, that all the
people of the country loved passing well. So it befell upon a time,
that the miscreants Saracens landed in the country of Cornwall, soon
after these Sessoins were gone. And then the good prince Sir Boudwin,
at the landing, he raised the country privily and hastily. And or it
were day he let put wild-fire in three of his own ships, and suddenly
he pulled up the sail, and with the wind he made those ships to be
driven among the navy of the Saracens; and to make short tale, those
three ships set on fire all the ships, that none were saved. And at the
point of the day the good prince Boudwin, with all his fellowship, set
on the miscreants, with shouts and cries, and slew to the number of
forty thousand, and left none alive. When king Mark wist this, he was
wonderly wroth that his brother should win such worship. And because
this prince was better beloved than he in all that country, and that
also Sir Boudwin loved well Sir Tristram, therefore he thought to slay
him. And thus hastily as a man out of his wit, he sent for prince
Boudwin, and Anglides his wife, and bad them bring their young son with
them, that he might see him. All this he did to the intent to slay the
child as well as his father, for he was the falsest traitor that ever
was born. Alas, for his goodness and for his good deeds this gentle
prince Boudwin was slain. So when he came with his wife Anglides, the
king made them fair semblant till they had dined. And when they had
dined, king Mark sent for his brother, and said thus: Brother, how sped
you when the miscreants arrived by you? Me seemeth it had been your
part to have sent me word, that I might have been at that journey, for
it had been reason that I had had the honour, and not you. Sir, said
the prince Boudwin, it was so that and I had tarried till that I had
sent for you, those miscreants had destroyed my country. Thou liest,
false traitor, said king Mark, for thou art ever about for to win
worship from me, and put me to dishonour, and thou cherishest that I
hate. And therewith he struck him to the heart with a dagger, that he
never after spake word. Then the lady Anglides made great dole and
swooned, for she saw her lord slain afore her face. Then was there no
more to do, but prince Boudwin was despoiled and brought to burial. But
Anglides privily got her husband’s doublet and his shirt, and that she
kept secretly. Then was there much sorrow and crying, and great dole
made Sir Tristram, Sir Dinas, Sir Fergus, and so did all the knights
that were there, for that prince was passingly well beloved. So La
Beale Isoud sent unto Anglides, the prince Boudwin’s wife, and bad her
avoid lightly, or else her young son Alisander le Orphelin should be
slain. When she heard this, she took her horse and her child, and rode
her way with such poor men as durst ride with her.


                             CHAP. XXXIII.

_How Anglides, Boudwin’s wife, escaped with her young son, Alisander le
  Orphelin, and came to the castle of Arundel._

Notwithstanding, when king Mark had done this deed, yet he thought to
do more vengeance; and with his sword in his hand he sought from
chamber to chamber, to find Anglides and her young son. And when she
was missed, he called a good knight that hight Sir Sadok, and charged
him, by pain of death, to fetch Anglides again, and her young son. So
Sir Sadok departed, and rode after Anglides. And within ten mile he
overtook her, and bade her turn again, and ride with him to king Mark.
Alas, fair knight, she said, what shall ye win by my son’s death, or by
mine? I have had over much harm, and too great a loss. Madam, said
Sadok, of your loss is dole and pity; but, madam, said Sadok, would ye
depart out of this country with your son, and keep him till he be of
age, that he may revenge his father’s death, then would I suffer you to
depart from me, so ye promise me for to revenge the death of prince
Boudwin. Ah, gentle knight, Jesu thank thee, and if ever my son
Alisander le Orphelin live to be a knight, he shall have his father’s
doublet and his shirt with the bloody marks; and I shall give him such
a charge that he shall remember it while he liveth. And therewithal
Sadok departed from her, and either betook other to God. And when Sadok
came to king Mark, he told him faithfully that he had drowned young
Alisander, her son; and thereof king Mark was full glad.

Now turn we unto Anglides, that rode both night and day by adventure
out of Cornwall, and little and in few places she rested. But ever she
drew southward to the sea side, till by fortune she came to a castle
that is called Magouns, and now it is called Arundel in Southsex. And
the constable of the castle welcomed her, and said she was welcome to
her own castle; and there was Anglides worshipfully received, for the
constable’s wife was nigh her cousin. And the constable’s name was
Bellangere, and that same constable told Anglides that the same castle
was hers by right inheritance. Thus Anglides endured years and winters,
till Alisander was big and strong. There was none so wight in all that
country, neither there was none that might do no manner of mastery
afore him.


                              CHAP. XXXIV.

_How Anglides gave the bloody doublet to Alisander her son the same day
  that he was made knight, and the charge withal._

Then upon a day Bellangere the constable came to Anglides and said,
Madam, it were time that my lord Alisander were made knight, for he is
a passing strong young man. Sir, said she, I would he were made knight;
but then must I give him the most charge that ever sinful mother gave
to her child. Do as ye list, said Bellangere, and I shall give him
warning that he shall be made knight. Now it will be well done that he
may be made knight at our Ladyday in Lent. Be it so, said Anglides, and
I pray you make ready therefore. So came the constable to Alisander,
and told him that he should at our Ladyday in Lent be made knight. I
thank God, said Alisander, these are the best tidings that ever came to
me. Then the constable ordained twenty of the greatest gentlemen’s
sons, and the best born men of the country, that should be made knights
that same day that Alisander was made knight. So on the same day that
Alisander and his twenty fellows were made knights, at the offering of
the mass there came Anglides unto her son, and said thus: O fair sweet
son, I charge thee upon my blessing, and of the high order of chivalry
that thou takest here this day, that thou understand what I shall say
and charge thee withal. Therewithal she pulled out a bloody doublet and
a bloody shirt, that were be-bled with old blood. When Alisander saw
this, he start back and waxed pale, and said, Fair mother, what may
this mean? I shall tell thee, fair son; this was thine own father’s
doublet and shirt that he ware upon him that same day that he was
slain. And there she told him why and wherefore: and how for his
goodness king Mark slew him with his dagger afore mine own eyes. And
therefore this shall be your charge, that I shall give thee. Now I
require thee and charge thee upon my blessing, and upon the high order
of knighthood, that thou be revenged upon king Mark for the death of
thy father. And therewithal she swooned. Then Alisander leaped to his
mother, and took her up in his arms, and said, Fair mother, ye have
given me a great charge, and here I promise you I shall be avenged upon
king Mark when that I may, and that I promise to God and to you. So
this feast was ended. And the constable, by the advice of Anglides, let
purvey that Sir Alisander was well horsed and harnessed. Then he justed
with his twenty fellows that were made knights with him. But, for to
make a short tale, he overthrew all those twenty, that none might
withstand him a buffet.


                              CHAP. XXXV.

_How it was told to king Mark of Sir Alisander, and how he would have
  slain Sir Sadok for saving of his life._

Then one of those knights departed unto king Mark, and told him all how
Alisander was made knight, and all the charge that his mother gave him,
as ye have heard afore time. Alas, false treason, said king Mark, I
wend that young traitor had been dead. Alas, whom may I trust? And
therewithal king Mark took a sword in his hand, and sought Sir Sadok
from chamber to chamber to slay him. When Sir Sadok saw king Mark come
with his sword in his hand, he said thus: Beware, king Mark, and come
not nigh me, for wit thou well that I saved Alisander his life, of
which I never repent me, for thou falsely and cowardly slewest his
father Boudwin traitorly for his good deeds. Wherefore I pray almighty
Jesu send Alisander might and strength to be revenged upon thee. And
now beware king Mark of young Alisander, for he is made a knight. Alas,
said king Mark, that ever I should hear a traitor say so afore me. And
therewith four knights of king Mark drew their swords to slay Sir
Sadok. But anon Sir Sadok slew them all in king Mark’s presence. And
then Sir Sadok passed forth into his chamber, and took his horse and
his harness, and rode on his way a good pace. For there was neither Sir
Tristram, neither Sir Dinas, nor Sir Fergus, that would Sir Sadok any
evil will. Then was king Mark wroth, and thought to destroy Sir
Alisander, and Sir Sadok that had saved him, for king Mark dread and
hated Sir Alisander most of any man living. When Sir Tristram
understood that Alisander was made knight, anon forthwithal he sent him
a letter, praying him and charging him that he would draw him to the
court of king Arthur, and that he put him in the rule and in the hands
of Sir Launcelot. So this letter was sent to Alisander from his cousin
Sir Tristram. And at that time he thought to do after his commandment.
Then king Mark called a knight that brought him the tidings from
Alisander, and bade him abide still in that country. Sir, said that
knight, so must I do, for in mine own country I dare not come. No
force, said king Mark. I shall give thee here double as much lands as
thou haddest of thine own. But within short space Sir Sadok met with
that false knight and slew him. Then was king Mark wood wroth out of
measure. Then he sent unto queen Morgan le Fay and to the queen of
Northgalis, praying them in his letters that they two sorceresses would
set all the country in fire, with ladies that were enchantresses, and
by such that were dangerous knights, as Malgrin, and Breuse Sance Pité;
that by no means Alisander le Orphelin should escape, but either he
should be taken or slain. This ordinance made king Mark for to destroy
Alisander.


                              CHAP. XXXVI.

_How Sir Alisander wan the prize at a tournament, and of Morgan le Fay.
  And how he fought with Sir Malgrin and slew him._

Now turn we again unto Sir Alisander, that at his departing from his
mother took with him his father’s bloody shirt. So that he bare with
him always till his death day, in tokening to think on his father’s
death. So was Alisander purposed to ride to London by the counsel of
Sir Tristram to Sir Launcelot. And by fortune he went by the sea-side,
and rode wrong. And there he won at a tournament the gree, that king
Carados made. And there he smote down king Carados, and twenty of his
knights, and also Sir Safere a good knight, that was Sir Palamides’
brother, the good knight. All this saw a damsel, and saw the best
knight just that ever she saw. And ever as he smote down knights he
made them to swear to wear no harness in a twelvemonth and a day. This
is well said, said Morgan le Fay, this is the knight that I would fain
see. And so she took her palfrey and rode a great while, and then she
rested her in her pavilion. So there came four knights: two were armed,
and two were unarmed, and they told Morgan le Fay their names. The
first was Elias de Gomeret, the second was Car de Gomeret; those were
armed: that other twain were of Camiliard, cousins unto queen Guenever,
and that one hight Sir Guy, and that other hight Garaunt; those were
unarmed. There these four knights told Morgan le Fay how a young knight
had smitten them down before a castle. For the maiden of that castle
said that he was but late made knight and young. But as we suppose, but
if it were Sir Tristram, or Sir Launcelot, or Sir Lamorak the good
knight, there is none that might sit him a buffet with a spear. Well,
said Morgan le Fay, I shall meet that knight or it be long time, and he
dwell in that country.

So turn we to the damsel of the castle, that when Alisander le Orphelin
had forjusted the four knights, she called him to her, and said thus:
Sir knight, wilt thou for my sake just and fight with a knight of this
country, that is and hath been long time an evil neighbour to me, his
name is Malgrin, and he will not suffer me to be married in no manner
wise for all that I can do, or any knight for my sake. Damsel, said
Alisander, and he come while I am here I will fight with him, and my
poor body for your sake I will jeopard. And therewithal she sent for
him, for he was at her commandment. And when either had a sight of
other they made them ready for to just, and they came together eagerly,
and Malgrin bruised his spear upon Alisander, and Alisander smote him
again so hard that he bare him quite from his saddle to the earth. But
this Malgrin arose lightly and dressed his shield and drew his sword,
and bad him alight, saying, Though thou have the better of me on
horseback, shalt thou find that I shall endure like a knight on foot.
It is well said, said Alisander. And so lightly he voided his horse,
and betook him to his varlet. And then they rashed together like two
boars, and laid on their helms and shields long time by the space of
three hours, that never man could say which was the better knight. And
in the meanwhile came Morgan le Fay to the damsel of the castle, and
they beheld the battle. But this Malgrin was an old roted knight, and
he was called one of the dangerous knights of the world to do battle on
foot: but on horseback there were many better. And ever this Malgrin
awaited to slay Alisander, and so wounded him wonderly sore, that it
was marvel that ever he might stand, for he had bled so much blood: for
Alisander fought wildly and not wittily. And that other was a felonious
knight, and awaited him, and smote him sore. And sometime they rashed
together with their shields like two boars or rams, and fell groveling
both to the earth. Now knight, said Malgrin, hold thy hand awhile, and
tell me what thou art. I will not, said Alisander, but if me list. But
tell me thy name, and why thou keepest this country, or else thou shalt
die of my hands. Wit thou well, said Malgrin, that for this maiden’s
love of this castle I have slain ten good knights by mishap; and by
outrage and pride of myself I have slain ten other knights. Truly, said
Alisander, this is the foulest confession that ever I heard knight
make, nor never heard I speak of other men of such a shameful
confession; wherefore it were great pity and great shame to me that I
should let thee live any longer; therefore keep thee as well as ever
thou mayest, for as I am true knight, either thou shalt slay me or else
I shall slay thee, I promise thee faithfully. Then they lashed together
fiercely. And at the last Alisander smote Malgrin to the earth, and
then he raced off his helm, and smote off his head lightly. And when he
had done and ended this battle, anon he called to him his varlet, the
which brought him his horse. And then he weening to be strong enough
would have mounted. And so she laid Sir Alisander in a horse-litter,
and led him into the castle, for he had no foot nor might to stand upon
the earth. For he had sixteen great wounds, and in especial one of them
was like to be his death.


                             CHAP. XXXVII.

_How queen Morgan le Fay had Alisander in her castle, and how she
  healed his wounds._

Then queen Morgan le Fay searched his wounds, and gave such an ointment
unto him that he should have died. And on the morn when she came to
him, he complained him sore; and then she put other ointments upon him,
and then he was out of his pain. Then came the damsel of the castle,
and said unto Morgan le Fay, I pray you help me that this knight might
wed me, for he hath won me with his hands. Ye shall see, said Morgan le
Fay, what I shall say. Then Morgan le Fay went to Sir Alisander and bad
in any wise that he should refuse this lady—if she desire to wed you,
for she is not for you. So the damsel came and desired of him marriage.
Damsel, said Orphelin, I thank you, but as yet I cast me not to marry
in this country. Sir, said she, sithen ye will not marry me, I pray
you, insomuch as ye have won me, that ye will give me to a knight of
this country that hath been my friend and loved me many years. With all
my heart, said Alisander, I will assent thereto. Then was the knight
sent for; his name was Sir Gerine le Grose. And anon he made them
handfast and wedded them. Then came queen Morgan le Fay to Alisander,
and bad him arise, and put him in a horse-litter: and gave him such a
drink that in three days and three nights he waked never but slept: and
so she brought him to her own castle, that at that time was called La
Beale Regard. Then Morgan le Fay came to Alisander, and asked him if he
would fain be whole. Who would be sick, said Alisander, and he might be
whole? Well, said Morgan le Fay, then shall ye promise me by your
knighthood that this day twelvemonth and a day ye shall not pass the
compass of this castle, and without doubt ye shall lightly be whole. I
assent, said Sir Alisander. And there he made her a promise. Then was
he soon whole. And when Alisander was whole then he repented him of his
oath, for he might not be revenged upon king Mark. Right so there came
a damsel that was cousin to the Earl of Pase, and she was cousin to
Morgan le Fay. And by right that castle of La Beale Regard should have
been hers by true inheritance. So this damsel entered into this castle
where lay Alisander, and there she found him upon his bed, passing
heavy and all sad.


                             CHAP. XXXVIII.

_How Alisander was delivered from the queen Morgan le Fay by the means
  of a damsel._

Sir knight, said the damsel, and ye would be merry, I could tell you
good tidings. Well were me, said Alisander, and I might hear of good
tidings, for now I stand as a prisoner by my promise. Sir, said she,
wit you well that ye be a prisoner, and worse than ye ween. For my
lady, my cousin queen Morgan le Fay, keepeth you here for none other
intent but for to do her pleasure with you, when it liketh her. Defend
me, said Alisander, from such pleasure, for I had lever die than I
would do her such pleasure. Truly, said the damsel, and ye would love
me and be ruled by me, I shall make your deliverance with your worship.
Tell me, said Alisander, by what mean, and ye shall have my love. Fair
knight, said she, this castle of right ought to be mine, and I have an
uncle the which is a mighty earl, he is earl of Pase, and of all folks
he hateth most Morgan le Fay, and I shall send unto him, and pray him
for my sake to destroy this castle for the evil customs that be used
therein; and then will he come and set wild fire on every part of the
castle, and I shall get you out at a privy postern, and there shall ye
have your horse and your harness. Ye say well, damsel, said Alisander.
And then she said, Ye may keep the room of this castle this twelvemonth
and a day, then break ye not your oath. Truly, fair damsel, said
Alisander, ye say sooth. And then he kissed her. So anon she sent unto
her uncle, and bad him come and destroy that castle; for as the book
saith, he would have destroyed that castle afore time, had not that
damsel been. When the earl understood her letters he sent her word
again, that on such a day he would come and destroy that castle. So
when that day came, she shewed Alisander a postern where through he
should flee into a garden, and there he should find his armour and his
horse. When the day came that was set, thither came the earl of Pase
with four hundred knights, and set on fire all the parts of the castle,
that, or they ceased, they left not a stone standing. And all this
while that the fire was in the castle, he abode in the garden. And when
the fire was done, he let make a cry that he would keep that piece of
earth, there as the castle of La Beale Regard was, a twelvemonth and a
day, from all manner knights that would come.

So it happed there was a duke that hight Ansirus, and he was of the kin
of Sir Launcelot. And this knight was a great pilgrim, for every third
year he would be at Jerusalem. And because he used all his life to go
in pilgrimage, men called him duke Ansirus the pilgrim. And this duke
had a daughter that hight Alice, that was a passing fair woman, and
because of her father she was called Alice La Beale Pilgrim. And anon
as she heard of this cry, she went unto Arthur’s court, and said openly
in hearing of many knights, That what knight may overcome that knight
that keepeth that piece of earth shall have me and all my lands. When
the knights of the Round Table heard her say thus, many were glad, for
she was passing fair, and of great rents. Right so she let cry in
castles and towns as fast on her side as Sir Alisander did on his side.
Then she dressed her pavilion straight by the piece of earth that
Alisander kept. So she was not so soon there but there came a knight of
Arthur’s court, that hight Sagramor le Desirous, and he proffered to
just with Alisander, and they encountered, and Sagramor le Desirous
bruised his spear upon Sir Alisander, but Sir Alisander smote him so
hard that he avoided his saddle. And when La Beale Alice saw him just
so well, she thought him a passing goodly knight on horseback. And then
she lept out of her pavilion and took Sir Alisander by the bridle, and
thus she said: Fair knight, I require thee of thy knighthood, shew me
thy visage. I dare well, said Alisander, shew my visage. And then he
put off his helm; and when she saw his visage she said, Truly, thee I
must love and never other. Then shew me your visage, said he.


                              CHAP. XXXIX.

_How Alisander met with Alice la Beale Pilgrim, and how he justed with
  two knights; and after of him and of Sir Mordred._

Then she unwimpled her visage. And when he saw her he said, Here have I
found my love and my lady. Truly, fair lady, said he, I promise you to
be your knight, and none other that beareth the life. Now, gentle
knight, said she, tell me your name. My name is, said he, Alisander le
Orphelin. Now, damsel, tell me your name, said he. My name is, said
she, Alice la Beale Pilgrim. And when we be more at our heart’s ease,
both ye and I shall tell each other of what blood we be come. So there
was great love betwixt them. And as they thus talked, there came a
knight that hight Harsouse le Berbuse, and asked part of Sir
Alisander’s spears. Then Sir Alisander encountered with him, and at the
first Sir Alisander smote him over his horse croup. And then there came
another knight that hight Sir Hewgon. And Sir Alisander smote him down
as he did that other. Then Sir Hewgon proffered to do battle on foot.
Sir Alisander overcame him with three strokes, and there would have
slain him had he not yielded him. So then Alisander made both those
knights to swear to wear none armour in a twelvemonth and a day. Then
Sir Alisander alight down, and went to rest him and repose him. Then
the damsel that halp Sir Alisander out of the castle, in her play told
dame Alice altogether how he was prisoner of the castle of La Beale
Regard: and there she told her how she gat him out of prison. Sir, said
Alice la Beale Pilgrim, me seemeth ye are much beholden to this maiden.
That is truth, said Sir Alisander. And there Alice told him of what
blood she was come. Sir, wit ye well, she said, that I am of the blood
of king Ban, that was father unto Sir Launcelot. Ye wis, fair lady,
said Alisander, my mother told me that my father was brother unto a
king, and I am nigh cousin to Sir Tristram. Then this while came there
three knights, that one hight Vains, and that other hight Harvis de les
Marches, and the third hight Perin de la Montaine. And with one spear
Sir Alisander smote them down all three, and gave them such falls that
they had no list to fight upon foot. So he made them to swear to wear
no arms in a twelvemonth. So when they were departed, Sir Alisander
beheld his lady Alice on horseback as he stood in her pavilion. And
then he was so enamoured upon her, that he wist not whether he were on
horseback or on foot. Right so came the false knight Sir Mordred, and
saw Sir Alisander was assotted upon his lady: and therewithal he took
his horse by the bridle and led him here and there, and had cast to
have led him out of that place to have shamed him. When the damsel that
halp him out of that castle saw how shamefully he was led, anon she let
arm her, and set a shield upon her shoulder. And therewith she mounted
upon his horse, and gat a naked sword in her hand, and she thrust unto
Alisander with all her might, and she gave him such a buffet that he
thought the fire flew out of his eyes. And when Alisander felt that
stroke he looked about him, and drew his sword. And when she saw that,
she fled, and so did Mordred into the forest, and the damsel fled into
the pavilion. So when Sir Alisander understood himself how the false
knight would have shamed him, had not the damsel been, then was he
wroth with himself that Sir Mordred was so escaped his hands. But then
Sir Alisander and dame Alice had good game at the damsel, how sadly she
hit him upon the helm. Then Sir Alisander justed thus day by day, and
on foot he did many battles with many knights of king Arthur’s court,
and with many knights strangers. Therefore to tell all the battles that
he did it were overmuch to rehearse, for every day within that
twelvemonth he had ado with one knight or with other, and some day he
had ado with three or with four. And there was never knight that put
him to the worse. And at the twelvemonth’s end he departed with his
lady Alice la Beale Pilgrim. And the damsel would never go from him:
and so they went into their country of Benoye, and lived there in great
joy.


                               CHAP. XL.

_How Sir Galahalt did do cry a justs in Surluse, and queen Guenever’s
  knights should just against all that would come._

But as the book saith, king Mark would never stint till he had slain
him by treason. And by Alice he gat a child which hight Bellengerus le
Beuse. And by good fortune he came to the court of king Arthur, and
proved a passing good knight: and he revenged his father’s death; for
the false king Mark slew both Sir Tristram and Alisander falsely and
feloniously. And it happed so that Alisander had never grace nor
fortune to come unto king Arthur’s court. For and he had come to Sir
Launcelot, all knights said that knew him, he was one of the strongest
knights that was in Arthur’s days. And great dole was made for him.

So let we of him pass, and turn we to another tale. So it befell that
Sir Galahalt the haut prince was lord of the country of Surluse,
whereof came many good knights. And this noble prince was a passing
good man of arms, and ever he held a noble fellowship together. And
then he came to Arthur’s court, and told him his intent, how this was
his will, how he would let cry a justs in the country of Surluse, the
which country was within the lands of king Arthur, and there he asked
leave to let cry a justs. I will give you leave, said king Arthur. But
wit thou well, said king Arthur, I may not be there. Sir, said queen
Guenever, please it you to give me leave to be at that justs. With
right good will, said Arthur, for Sir Galahalt the haut prince shall
have you in governance. Sir, said Galahalt, I will as ye will. Sir,
then the queen I will take with me, and such knights as please me best.
Do as ye list, said king Arthur. So anon she commanded Sir Launcelot to
make him ready with such knights as he thought best. So in every good
town and castle of this land was made a cry, that in the country of
Surluse Sir Galahalt should make a justs that should last eight days:
and how the haut prince with the help of queen Guenever’s knights
should just against all manner of men that would come. When this cry
was known, kings and princes, dukes and earls, barons and noble
knights, made them ready to be at that justs. And at the day of justing
there came in Sir Dinadan disguised, and did many great deeds of arms.


                               CHAP. XLI.

_How Sir Launcelot fought in the tournament, and how Sir Palamides did
  arms there for a damsel._

Then at the request of queen Guenever and of king Bagdemagus, Sir
Launcelot came into the range, but he was disguised, and that was the
cause that few folk knew him. And there met with him Sir Ector de Maris
his own brother, and either brake their spears upon other to their
hands. And then either gat another spear, and then Sir Launcelot smote
down Sir Ector de Maris his own brother. That saw Sir Bleoberis, and he
smote Sir Launcelot such a buffet upon the helm that he wist not well
where he was. Then Sir Launcelot was wroth, and smote Sir Bleoberis so
sore upon the helm that his head bowed down backward. And he smote eft
another buffet that he avoided his saddle. And so he rode by and thrust
forth to the thickest. When the king of Northgalis saw Sir Ector and
Sir Bleoberis lie on the ground, then he was wonderous wroth, for they
came on his part against them of Surluse. So the king of Northgalis ran
to Sir Launcelot, and brake a spear upon him all to pieces. Therewith
Sir Launcelot overtook the king of Northgalis and smote him such a
buffet on the helm with his sword that he made him to avoid his horse;
and anon the king was horsed again. So both the king Bagdemagus and the
king of Northgalis party hurled together: and then began a strong
meddle, but they of Northgalis were far bigger.

When Sir Launcelot saw his party go to the worst, he thronged into the
thickest press with a sword in his hand, and there he smote down on the
right hand and on the left hand, and pulled down knights, and rased off
their helms, that all men had wonder that ever one knight might do such
deeds of arms. When Sir Meliagant, that was son unto king Bagdemagus,
saw how Sir Launcelot fared, he marvelled greatly. And when he
understood that it was he, he wist well that he was disguised for his
sake. Then Sir Meliagant prayed a knight to slay Sir Launcelot’s horse,
either with sword or with spear. At that time king Bagdemagus met with
a knight that hight Sauseise, a good knight, to whom he said, Now fair
Sauseise, encounter with my son Meliagant, and give him large payment;
for I would he were well beaten of thy hands, that he might depart out
of the field. And then Sir Sauseise encountered with Sir Meliagant, and
either smote other down. And then they fought on foot, and there
Sauseise had won Sir Meliagant had not there come rescues. So then the
haut prince blew to lodging. And every knight unarmed him and went to
the great feast. Then in the meanwhile there came a damsel unto the
haut prince, and complained that there was a knight that hight
Goneries, that withheld her all her lands. Then the knight was there
present, and cast his glove to him, or to any that would fight in her
name. So the damsel took up the glove all heavily for default of a
champion. Then there came a varlet to her and said, Damsel, will ye do
after me? Full fain, said the damsel. Then go ye unto such a knight
that lyeth here beside in an hermitage, and that followeth the questing
beast, and pray him to take the battle upon him, and anon I wot well he
will grant you.

So anon she took her palfrey, and within awhile she found that knight,
that was Sir Palamides. And when she required him, he armed him and
rode with her, and made her to go to the haut prince, and to ask leave
for her knight to do battle. I will well, said the haut prince. Then
the knights were ready in the field to just on horseback: and either
gat a spear in their hands, and met so fiercely together that their
spears all to-shivered. And then they flung out swords, and Sir
Palamides smote Sir Goneries down to the earth, and then he rased off
his helm, and smote off his head. Then they went to supper. And the
damsel loved Sir Palamides, but the book saith she was of his kin. So
then Sir Palamides disguised him in this manner; in his shield he bear
the questing beast, and in all his trappings. And when he was thus
ready, he sent to the haut prince to give him leave to just with other
knights, but he was adoubted of Sir Launcelot. The haut prince sent him
word again that he should be welcome, and that Sir Launcelot should not
just with him. Then Sir Galahalt the haut prince let cry what knight
soever he were that smote down Sir Palamides should have his damsel to
himself.


                              CHAP. XLII.

_How Sir Galahalt and Palamides fought together, and of Sir Dinadan and
  Sir Galahalt._

Here beginneth the second day. Anon as Sir Palamides came into the
field, Sir Galahalt the haut prince was at the range end, and met with
Sir Palamides, and he with him, with great spears. And then they came
so hard together that their spears all to-shivered. But Sir Galahalt
smote him so hard that he bare him backward over his horse, but yet he
lost not his stirrups. Then they drew their swords and lashed together
many sad strokes that many worshipful knights left their business to
behold them. But at the last Sir Galahalt the haut prince smote a
stroke of might unto Sir Palamides sore upon the helm, but the helm was
so hard that the sword might not bite, but slipped and smote off the
head of the horse of Sir Palamides. When the haut prince wist, and saw
the good knight fall unto the earth, he was ashamed of that stroke. And
therewith he alighted down off his own horse, and prayed the good
knight Sir Palamides to take that horse of his gift, and to forgive him
that deed. Sir, said Palamides, I thank you of your great goodness, for
ever of a man of worship a knight shall never have disworship. And so
he mounted upon that horse, and the haut prince had another anon. Now,
said the haut prince, I release to you that maiden, for ye have won
her. Ah, said Palamides, the damsel and I be at your commandment. So
they departed, and Sir Galahalt did great deeds of arms. And right so
came Dinadan and encountered with Sir Galahalt, and either came to
other so fast with their spears, that their spears brake to their
hands. But Dinadan had wend the haut prince had been more weary than he
was. And then he smote many sad strokes at the haut prince. But when
Dinadan saw he might not get him to the earth, he said, My lord, I pray
you leave me and take another. The haut prince knew not Dinadan, and
left goodly for his fair words, and so they departed. But soon there
came another, and told the haut prince that it was Dinadan. Forsooth,
said the prince, therefore am I heavy that he is so escaped from me:
for with his mocks and jests now shall I never have done with him. And
then Galahalt rode fast after him, and bad him, Abide, Dinadan, for
king Arthur’s sake. Nay, said Sir Dinadan, we meet no more together
this day. Then in that wrath the haut prince met with Meliagant, and he
smote him in the throat, that and he had fallen his neck had broken,
and with the same spear he smote down another knight. Then came in they
of Northgalis, and many strangers, and were like to have put them of
Surluse to the worse, for Sir Galahalt the haut prince had ever much in
hand. So there came in the good knight Semound the Valiant, with forty
knights, and he beat them all aback. Then the queen Guenever and Sir
Launcelot let blow to lodging: and every knight unarmed him, and
dressed him to the feast.


                              CHAP. XLIII.

_How Sir Archade appealed Sir Palamides of treason, and how Sir
Palamides slew him._

When Palamides was unarmed, he asked lodging for himself and the
damsel. Anon the haut prince commanded them to lodging. And he was not
so soon in his lodging, but there came a knight that hight Archade; he
was brother unto Goneries, that Sir Palamides slew afore in the
damsel’s quarrel. And this knight Archade called Sir Palamides traitor,
and appealed him for the death of his brother. By the leave of the haut
prince, said Sir Palamides, I shall answer thee. When the haut prince
understood their quarrel, he bad them go to dinner, and as soon as ye
have dined, look that either knight be ready in the field. So when they
had dined, they were armed both, and took their horses; and the queen,
and the prince, and Sir Launcelot, were set to behold them. And so they
let run their horses, and there Sir Palamides bare Archade on his spear
over his horse tail. And then Palamides alight, and drew his sword; but
Sir Archade might not arise, and there Sir Palamides rased off his
helm, and smote off his head. Then the haut prince and queen Guenever
went to supper. Then king Bagdemagus sent away his son Meliagant,
because Sir Launcelot should not meet with him, for he hated Sir
Launcelot, and that knew he not.


                              CHAP. XLIV.

_Of the third day, and how Sir Palamides justed with Sir Lamorak, and
  other things._

Now beginneth the third day of justing, and at that day king Bagdemagus
made him ready, and there came against him king Marsil, that had in
gift an island of Sir Galahalt the haut prince; and this island had the
name Pomitain. Then it befell that king Bagdemagus and king Marsil of
Pomitain met together with spears, and king Marsil had such a buffet
that he fell over his horse croup. Then there came in a knight of king
Marsil, to revenge his lord: and king Bagdemagus smote him down, horse
and man, to the earth. So there came an earl that hight Arrouse, and
Sir Breuse, and an hundred knights with them of Pomitain, and the king
of Northgalis was with them; and all these were against them of
Surluse. And then there began great battle, and many knights were cast
under horse feet. And ever king Bagdemagus did best, for he first
began, and ever he held on. Gaheris, Gawaine’s brother, smote ever at
the face of king Bagdemagus: and at the last king Bagdemagus hurtled
down Gaheris, horse and man. Then, by adventure, Sir Palamides, the
good knight, met with Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis’ brother, and
there either smote other with great spears, that both their horses and
knights fell to the earth. But Sir Blamor had such a fall that he had
almost broken his neck; for the blood brast out at nose, mouth, and his
ears; but at the last he recovered well by good surgeons. Then there
came in duke Chaleins of Clarance, and in his governance there came a
knight that hight Elis la Noire; and there encountered with him king
Bagdemagus, and he smote Elis that he made him to avoid his saddle. So
the duke Chaleins of Clarance did there great deeds of arms; and of so
late as he came in the third day there was no man did so well, except
king Bagdemagus and Sir Palamides; that the prize was given that day
unto king Bagdemagus. And then they blew unto lodging, and unarmed
them, and went to the feast. Right so there came Sir Dinadan, and
mocked and jested with king Bagdemagus, that all knights laughed at
him; for he was a fine jester, and well loving all good knights. So
anon as they had dined there came a varlet, bearing four spears on his
back, and he came to Palamides and said thus: Here is a knight by hath
sent you the choice of four spears, and requireth you for your lady’s
sake to take that one half of these spears, and just with him in the
field. Tell him, said Palamides, I will not fail him. When Sir Galahalt
wist of this, he bad Palamides make him ready. So the queen Guenever,
the haut prince, and Sir Launcelot, they were set upon scaffolds to
give the judgment of these two knights.

Then Sir Palamides and the strange knight ran so eagerly together that
their spears brake to their hands. Anon withal either of them look a
great spear in his hand and all to-shivered them in pieces. And then
either took a greater spear. And then the knight smote down Sir
Palamides, horse and man, to the earth. And as he would have passed
over him, the strange knight’s horse stumbled, and fell down upon
Palamides. Then they drew their swords, and lashed together wonderly
sore a great while. Then the haut prince and Sir Launcelot said they
saw never two knights fight better than they did. But ever the strange
knight doubled his strokes, and put Palamides aback. Therewith the haut
prince cried, Ho; and then they went to lodging. And when they were
unarmed they knew it was the noble knight Sir Lamorak. When Sir
Launcelot knew that it was Sir Lamorak he made much of him; for above
all earthly men he loved him best except Sir Tristram. Then queen
Guenever commended him, and so did all other good knights make much of
him, except Sir Gawaine’s brethren. Then queen Guenever said unto Sir
Launcelot, Sir, I require you that and ye just any more, that ye just
with none of the blood of my lord Arthur. So he promised he would not
as at that time.


                               CHAP. XLV.

_Of the fourth day, and of many great feats of arms._

Here beginneth the fourth day. Then came into the field the king with
the hundred knights, and all they of Northgalis, and the duke Chaleins
of Clarance, and king Marsil of Pomitain. And there came Safere,
Palamides’ brother, and there he told him tidings of his mother, and
how he appealed an earl before king Arthur:—For he made war upon our
father and mother, and there I slew him in plain battle. So they went
into the field, and the damsel with them; and there came to encounter
against them Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, and Sir Ector de Maris. Sir
Palamides encountered with Sir Bleoberis, and either smote other down;
and in the same wise did Sir Safere and Sir Ector, and those two
couples did battle on foot. Then came in Sir Lamorak, and he
encountered with the king with the hundred knights, and smote him quite
over his horse tail; and in the same wise he served the king of
Northgalis, and also he smote down king Marsil. And so, or ever he
stint, he smote down with his spear and with his sword thirty knights.
When duke Chaleins saw Lamorak do so great prowess, he would not meddle
with him for shame; and then he charged all his knights in pain of
death that none of you touch him, for it were shame to all good knights
and that knight were shamed. Then the two kings gathered them together,
and all they set upon Sir Lamorak, and he failed them not, but rashed
here and there, smiting on the right hand and on the left, and rased
off many helms, so that the haut prince and queen Guenever said they
saw never knight do such deeds of arms on horseback. Alas, said
Launcelot to king Bagdemagus, I will arm me and help Sir Lamorak. And I
will ride with you, said king Bagdemagus. And when they two were
horsed, they came to Sir Lamorak, that stood among thirty knights, and
well was him that might reach him a buffet: and ever he smote again
mightily. Then came there into the press Sir Launcelot, and he threw
down Sir Mador de la Porte, and with the truncheon of that spear he
threw down many knights. And king Bagdemagus smote on the left hand and
on the right hand marvellously well. And then the three kings fled
aback. Therewithal then Sir Galahalt let blow to lodging, and all the
heralds gave Sir Lamorak the prize. And all this while fought
Palamides, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Safere, Sir Ector, on foot. Never were
there four knights evener matched. And then they were parted, and had
unto their lodging, and unarmed them, and so they went to the great
feast.

But when Sir Lamorak was come unto the court, queen Guenever took him
in her arms, and said, Sir, well have ye done this day. Then came the
haut prince, and he made of him great joy, and so did Dinadan, for he
wept for joy. But the joy that Sir Launcelot made of Sir Lamorak there
might no man tell. Then they went unto rest; and on the morn the haut
prince let blow unto the field.


                              CHAP. XLVI.

_Of the fifth day, and how Sir Lamorak behaved him._

Here beginneth the fifth day. So it befell that Sir Palamides came in
the morn-tide and proffered to just there as king Arthur was, in a
castle there beside Surluse; and there encountered with him a
worshipful duke, and there Sir Palamides smote him over his horse
croup. And this duke was uncle unto king Arthur. Then Sir Elise’s son
rode unto Palamides, and Palamides served Elise in the same wise. When
Sir Uwaine saw this, he was wroth. Then he took his horse, and
encountered with Sir Palamides, and Palamides smote him so hard that he
went to the earth, horse and man. And for to make a short tale, he
smote down three brethren of Sir Gawaine’s, that is for to say,
Mordred, Gaheris, and Agravaine. Truly, said Arthur, this is a great
despite of a Saracen, that he shall smite down my blood. And
therewithal king Arthur was wood wroth, and thought to have made him
ready to just. That espied Sir Lamorak, that Arthur and his blood were
discomfited. And anon he was ready, and asked Palamides if he would any
more just. Why should I not? said Palamides. Then they hurtled
together, and brake their spears and all to-shivered them, that all the
castle rang of their dints. Then either gat a greater spear in his
hand, and they came so fiercely together; but Sir Palamides’ spear all
to-brast, and Sir Lamorak’s did hold. Therewithal Sir Palamides lost
his stirrups and lay upright on his horse’s back. And then Sir
Palamides returned again, and took his damsel, and Sir Safere returned
his way. So when he was departed, king Arthur came to Sir Lamorak, and
thanked him of his goodness, and prayed him to tell him his name. Sir,
said Lamorak, wit you well, I owe you my service: but as at this time I
will not abide here, for I see of mine enemies many about me. Alas,
said Arthur, now wot I well it is Sir Lamorak de Galis. O, Lamorak,
abide with me, and by my crown I shall never fail thee: and not so
hardy in Gawaine’s head, nor none of his brethren, to do thee any
wrong. Sir, said Sir Lamorak, wrong have they done me and to you both.
That is truth, said king Arthur, for they slew their own mother and my
sister, which me sore grieveth. It had been much fairer and better that
ye had wedded her, for ye are a king’s son as well as they. Truly, said
the noble knight Sir Lamorak unto Arthur, her death shall I never
forget; I promise you and make mine avow I shall avenge her death as
soon as I see time convenient. And if it were not at the reverence of
your highness I should now have been revenged upon Sir Gawaine and his
brethren. Truly, said Arthur, I will make you at accord. Sir, said
Lamorak, as at this time I may not abide with you, for I must to the
justs, where is Sir Launcelot and the haut prince Sir Galahalt.

Then there was a damsel that was daughter to king Bandes; and there was
a Saracen knight that hight Corsabrin, and he loved the damsel, and in
no wise he would suffer her to be married. For ever this Sir Corsabrin
defamed her, and named her that she was out of her mind; and thus he
let her that she might not be married.


                              CHAP. XLVII.

_How Sir Palamides fought with Corsabrin for a lady, and how Palamides
  slew Corsabrin._

So by fortune this damsel heard tell that Palamides did much for
damsels’ sakes; so she sent to him a pensel, and prayed him to fight
with Sir Corsabrin for her love, and he should have her, and her lands
of her father’s that should fall to her. Then the damsel sent unto
Corsabrin, and bad him go unto Sir Palamides, that was a Paynim as well
as he: and she gave him warning that she had sent him her pensel; and
if he might overcome Palamides she would wed him. When Corsabrin wist
of her deeds, then was he wood wroth and angry, and rode unto Surluse,
where the haut prince was, and there he found Sir Palamides ready, the
which had the pensel. So there they waged battle either with other
afore Galahalt. Well, said the haut prince, this day must noble knights
just, and at after dinner we shall see how ye can speed. Then they blew
to justs. And in came Dinadan, and met with Sir Gerin, a good knight,
and he threw him down over his horse croup: and Sir Dinadan overthrew
four knights more; and there he did great deeds of arms. For he was a
good knight, but he was a scoffer, and a jester, and the merriest
knight among fellowship that was that time living. And he had such a
custom that he loved every good knight, and every good knight loved him
again. So then when the haut prince saw Dinadan do so well, he sent
unto Sir Launcelot, and bade him strike down Sir Dinadan:—And when
that ye have done so, bring him afore me and the noble queen Guenever.
Then Sir Launcelot did as he was required. Then Sir Lamorak and he
smote down many knights, and rased off helms, and drove all the knights
afore them. And so Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Dinadan, and made his
men to unarm him, and so brought him to the queen and the haut prince,
and then laughed at Sir Dinadan so sore that they might not stand.
Well, said Sir Dinadan, yet have I no shame, for the old shrew Sir
Launcelot smote me down. So they went to dinner, and all the court had
good sport at Dinadan. Then when the dinner was done, they blew to the
field, to behold Sir Palamides and Corsabrin. Sir Palamides pight his
pensel in the midst of the field, and then they hurtled together with
their spears as it were thunder, and either smote other to the earth.
And then they pulled their swords, and dressed their shields, and
lashed together mightily as mighty knights, that well nigh there was no
piece of harness would hold them. For this Corsabrin was a passing
felonious knight. Corsabrin, said Palamides, wilt thou release me
yonder damsel, and the pensel? Then was Corsabrin wroth out of measure,
and gave Palamides such a buffet that he kneeled on his knee. Then
Palamides arose lightly, and smote him upon the helm that he fell down
right to the earth. And therewith he rased off his helm, and said,
Corsabrin, yield thee, or else thou shalt die of my hands. Fie on thee,
said Corsabrin, do thy worst. Then he smote off his head. And
therewithal came a stench of his body when the soul departed, so that
there might no body abide the savour. So was the corpse had away and
buried in a wood, because he was a Paynim.

Then they blew unto lodging, and Palamides was unarmed. Then he went
unto queen Guenever, to the haut prince, and to Sir Launcelot. Sir,
said the haut prince, here have ye seen this day a great miracle by
Corsabrin, what savour there was when the soul departed from the body.
Therefore, Sir, we will require you to take the baptism upon you; and I
promise you, all knights will set the more by you, and say more worship
by you. Sir, said Palamides, I will that ye all know that into this
land I came to be christened, and in my heart I am christened, and
christened will I be. But I have made such an avow, that I may not be
christened till I have done seven true battles for Jesus’ sake. And
then will I be christened. And I trust God will take mine intent, for I
mean truly. Then Sir Palamides prayed queen Guenever and the haut
prince to sup with him. And so they did both, Sir Launcelot, and Sir
Lamorak, and many other good knights. So on the morn they heard their
mass, and blew the field; and then knights made them ready.


                             CHAP. XLVIII.

_Of the sixth day, and what then was done._

Here beginneth the sixth day. Then came there in Sir Gaheris, and there
encountered with him Sir Ossaise of Surluse, and Sir Gaheris smote him
over his horse croup. And then either party encountered with other, and
there was many spears broken, and many knights cast under feet. So
there came Sir Dornard and Sir Aglovale, that were brethren unto Sir
Lamorak, and they met with other two knights, and either smote other so
hard that all four knights and horses fell to the earth. When Sir
Lamorak saw his two brethren down he was wroth out of measure. And then
he gat a great spear in his hand, and therewithal he smote down four
good knights, and then his spear brake. Then he pulled out his sword,
and smote about him on the right hand and on the left hand, and rased
off helms and pulled down knights, that all men marvelled of such deeds
of arms as he did, for he fared so that many knights fled. Then he
horsed his brethren again, and said, Brethren, ye ought to be ashamed
to fall so off your horses; what is a knight but when he is on
horseback? I set not by a knight when he is on foot, for all battles on
foot are but pelowres battles. For there should no knight fight on
foot, but if it were for treason, or else he were driven thereto by
force: therefore, brethren, sit fast upon your horses, or else fight
never more afore me. With that came in duke Chaleins of Clarance; and
there encountered with him the earl Ulbawes of Surluse, and either of
them smote other down. Then the knights of both parties horsed their
lords again; for Sir Ector and Bleoberis were on foot, waiting on the
duke Chaleins; and the king with the hundred knights was with the earl
of Ulbawes. With that came Gaheris, and lashed to the king with the
hundred knights, and he to him again. Then came the duke Chaleins and
departed them. Then they blew to lodging, and the knights unarmed them,
and drew them to their dinner; and at the midst of their dinner in came
Dinadan, and began to rail. Then he beheld the haut prince, that seemed
wroth with some fault that he saw. For he had a custom he loved no
fish; and because he was served with fish, the which he hated,
therefore he was not merry. When Sir Dinadan had espied the haut
prince, he espied where was a fish with a great head, and that he gat
betwixt two dishes, and served the haut prince with that fish. And then
he said thus: Sir Galahalt, well may I liken you to a wolf, for he will
never eat fish, but flesh. Then the haut prince laughed at his words.
Well, well, said Dinadan to Launcelot, what do ye in this country; for
here may no mean knights win no worship for thee? Sir Dinadan, said
Launcelot, I ensure thee that I shall no more meet with thee, nor with
thy great spear, for I may not sit in my saddle when that spear hitteth
me. And if I be happy, I shall beware of that boisterous body that thou
bearest. Well, said Launcelot, make good watch ever. God forbid that
ever we meet, but if it be at a dish of meat. Then laughed the queen
and the haut prince, that they might not sit at their table. Thus they
made great joy till on the morn. And then they heard mass, and blew to
field. And queen Guenever and all the estates were set, and judges
armed clean with their shields to keep the right.


                              CHAP. XLIX.

_Of the seventh battle, and how Sir Launcelot, being disguised like a
  maid, smote down Sir Dinadan._

Now beginneth the seventh battle. There came in the duke Cambines, and
there encountered with him Sir Aristance, that was counted a good
knight, and they met so hard that either bare other down, horse and
man. Then came there the earl of Lambaile, and helped the duke again to
horse. Then came there Sir Ossaise of Surluse, and he smote the earl
Lambaile down from his horse. Then began they to do great deeds of
arms, and many spears were broken, and many knights were cast to the
earth. Then the king of Northgalis and the earl Ulbawes smote together,
that all the judges thought it was like mortal death. This mean while
queen Guenever and the haut prince and Sir Launcelot made there Sir
Dinadan make him ready to just. I would, said Sir Dinadan, ride into
the field, but then one of you twain will meet with me. Perdy, said the
haut prince, ye may see how we sit here as judges with our shields, and
always mayest thou behold whether we sit here or not. So Sir Dinadan
departed, and took his horse, and met with many knights, and did
passing well. And as he was departed, Sir Launcelot disguised himself,
and put upon his armour a maiden’s garment freshly attired. Then Sir
Launcelot made Sir Galihodin to lead him through the range, and all men
had wonder what damsel it was. And so as Sir Dinadan came into the
range, Sir Launcelot, that was in the damsel’s array, gat Galihodin’s
spear, and ran unto Sir Dinadan. And always Sir Dinadan looked up there
as Sir Launcelot was, and then he saw one sit in the stead of Sir
Launcelot, armed. But when Dinadan saw a manner of a damsel, he dread
perils that it was Sir Launcelot disguised. But Sir Launcelot came on
him so fast that he smote him over his horse croup. And then with great
scorns they gat Sir Dinadan into the forest there beside, and there
they despoiled him unto his shirt, and put upon him a woman’s garment,
and so brought him into the field, and so they blew unto lodging. And
every knight went and unarmed him. Then was Sir Dinadan brought in
among them all. And when queen Guenever saw Sir Dinadan brought so
among them all, then she laughed that she fell down, and so did all
that were there. Well, said Dinadan to Launcelot, thou art so false
that I can never beware of thee. Then, by all the assent, they gave Sir
Launcelot the prize: the next was Sir Lamorak de Galis; the third was
Sir Palamides; the fourth was king Bagdemagus. So these four knights
had the prize. And there was great joy and great nobley in all the
court. And on the morn queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot departed unto
king Arthur; but in no wise Sir Lamorak would not go with them. I shall
undertake, said Sir Launcelot, that, and ye will go with us king Arthur
shall charge Sir Gawaine and his brethren never to do you hurt. As for
that, said Sir Lamorak, I will not trust Sir Gawaine, nor none of his
brethren; and wit ye well Sir Launcelot, and it were not for my lord
king Arthur’s sake, I should match Sir Gawaine and his brethren well
enough. But to say that I should trust them, that shall I never. And
therefore I pray you recommend me unto my lord Arthur, and unto all my
lords of the Round Table. And in what place that ever I come I shall do
you service to my power: and, sir, it is but late that I revenged that
when my lord Arthur’s kin were put to the worse by Sir Palamides. Then
Sir Lamorak departed from Sir Launcelot, and either wept at their
departing.


                                CHAP. L.

_How by treason Sir Tristram was brought to a tournament for to have
  been slain, and how he was put in prison._

Now turn we from this matter, and speak we of Sir Tristram, of whom
this book is principally of; and leave we the king and the queen, Sir
Launcelot, and Sir Lamorak. And here beginneth the treason of king Mark
that he ordained against Sir Tristram. There was cried by the coasts of
Cornwall a great tournament and justs. And all was done by Sir Galahalt
the haut prince, and king Bagdemagus, to the intent to slay Sir
Launcelot, or else utterly destroy him and shame him, because Sir
Launcelot had always the higher degree: therefore this prince and this
king made this justs against Sir Launcelot. And thus their counsel was
discovered unto king Mark, whereof he was full glad. Then king Mark
bethought him that he would have Sir Tristram unto that tournament
disguised that no man should know him, to that intent that the haut
prince should ween that Sir Tristram were Sir Launcelot. So at these
justs came in Sir Tristram. And at that time Sir Launcelot was not
there, but when they saw a knight disguised do such deeds of arms, they
wend it had been Sir Launcelot. And in especial king Mark said it was
Sir Launcelot plainly. Then they set upon him, both king Bagdemagus and
the haut prince, and their knights, that it was wonder that ever Sir
Tristram might endure that pain. Notwithstanding for all the pain that
he had, Sir Tristram wan the degree at that tournament, and there he
hurt many knights, and bruised them, and they hurt him, and bruised him
wonderly sore. So when the justs were all done they knew well that it
was Sir Tristram de Liones. And all that were on king Mark’s party were
glad that Sir Tristram was hurt, and the remnant were sorry of his
hurt; for Sir Tristram was not so behated as was Sir Launcelot within
the realm of England. Then came king Mark unto Sir Tristram, and said,
Fair nephew, I am sorry of your hurts. Gramercy, my lord, said Sir
Tristram. Then king Mark made Sir Tristram for to be put in a horse
bier, in great sign of love, and said, Fair cousin, I shall be your
leech myself. And so he rode forth with Sir Tristram, and brought him
to a castle by daylight. And then king Mark made Sir Tristram to eat,
and then after he gave him a drink, the which as soon as he had drunk
he fell on sleep; and when it was night he made him to be carried to
another castle, and there he put him in a strong prison, and there he
ordained a man and a woman to give him his meat and drink. So there he
was a great while. Then was Sir Tristram missed, and no creature wist
where he was become. When La Beale Isoud heard how he was missed,
privily she went unto Sir Sadok, and prayed him to espy where was Sir
Tristram. Then when Sadok wist how Sir Tristram was missed, and anon
espied that he was put in prison by king Mark and the traitors of
Magons, then Sadok and two of his cousins laid them in an ambushment,
fast by the castle of Tintagil, in arms. And as by fortune there came
riding king Mark and four of his nephews, and a certain of the traitors
of Magons. When Sir Sadok espied them he brake out of the bushment, and
set there upon them. And when king Mark espied Sir Sadok he fled as
fast as he might. And there Sir Sadok slew all the four nephews unto
king Mark. But these traitors of Magons slew one of Sadok’s cousins,
with a great wound in the neck, but Sadok smote the other to death.
Then Sir Sadok rode upon his way unto a castle that was called Liones,
and there he espied of the treason and felony of king Mark. So they of
that castle rode with Sir Sadok till that they came to a castle that
hight Arbray. And there in the town they found Sir Dinas the seneschal,
that was a good knight. But when Sir Sadok had told Sir Dinas of all
the treason of king Mark, he defied such a king, and said he would give
up his lands that he held of him. And when he said these words all
manner knights said as Sir Dinas said. Then by his advice, and of Sir
Sadok’s, he let stuff all the towns and castles within the country of
Liones, and assembled all the people that they might make.


                               CHAP. LI.

_How king Mark let do counterfeit letters from the Pope, and how Sir
  Percivale delivered Sir Tristram out of prison._

Now turn we unto king Mark, that when he was escaped from Sir Sadok he
rode unto the castle of Tintagil, and there he made great cry and
noise, and cried unto harness all that might bear arms. Then they
sought and found where were dead four cousins of king Mark’s, and the
traitors of Magons. Then the king let inter them in a chapel. Then the
king let cry in all the country that held of him, to go unto arms, for
he understood to the war he must needs. When king Mark heard and
understood how Sir Sadok and Sir Dinas were risen in the country of
Liones, he remembered of wiles and treason. Lo, thus he did: he let
make and counterfeit letters from the Pope, and did make a strange
clerk to bear them unto king Mark. The which letters specified, that
king Mark should make him ready, upon pain of cursing, with his host to
come to the Pope, to help to go to Jerusalem, for to make war upon the
Saracens. When this clerk was come by the mean of the king, anon withal
king Mark sent these letters unto Sir Tristram, and bad him say thus;
That and he would go war upon the miscreants, he should be had out of
prison, and to have all his power. When Sir Tristram understood this
letter, then he said thus to the clerk: Ah, king Mark, ever hast thou
been a traitor, and ever wilt be: but clerk, said Sir Tristram, say
thou thus unto king Mark. Since the apostle Pope hath sent for him, bid
him go thither himself, for tell him, traitor king as he is, I will not
go at his command, get I out of my prison as I may. For I see I am well
rewarded for my true service. Then the clerk returned unto king Mark,
and told him of the answer of Sir Tristram. Well, said king Mark, yet
shall he be beguiled. So he went into his chamber, and counterfeited
letters, and the letters specified that the Pope desired Sir Tristram
to come himself to make war upon the miscreants. When the clerk was
come again unto Sir Tristram and took him these letters, then Sir
Tristram beheld these letters, and anon espied they were of king Mark’s
counterfeiting. Ah, said Sir Tristram, false hast thou been ever, king
Mark, and so wilt thou end. Then the clerk departed from Sir Tristram,
and came to king Mark again. By then there were come four wounded
knights within the castle of Tintagil, and one of them his neck was
nigh broken in twain, another had his arm stricken away, the third was
borne through with a spear, the fourth had his teeth stricken in twain.
And when they came afore king Mark they cried and said, King, why
fleest thou not, for all this country is arisen clearly against thee.
Then was king Mark wroth out of measure. And in the mean while there
came into the country Sir Percivale de Galis, to seek Sir Tristram. And
when he heard that Sir Tristram was in prison, Sir Percivale made
clearly the deliverance of Sir Tristram by his knightly means. And when
he was so delivered he made great joy of Sir Percivale, and so each one
of other. Sir Tristram said unto Sir Percivale, And ye will abide in
these marches, I will ride with you. Nay, said Percivale, in this
country may I not tarry, for I must needs into Wales. So Sir Percivale
departed from Sir Tristram, and rode straight unto king Mark, and told
him how he had delivered Sir Tristram. And also he told the king that
he had done himself great shame for to put Sir Tristram in prison, for
he is now the knight of most renown in all this world living. And wit
thou well the most noble knights of the world love Sir Tristram, and if
he will make war upon you ye may not abide it. That is truth, said king
Mark, but I may not love Sir Tristram because he loveth my queen and my
wife, La Beale Isoud. Ah fie for shame, said Sir Percivale, say ye
never so more. Are ye not uncle unto Sir Tristram, and he your nephew?
Ye should never think that so noble a knight as Sir Tristram is, that
he would do himself so great a villany to hold his uncle’s wife,
howbeit, said Sir Percivale, he may love your queen sinless, because
she is called one of the fairest ladies of the world. Then Sir
Percivale departed from king Mark. So when he was departed king Mark
bethought him of more treason, notwithstanding king Mark granted Sir
Percivale never by no manner of means to hurt Sir Tristram. So anon
king Mark sent unto Sir Dinas the seneschal, that he should put down
all the people that he had raised, for he sent him an oath that he
would go himself unto the Pope of Rome to war upon the miscreants, and
this is a fairer war than thus to raise the people against your king.
When Sir Dinas the seneschal understood that king Mark would go upon
the miscreants, then Sir Dinas in all the haste put down all the
people; and when the people were departed every man to his home, then
king Mark espied where was Sir Tristram with La Beale Isoud. And there
by treason king Mark let take him and put him in prison, contrary to
his promise that he made unto Sir Percivale. When queen Isoud
understood that Sir Tristram was in prison she made as great sorrow as
ever made lady or gentlewoman. Then Sir Tristram sent a letter unto La
Beale Isoud, and prayed her to be his good lady; and if it pleased her
to make a vessel ready for her and him, he would go with her unto the
realm of Logris, that is this land. When La Beale Isoud understood Sir
Tristram’s letters and his intent, she sent him another, and bad him be
of good comfort, for she would do make the vessel ready, and all things
to purpose. Then La Beale Isoud sent unto Sir Dinas, and to Sadok, and
prayed them in any wise to take king Mark and put him in prison, unto
the time that she and Sir Tristram were departed unto the realm of
Logris. When Sir Dinas the seneschal understood the treason of king
Mark, he promised her again, and sent to her word that king Mark should
be put in prison. And as they devised it so it was done. And then Sir
Tristram was delivered out of prison, and anon in all the haste queen
Isoud and Sir Tristram went and took their counsel with that they would
have with them when they departed.


                               CHAP. LII.

_How Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud came into England, and how Sir
  Launcelot brought them to Joyous Gard._

Then La Beale Isoud and Sir Tristram took their vessel, and came by
water into this land. And so they were not in this land four days but
there came a cry of a justs and tournament that king Arthur let make.
When Sir Tristram heard tell of that tournament, he disguised himself
and La Beale Isoud, and rode unto that tournament. And when he came
there he saw many knights just and tourney, and so Sir Tristram dressed
him to the range. And to make short conclusion, he overthrew fourteen
knights of the Round Table. When Sir Launcelot saw these knights thus
overthrown Sir Launcelot dressed him to Sir Tristram. That saw La Beale
Isoud, how Sir Launcelot was come into the field. Then La Beale Isoud
sent unto Sir Launcelot a ring, and bad him wit that it was Sir
Tristram de Liones. When Sir Launcelot understood that there was Sir
Tristram, he was full glad, and would not just. Then Sir Launcelot
espied whither Sir Tristram went, and after him he rode, and then
either made of other great joy. And so Sir Launcelot brought Sir
Tristram and La Beale Isoud unto Joyous Gard, that was his own castle
that he had won with his own hands. And there Sir Launcelot put them in
to weld for their own. And wit ye well that castle was garnished and
furnished for a king and a queen royal there to have sojourned. And Sir
Launcelot charged all his people to honour them and love them as they
would do himself.

So Sir Launcelot departed unto king Arthur; and then he told queen
Guenever how he that justed so well at the last tournament was Sir
Tristram. And there he told her how he had with him La Beale Isoud,
maugre king Mark; and so queen Guenever told all this unto king Arthur.
When king Arthur wist that Sir Tristram was escaped, and come from king
Mark, and had brought La Beale Isoud with him, then was he passing
glad. So because of Sir Tristram king Arthur let make a cry, that on
May-day should be a justs, before the castle of Lonazep; and that
castle was fast by Joyous Gard. And thus king Arthur devised, that all
the knights of this land, and of Cornwall, and of North Wales, should
just against all these countries,—Ireland, Scotland, and the remnant
of Wales, and the country of Gore, and Surluse, and of Listinoise, and
they of Northumberland, and all they that held lands of king Arthur on
this half the sea. When this cry was made, many knights were glad and
many were unglad. Sir, said Launcelot unto Arthur, by this cry that ye
have made, ye will put us that be about you in great jeopardy, for
there be many knights that have great envy to us, therefore when we
shall meet at the day of justs, there will be hard shift among us. As
for that, said Arthur, I care not, there shall we prove who shall be
the best of his hands. So when Sir Launcelot understood wherefore king
Arthur made this justing, then he made such purveyance that La Beale
Isoud should behold the justs in a secret place that was honest for her
estate.

Now turn we unto Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud, how they made great
joy daily together with all manner of mirths that they could devise;
and every day Sir Tristram would go ride on hunting, for Sir Tristram
was that time called the best chaser of the world, and the noblest
blower of an horn of all manner of measures. For, as books report, of
Sir Tristram came all the good terms of venery and hunting, and all the
sizes and measures of blowing of an horn; and of him we had first all
the terms of hawking, and which were beasts of chase, and beasts of
venery, and which were vermins; and all the blasts that belong to all
manner of games. First to the uncoupling, to the seeking, to the
rechate, to the flight, to the death, and to strake; and many other
blasts and terms, that all manner of gentlemen have cause to the
world’s end to praise Sir Tristram and to pray for his soul.


                              CHAP. LIII.

_How by the counsel of La Beale Isoud Sir Tristram rode armed, and how
  he met with Sir Palamides._

So on a day La Beale Isoud said unto Sir Tristram, I marvel me much,
said she, that ye remember not yourself, how that ye be here in a
strange country, and here be many perilous knights, and well ye wote
that king Mark is full of treason, and that ye will ride thus to chase
and hunt unarmed; ye might be destroyed. My fair lady and my love, I
cry you mercy, I will no more do so. So then Sir Tristram rode daily on
hunting armed, and his men bearing his shield and his spear. So on a
day, a little afore the month of May, Sir Tristram chased an hart
passing eagerly, and so the hart passed by a fair well. And then Sir
Tristram alighted, and put off his helm to drink of that burbley water.
Right so he heard and saw the questing beast come to the well. When Sir
Tristram saw that beast, he put on his helm, for he deemed he should
hear of Sir Palamides, for that beast was his quest. Right so Tristram
saw where came a knight armed, upon a noble courser, and he saluted
him, and they spake of many things; and this knight’s name was Breuse
Sance Pité. And right so withal there came unto them the noble knight
Sir Palamides, and either saluted other, and spake fair to other. Fair
knights, said Sir Breuse Sance Pité, I can tell you tidings. What is
that? said those knights. Sirs, wit ye well that king Mark is put in
prison by his own knights, and all was for love of Sir Tristram: for
king Mark had put Sir Tristram twice in prison; and once Sir Percivale
delivered the noble knight Sir Tristram out of prison; and at the last
time queen La Beale Isoud delivered him, and went clearly away with him
into this realm: and all this while king Mark the false traitor is in
prison. Is this truth? said Sir Palamides; then shall we hastily hear
of Sir Tristram. And as for to say that I love La Beale Isoud, I dare
make good that I do, and that she hath my service above all other
ladies, and shall have the term of my life. And right so as they stood
talking they saw afore them where came a knight, all armed on a great
horse, and one of his men bare his shield, and the other his spears.
And anon as that knight espied them, he gat his shield and his spear,
and dressed him to just. Fair fellows, said Sir Tristram, yonder is a
knight will just with us; let see which of us shall encounter with him,
for I see well he is of the court of king Arthur. It shall not be long
or he be met withal, said Sir Palamides, for I found never no knight in
my quest of this glasting beast but, and he would just, I never refused
him. As well may I, said Breuse Sance Pité, follow that beast as ye.
Then shall ye do battle with me, said Sir Palamides. So Sir Palamides
dressed him unto the other knight, Sir Bleoberis, that was a full noble
knight, nigh kin unto Sir Launcelot. And so they met so hard that Sir
Palamides fell to the earth, horse and all. Then Sir Bleoberis cried
aloud, and said thus: Make thee ready, thou false traitor knight,
Breuse Sance Pité, for wit thou certainly I will have ado with thee to
the utterance, for the noble knights and ladies that thou hast falsely
betrayed. When this false knight and traitor, Breuse Sance Pité, heard
him say so, he took his horse by the bridle, and fled his way as fast
as his horse might run, for sore he was of him afeard. When Sir
Bleoberis saw him flee, he followed fast after him, through thick and
through thin. And by fortune as Sir Breuse fled, he saw even afore him
three knights of the Table Round, of the which the one hight Sir Ector
de Maris, the other hight Sir Percivale de Galis, the third hight Sir
Harry le Fise Lake, a good knight and an hardy. And as for Sir
Percivale, he was called that time of his time one of the best knights
of the world, and the best assured. When Breuse saw these knights, he
rode straight unto them, and cried unto them, and prayed them of
rescues. What need have ye? said Sir Ector. Ah, fair knights, said Sir
Breuse, here followeth me the most traitor knight and most coward, and
most of villainy: his name is Breuse Sance Pité; and if he may get me,
he will slay me without mercy and pity. Abide with us, said Sir
Percivale, and we shall warrant you. Then were they ware of Sir
Bleoberis, that came riding all that he might. Then Sir Ector put
himself forth for to just afore them all. When Sir Bleoberis saw that
they were four knights, and he but himself, he stood in a doubt whether
he would turn or hold his way. Then he said to himself, I am a knight
of the Table Round, and rather than I should shame mine oath and my
blood I will hold my way whatsoever fall thereof. And then Sir Ector
dressed his spear, and smote either other passing sore, but Sir Ector
fell to the earth. That saw Sir Percivale, and he dressed his horse
toward him all that he might drive; but Sir Percivale had such a stroke
that horse and man fell to the earth. When Sir Harry saw that they were
both to the earth, then he said to himself, Never was Breuse of such
prowess. So Sir Harry dressed his horse, and they met together so
strongly that both the horses and knights fell to the earth; but Sir
Bleoberis’s horse began to recover again. That saw Sir Breuse, and he
came hurtling, and smote him over and over, and would have slain him as
he lay on the ground. Then Sir Harry le Fise Lake arose lightly, and
took the bridle of Sir Breuse’s horse, and said, Fie for shame, strike
never a knight when he is at the earth; for this knight may be called
no shameful knight of his deeds: for yet as men may see there as he
lieth on the ground, he hath done worshipfully, and put to the worse
passing good knights. Therefore will I not let, said Sir Breuse. Thou
shalt not choose, said Sir Harry, as at this time. Then when Sir Breuse
saw that he might not choose, nor have his will, he spake fair. Then
Sir Harry let him go. And then anon he made his horse to run over Sir
Bleoberis, and rashed him to the earth like if he would have slain him.
When Sir Harry saw him do so villainously, he cried, Traitor knight,
leave off for shame. And as Sir Harry would have taken his horse to
fight with Sir Breuse, then Sir Breuse ran upon him as he was half upon
his horse, and smote him down horse and man to the earth, and had near
slain Sir Harry the good knight. That saw Sir Percivale, and then he
cried, Traitor knight what dost thou? And when Sir Percivale was upon
his horse, Sir Breuse took his horse, and fled all that ever he might,
and Sir Percivale and Sir Harry followed after him fast, but ever the
longer they chased the further were they behind. Then they turned
again, and came to Sir Ector de Maris and to Sir Bleoberis. Ah fair
knights, said Bleoberis, why have ye succoured that false knight and
traitor? Why, said Sir Harry, what knight is he? for well I wot it is a
false knight, said Sir Harry, and a coward, and a felonious knight.
Sir, said Bleoberis, he is the most coward knight, and a devourer of
ladies, and a destroyer of good knights, and specially of Arthur’s.
What is your name? said Sir Ector. My name is Sir Bleoberis de Ganis.
Alas, fair cousin, said Ector, forgive it me, for I am Sir Ector de
Maris. Then Sir Percivale and Sir Harry made great joy that they met
with Bleoberis, but all they were heavy that Sir Breuse was escaped
them, whereof they made great dole.


                               CHAP. LIV.

_Of Sir Palamides, and how he met with Sir Bleoberis and with Sir
  Ector, and of Sir Percivale._

Right so as they stood thus, there came Sir Palamides; and when he saw
the shield of Bleoberis lie on the earth, then said Palamides, He that
owneth that shield, let him dress him to me, for he smote me down here
fast by at a fountain, and therefore I will fight with him on foot. I
am ready, said Sir Bleoberis, here to answer thee; for wit thou well,
sir knight, it was I, and my name is Bleoberis de Ganis. Well art thou
met, said Palamides, and wit thou well my name is Sir Palamides the
Saracen. And either of them hated other to the death. Sir Palamides,
said Ector, wit thou well, there is neither thou, nor none knight that
beareth the life, that slayeth any of our blood, but he shall die for
it; therefore, and thou list to fight, go seek Sir Launcelot, or Sir
Tristram, and there shall ye find your match. With them have I met,
said Palamides, but I had never no worship of them. Was there never no
manner of knight, said Sir Ector, but they, that ever matched with you?
Yes, said Palamides, there was the third, a good knight as any of them,
and of his age he was the best that ever I found; for, and he might
have lived till he had been an hardier man, there liveth no knight now
such, and his name was Sir Lamorak de Galis. And as he had justed at a
tournament, there he overthrew me and thirty knights more, and there he
won the degree. And at his departing, there met him Sir Gawaine and his
brethren, and with great pain they slew him feloniously, unto all good
knights’ great damage. And when Sir Percivale heard that his brother
was dead, Sir Lamorak, he fell over his horse’s mane swooning, and
there he made the greatest dole that ever made knight. And when Sir
Percivale arose, he said, Alas, my good and noble brother Sir Lamorak,
now shall we never meet, and I trow in all the wide world a man might
not find such a knight as he was of his age; and it is too much to
suffer the death of our father king Pellinore, and now the death of our
good brother Sir Lamorak. Then in the mean while there came a varlet
from the court of king Arthur, and told them of the great tournament
that should be at Lonazep, and how these lands, Cornwall, and
Northgalis, should be against all them that would come.


                               CHAP. LV.

_How Sir Tristram met with Sir Dinadan, and of their devices, and what
  he said to Sir Gawaine’s brethren._

Now turn we unto Sir Tristram, that as he rode on hunting he met with
Sir Dinadan, that was come into that country to seek Sir Tristram. Then
Sir Dinadan told Sir Tristram his name, but Sir Tristram would not tell
his name, wherefore Sir Dinadan was wroth. For such a foolish knight as
ye are, said Sir Dinadan, I saw but late this day lying by a well, and
he fared as he slept, and there he lay like a fool grinning, and would
not speak, and his shield lay by him, and his horse stood by him, and
well I wot he was a lover. Ah, fair sir, said Sir Tristram, are ye not
a lover? Marry, fie on that craft, said Sir Dinadan. That is evil said,
said Sir Tristram, for a knight may never be of prowess, but if he be a
lover. It is well said, said Sir Dinadan: now tell me your name, sith
ye be a lover, or else I shall do battle with you. As for that, said
Sir Tristram, it is no reason to fight with me but I tell you my name:
and as for that, my name shall ye not wit as at this time. Fie for
shame, said Dinadan, art thou a knight, and darest not tell thy name to
me? therefore I will fight with thee. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I
will be advised, for I will not fight but if me list; and if I do
battle, said Sir Tristram, ye are not able to withstand me. Fie on
thee, coward, said Sir Dinadan. And thus as they hoved still, they saw
a knight came riding against them. Lo, said Sir Tristram, see where
cometh a knight riding will just with you. Anon as Sir Dinadan beheld
him, he said, That is the same doted knight that I saw lie by the well,
neither sleeping nor waking. Well, said Sir Tristram, I know that
knight well with the covered shield of azure, he is the king’s son of
Northumberland, his name is Epinegris, and he is as great a lover as I
know, and he loveth the king’s daughter of Wales, a full fair lady. And
now I suppose, said Sir Tristram, and ye require him he will just with
you; and then shall ye prove whether a lover be a better knight or ye
that will not love no lady. Well, said Sir Dinadan, now shalt thou see
what I shall do. Therewithal Sir Dinadan spake on high and said, Sir
knight, make thee ready to just with me, for it is the custom of errant
knights one to just with other. Sir, said Epinegris, is it the rule of
you errant knights for to make a knight to just will he or nill? As for
that, said Dinadan, make thee ready, for here is for me. And
therewithal they spurred their horses, and met together so hard that
Epinegris smote down Sir Dinadan. Then Sir Tristram rode to Sir
Dinadan, and said, How now? me seemeth the lover hath well sped. Fie on
thee coward, said Sir Dinadan, and if thou be a good knight revenge me.
Nay, said Sir Tristram, I will not just as at this time, but take your
horse, and let us go hence. Defend me, said Sir Dinadan, from thy
fellowship, for I never sped well since I met with thee. And so they
departed. Well, said Sir Tristram, peradventure I could tell you
tidings of Sir Tristram. Defend me, said Dinadan, from thy fellowship,
for Sir Tristram were mickle the worse and he were in thy company. And
then they departed. Sir, said Sir Tristram, yet it may happen I shall
meet with you in other places. So rode Sir Tristram unto Joyous Gard,
and there he heard in that town great noise and cry. What is this
noise, said Sir Tristram. Sir, said they, here is a knight of this
castle that hath been long among us, and right now he is slain with two
knights, and for none other cause but that our knight said that Sir
Launcelot were a better knight than Sir Gawaine. That was a simple
cause, said Sir Tristram, for to slay a good knight for to say well by
his master. That is little remedy to us, said the men of the town, for
and Sir Launcelot had been here, soon we should have been revenged upon
the false knights. When Sir Tristram heard them say so, he sent for his
shield and for his spear, and lightly within a little while he had
overtaken them, and bade them turn and amend what they had misdone.
What amends wouldest thou have? said the one knight. And therewith they
took their course, and either met other so hard, that Sir Tristram
smote down that knight over his horse tail. Then the other knight
dressed him to Sir Tristram; and in the same wise he served the other
knight. And then they gat off their horses as well as they might, and
dressed their shields and swords to do their battle to the utterance.
Knights, said Sir Tristram, ye shall tell me of whence ye are and what
be your names; for such men ye might be ye should hard escape my hands;
and ye might be such men of such a country that for all your evil deeds
ye should pass quit. Wit thou well, sir knight, said they, we fear us
not to tell thee our names, for my name is Sir Agravaine, and my name
is Gaheris, brethren unto the good knight Sir Gawaine, and we be
nephews unto king Arthur. Well, said Sir Tristram, for king Arthur’s
sake I shall let you pass as at this time. But it is shame, said Sir
Tristram, that Sir Gawaine and ye that be come of so great a blood,
that ye four brethren are so named as ye be. For ye be called the
greatest destroyers and murderers of good knights that be now in this
realm; for it is but as I heard say, that Sir Gawaine and ye slew among
you a better knight than ever ye were, that was the noble knight Sir
Lamorak de Galis; and it had pleased God, said Sir Tristram, I would I
had been by Sir Lamorak at his death. Then shouldest thou have gone the
same way, said Sir Gaheris. Fair knight, said Sir Tristram, there must
have been many more knights than ye are. And therewithal Sir Tristram
departed from them toward Joyous Gard. And when he was departed they
took their horses, and the one said to the other, We will overtake him
and be revenged upon him in the despite of Sir Lamorak.


                               CHAP. LVI.

_How Sir Tristram smote down Sir Agravaine and Sir Gaheris, and how Sir
  Dinadan was sent for by La Beale Isoud._

So when they had overtaken Sir Tristram, Sir Agravaine bade him, Turn,
traitor knight. That is evil said, said Sir Tristram; and therewith he
pulled out his sword, and smote Sir Agravaine such a buffet upon the
helm that he tumbled down off his horse in a swoon, and he had a
grievous wound. And then he turned to Gaheris, and Sir Tristram smote
his sword and his helm together with such a might that Gaheris fell out
of his saddle; and so Sir Tristram rode unto Joyous Gard, and there he
alight and unarmed him. So Sir Tristram told La Beale Isoud of all his
adventure as ye have heard tofore. And when she heard him tell of Sir
Dinadan, Sir, she said, is not that he that made the song by king Mark?
That same is he, said Sir Tristram, for he is the best joker and
jester, and a noble knight of his hands, and the best fellow that I
know, and all good knights love his fellowship. Alas, Sir, said she,
why brought ye not him with you? Have ye no care, said Sir Tristram,
for he rideth to seek me in this country, and therefore he will not
away till he have met with me. And there Sir Tristram told La Beale
Isoud how Sir Dinadan held against all lovers. Right so there came in a
varlet and told Sir Tristram how there was come an errant knight into
the town with such colours upon his shield. That is Sir Dinadan, said
Sir Tristram. Wit ye what ye shall do? said Sir Tristram; send ye for
him, my lady Isoud, and I will not be seen, and ye shall hear the
merriest knight that ever ye spake withal, and the maddest talker, and
I pray you heartily that ye make him good cheer. Then anon La Beale
Isoud sent into the town, and prayed sir Dinadan that he would come
into the castle and repose him there, with a lady. With a good will,
said Sir Dinadan. And so he mounted upon his horse, and rode into the
castle, and there he alight, and was unarmed, and brought into the
castle. Anon La Beale Isoud came unto him, and either saluted other.
Then she asked him of whence that he was. Madam, said Dinadan, I am of
the court of king Arthur, and knight of the Table Round, and my name is
Sir Dinadan. What do ye in this country? said La Beale Isoud. Madam,
said he, I seek Sir Tristram the good knight, for it was told me that
he was in this country. It may well be, said La Beale Isoud, but I am
not aware of him. Madam said Dinadan, I marvel of Sir Tristram and more
other lovers, what aileth them to be so mad and so sotted upon women.
Why, said La Beale Isoud, are ye a knight and be no lover? It is shame
to you: wherefore ye may not be called a good knight but if ye make a
quarrel for a lady. Nay, said Sir Dinadan, for the joy of love is too
short, and the sorrow thereof, and what cometh thereof, dureth over
long. Ah, said La Beale Isoud, say ye not so, for here fast by was the
good knight Sir Bleoberis, that fought with three knights at once for a
damsel’s sake, and he wan her afore the king of Northumberland. It was
so, said Sir Dinadan, for I know him well for a good knight and a
noble, and come of noble blood, for all be noble knights of whom he is
come of, that is Sir Launcelot du Lake. Now I pray you, said La Beale
Isoud, tell me will ye fight for my love with three knights that done
me great wrong? and in so much as ye be a knight of king Arthur’s I
require you to do battle for me. Then Sir Dinadan said, I shall say you
be as fair a lady as ever I saw any, and much fairer than is my lady
queen Guenever, but, wit ye well at one word, I will not fight for you
with three knights, Heaven defend me. Then Isoud laughed, and had good
game at him. So he had all the cheer that she might make him; and there
he lay all that night. And on the morn early Sir Tristram armed him,
and La Beale Isoud gave him a good helm; and then he promised her that
he would meet with Sir Dinadan, and they two would ride together unto
Lonazep, where the tournament should be;—and there shall I make ready
for you, where ye shall see the tournament. Then departed Sir Tristram
with two squires that bare his shield and his spears that were great
and long.


                              CHAP. LVII.

_How Sir Dinadan met with Sir Tristram, and with justing with Sir
  Palamides Sir Dinadan knew him._

Then after that, Sir Dinadan departed and rode his way a great pace
until he had overtaken Sir Tristram. And when Sir Dinadan had overtaken
him, he knew him anon, and he hated the fellowship of him above all
other knights. Ah, said Sir Dinadan, art thou that coward knight that I
met with yesterday, keep thee, for thou shalt just with me, maugre thy
head. Well, said Sir Tristram, and I am loth to just. And so they let
their horses run, and Sir Tristram missed of him a purpose, and Sir
Dinadan brake a spear upon Sir Tristram; and therewith Sir Dinadan
dressed him to draw out his sword. Not so, said Sir Tristram, why are
ye so wroth? I will not fight. Fie on thee, coward, said Sir Dinadan,
thou shamest all knights. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I care not,
for I will wait upon you and be under your protection, for because ye
are so good a knight ye may save me. The devil deliver me of thee, said
Sir Dinadan, for thou art as goodly a man of arms and of thy person as
ever I saw, and the most coward that ever I saw. What wilt thou do with
those great spears that thou carriest with thee? I shall give them,
said Sir Tristram, to some good knight when I come to the tournament:
and if I see you do best I shall give them to you. So thus as they rode
talking they saw where came an errant knight afore them, that dressed
him to just. Lo, said Sir Tristram, yonder is one will just, now dress
thee to him. A shame betide thee, said Sir Dinadan. Nay not so, said
Tristram, for that knight beseemeth a shrew. Then shall I, said Sir
Dinadan. And so they dressed their shields and their spears, and they
met together so hard that the other knight smote down Sir Dinadan from
his horse. Lo, said Sir Tristram, it had been better ye had left. Fie
on thee, coward, said Sir Dinadan. Then Sir Dinadan started up, and gat
his sword in his hand, and proffered to do battle on foot. Whether in
love or in wrath, said the other knight. Let us do battle in love, said
Sir Dinadan. What is your name? said that knight, I pray you tell me.
Wit ye well my name is Sir Dinadan. Ah Dinadan, said that knight, and
my name is Gareth, the youngest brother unto Sir Gawaine. Then either
made of other great cheer, for this Gareth was the best knight of all
the brethren, and he proved a good knight. Then they took their horses,
and there they spake of Sir Tristram, how such a coward he was: and
every word Sir Tristram heard, and laughed them to scorn. Then were
they ware where there came a knight afore them well horsed and well
armed, and he made him ready to just. Fair knights, said Sir Tristram,
look betwixt you who shall just with yonder knight, for I warn you I
will not have ado with him. Then shall I, said Sir Gareth: and so they
encountered together, and there that knight smote down Sir Gareth over
his horse croup. How now, said Sir Tristram unto Sir Dinadan, dress
thee now, and revenge the good knight Gareth. That shall I not, said
Sir Dinadan, for he hath stricken down a much bigger knight than I am.
Ah, said Sir Tristram, now Sir Dinadan I see and feel well your heart
faileth you, therefore now shall ye see what I shall do. And then Sir
Tristram hurtled unto that knight, and smote him quite from his horse.
And when Sir Dinadan saw that he marvelled greatly: and then he deemed
that it was Sir Tristram. Then this knight that was on foot pulled out
his sword to do battle. What is your name? said Sir Tristram. Wit ye
well, said the knight, my name is Sir Palamides. What knight hate ye
most? said Sir Tristram. Sir knight, said he, I hate Sir Tristram to
the death, for and I may meet with him the one of us shall die. Ye say
well, said Sir Tristram, and wit ye well that I am Sir Tristram de
Liones, and now do your worst. When Sir Palamides heard him say so he
was astonished, and then he said thus, I pray you, Sir Tristram,
forgive me all mine evil will, and if I live I shall do you service
above all other knights that be living, and there as I have owed you
evil will me sore repenteth. I wot not what aileth me, for me seemeth
that ye are a good knight, and none other knight that named himself a
good knight should not hate you; therefore I require you, Sir Tristram,
take no displeasure at mine unkind words. Sir Palamides, said Sir
Tristram, ye say well, and well I wot ye are a good knight, for I have
seen you proved, and many great enterprises have ye taken upon you, and
well achieved them; therefore, said Sir Tristram, and ye have any evil
will to me, now may ye right it, for I am ready at your hand. Not so,
my lord Sir Tristram; I will do you knightly service in all things as
ye will command. And right so I will take you, said Sir Tristram. And
so they rode forth on their ways, talking of many things. O my lord Sir
Tristram, said Dinadan, foul have ye mocked me, for truly I came into
this country for your sake, and by the advice of my lord Sir Launcelot,
and yet would not Sir Launcelot tell me the certainty of you, where I
should find you. Truly, said Sir Tristram, Sir Launcelot wist well
where I was, for I abode within his own castle.


                              CHAP. LVIII.

_How they approached the castle Lonazep, and of other devices of the
  death of Sir Lamorak._

Thus they rode until they were ware of the castle Lonazep: and then
were they ware of four hundred tents and pavilions, and marvellous
great ordinance. Truly, said Sir Tristram, yonder I see the greatest
ordinance that ever I saw. Sir, said Palamides, me seemeth there was as
great an ordinance at the castle of Maidens upon the rock where ye won
the prize, for I saw myself where ye forjusted thirty knights. Sir,
said Dinadan, and in Surluse at that tournament that Sir Galahalt of
the Long Isles made, the which there dured seven days, was as great a
gathering as is here, for there were many nations. Who was the best?
said Sir Tristram. Sir, it was Sir Launcelot du Lake and the noble
knight Sir Lamorak de Galis. And Sir Launcelot won the degree. I doubt
not, said Sir Tristram, but he won the degree, so he had not been
overmatched with many knights. And of the death of Sir Lamorak, said
Sir Tristram, it was over great pity, for I dare say he was the
cleanest mighted man and the best winded of his age that was on live,
for I knew him that he was the biggest knight that ever I met withal,
but if it were Sir Launcelot. Alas, said Sir Tristram, full woe is me
for his death. And if they were not the cousins of my lord Arthur that
slew him, they should die for it, and all those that were consenting to
his death. And for such things, said Sir Tristram, I fear to draw unto
the court of my lord Arthur: I will that ye wit it, said Sir Tristram
unto Gareth. Sir, I blame you not, said Gareth, for well I understand
the vengeance of my brethren Sir Gawaine, Sir Agravaine, Gaheris, and
Mordred. But as for me, said Sir Gareth, I meddle not of their matters,
therefore is none of them that loveth me; and for I understand they be
murderers of good knights I left their company, and God would I had
been by, said Gareth, when the noble knight Sir Lamorak was slain. Now,
truly, said Sir Tristram, it is well said of you, for I had lever than
all the gold betwixt this and Rome I had been there. Yea, said Sir
Palamides, and so would I had been there, and yet had I never the
degree at no justs nor tournament there as he was, but he put me to the
worse or on foot or on horseback, and that day that he was slain he did
the most deeds of arms that ever I saw knight do in all my life days.
And when him was given the degree by my lord Arthur, Sir Gawaine and
his three brethren, Agravaine, Gaheris, and Sir Mordred, set upon Sir
Lamorak in a privy place, and there they slew his horse, and so they
fought with him on foot more than three hours, both before him and
behind him; and Sir Mordred gave him his death’s wound behind him at
his back, and all to-hewed him: for one of his squires told me that saw
it. Fie upon treason, said Sir Tristram, for it killeth my heart to
hear this tale. So doth it mine, said Gareth; brethren as they be mine
I shall never love them, nor draw in their fellowship, for that deed.
Now speak we of other deeds, said Sir Palamides, and let him be, for
his life ye may not get again. That is the more pity, said Dinadan, for
Sir Gawaine and his brethren, except you, Sir Gareth, hate all the good
knights of the Round Table for the most part; for well I wot, and they
might privily, they hate my lord Sir Launcelot, and all his kin, and
great privy despite they have at him, and that is my lord Sir Launcelot
well ware of, and that causeth him to have the good knights of his kin
about him.


                               CHAP. LIX.

_How they came to Humber bank, and how they found a ship there, wherein
  lay the body of king Hermance._

Sir, said Palamides, let us leave off this matter, and let us see how
we shall do at this tournament. By mine advice, said Palamides, let us
four hold together against all that will come. Not by my counsel, said
Sir Tristram, for I see by their pavilions there will be four hundred
knights, and doubt ye not, said Sir Tristram, but there will be many
good knights, and be a man never so valiant nor so big yet he may be
overmatched. And so have I seen knights done many times: and when they
wend best to have won worship they lost it. For manhood is not worth
but if it be meddled with wisdom: and as for me, said Sir Tristram, it
may happen I shall keep mine own head as well as another. So thus they
rode until that they came to Humber bank, where they heard a cry and a
doleful noise. Then were they ware in the wind where came a rich vessel
covered over with red silk, and the vessel landed fast by them.
Therewith Sir Tristram alight and his knights. And so Sir Tristram went
afore and entered into that vessel. And when he came within, he saw a
fair bed richly covered, and thereupon lay a dead seemly knight, all
armed, save the head was all be-bled, with deadly wounds upon him: the
which seemed to be a passing good knight. How may this be, said Sir
Tristram, that this knight is thus slain? Then Sir Tristram was ware of
a letter in the dead knight’s hand. Master mariners, said Sir Tristram,
what meaneth that letter? Sir, said they, in that letter ye shall hear
and know how he was slain, and for what cause, and what was his name;
but sir, said the mariners, wit ye well that no man shall take that
letter and read it but if he be a good knight, and that he will
faithfully promise to revenge his death, else shall there no knight see
that letter open. Wit ye well, said Sir Tristram, that some of us may
revenge his death as well as others, and if it be so as ye mariners
say, his death shall be revenged. And therewith Sir Tristram took the
letter out of the knight’s hand; and it said thus:—Hermance king and
lord of the Red City, I send unto all knights errant recommending unto
you noble knights of Arthur’s court, I beseech them all among them to
find one knight that will fight for my sake with two brethren that I
brought up of nought, and feloniously and traitorly they have slain me,
wherefore I beseech one good knight to revenge my death. And he that
revengeth my death, I will that he have my Red City and all my castles.
Sir, said the mariners, wit ye well this king and knight that here
lieth was a full worshipful man, and of full great prowess, and full
well he loved all manner of knights errant. Truly, said Sir Tristram,
here is a piteous case, and full fain I would take this enterprise upon
me, but I have made such a promise that needs I must be at this great
tournament or else I am shamed. For well I wot for my sake in especial
my lord Arthur let make this justs and tournament in this country; and
well I wot that many worshipful people will be there at that tournament
for to see me. Therefore I fear me to take this enterprise upon me,
that I shall not come again betimes to this justs. Sir, said Palamides,
I pray you give me this enterprise, and ye shall see me achieve it
worshipfully, or else I shall die in this quarrel. Well, said Sir
Tristram, and this enterprise I give you, with this that ye be with me
at this tournament, that shall be as at this day seven night. Sir, said
Palamides, I promise you that I shall be with you by that day if I be
unslain or unmaimed.


                               CHAP. LX.

_How Sir Tristram with his fellowship came and were with an host which
  after fought with Sir Tristram; and other matters._

Then departed Sir Tristram, Gareth, and Sir Dinadan, and left Sir
Palamides in the vessel; and so Sir Tristram beheld the mariners how
they sailed over long Humber. And when Sir Palamides was out of their
sight, they took their horses, and beheld about them. And then were
they ware of a knight that came riding against them unarmed, and
nothing about him but a sword. And when this knight came nigh them he
saluted them, and they him again. Fair knights, said that knight, I
pray you insomuch as ye be knights errant, that ye will come and see my
castle, and take such as ye find there; I pray you heartily. And so
they rode with him into his castle; and there they were brought into
the hall, that was well apparelled, and so they were there unarmed and
set at a board. And when this knight saw Sir Tristram, anon he knew
him; and then this knight waxed pale and wroth at Sir Tristram. When
Sir Tristram saw his host make such cheer, he marvelled and said, Sir,
mine host, what cheer make you? Wit thou well, said he, I fare the
worse for thee, for I know thee, Sir Tristram de Liones, thou slewest
my brother. And therefore I give thee summons I will slay thee, and
ever I may get thee at large. Sir knight, said Sir Tristram, I am never
advised that ever I slew any brother of yours; and if ye say that I did
I will make you amends unto my power. I will none amends, said the
knight, but keep thee from me. So when he had dined, Sir Tristram asked
his arms and departed. And so they rode on their ways; and within a
little while Sir Dinadan saw where came a knight well armed, and well
horsed, without shield. Sir Tristram, said Sir Dinadan, take keep to
yourself, for I undertake yonder cometh your host that will have ado
with you. Let him come, said Sir Tristram, I shall abide him as well as
I may. Anon the knight, when he came nigh Sir Tristram, he cried and
bade him abide and keep him. So they hurtled together, but Sir Tristram
smote the other knight so sore that he bare him over his horse croup.
That knight arose lightly and took his horse again, and so rode
fiercely to Sir Tristram, and smote him twice hard upon the helm. Sir
knight, said Sir Tristram, I pray you leave off and smite me no more,
for I would be loth to deal with you and I might choose, for I have
your meat and your drink within my body. For all that he would not
leave, and then Sir Tristram gave him such a buffet upon the helm, that
he fell up so down from his horse, that the blood burst out at the
ventails of his helm, and so he lay still, likely to have been dead.
Then Sir Tristram said, Me repenteth sore of this buffet that I smote
so sore, for as I suppose he is dead. And so they left him and rode on
their ways. So they had not ridden but a while, but they saw coming
against them two full likely knights, well armed and well horsed, and
goodly servants about them. The one was Berrant le Apres, and he was
called the king with the hundred knights, and the other was Sir
Segwarides, which were renowned two noble knights. So as they came
either by other, the king looked upon Sir Dinadan, that at that time
had Sir Tristram’s helm upon his shoulder, the which helm the king had
seen before with the queen of Northgalis, and that queen the king
loved, and that helm the queen of Northgalis had given unto La Beale
Isoud, and the queen La Beale Isoud gave it to Sir Tristram. Sir
knight, said Berrant, where had ye that helm? What would ye? said Sir
Dinadan. For I will have ado with thee, said the king, for the love of
her that owned that helm, and therefore keep you. So they departed and
came together with all the mights of their horses; and there the king
with the hundred knights smote Sir Dinadan, horse and all, to the
earth; and then he commanded his servant, Go and take thou his helm
off, and keep it. So the varlet went to unbuckle his helm. What helm?
What wilt thou do? said Sir Tristram; leave that helm. To what intent,
said the king, will ye, sir knight, meddle with that helm? Wit you
well, said Sir Tristram, that helm shall not depart from me, or it be
dearer bought. Then make you ready, said Sir Berrant unto Sir Tristram.
So they hurtled together, and there Sir Tristram smote him down over
his horse tail. And then the king arose lightly, and gat his horse
lightly again, and then he strake fiercely at Sir Tristram many great
strokes. And then Sir Tristram gave Sir Berrant such a buffet upon the
helm that he fell down over his horse, sore stunned. Lo, said Sir
Dinadan, that helm is unhappy to us twain, for I had a fall for it, and
now, sir king, have ye another fall. Then Segwarides asked, Who shall
just with me? I pray thee, said Sir Gareth unto Dinadan, let me have
this justs. Sir, said Dinadan, I pray you take it as for me. That is no
reason, said Tristram, for this justs should be yours. At a word, said
Sir Dinadan, I will not thereof. Then Gareth dressed him to Sir
Segwarides, and there Sir Segwarides smote Sir Gareth and his horse to
the earth. Now, said Sir Tristram to Dinadan, just with yonder knight.
I will not thereof, said Dinadan. Then will I, said Sir Tristram. And
then Sir Tristram ran to him and gave him a fall, and so they left them
on foot. And Sir Tristram rode unto Joyous Gard, and there Sir Gareth
would not of his courtesy have gone into this castle, but Sir Tristram
would not suffer him to depart. And so they alight and unarmed them,
and had great cheer. But when Dinadan came afore La Beale Isoud, he
cursed the time that ever he bare Sir Tristram’s helm, and there he
told her how Sir Tristram had mocked him. Then was there laughing and
jesting at Sir Dinadan, that they wist not what to do with him.


                               CHAP. LXI.

_How Palamides went for to fight with two brethren for the death of
  king Hermance._

Now will we leave them merry within Joyous Gard, and speak we of Sir
Palamides. Then Sir Palamides sailed even along Humber to the coasts of
the sea, where was a fair castle. And at that time it was early in the
morning afore day. Then the mariners went unto Sir Palamides, that
slept fast. Sir knight, said the mariners, ye must arise, for here is a
castle, there ye must go into. I assent me, said Sir Palamides. And
therewithal he arrived. And then he blew his horn, that the mariners
had given him. And when they within the castle heard that horn, they
put forth many knights, and there they stood upon the walls, and said
with one voice, Welcome be ye to this castle. And then it waxed clear
day, and Sir Palamides entered into the castle. And within a while he
was served with many divers meats. Then Sir Palamides heard about him
much weeping and great dole. What may this mean? said Sir Palamides: I
love not to hear such a sorrow, and fain I would know what it meaneth.
Then there came afore him one whose name was Sir Ebel, that said thus,
Wit ye well, sir knight, this dole and sorrow is here made every day,
and for this cause: we had a king that hight Hermance, and he was king
of the Red City, and this king that was lord was a noble knight, large
and liberal of his expense. And in the world he loved nothing so much
as he did errant knights of king Arthur’s court, and all justing,
hunting, and all manner of knightly games; for so kind a king and
knight had never the rule of poor people as he was; and because of his
goodness and gentleness we bemoan him and ever shall. And all kings and
estates may beware by our lord, for he was destroyed in his own
default, for had he cherished them of his blood he had yet lived with
great riches and rest; but all estates may beware of our king. But
alas, said Ebel, that we shall give all other warning by his death.
Tell me, said Palamides, in what manner was your lord slain, and by
whom? Sir, said Sir Ebel, our king brought up of children two men that
now are perilous knights, and these two knights our king had so in
charity, that he loved no man nor trusted no man of his blood, nor none
other that was about him. And by these two knights our king was
governed: and so they ruled him peaceably, and his lands, and never
would they suffer none of his blood to have no rule with our king. And
also he was so free and so gentle, and they so false and deceivable,
that they ruled him peaceably; and that espied the lords of our king’s
blood, and departed from him unto their own livelihood. Then when these
two traitors understood that they had driven all the lords of his blood
from him, they were not pleased with that rule, but then they thought
to have more, as ever it is an old saw, Give a churl rule, and thereby
he will not be sufficed; for whatsoever he be that is ruled by a
villain born, and the lord of the soil to be a gentleman born, the same
villain shall destroy all the gentlemen about him; therefore all
estates and lords beware whom ye take about you. And if ye be a knight
of king Arthur’s court, remember this tale, for this is the end and
conclusion. My lord and king rode unto the forest hereby, by the advice
of these false traitors; and there he chased at the red deer, armed at
all pieces full like a good knight; and so for labour he waxed dry, and
then he alight and drank at a well; and when he was alight, by the
assent of these two traitors, that one that hight Helius he suddenly
smote our king through the body with a spear, and so they left him
there. And when they were departed, then by fortune I came to the well,
and found my lord and king wounded to the death. And when I heard his
complaint, I let bring him to the water side, and in that same ship I
put him alive; and when my lord king Hermance was in that vessel, he
required me for the true faith I owed unto him for to write a letter in
this manner:—


                              CHAP. LXII.

_The copy of the letter written for to revenge the king’s death, and
  how Sir Palamides fought for to have the battle._

Recommending unto king Arthur and to all his knights errant, beseeching
them all that insomuch as I king Hermance, king of the Red City, thus
am slain by felony and treason through two knights of mine own, and of
mine own bringing up, and of mine own making, that some worshipful
knight will revenge my death, insomuch I have been ever to my power
well willing unto Arthur’s court; and who that will adventure his life
with these two traitors for my sake in one battle, I king Hermance,
king of the Red City, freely give him all my lands and rents that ever
I held in my life. This letter, said Ebel, I wrote by my lord’s
commandment; and then he received his Creator, and when he was dead he
commanded me or ever he was cold to put that letter fast in his hand;
and then he commanded me to put forth that same vessel down Humber, and
I should give these mariners in commandment never to stint until that
they came unto Logris, where all the noble knights shall assemble at
this time;—And there shall some good knight have pity on me to revenge
my death, for there was never king nor lord falselyer ne traitorlyer
slain than I am here to my death. Thus was the complaint of our king
Hermance. Now, said Sir Ebel, ye know all how our lord was betrayed, we
require you for God’s sake have pity upon his death, and worshipfully
revenge his death, and then may ye hold all these lands. For we all wit
well that, and ye may slay these two traitors, the Red City and all
those that be therein will take you for their lord. Truly, said Sir
Palamides, it grieveth my heart for to hear you tell this doleful tale.
And to say the truth, I saw the same letter that ye speak of; and one
of the best knights on the earth read that letter to me, and by his
commandment I came hither to revenge your king’s death; and therefore
have done, and let me wit where I shall find those traitors, for I
shall never be at ease in my heart till that I be in hands with them.
Sir, said Sir Ebel, then take your ship again, and that ship must bring
you unto the Delectable Isle, fast by the Red City, and we in this
castle shall pray for you and abide your again-coming; for this same
castle, and ye speed well, must needs be yours; for our king Hermance
let make this castle for the love of the two traitors, and so we kept
it with strong hand, and therefore full sore are we threated. Wot ye
what ye shall do, said Sir Palamides; whatsoever come of me, look ye
keep well this castle. For, and it misfortune me so to be slain in this
quest, I am sure there will come one of the best knights of the world
for to revenge my death, and that is Sir Tristram de Liones, or else
Sir Launcelot du Lake.

Then Sir Palamides departed from that castle. And as he came nigh the
city, there came out of a ship a goodly knight armed against him, with
his shield on his shoulder, and his hand upon his sword. And anon as he
came nigh Sir Palamides he said, Sir knight, what seek ye here? Leave
this quest, for it is mine, and mine it was or ever it was yours, and
therefore I will have it. Sir knight, said Palamides, it may well be
that this quest was yours or it was mine, but when the letter was taken
out of the dead king’s hand, at that time by likelihood there was no
knight had undertaken to revenge the death of the king. And so at that
time I promised to revenge his death. And so I shall, or else I am
ashamed. Ye say well, said the knight, but wit ye well then will I
fight with you, and who be the better knight of us both, let him take
the battle upon hand. I assent me, said Sir Palamides. And then they
dressed their shields and pulled out their swords, and lashed together
many sad strokes as men of might; and this fighting was more than an
hour; but at the last Sir Palamides waxed big and better winded, so
that then he smote that knight such a stroke that he made him to kneel
upon his knees. Then that knight spake on high and said, Gentle knight,
hold thy hand. Sir Palamides was goodly, and withdrew his hand. Then
this knight said, Wit ye well, knight, that thou art better worthy to
have this battle than I, and I require thee of knighthood tell me thy
name. Sir, my name is Palamides, a knight of king Arthur, and of the
Table Round, that hither I came to revenge the death of this dead king.


                              CHAP. LXIII.

_Of the preparation of Sir Palamides and the two brethren that should
  fight with him._

Well be ye found, said the knight to Palamides, for of all knights that
be on live, except three, I had levest have you. The first is Sir
Launcelot du Lake, the second is Sir Tristram de Liones, the third is
my nigh cousin Sir Lamorak de Galis. And I am brother unto king
Hermance that is dead, and my name is Sir Hermind. Ye say well, said
Sir Palamides, and ye shall see how I shall speed. And if I be there
slain go ye to my lord Sir Launcelot, or else to my lord Sir Tristram,
and pray them to revenge my death, for as for Sir Lamorak, him shall ye
never see in this world. Alas, said Sir Hermind, how may that be? He is
slain, said Sir Palamides, by Sir Gawaine and his brethren. Truly, said
Hermind, there was not one for one that slew him. That is truth, said
Sir Palamides, for they were four dangerous knights that slew him, as
Sir Gawaine, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred; but Sir
Gareth the fifth brother was away, the best knight of them all. And so
Sir Palamides told Hermind all the manner, and how they slew Sir
Lamorak all only by treason. So Sir Palamides took his ship, and
arrived up at the Delectable Isle. And in the meanwhile Sir Hermind,
that was the king’s brother, he arrived up at the Red City, and there
he told them how there was come a knight of king Arthur’s to avenge
king Hermance’s death; and his name is Sir Palamides the good knight,
that for the most part he followeth the beast Glatisant. Then all the
city made great joy. For mickle had they heard of Sir Palamides, and of
his noble prowess. So let they ordain a messenger and sent unto the two
brethren, and bade them to make them ready, for there was a knight come
that would fight with them both. So the messenger went unto them where
they were at a castle there beside. And there he told them how there
was a knight come of king Arthur’s court to fight with them both at
once. He is welcome, said they. But tell us, we pray you, if it be Sir
Launcelot, or any of his blood. He is none of that blood, said the
messenger. Then we care the less, said the two brethren, for with none
of the blood of Sir Launcelot we keep not to have ado withal. Wit ye
well, said the messenger, that his name is Sir Palamides, that yet is
unchristened, a noble knight. Well, said they, and he be now
unchristened he shall never be christened. So they appointed to be at
the city within two days.

And when Sir Palamides was come to the city, they made passing great
joy of him: and then they beheld him and saw that he was well made,
cleanly and bigly, and unmaimed of his limbs, and neither too young nor
too old; and so all the people praised him. And though he was not
christened, yet he believed in the best manner, and was full faithful
and true of his promise, and well conditioned. And because he made his
avow that he would never be christened until the time that he had
achieved the beast Glatisant, which was a wonderful beast, and a great
signification, for Merlin prophesied much of that beast. And also Sir
Palamides avowed never to take full christendom unto the time that he
had done seven battles within the lists. So within the third day there
came to the city these two brethren, the one hight Helius, the other
hight Helake, the which were men of great prowess, howbeit that they
were false and full of treason, and but poor men born, yet were they
noble knights of their hands. And with them they brought forty knights
to that intent that they should be big enough for the Red City. Thus
came the two brethren with great boasting and pride, for they had put
the Red City in fear and damage. Then they were brought to the lists.
And Sir Palamides came into the place, and said thus: Be ye the two
brethren, Helius and Helake, that slew your king and lord, Sir
Hermance, by felony and treason, for whom that I am come hither to
revenge his death? Wit thou well, said Sir Helius and Sir Helake, that
we are the same knights that slew king Hermance. And wit thou well Sir
Palamides, Saracen, that we shall handle thee so or thou depart that
thou shalt wish that thou werest christened. It may well be, said Sir
Palamides, for yet I would not die or I were christened, and yet so am
I not afeard of you both, but I trust to God that I shall die a better
christian man than any of you both; and doubt ye not, said Sir
Palamides, either ye or I shall be left dead in this place.


                              CHAP. LXIV.

_Of the battle between Sir Palamides and the two brethren, and how the
  two brethren were slain._

Then they departed, and the two brethren came against Sir Palamides,
and he against them, as fast as their horses might run. And by fortune
Sir Palamides smote Helake through his shield, and through the breast
more than a fathom. All this while Sir Helius held up his spear, and
for pride and presumption he would not smite Sir Palamides with his
spear. But when he saw his brother lie on the earth, and saw he might
not help himself, then he said unto Sir Palamides, Help thyself: and
therewith he came hurtling unto Sir Palamides with his spear, and smote
him quite from his saddle. Then Sir Helius rode over Sir Palamides
twice or thrice. And therewith Sir Palamides was ashamed, and gat the
horse of Sir Helius by the bridle, and therewithal the horse areared,
and Sir Palamides halp after, and so they fell both to the earth, but
anon Sir Helius start up lightly, and there he smote Sir Palamides a
mighty stroke upon the helm, so that he kneeled upon his own knee. Then
they lashed together many sad strokes, and traced and traversed, now
backward, now sideling, hurtling together like two boars, and that same
time they fell both groveling to the earth. Thus they fought still
without any reposing two hours, and never breathed, and then Sir
Palamides waxed faint and weary, and Sir Helius waxed passing strong,
and doubled his strokes, and drove Sir Palamides overthwart and endlong
all the field, that they of the city, when they saw Sir Palamides in
this case, they wept, and cried, and made great dole, and the other
party made as great joy. Alas, said the men of the city, that this
noble knight should thus be slain for our king’s sake. And as they were
thus weeping and crying, Sir Palamides that had suffered an hundred
strokes, that it was wonder that he stood upon his feet, at the last,
Sir Palamides beheld as he might the common people how they wept for
him, and then he said to himself, Ah, fie for shame, Sir Palamides, why
hangest thou thy head so low? And therewith he bear up his shield, and
looked Sir Helius in the visage, and he smote him a great stroke upon
the helm, and after that another and another. And then he smote Sir
Helius with such a might that he fell to the earth groveling, and then
he rased off his helm from his head, and there he smote him such a
buffet that he departed his head from the body. And then were the
people of the city the joyfullest people that might be. So they brought
him to his lodging with great solemnity, and there all the people
became his men. And then Sir Palamides prayed them all to take keep
unto all the lordship of king Hermance;—For, fair sirs, wit ye well, I
may not as at this time abide with you, for I must in all haste be with
my lord king Arthur at the castle of Lonazep, the which I have promised.

Then were the people full heavy at his departing. For all that city
proffered Sir Palamides the third part of their goods so that he would
abide with them: but in no wise as at that time he would not abide. And
so Sir Palamides departed. And so he came unto the castle, there as Sir
Ebel was lieutenant. And when they in the castle wist how Sir Palamides
had sped there was a joyful company. And so Sir Palamides departed, and
came to the castle of Lonazep. And when he wist that Sir Tristram was
not there, he took his way over Humber, and came unto Joyous Gard where
as Sir Tristram was, and La Beale Isoud. Sir Tristram had commanded
that what knight errant came within the Joyous Gard, as in the town,
that they should warn Sir Tristram. So there came a man of the town,
and told Sir Tristram how there was a knight in the town a passing
goodly man. What manner of man is he? said Sir Tristram, and what sign
beareth he? So the man told Sir Tristram all the tokens of him. That is
Palamides, said Dinadan. It may well be, said Sir Tristram: go ye to
him, said Sir Tristram unto Dinadan. So Dinadan went unto Sir
Palamides, and there either made of other great joy, and so they lay
together that night, and on the morn early came Sir Tristram and Sir
Gareth, and took them in their beds, and so they arose and brake their
fast.


                               CHAP. LXV.

_How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides met Breuse Sance Pité, and how Sir
  Tristram and La Beale Isoud went unto Lonazep._

And then Sir Tristram desired Sir Palamides to ride into the fields and
woods; so they were accorded to repose them in the forest. And when
they had played them a great while, they rode unto a fair well, and
anon they were ware of an armed knight that came riding against them,
and there either saluted other. Then this armed knight spake to Sir
Tristram, and asked what were those knights that were lodged in Joyous
Gard. I wot not what they are, said Sir Tristram. What knights be ye,
said that knight, for me seemeth that ye be no knights errant, because
ye ride unarmed? Whether we be knights or not, we list not to tell thee
our name. Wilt thou not tell me thy name, said that knight, then keep
thee, for thou shalt die of my hands. And therewith he gat his spear in
his hands, and would have run Sir Tristram through. That saw Sir
Palamides, and smote his horse traverse in midst of the side, that man
and horse fell to the earth. And therewith Sir Palamides alight, and
pulled out his sword to have slain him. Let be, said Sir Tristram, slay
him not, the knight is but a fool, it were shame to slay him. But take
away his spear, said Sir Tristram, and let him take his horse and go
where that he will. So when this knight arose he groaned sore of the
fall, and so he took his horse, and when he was up, he turned then his
horse, and required Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides to tell him what
knights they were. Now wit ye well, said Sir Tristram, that my name is
Sir Tristram de Liones, and this knight’s name is Sir Palamides. When
he wist what they were, he took his horse with the spurs because they
should not ask him his name, and so rode fast away through thick and
thin. Then came there by them a knight with a bended shield of azure,
whose name was Epinogris, and he came toward them a great wallop.
Whither are ye riding? said Sir Tristram. My fair lords, said
Epinogris, I follow the falsest knight that beareth the life, wherefore
I require tell me whether ye saw him, for he beareth a shield with a
case of red over it. Truly, said Tristram, such a knight departed from
us not a quarter of an hour ago; we pray you tell us his name. Alas,
said Epinogris, why let ye him escape from you, and he is so great a
foe unto all errant knights: his name is Breuse Sance Pité. Ah fie for
shame, said Sir Palamides, alas that ever he escaped my hands, for he
is the man in the world that I hate most. Then every knight made great
sorrow to other, and so Epinogris departed, and followed the chase
after him. Then Sir Tristram and his three fellows rode unto Joyous
Gard, and there Sir Tristram talked unto Sir Palamides of his battle,
how he sped at the Red City; and as ye have heard afore, so was it
ended. Truly, said Sir Tristram, I am glad ye have well sped, for ye
have done worshipfully. Well, said Sir Tristram, we must forward
to-morn. And then he devised how it should be, and Sir Tristram devised
to send his two pavilions to set them fast by the well of Lonazep,—and
therein shall be the queen La Beale Isoud. It is well said, said Sir
Dinadan. But when Sir Palamides heard of that, his heart was ravished
out of measure: notwithstanding he said but little. So when they came
to Joyous Gard, Sir Palamides would not have gone into the castle, but
as Sir Tristram took him by the finger, and led him into the castle.
And when Sir Palamides saw La Beale Isoud, he was so ravished so that
he might scarcely speak. So they went unto meat, but Palamides might
not eat, and there was all the cheer that might be had. And on the morn
they were apparelled to ride towards Lonazep.

So Sir Tristram had three squires, and La Beale Isoud had three
gentlewomen, and both the queen and they were richly apparelled; and
other people had they none with them, but varlets to bear their shields
and their spears. And thus they rode forth. So as they rode they saw
afore them a rout of knights: it was the knight Galihodin with twenty
knights with him. Fair fellows, said Galihodin, yonder come four
knights, and a rich and a well fair lady: I am in will to take that
lady from them. That is not of the best counsel, said one of
Galihodin’s men, but send ye to them and wit what they will say. And so
it was done. There came a squire to Sir Tristram and asked him whether
they would just, or else to lose their lady? Not so, said Sir Tristram,
tell your lord, I bid him come as many as we be, and win her and take
her. Sir, said Palamides, and it please you, let me have this deed, and
I shall undertake them all four. I will that ye have it, said Sir
Tristram, at your pleasure. Now go and tell your lord Galihodin, that
this same knight will encounter with him and his fellows.


                              CHAP. LXVI.

_How Sir Palamides justed with Sir Galihodin and after with Sir
  Gawaine, and smote them down._

Then this squire departed and told Galihodin, and then he dressed his
shield, and put forth a spear, and Sir Palamides another, and there Sir
Palamides smote Galihodin so hard that he smote both horse and man to
the earth. And there he had an horrible fall. And then came there
another knight, and in the same wise he served him, and so he served
the third and the fourth, that he smote them over their horse croups:
and always Sir Palamides’ spear was whole. Then came six knights more
of Galihodin’s men, and would have been avenged upon Sir Palamides. Let
be, said Sir Galihodin, not so hardy! None of you all meddle with this
knight, for he is a man of great bounty and honour; and if he would, ye
were not able to meddle with him. And right so they held them still.
And ever Sir Palamides was ready to just. And when he saw they would no
more, he rode unto Sir Tristram. Right well have ye done, said Sir
Tristram, and worshipfully have ye done as a good knight should. This
Galihodin was nigh cousin unto Galahalt the haut prince. And this
Galihodin was a king within the country of Surluse. So as Sir Tristram,
Sir Palamides, and La Beale Isoud rode together, they saw afore them
four knights, and every man had his spear in his hand. The first was
Sir Gawaine, the second Sir Uwaine, the third Sir Sagramor le Desirous,
and the fourth was Dodinas le Savage. When Sir Palamides beheld them,
that the four knights were ready to just, he prayed Sir Tristram to
give him leave to have ado with them all so long as he might hold him
on horseback:—And if that I be smitten down, I pray you revenge me.
Well, said Sir Tristram, I will as ye will, and ye are not so fain to
have worship, but I would as fain increase your worship. And there
withal Sir Gawaine put forth his spear, and Sir Palamides another, and
so they came so eagerly together that Sir Palamides smote Sir Gawaine
to the earth, horse and all; and in the same wise he served Uwaine, Sir
Dodinas, and Sagramor. All these four knights Sir Palamides smote down
with divers spears. And then Sir Tristram departed toward Lonazep. And
when they were departed, then came thither Galihodin with his ten
knights unto Sir Gawaine, and there he told him all how he had sped. I
marvel, said Sir Gawaine, what knights they be that are so arrayed in
green. And that knight upon the white horse smote me down, said
Galihodin, and my three fellows. And so he did to me, said Gawaine, and
well I wot, said Sir Gawaine, that either he upon the white horse is
Sir Tristram, or else Sir Palamides, and that gaybeseen lady is queen
Isoud. Thus they talked of one thing and of other. And in the mean
while Sir Tristram passed on, till that he came to the well where his
two pavilions were set, and there they alighted, and there they saw
many pavilions and great array. Then Sir Tristram left there Sir
Palamides and Sir Gareth with La Beale Isoud; and Sir Tristram and Sir
Dinadan rode to Lonazep to hearken tidings; and Sir Tristram rode upon
Sir Palamides’ white horse. And when he came into the castle, Sir
Dinadan heard a great horn blow, and to the horn drew many knights.
Then Sir Tristram asked a knight, What meaneth the blast of that horn?
Sir, said that knight, it is all those that shall hold against king
Arthur at this tournament. The first is the king of Ireland, and the
king of Surluse, the king of Listinoise, the king of Northumberland,
and the king of the best part of Wales, with many other countries: and
these draw them to a council, to understand what governance they shall
be of. But the king of Ireland, whose name was Marhalt, and father to
the good knight Sir Marhaus that Sir Tristram slew, had all the speech,
that Sir Tristram might hear it. He said: Lords and fellows, let us
look to ourselves, for wit ye well king Arthur is sure of many good
knights, or else he would not with so few knights have ado with us;
therefore, by my counsel, let every king have a standard and a
cognizance by himself, that every knight draw to his natural lord, and
then may every king and captain help his knights, if they have need.
When Sir Tristram had heard all their counsel, he rode unto king Arthur
for to hear of his counsel.


                              CHAP. LXVII.

_How Sir Tristram and his fellowship came unto the tournament of
  Lonazep; and of divers justs and matters._

But Sir Tristram was not so soon come into the place, but Sir Gawaine
and Sir Galihodin went to king Arthur, and told him, That same green
knight in the green harness, with the white horse, smote us two down,
and six of our fellows, this same day. Well, said Arthur; and then he
called Sir Tristram, and asked him what was his name. Sir, said Sir
Tristram, ye shall hold me excused as at this time, for ye shall not
wit my name. And there Sir Tristram returned and rode his way. I have
marvel, said Arthur, that yonder knight will not tell me his name, but
go thou, Griflet le Fise de Dieu, and pray him to speak with me betwixt
us. Then Sir Griflet rode after him, and overtook him, and said to him
that king Arthur prayed him for to speak with him secretly apart. Upon
this covenant, said Sir Tristram, I will speak with him that I will
turn again, so that ye will ensure me not to desire to hear my name. I
shall undertake, said Sir Griflet, that he will not greatly desire it
of you. So they rode together until they came to king Arthur. Fair sir,
said king Arthur, what is the cause ye will not tell me your name? Sir,
said Sir Tristram, without a cause I will not hide my name. Upon what
party will ye hold? said king Arthur. Truly, my lord, said Sir
Tristram, I wot not yet on what party I will be on until I come to the
field; and there as my heart giveth me there will I hold: but to-morrow
ye shall see and prove on what party I shall come. And therewithal he
returned and went to his pavilions. And upon the morn they armed them
all in green, and came into the field; and there young knights began to
just, and did many worshipful deeds. Then spake Gareth unto Sir
Tristram, and prayed him to give him leave to break his spear, for him
thought shame to bear his spear whole again. When Sir Tristram heard
him say so he laughed, and said, I pray you, do your best. Then Sir
Gareth gat a spear, and proffered to just. That saw a nephew unto the
king of the hundred knights, his name was Selises, and a good man of
arms. So this knight Selises then dressed him unto Sir Gareth, and they
two met together so hard that either smote other down, horse and all,
to the earth; so they were both bruised and hurt, and there they lay
till the king with the hundred knights halp Selises up; and Sir
Tristram and Sir Palamides halp up Gareth again; and so they rode with
Sir Gareth unto their pavilions, and then they pulled off his helm. And
when La Beale Isoud saw Sir Gareth bruised in the face, she asked him
what ailed him. Madam, said Sir Gareth, I had a great buffet, and, as I
suppose, I gave another, but none of my fellows would not rescue me.
Forsooth, said Palamides, it longed not to none of us as this day to
just, for there have not this day justed no proved knights; and needs
ye would just, and when the other party saw ye proferred yourself to
just, they sent one to you, a passing good knight of his age, for I
know him well, his name is Selises, and worshipfully ye met with him,
and neither of you are dishonoured; and therefore refresh yourself,
that ye may be ready and whole to just to-morrow. As for that, said Sir
Gareth, I shall not fail you, and I may bestride my horse.


                             CHAP. LXVIII.

_How Sir Tristram and his fellowship justed, and of the noble feats
  that they did in that tourneying._

Now upon what party, said Sir Tristram, is it best we be withal as
to-morn? Sir, said Palamides, ye shall have mine advice to be against
king Arthur as to-morn, for on his party will be Sir Launcelot, and
many good knights of his blood with him. And the more men of worship
that they be, the more worship we shall win. That is full knightly
spoken, said Sir Tristram, and right so as ye counsel me, so will we
do. So be it, said they all. So that night they were lodged with the
best. And on the morn when it was day, they were arrayed in green
trappings, shields, and spears; and La Beale Isoud in the same colour,
and her three damsels. And right so these four knights came into the
field endlong and through. And so they led La Beale Isoud thither as
she should stand and behold all the justs in a bay window; but always
she wimpled that no man might see her visage. And then these three
knights rode straight unto the party of the king of Scots.

When king Arthur had seen them do all this, he asked Sir Launcelot what
were these knights and that queen? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, I cannot
say you in certain, but if Sir Tristram be in this country, or Sir
Palamides, wit ye well it be they in certain, and La Beale Isoud. Then
Arthur called to him Sir Kay, and said, Go lightly and wit how many
knights there be here lacking of the Table Round, for by the sieges
thou mayest know. So went Sir Kay, and saw by the writing in the sieges
that there lacked ten knights,—And these be their names that be not
here, Sir Tristram, Sir Palamides, Sir Percivale, Sir Gaheris, Sir
Epinogris, Sir Mordred, Sir Dinadan, Sir La Cote Male Taile, and Sir
Pelleas the noble knight. Well, said Arthur, some of these I dare
undertake are here this day against us. Then came therein two brethren,
cousins unto Sir Gawaine, the one hight Sir Edward, that other hight
Sir Sadok, the which were two good knights, and they asked of king
Arthur that they might have the first justs, for they were of Orkney. I
am pleased, said king Arthur. Then Sir Edward encountered with the king
of Scots, in whose party was Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides; and Sir
Edward smote the king of Scots quite from his horse; and Sir Sadok
smote down the king of North Wales, and gave him a wonder great fall,
that there was a great cry on king Arthur’s party, and that made Sir
Palamides passing wroth; and so Sir Palamides dressed his shield and
his spear, and with all his might he met with Sir Edward of Orkney,
that he smote him so hard that his horse might not stand on his feet,
and so they hurtled to the earth: and then with the same spear Sir
Palamides smote down Sir Sadok over his horse croup. Oh, said Arthur,
what knight is that arrayed all in green? he justeth mightily. Wit you
well, said Sir Gawaine, he is a good knight, and yet shall ye see him
just better or he depart; and yet shall ye see, said Sir Gawaine,
another bigger knight in the same colour than he is, for that same
knight, said Sir Gawaine, that smote down right now my two cousins, he
smote me down within these two days, and seven fellows more. This
meanwhile, as they stood thus talking, there came into the place Sir
Tristram upon a black horse, and or ever he stint he smote down with
one spear four good knights of Orkney, that were of the kin of Sir
Gawaine; and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan every each of them smote down a
good knight. Truly, said Arthur, yonder knight upon the black horse
doth mightily and marvellously well. Abide you, said Sir Gawaine; that
knight with the black horse began not yet. Then Sir Tristram made to
horse again the two kings that Edward and Sadok had unhorsed at the
beginning. And then Sir Tristram drew his sword, and rode into the
thickest of the press against them of Orkney, and there he smote down
knights, and rashed off helms, and pulled away their shields, and
hurtled down many knights: he fared so that Sir Arthur and all knights
had great marvel, when they saw one knight do so great deeds of arms.
And Sir Palamides failed not upon the other side, but did so
marvellously well that all men had wonder. For there king Arthur
likened Sir Tristram, that was on the black horse, like to a wood lion,
and likened Sir Palamides, upon the white horse, unto a wood libbard,
and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan unto eager wolves. But the custom was
such among them, that none of the kings would help other, but all the
fellowship of every standard to help other as they might. But ever Sir
Tristram did so much deeds of arms that they of Orkney waxed weary of
him, and so withdrew them unto Lonazep.


                              CHAP. LXIX.

_How Sir Tristram was unhorsed and smitten down by Sir Launcelot, and
  after that Sir Tristram smote down king Arthur._

Then was the cry of heralds and all manner of common people, The green
knight hath done marvellously, and beaten all them of Orkney. And there
the heralds numbered that Sir Tristram, that sat upon the black horse,
had smitten down twenty knights; and Sir Palamides had smitten down
twenty knights; and the most part of these fifty knights were of the
house of king Arthur, and proved knights. Truly, said Arthur unto Sir
Launcelot, this is a great shame to us to see four knights beat so many
knights of mine; and therefore make you ready, for we will have ado
with them. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well that there are two
passing good knights, and great worship were it not to us now to have
ado with them, for they have this day sore travailed. As for that, said
Arthur, I will be avenged, and therefore take with you Sir Bleoberis
and Sir Ector, and I will be the fourth, said Arthur. Sir, said
Launcelot, ye shall find me ready, and my brother Sir Ector, and my
cousin Sir Bleoberis. And so when they were ready and on horseback, Now
choose, said Sir Arthur unto Sir Launcelot, with whom that ye will
encounter withal. Sir, said Launcelot, I will meet with the green
knight upon the black horse (that was Sir Tristram), and my cousin Sir
Bleoberis shall match the green knight upon the white horse (that was
Sir Palamides), and my brother Sir Ector shall match with the green
knight upon the white horse (that was Sir Gareth). Then must I, said
Sir Arthur, have ado with the green knight upon the grisled horse (and
that was Sir Dinadan). Now every man take heed to his fellow, said Sir
Launcelot. And so they trotted on together; and there encountered Sir
Launcelot against Sir Tristram. So Sir Launcelot smote Sir Tristram so
sore upon the shield that he bare horse and man to the earth: but Sir
Launcelot wend it had been Sir Palamides, and so he passed forth. And
then Sir Bleoberis encountered with Sir Palamides, and he smote him so
hard upon the shield that Sir Palamides and his white horse rustled to
the earth. Then Sir Ector de Maris smote Sir Gareth so hard that down
he fell off his horse. And the noble king Arthur encountered with Sir
Dinadan, and he smote him quite from his saddle. And then the noise
turned awhile how the green knights were slain down. When the king of
Northgalis saw that Sir Tristram had a fall, then he remembered him how
great deeds of arms Sir Tristram had done. Then he made ready many
knights, for the custom and cry was such, that what knight were smitten
down, and might not be horsed again by his fellows, or by his own
strength, that as that day he should be prisoner unto the party that
had smitten him down. So came in the king of Northgalis, and he rode
straight unto Sir Tristram. And when he came nigh him he alight down
suddenly, and betook Sir Tristram his horse, and said thus: Noble
knight, I know thee not of what country thou art, but for the noble
deeds that thou hast done this day take there my horse, and let me do
as well as I may; for truly thou art better worthy to have mine horse
than I myself. Gramercy, said Sir Tristram, and if I may I shall
requite you. Look that ye go not far from us, and, as I suppose, I
shall win you another horse. And therewith Sir Tristram mounted upon
his horse, and there he met with king Arthur, and he gave him such a
buffet upon the helm with his sword that king Arthur had no power to
keep his saddle. And then Sir Tristram gave the king of Northgalis king
Arthur’s horse. Then was there great press about king Arthur for to
horse him again. But Sir Palamides would not suffer king Arthur to be
horsed again: but ever Sir Palamides smote on the right hand and on the
left hand mightily as a noble knight. And this mean while Sir Tristram
rode through the thickest of the press, and smote down knights on the
right and on the left hand, and rased off helms, and so passed forth
unto his pavilions, and left Sir Palamides on foot. And Sir Tristram
changed his horse, and disguised himself all in red, horse and harness.


                               CHAP. LXX.

_How Sir Tristram changed his harness and it was all red, and how he
  demeaned him, and how Sir Palamides slew Launcelot’s horse._

And when the queen La Beale Isoud saw that Sir Tristram was unhorsed,
and she wist not where he was, then she wept greatly. But Sir Tristram,
when he was ready, came dashing lightly into the field, and then La
Beale Isoud espied him. And so he did great deeds of arms, with one
spear that was great Sir Tristram smote down five knights or ever he
stint. Then Sir Launcelot espied him readily that it was Sir Tristram,
and then he repented him that he had smitten him down. And so Sir
Launcelot went out of the press to repose him, and lightly he came
again. And now when Sir Tristram came unto the press, through his great
force he put Sir Palamides upon his horse, and Sir Gareth, and Sir
Dinadan, and then they began to do marvellously. But Sir Palamides nor
none of his two fellows knew not who had holpen them on horseback
again. But ever Sir Tristram was nigh them and succoured them, and they
not him, because he was changed into red armour. And all this while Sir
Launcelot was away. So when La Beale Isoud knew Sir Tristram again upon
his horse back she was passing glad, and then she laughed and made good
cheer. And as it happened Sir Palamides looked up toward her, where she
lay in the window, and he espied how she laughed: and therewith he took
such a rejoicing that he smote down, what with his spear and with his
sword, all that ever he met; for through the sight of her he was so
enamoured in her love, that he seemed at that time that, and both Sir
Tristram and Sir Launcelot had been both against him, they should have
won no worship of him. And in his heart, as the book saith, Sir
Palamides wished that with his worship he might have ado with Sir
Tristram before all men because of La Beale Isoud. Then Sir Palamides
began to double his strength, and he did so marvellously that all men
had wonder of him. And ever he cast up his eye unto La Beale Isoud, and
when he saw her make such cheer he fared like a lion, that there might
no man withstand him. And then Sir Tristram beheld him how that Sir
Palamides bestirred him, and then he said unto Sir Dinadan, Truly, Sir
Palamides is a passing good knight, and a well enduring: but such deeds
saw I him never do, nor never heard I tell that ever he did so much in
one day. It is his day, said Sir Dinadan: and he would say no more unto
Sir Tristram; but to himself he said, And if ye knew for whose love he
doth all these deeds of arms, soon would Sir Tristram abate his
courage. Alas, said Sir Tristram, that Sir Palamides is not christened.
So said king Arthur, and so said all those that beheld him. Then all
people gave him the prize as for the best knight that day, that he
passed Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram. Well, said Dinadan to himself,
all this worship that Sir Palamides hath here this day, he may thank
the queen Isoud; for had she been away this day, Sir Palamides had not
gotten the prize this day.

Right so came into the field Sir Launcelot du Lake, and saw and heard
the noise and cry and the great worship that Sir Palamides had. He
dressed him against Sir Palamides with a great mighty spear, and a
long, and thought to smite him down. And when Sir Palamides saw Sir
Launcelot come upon him so fast, he ran upon Sir Launcelot as fast with
his sword as he might. And as Sir Launcelot should have stricken him he
smote his spear on side, and smote it atwo with his sword. And Sir
Palamides rashed unto Sir Launcelot and thought to have put him to a
shame, and with his sword he smote his horse’s neck that Sir Launcelot
rode upon, and then Sir Launcelot fell to the earth. Then was the cry
huge and great;—See how Sir Palamides the Saracen hath smitten down
Sir Launcelot’s horse. Right then were there many knights wroth with
Sir Palamides, because he had done that deed. Therefore many knights
held there against that it was unknightly done in a tournament to kill
a horse wilfully, but that it had been done in plain battle, life for
life.


                              CHAP. LXXI.

_How Sir Launcelot said to Sir Palamides, and how the prize of that day
  was given unto Sir Palamides._

When Sir Ector de Maris saw Sir Launcelot his brother have such a
despite, and so set on foot, then he gat a spear eagerly and ran
against Sir Palamides, and he smote him so hard that he bare him quite
from his horse. That saw Sir Tristram that was in red harness, and he
smote down Sir Ector de Maris quite from his horse. Then Sir Launcelot
dressed his shield upon his shoulder, and with his sword naked in his
hand, and so came straight upon Sir Palamides fiercely, and said, Wit
thou well, thou hast done me this day the greatest despite that ever
any worshipful knight did to me in tournament or in justs, and
therefore I will be avenged upon thee, therefore take keep to yourself.
Ah mercy, noble knight, said Palamides, and forgive me mine unkindly
deeds, for I have no power nor might to withstand you. And I have done
so much this day, that well I wot I did never so much nor never shall
in my life days. And therefore, most noble knight, I require thee spare
me as at this day, and I promise you I shall ever be your knight while
I live. And ye put me from my worship now, ye put me from the greatest
worship that ever I had, or ever shall have, in my life days. Well,
said Sir Launcelot, I see, for to say the sooth, ye have done
marvellously well this day, and I understand a part for whose love ye
do it, and well I wot that love is a great mistress. And if my lady
were here as she is not, wit you well that ye should not bear away the
worship. But beware your love be not discovered; for and Sir Tristram
may know it ye will repent it. And since my quarrel is not here, ye
shall have this day the worship as for me; considering the great
travail and pain that ye have had this day, it were no worship for me
to put you from it. And therewithal Sir Launcelot suffered Sir
Palamides to depart. Then Sir Launcelot by great force and might gat
his own horse, maugre twenty knights. So when Sir Launcelot was horsed
he did many marvels, and so did Sir Tristram, and Sir Palamides in
likewise. Then Sir Launcelot smote down with a spear Sir Dinadan, and
the king of Scotland, and the king of Wales, and the king of
Northumberland, and the king of Listinoise. So then Sir Launcelot and
his fellows smote down well a forty knights. Then came the king of
Ireland and the king of the Straight Marches to rescue Sir Tristram and
Sir Palamides. There began a great meddle, and many knights there were
smitten down on both parties, and always Sir Launcelot spared Sir
Tristram, and he spared him. And Sir Palamides would not meddle with
Sir Launcelot. And so there was hurtling here and there. And then king
Arthur sent out many knights of the Table Round. And Sir Palamides was
ever in the foremost front. And Sir Tristram did so strongly well that
the king and all other had marvel. And then the king let blow to
lodging. And because Sir Palamides began first, and never he went nor
rode out of the field to repose, but ever he was doing marvellously
well, either on foot or on horseback, and longest enduring, king Arthur
and all the kings gave Sir Palamides the honour and the gree as for
that day. Then Sir Tristram commanded Sir Dinadan to fetch the queen La
Beale Isoud, and bring her to his two pavilions that stood by the well.
And so Dinadan did as he was commanded. But when Sir Palamides
understood and wist that Sir Tristram was in the red armour, and on the
red horse, wit ye well that he was glad, and so was Sir Gareth, and Sir
Dinadan. For they all wend that Sir Tristram had been taken prisoner.

And then every knight drew to his inn. And then king Arthur and every
knight spake of those knights. But above all men they gave Sir
Palamides the prize, and all knights that knew Sir Palamides had wonder
of his deeds. Sir, said Sir Launcelot unto Arthur, as for Sir
Palamides, and he be the green knight, I dare say as for this day he is
best worthy to have the degree, for he reposed him never, ne never
changed his weeds. And he began first and longest held on. And yet well
I wot, said Sir Launcelot, that there was a better knight than he, and
that shall be proved or we depart, upon pain of my life. Thus they
talked on either party, and so Sir Dinadan railed with Sir Tristram and
said, What the devil is upon thee this day, for Sir Palamides’ strength
feebled never this day, but ever he doubled his strength.


                              CHAP. LXXII.

_How Sir Dinadan provoked Sir Tristram to do well._

And thou Sir Tristram faredst all this day as though thou hadst been
asleep, and therefore I call thee coward. Well, Dinadan, said Sir
Tristram, I was never called coward or now, of none earthly knight, in
my life: and, wit thou well, sir, I call myself never the more coward
though Sir Launcelot gave me a fall, for I outcept him of all knights.
And doubt ye not, Sir Dinadan, and Sir Launcelot have a quarrel good,
he is too over good for any knight that now is living; and yet of his
sufferance, largesse, bounty, and courtesy, I call him knight peerless.
And so Sir Tristram was in manner wroth with Sir Dinadan. But all this
language Sir Dinadan said because he would anger Sir Tristram, for to
cause him to awake his spirits, and to be wroth. For well knew Sir
Dinadan that and Sir Tristram were thoroughly wroth, Sir Palamides
should not get the prize upon the morn. And for this intent Sir Dinadan
said all this railing and language against Sir Tristram. Truly, said
Sir Palamides, as for Sir Launcelot, of his noble knighthood, courtesy,
and prowess, and gentleness, I know not his peer: for this day, said
Sir Palamides, I did full uncourteously unto Sir Launcelot, and full
unknightly, and full knightly and courteously he did to me again: for
and he had been as ungentle to me as I was to him, this day I had won
no worship. And therefore, said Palamides, I shall be Sir Launcelot’s
knight whiles my life lasteth. This talking was in the houses of kings.
But all kings, lords, and knights said, of clear knighthood and pure
strength, of bounty, and courtesy, Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram bare
the prize above all knights that ever were in Arthur’s days. And there
were never knights in Arthur’s days did half so many deeds as they did:
as the book saith, no ten knights did not half the deeds that they did;
and there was never knight in their days that required Sir Launcelot or
Sir Tristram of any quest, so it were not to their shame, but they
performed their desire.


                             CHAP. LXXIII.

_How king Arthur and Sir Launcelot came to see La Beale Isoud, and how
  Palamides smote down king Arthur._

So on the morn Sir Launcelot departed, and Sir Tristram was ready, and
La Beale Isoud with Sir Palamides and Sir Gareth. And so they rode all
in green, full freshly beseen, unto the forest. And Sir Tristram left
Sir Dinadan sleeping in his bed. And so as they rode, it happed the
king and Launcelot stood in a window, and saw Sir Tristram ride and
Isoud. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, yonder rideth the fairest lady of the
world, except your queen dame Guenever. Who is that? said Sir Arthur.
Sir, said he, it is queen Isoud, that, out-taken my lady your queen,
she is matchless. Take your horse, said Arthur, and array you at all
rights, as I will do, and I promise you, said the king, I will see her.
Then anon they were armed and horsed, and either took a spear and rode
unto the forest. Sir, said Launcelot, it is not good that ye go too
nigh them, for wit ye well there are two as good knights as now are
living; and therefore, Sir, I pray you be not too hasty. For
peradventure there will be some knights be displeased and we come
suddenly upon them. As for that, said Arthur, I will see her, for I
take no force whom I grieve. Sir, said Launcelot, ye put yourself in
great jeopardy. As for that, said the king, we will take the adventure.
Right so anon the king rode even to her, and saluted her, and said, God
you save. Sir, said she, ye are welcome. Then the king beheld her, and
liked her wonderly well. With that came Sir Palamides unto Arthur and
said, Uncourteous knight, what seeketh thou here? Thou art uncourteous,
to come upon a lady thus suddenly; therefore withdraw thee. Sir Arthur
took none heed of Sir Palamides’ words, but ever he looked still upon
queen Isoud. Then was Sir Palamides wroth, and therewith he took a
spear and came hurtling upon king Arthur, and smote him down with a
spear. When Sir Launcelot saw that despite of Sir Palamides, he said to
himself, I am loth to have ado with yonder knight, and not for his own
sake but for Sir Tristram. And one thing I am sure of, if I smite down
Sir Palamides I must have ado with Sir Tristram, and that were over
much for me to match them both, for they are two noble knights:
notwithstanding, whether I live or die, needs must I revenge my lord,
and so will I whatsoever befal of me. And therewith Sir Launcelot cried
to Sir Palamides, Keep thee from me! And then Sir Launcelot and Sir
Palamides rashed together with two spears strongly. But Sir Launcelot
smote Sir Palamides so hard that he went quite out of his saddle, and
had a great fall. When Sir Tristram saw Sir Palamides have that fall,
he said to Sir Launcelot, Sir knight keep thee, for I must just with
thee. As for to just with me, said Sir Launcelot, I will not fail you
for no dread I have of you, but I am loth to have ado with you and I
might choose: for I will that ye wit that I must revenge my special
lord, that was unhorsed unwarily and unknightly. And therefore, though
I have revenged that fall, take ye no displeasure therein, for he is to
me such a friend that I may not see him shamed. Anon Sir Tristram
understood by his person and by his knightly words that it was Sir
Launcelot du Lake, and verily Sir Tristram deemed that it was king
Arthur, he that Sir Palamides had smitten down.

And then Sir Tristram put his spear from him, and put Sir Palamides
again on horseback; and Sir Launcelot put king Arthur on horseback, and
so departed. Truly, said Sir Tristram unto Palamides, ye did not
worshipfully when ye smote down that knight so suddenly as ye did. And
wit ye well ye did yourself great shame: for the knights came hither of
their gentleness to see a fair lady, and that is every good knight’s
part to behold a fair lady, and ye had not ado to play such masteries
afore my lady. Wit thou well it will turn to anger, for he that ye
smote down was king Arthur, and that other was the good knight Sir
Launcelot. But I shall not forget the words of Sir Launcelot, when that
he called him a man of great worship: thereby I wist that it was king
Arthur. And as for Sir Launcelot, and there had been five hundred
knights in the meadow he would not have refused them, and yet he said
he would refuse me: by that again I wist that it was Sir Launcelot, for
ever he forbeareth me in every place, and sheweth me great kindness;
and of all knights—I out-take none, say what men will say—he beareth
the flower of all chivalry, say it him whosoever will, and he be well
angered, and that him list to do his utterance without any favour, I
know him not on live but Sir Launcelot is over hard for him, be it on
horseback or on foot. I may never believe, said Sir Palamides, that
king Arthur will ride so privily as a poor errant knight. Ah, said Sir
Tristram, ye know not my lord Arthur, for all knights may learn to be a
knight of him. And therefore ye may be sorry, said Sir Tristram, of
your unkindly deeds to so noble a king. And a thing that is done may
not be undone, said Sir Palamides. Then Sir Tristram sent queen Isoud
unto her lodging in the priory, there to behold all the tournament.


                              CHAP. LXXIV.

_How the second day Palamides forsook Sir Tristram, and went to the
  contrary part against him._

Then there was a cry unto all knights, that when they heard an horn
blow they should make justs as they did the first day. And like as the
brethren Sir Edward and Sir Sadok began the justs the first day, Sir
Uwaine, the king’s son Urein, and Sir Lucanere de Buttelere, began the
justs the second day. And at the first encounter Sir Uwaine smote down
the king’s son of Scots, and Sir Lucanere ran against the king of
Wales, and they brake their spears all to pieces, and they were so
fierce both, that they hurtled together that both fell to the earth.
Then they of Orkney horsed again Sir Lucanere. And then came in Sir
Tristram de Liones; and then Sir Tristram smote down Sir Uwaine and Sir
Lucanere; and Sir Palamides smote down other two knights; and Sir
Gareth smote down other two knights. Then said Sir Arthur unto Sir
Launcelot, See yonder three knights do passing well, and namely the
first that justed. Sir, said Launcelot, that knight began not yet, but
ye shall see him this day do marvellously. And then came into the place
the duke’s son of Orkney, and then they began to do many deeds of arms.
When Sir Tristram saw them so begin, he said to Palamides, How feel ye
yourself? may ye do this day as ye did yesterday? Nay, said Palamides,
I feel myself so weary and so sore bruised of the deeds of yesterday,
that I may not endure as I did yesterday. That me repenteth, said Sir
Tristram, for I shall lack you this day. Sir Palamides said, Trust not
to me, for I may not do as I did. All these words said Palamides for to
beguile Sir Tristram. Sir, said Sir Tristram unto Sir Gareth, then must
I trust upon you; wherefore I pray you be not far from me to rescue me.
And need be, said Gareth, I shall not fail you in all that I may do.

Then Sir Palamides rode by himself, and then in despite of Sir Tristram
he put himself in the thickest press among them of Orkney: and there he
did so marvellous deeds of arms that all men had wonder of him, for
there might none stand him a stroke. When Sir Tristram saw Sir
Palamides do such deeds he marvelled, and said to himself, He is weary
of my company. So Sir Tristram beheld him a great while, and did but
little else, for the noise and cry was so huge and great that Sir
Tristram marvelled from whence came the strength that Sir Palamides had
there in the field. Sir, said Sir Gareth unto Sir Tristram, remember ye
not of the words that Sir Dinadan said to you yesterday, when he called
you coward? For sooth, Sir, he said it for none ill; for ye are the man
in the world that he most loveth, and all that he said was for your
worship. And therefore, said Sir Gareth to Sir Tristram, let me know
this day what ye be; and wonder ye not so upon Sir Palamides, for he
enforceth himself to win all the worship and honour from you. I may
well believe it, said Sir Tristram, and since I understand his evil
will and his envy ye shall see, if that I enforce myself, that the
noise shall be left that now is upon him.

Then Sir Tristram rode into the thickest of the press, and then he did
so marvellously well, and did so great deeds of arms, that all men said
that Sir Tristram did double so much deeds of arms that Sir Palamides
had done aforehand. And then the noise went plain from Sir Palamides,
and all the people cried upon Sir Tristram. See, said the people, how
Sir Tristram smiteth down with his spear so many knights. And see, said
they all, how many knights he smiteth down with his sword, and of how
many knights he rashed off their helms and their shields. And so he
beat them all of Orkney afore him. How now, said Sir Launcelot unto
king Arthur, I told you that this day there would a knight play his
pageant. Yonder rideth a knight ye may see he doth knightly, for he
hath strength and wind. Truly, said Arthur to Launcelot, ye say sooth,
for I saw never a better knight, for he passeth far Sir Palamides. Sir,
wit ye well, said Launcelot, it must be so of right, for it is himself
that noble knight Sir Tristram. I may right well believe it, said
Arthur. But when Sir Palamides heard the noise and the cry was turned
from him he rode out on a part, and beheld Sir Tristram. And when Sir
Palamides saw Sir Tristram do so marvellously well, he wept passingly
sore for despite, for he wist well he should no worship win that day.
For well knew Sir Palamides, when Sir Tristram would put forth his
strength and his manhood, he should get but little worship that day.


                              CHAP. LXXV.

_How Sir Tristram departed out of the field, and awaked Sir Dinadan,
  and changed his array into black._

Then came king Arthur, and the king of Northgalis, and Sir Launcelot du
Lake, and Sir Bleoberis, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, these
three knights came into the field with Sir Launcelot. And then Sir
Launcelot with the three knights of his kin did so great deeds of arms,
that all the noise began upon Sir Launcelot. And so they beat the king
of Wales and the king of Scots far aback, and made them to avoid the
field. But Sir Tristram and Sir Gareth abode still in the field, and
endured all that ever there came, that all men had wonder that any
knight might endure so many strokes. But ever Sir Launcelot and his
three kinsmen, by the commandment of Sir Launcelot, forbare Sir
Tristram. Then said Sir Arthur, Is that Sir Palamides that endureth so
well? Nay, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well it is the good knight Sir
Tristram, for yonder ye may see Sir Palamides beholdeth, and hoveth,
and doth little or nought. And, sir, ye shall understand that Sir
Tristram weeneth this day to beat us all out of the field. And as for
me, said Sir Launcelot, I shall not beat him, beat him who so will.
Sir, said Launcelot unto Arthur, ye may see how Sir Palamides hoveth
yonder as though he were in a dream; wit ye well he is full heavy that
Tristram doth such deeds of arms. Then is he but a fool, said Arthur,
for never was Sir Palamides, nor never shall be, of such prowess as Sir
Tristram. And if he have any envy at Sir Tristram, and cometh in with
him upon his side, he is a false knight. As the king and Sir Launcelot
thus spake, Sir Tristram rode privily out of the press, that none
espied him but La Beale Isoud and Sir Palamides, for they two would not
let of their eyes upon Sir Tristram.

And when Sir Tristram came to his pavilions, he found Sir Dinadan in
his bed asleep. Awake, said Tristram, ye ought to be ashamed so to
sleep, when knights have ado in the field. Then Sir Dinadan arose
lightly, and said, What will ye that I shall do? Make you ready, said
Sir Tristram, to ride with me into the field. So when Sir Dinadan was
armed he looked upon Sir Tristram’s helm and on his shield, and when he
saw so many strokes upon his helm and upon his shield, he said, In good
time was I thus asleep; for had I been with you I must needs for shame
there have followed you, more for shame than any prowess that is in me,
that I see well now by those strokes, that I should have been truly
beaten as I was yesterday. Leave your jests, said Sir Tristram, and
come off, that we were in the field again. What, said Sir Dinadan, is
your heart up? Yesterday ye fared as though ye had dreamed. So then Sir
Tristram was arrayed in black harness. Oh, said Sir Dinadan, what
aileth you this day? me seemeth ye be wilder than ye were yesterday.
Then smiled Sir Tristram, and said to Dinadan, Await well upon me: if
ye see me over-matched look that ye be ever behind me, and I shall make
you ready way. So Sir Tristram and Sir Dinadan took their horses. All
this espied Sir Palamides, both their going and their coming, and so
did La Beale Isoud, for she knew Sir Tristram above all other.


                              CHAP. LXXVI.

_How Sir Palamides changed his shield and his armour for to hurt Sir
  Tristram, and how Sir Launcelot did to Sir Tristram._

Then when Sir Palamides saw that Sir Tristram was disguised, then he
thought to do him a shame. So Sir Palamides rode to a knight that was
sore wounded, that sat under a fair well from the field. Sir knight,
said Sir Palamides, I pray you to lend me your armour and your shield,
for mine is over well known in this field, and that hath done me great
damage, and ye shall have mine armour and my shield, that is as sure as
yours. I will well, said the knight, that ye have mine armour and my
shield, if they may do you any avail. So Sir Palamides armed him
hastily in that knight’s armour, and his shield that shone as any
crystal or silver, and so he came riding into the field. And then there
was neither Sir Tristram nor none of king Arthur’s party that knew Sir
Palamides. And right so as Sir Palamides was come into the field Sir
Tristram smote down three knights, even in the sight of Sir Palamides.
And then Sir Palamides rode against Sir Tristram, and either met other
with great spears, that they brast to their hands. And then they dashed
together with swords eagerly. Then Sir Tristram had marvel what knight
he was that did battle so knightly with him. Then was Sir Tristram
wroth, for he felt him passing strong, so that he deemed he might not
have ado with the remnant of the knights, because of the strength of
Sir Palamides. So they lashed together, and gave many sad strokes
together, and many knights marvelled what knight he might be that so
encountered with the black knight, Sir Tristram. Full well knew La
Beale Isoud that there was Sir Palamides that fought with Sir Tristram,
for she espied all in her window where that she stood, as Sir Palamides
changed his harness with the wounded knight. And then she began to weep
so heartily for the despite of Sir Palamides that there she swooned.
Then came in Sir Launcelot with the knights of Orkney; and when the
other party had espied Sir Launcelot they cried, Return, return, here
cometh Sir Launcelot du Lake. So there came knights and said, Sir
Launcelot, ye must needs fight with yonder knight in the black harness
(that was Sir Tristram), for he hath almost overcome that good knight
that fighteth with him with the silver shield (that was Sir Palamides).
Then Sir Launcelot rode betwixt Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides, and Sir
Launcelot said to Palamides, Sir knight, let me have the battle, for ye
have need to be reposed. Sir Palamides knew Sir Launcelot well, and so
did Sir Tristram. But because Sir Launcelot was a far hardier knight
than himself therefore he was glad, and suffered Sir Launcelot to fight
with Sir Tristram. For well wist he that Sir Launcelot knew not Sir
Tristram, and there he hoped that Sir Launcelot should beat or shame
Sir Tristram, whereof Sir Palamides was full fain. And so Sir Launcelot
gave Sir Tristram many sad strokes, but Sir Launcelot knew not Sir
Tristram, but Sir Tristram knew well Sir Launcelot. And thus they
fought long together, that La Beale Isoud was well out of her mind for
sorrow. Then Sir Dinadan told Sir Gareth how that knight in the black
harness was Sir Tristram, and this is Launcelot that fighteth with him,
that must needs have the better of him, for Sir Tristram hath had too
much travail this day. Then let us smite him down, said Sir Gareth. So
it is better that we do, said Sir Dinadan, than Sir Tristram be shamed.
For yonder hoveth the strong knight with the silver shield to fall upon
Sir Tristram if need be. Then forthwithal Gareth rushed upon Sir
Launcelot, and gave him a great stroke upon his helm so hard that he
was astonied. And then came Sir Dinadan with a spear, and he smote Sir
Launcelot such a buffet that horse and all fell to the earth. Alas,
said Sir Tristram to Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan, fie for shame, why did
ye smite down so good a knight as he is, and namely when I had ado with
him? Now ye do yourself great shame, and him no dis-worship: for I held
him reasonable hot though ye had not holpen me. Then came Sir Palamides
that was disguised, and smote down Sir Dinadan from his horse. Then Sir
Launcelot, because Sir Dinadan had smitten him aforehand, then Sir
Launcelot assailed Sir Dinadan passing sore, and Sir Dinadan defended
him mightily. But well understood Sir Tristram that Sir Dinadan might
not endure Sir Launcelot, wherefore Sir Tristram was sorry. Then came
Sir Palamides fresh upon Sir Tristram. And when Sir Tristram saw him
come, he thought to deliver him at once, because that he would help Sir
Dinadan, because he stood in great peril with Sir Launcelot. Then Sir
Tristram hurtled unto Sir Palamides, and gave him a great buffet, and
then Sir Tristram gat Sir Palamides, and pulled him down underneath
him. And so fell Sir Tristram with him, and Sir Tristram lept up
lightly, and left Sir Palamides, and went betwixt Sir Launcelot and
Dinadan, and then they began to do battle together. Right so Sir
Dinadan gat Sir Tristram’s horse, and said on high, that Sir Launcelot
might hear it, My lord Sir Tristram, take your horse. And when Sir
Launcelot heard him name Sir Tristram, Alas, said Sir Launcelot, what
have I done? I am dishonoured. Ah, my lord Sir Tristram, said
Launcelot, why were ye disguised? ye have put yourself in great peril
this day. But, I pray you, noble knight, to pardon me, for and I had
known you we had not done this battle. Sir, said Sir Tristram, this is
not the first kindness ye shewed me. So they were both horsed again.
Then all the people on the one side gave Sir Launcelot the honour and
the degree, and on the other side all the people gave to the noble
knight Sir Tristram the honour and the degree. But Launcelot said nay
thereto:—For I am not worthy to have this honour, for I will report me
unto all knights that Sir Tristram hath been longer in the field than
I, and he hath smitten down many more knights this day than I have
done; and therefore I will give Sir Tristram my voice and my name, and
so I pray all my lords and fellows so to do. Then there was the whole
voice of dukes and earls, barons and knights, that Sir Tristram this
day is proved the best knight.


                             CHAP. LXXVII.

_How Sir Tristram departed with La Beale Isoud, and how Palamides
  followed and excused him._

Then they blew unto lodging, and queen Isoud was led unto her
pavilions. But wit you well she was wroth out of measure with Sir
Palamides, for she saw all his treason from the beginning to the
ending. And all this while neither Sir Tristram, neither Sir Gareth,
nor Dinadan, knew not of the treason of Sir Palamides. But afterward ye
shall hear that there befel the greatest debate betwixt Sir Tristram
and Sir Palamides that might be. So when the tournament was done, Sir
Tristram, Gareth, and Dinadan rode with La Beale Isoud to these
pavilions. And ever Sir Palamides rode with them in their company
disguised as he was. But when Sir Tristram had espied him, that he was
the same knight with the shield of silver that held him so hot that
day, Sir knight, said Sir Tristram, wit you well here is none that hath
need of your fellowship, and therefore I pray you depart from us. Sir
Palamides answered again, as though he had not known Sir Tristram, Wit
ye well, sir knight, from this fellowship will I never depart, for one
of the best knights of the world commanded me to be in this company,
and till he discharge me of my service I will not be discharged. By
that Sir Tristram knew that it was Sir Palamides. Ah Sir Palamides,
said the noble knight Sir Tristram, are ye such a knight? Ye have been
named wrong, for ye have long been called a gentle knight, and as this
day ye have shewed me great ungentleness, for ye had almost brought me
unto my death. But as for you I suppose I should have done well enough,
but Sir Launcelot with you was overmuch, for I know no knight living
but Sir Launcelot is over good for him, and he will do his uttermost.
Alas, said Sir Palamides, are ye my lord Sir Tristram? Yea, sir, and
that ye know well enough. By my knighthood, said Palamides, until now I
knew you not, for I wend that ye had been the king of Ireland, for well
I wot that ye bare his arms. His arms I bare, said Sir Tristram, and
that will I stand by, for I won them once in a field of a full noble
knight, his name was Sir Marhaus, and with great pain I won that
knight, for there was none other recover, but Sir Marhaus died through
false leeches, and yet was he never yielden to me. Sir, said Palamides,
I wend ye had been turned upon Sir Launcelot’s party, and that caused
me to turn. Ye say well, said Sir Tristram, and so I take you, and I
forgive you. So then they rode into their pavilions, and when they were
alight they unarmed them, and washed their faces and hands, and so went
to meat, and were set at their table. But when Isoud saw Sir Palamides
she changed then her colours, and for wrath she might not speak. Anon
Sir Tristram espied her countenance, and said, Madam, for what cause
make ye us such cheer? we have been sore travailed this day. Mine own
lord, said La Beale Isoud, be ye not displeased with me, for I may none
otherwise do, for I saw this day how ye were betrayed, and nigh brought
to your death. Truly, sir, I saw every deal, how, and in what wise; and
therefore, sir, how should I suffer in your presence such a felon and
traitor as Sir Palamides. For I saw him with mine eyes how he beheld
you when ye went out of the field. For ever he hoved still upon his
horse till he saw you come in againward. And then forthwithal I saw him
ride to the hurt knight, and change harness with him, and then straight
I saw him how he rode into the field. And anon as he had found you he
encountered with you, and thus wilfully Sir Palamides did battle with
you, and as for him, sir, I was not greatly afeard, but I dread sore
Launcelot, that knew you not. Madam, said Palamides, ye may say what so
ye will, I may not contrary you, but by my knighthood I knew not Sir
Tristram. Sir Palamides, said Sir Tristram, I will take your excuse,
but well I wot ye spared me but little, but all is pardoned on my part.
Then La Beale Isoud held down her head, and said no more at that time.


                             CHAP. LXXVIII.

_How king Arthur and Sir Launcelot came into their pavilions as they
  sat at supper; and of Palamides._

And therewithal two knights armed came unto the pavilion, and there
they alight both, and came in armed at all pieces. Fair knights, said
Sir Tristram, ye are to blame to come thus armed at all pieces upon me
while we are at our meat. If ye would anything, when we were in the
field there might ye have eased your hearts. Not so, said the one of
those knights, we come not for that intent; but wit ye well, Sir
Tristram, we be come hither as your friends. And I am come here, said
the one, for to see you, and this knight is come for to see La Beale
Isoud. Then, said Sir Tristram, I require you do off your helms, that I
may see you. That will we do at your desire, said the knights. And when
their helms were off, Sir Tristram thought he should know them. Then
said Sir Dinadan privily unto Sir Tristram, Sir, that is Sir Launcelot
du Lake that spake unto you first, and the other is my lord king
Arthur. Then said Sir Tristram unto La Beale Isoud, Madam, arise, for
here is my lord king Arthur. Then the king and the queen kissed, and
Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram braced either other in arms, and then
there was joy without measure, and at the request of La Beale Isoud
king Arthur and Launcelot were unarmed. And then there was merry
talking.

Madam, said Sir Arthur, it is many a day sithen that I have desired to
see you. For ye have been praised so far, and now I dare say ye are the
fairest that ever I saw; and Sir Tristram is as fair and as good a
knight as any that I know, therefore me beseemeth ye are well beset
together. Sir, I thank you, said the noble knight Sir Tristram, and
Isoud; of your great goodness and largesse ye are peerless. Thus they
talked of many things, and of all the whole justs. But for what cause,
said king Arthur, were ye, Sir Tristram, against us? Ye are a knight of
the Table Round; of right ye should have been with us. Sir, said Sir
Tristram, here is Dinadan and Sir Gareth your own nephew caused me to
be against you. My lord Arthur, said Gareth, I may well bear the blame,
but it were Sir Tristram’s own deeds. That may I repent, said Sir
Dinadan, for this unhappy Sir Tristram brought us to this tournament,
and many great buffets he caused us to have. Then the king and
Launcelot laughed that they might not sit. What knight was that, said
Arthur, that held you so short, this with the shield of silver? Sir,
said Sir Tristram, here he sitteth at this board. What, said Arthur,
was it Sir Palamides? Wit ye well it was he, said La Beale Isoud.
Truly, said Arthur, that was unknightly done of you of so good a
knight, for I have heard many people call you a courteous knight. Sir,
said Palamides I knew not Sir Tristram, for he was so disguised. Truly,
said Launcelot, it may well be, for I knew not Sir Tristram, but I
marvel why ye turned on our party. That was done for the same cause,
said Launcelot. As for that, said Sir Tristram, I have pardoned him,
and I would be right loth to leave his fellowship, for I love right
well his company. So they left off, and talked of other things. And in
the evening king Arthur and Sir Launcelot departed unto their lodging.
But wit ye well Sir Palamides had envy heartily, for all that night he
had never rest in his bed, but wailed and wept out of measure. So on
the morn Sir Tristram, Gareth, and Dinadan arose early, and then they
went unto Sir Palamides’ chamber, and there they found him fast on
sleep, for he had all night watched. And it was seen upon his cheeks
that he had wept full sore. Say nothing, said Sir Tristram, for I am
sure he hath taken anger and sorrow for the rebuke that I gave to him,
and La Beale Isoud.


                              CHAP. LXXIX.

_How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides did the next day, and how king
  Arthur was unhorsed._

Then Sir Tristram let call Sir Palamides, and bade him make him ready,
for it was time to go to the field. When they were ready they were
armed and clothed all in red, both Isoud and all they. And so they led
her passing freshly through the field, into the priory where was her
lodging. And then they heard three blasts blow, and every king and
knight dressed him unto the field; and the first that was ready to just
was Sir Palamides and Sir Kainus le Strange, a knight of the Table
Round. And so they two encountered together, but Sir Palamides smote
Sir Kainus so hard, that he smote him quite over his horse croup: and
forth withal Sir Palamides smote down another knight, and brake then
his spear, and pulled out his sword and did wonderly well. And then the
noise began greatly upon Sir Palamides. Lo, said king Arthur, yonder
Palamides beginneth to play his pageant. Truly, said Arthur, he is a
passing good knight. And right as they stood talking thus, in came Sir
Tristram as thunder, and he encountered Sir Kay the seneschal, and
there he smote him down quite from his horse, and with that same spear
Sir Tristram smote down three knights more; and then he pulled out his
sword and did marvellously. Then the noise and cry changed from Sir
Palamides and turned to Sir Tristram, and all the people cried, O
Tristram! O Tristram! And then was Sir Palamides clean forgotten. How
now, said Launcelot unto Arthur, yonder rideth a knight that playeth
his pageants. Truly, said Arthur to Launcelot, ye shall see this day
that yonder two knights shall here do this day wonders. Sir, said
Launcelot, the one knight waiteth upon the other, and enforceth himself
through envy to pass the noble knight Sir Tristram, and he knoweth not
of the privy envy the which Sir Palamides hath to him. For all that the
noble Sir Tristram doth is through clean knighthood. And then Sir
Gareth and Dinadan did wonderly great deeds of arms as two noble
knights, so that king Arthur spake of them great honour and worship;
and the kings and knights of Sir Tristram’s side did passing well, and
held them truly together. Then Sir Arthur and Sir Launcelot took their
horses and dressed them, and gat into the thickest of the press. And
there Sir Tristram unknowing smote down king Arthur, and then Sir
Launcelot would have rescued him, but there were so many upon Sir
Launcelot that they pulled him down from his horse. And then the king
of Ireland and the king of Scots, with their knights, did their pain to
take king Arthur and Sir Launcelot prisoner. When Sir Launcelot heard
them say so, he fared as it had been an hungry lion, for he fared so
that no knight durst nigh him. Then came Sir Ector de Maris, and he
bare a spear against Sir Palamides, and brake it upon him all to
shivers. And then Sir Ector came again, and gave Sir Palamides such a
dash with a sword that he stooped down upon his saddle-bow. And forth
withal Sir Ector pulled down Sir Palamides under his feet. And then Sir
Ector de Maris gat Sir Launcelot du Lake an horse, and brought it to
him, and bad him mount upon him. But Sir Palamides lept afore, and gat
the horse by the bridle, and lept into the saddle. Truly, said
Launcelot, ye are better worthy to have that horse than I. Then Sir
Ector brought Sir Launcelot another horse. Gramercy, said Launcelot
unto his brother. And so when he was horsed again, with one spear he
smote down four knights. And then Sir Launcelot brought to king Arthur
one of the best of the four horses. Then Sir Launcelot with king Arthur
and a few of his knights of Sir Launcelot’s kin, did marvellous deeds;
for that time, as the book recordeth, Sir Launcelot smote down and
pulled down thirty knights. Notwithstanding, the other part held them
so fast together that king Arthur and his knights were overmatched. And
when Sir Tristram saw that, what labour king Arthur and his knights, in
especial the noble deeds that Sir Launcelot did with his own hands, he
marvelled greatly.


                              CHAP. LXXX.

_How Sir Tristram turned to king Arthur’s side, and how Sir Palamides
  would not._

Then Sir Tristram called unto him Sir Palamides, Sir Gareth, and Sir
Dinadan, and said thus to them, My fair fellows, wit ye well that I
will turn unto king Arthur’s party, for I saw never so few men do so
well, and it will be shame unto us knights that be of the Round Table
to see our lord king Arthur, and that noble knight Sir Launcelot, to be
dishonoured. It will be well done, said Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan. Do
your best, said Palamides, for I will not change my party that I came
in withal. That is for my sake, said Sir Tristram: speed you well in
your journey. And so departed Sir Palamides from them. Then Sir
Tristram, Sir Gareth, and Sir Dinadan, turned with Sir Launcelot. And
then Sir Launcelot smote down the king of Ireland quite from his horse;
and so Sir Launcelot smote down the king of Scots, and the king of
Wales. And then Sir Arthur ran unto Sir Palamides, and smote him quite
from his horse. And then Sir Tristram bare down all that he met. Sir
Gareth and Sir Dinadan did there as noble knights. Then all the parties
began to flee. Alas, said Palamides, that ever I should see this day,
for now have I lost all the worship that I wan. And then Sir Palamides
went his way wailing, and so withdrew him till he came to a well, and
there he put his horse from him, and did off his armour, and wailed and
wept like as he had been a wood man.

Then many knights gave the prize to Sir Tristram, and there were many
that gave the prize unto Sir Launcelot. Fair lords, said Sir Tristram,
I thank you of the honour ye would give me, but I pray you heartily
that ye would give your voice to Sir Launcelot, for by my faith, said
Sir Tristram, I will give Sir Launcelot my voice. But Sir Launcelot
would not have it. And so the prize was given betwixt them both. Then
every man rode to his lodging. And Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector rode
with Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud unto her pavilions. Then as Sir
Palamides was at the well, wailing and weeping, there came by him
fleeing the king of Wales, and of Scotland, and they saw Sir Palamides
in that rage. Alas, said they, that so noble a man as ye be should be
in this array. And then those kings gat Sir Palamides’ horse again, and
made him to arm him and mount upon his horse, and so he rode with them,
making great dole. So when Sir Palamides came nigh the pavilions there
as Sir Tristram and La Beale Isoud were in, then Sir Palamides prayed
the two kings to abide him there the while that he spake with Sir
Tristram. And when he came to the port of the pavilions, Sir Palamides
said on high, Where art thou, Sir Tristram de Liones? Sir, said
Dinadan, that is Palamides. What, Sir Palamides, will ye not come in
here among us? Fie on thee traitor, said Sir Palamides, for wit you
well, and it were daylight as it is night, I would slay thee with mine
own hands. And if ever I may get thee, said Palamides, thou shalt die
for this day’s deed. Sir Palamides, said Sir Tristram, ye blame me with
wrong, for had ye done as I did ye had won worship. But since ye give
me so large warning I shall be well ware of you. Fie on thee traitor,
said Palamides, and therewith departed. Then on the morn Sir Tristram,
Bleoberis, and Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Gareth, Sir Dinadan, what by
water and what by land, they brought La Beale Isoud unto Joyous Gard,
and there reposed them a seven night, and made all the mirths and
disports that they could devise. And king Arthur and his knights drew
unto Camelot, and Sir Palamides rode with the two kings; and ever he
made the greatest dole that any man could think. For he was not all
only so dolorous for the departing from La Beale Isoud, but he was a
part as sorrowful to depart from the fellowship of Sir Tristram, for
Sir Tristram was so kind and so gentle that when Sir Palamides
remembered him thereof he might never be merry.


                              CHAP. LXXXI.

_How Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector reported to queen Guenever of the
  beauty of La Beale Isoud._

So at the seven night’s end Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector departed from
Sir Tristram and from the queen, and these two good knights had great
gifts, and Sir Gareth and Sir Dinadan abode with Sir Tristram. And when
Sir Bleoberis and Sir Ector were come there as the queen Guenever was
lodged in a castle by the sea side, and through the grace of God the
queen was recovered from her malady, then she asked the two knights
from whence they came. They said they came from Sir Tristram and from
La Beale Isoud. How doth Sir Tristram, said the queen, and La Beale
Isoud? Truly, said those two knights, he doth as a noble knight should
do, and as for the queen Isoud, she is peerless of all ladies; for to
speak of her beauty, bounty, and mirth, and of her goodness, we saw
never her match as far as we have ridden and gone. Oh mercy, said queen
Guenever, so saith all the people that have seen her and spoken with
her. Would that I had part of her conditions. And it is misfortuned me
of my sickness while that tournament endured; and, as I suppose, I
shall never see in all my life such an assembly of knights and ladies
as ye have done. Then the knights told her how Sir Palamides wan the
degree at the first day with great noblesse; and the second day Sir
Tristram wan the degree; and the third day Sir Launcelot wan the
degree. Well, said queen Guenever, who did best all these three days?
Truly, said these knights, Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram had least
dishonour. And wit ye well Sir Palamides did passing well and mightily,
but he turned against the party that he came in withal, and that caused
him to lose a great part of his worship, for it seemed that Sir
Palamides is passing envious. Then shall he never win worship, said
queen Guenever, for, and it happeth an envious man once to win worship,
he shall be dishonoured twice therefore. And for this cause all men of
worship hate an envious man, and will shew him no favour. And he that
is courteous, kind, and gentle, hath favour in every place.


                             CHAP. LXXXII.

_How Sir Palamides complained by a well, and how Epinogris came and
  found him, and of their both sorrows._

Now leave we of this matter, and speak we of Sir Palamides that rode
and lodged him with the two kings, whereof the kings were heavy. Then
the king of Ireland sent a man of his to Sir Palamides, and gave him a
great courser. And the king of Scotland gave him great gifts, and fain
they would have had Sir Palamides to have abiden with them, but in no
wise he would abide, and so he departed and rode as adventures would
guide him, till it was nigh noon. And then in a forest by a well Sir
Palamides saw where lay a fair wounded knight, and his horse bound by
him, and that knight made the greatest dole that ever he heard man
make, for ever he wept and sighed as though he would die. Then Sir
Palamides rode near him, and saluted him mildly and said, Fair knight,
why wail ye so? let me lie down and wail with you, for doubt ye not I
am much more heavier than ye are; for I dare say, said Palamides, that
my sorrow is an hundred fold more than yours is, and therefore let us
complain either to other. First, said the wounded knight, I require you
tell me your name, for and thou be none of the noble knights of the
Round Table thou shalt never know my name, whatsoever come of me. Fair
knight, said Palamides, such as I am, be it better or be it worse, wit
thou well that my name is Sir Palamides, son and heir unto king
Astlabor, and Sir Safere and Sir Segwarides are my two brethren, and
wit thou well as for myself I was never christened, but my two brethren
are truly christened. Oh noble knight, said that knight, well is me
that I have met with you, and wit ye well my name is Epinogris, the
king’s son of Northumberland. Now sit down, said Epinogris, and let us
either complain to other. Then Sir Palamides began his complaint. Now
shall I tell you, said Palamides, what woe I endure. I love the fairest
queen and lady that ever bare life, and wit ye well her name is La
Beale Isoud, king Mark’s wife of Cornwall. That is great folly, said
Sir Epinogris, for to love queen Isoud, for one of the best knights of
the world loveth her, that is Sir Tristram de Liones. That is truth,
said Palamides, for no man knoweth that matter better than I do, for I
have been in Sir Tristram’s fellowship this month, and with La Beale
Isoud together; and alas, said Palamides, unhappy man that I am, now
have I lost the fellowship of Sir Tristram for ever, and the love of La
Beale Isoud for ever, and I am never like to see her more, and Sir
Tristram and I be either to other mortal enemies. Well, said Epinogris,
sith that ye loved La Beale Isoud, loved she you ever again, by
anything that ye could think or wit? Nay, by my knighthood, said
Palamides, I never espied that ever she loved me more than all the
world. But the last day she gave me the greatest rebuke that ever I
had, the which shall never go from my heart, and yet I well deserved
that rebuke, for I had not done knightly, and therefore I have lost the
love of her and of Sir Tristram for ever. And I have many times
enforced myself to do many deeds for La Beale Isoud’s sake, and she was
the causer of my worship winning. Alas, said Sir Palamides, now have I
lost all the worship that ever I wan, for never shall me befal such
prowess as I had in the fellowship of Sir Tristram.


                             CHAP. LXXXIII.

_How Sir Palamides brought to Sir Epinogris his lady; and how Sir
  Palamides and Sir Safere were assailed._

Nay, nay, said Epinogris, your sorrow is but a jest to my sorrow, for I
rejoiced my lady and wan her with my hands, and lost her again, alas
that day. Thus first I wan her, said Epinogris: my lady was an earl’s
daughter, and as the earl and two knights came from the tournament of
Lonazep, for her sake I set upon this earl and on his two knights, my
lady there being present, and so by fortune there I slew the earl and
one of the knights, and the other knight fled, and so I had my lady.
And on the morn, as she and I reposed us at this well side, there came
there to me an errant knight, his name was Sir Helior le Preuse, an
hardy knight; and this Sir Helior challenged me to fight for my lady.
And then we went to battle, first upon horse and after on foot. But at
the last Sir Helior wounded me so that he left me for dead, and so he
took my lady with him. And thus my sorrow is more than yours, for I
have rejoiced, and ye rejoiced never. That is truth, said Sir
Palamides, but sith I can never recover myself, I shall promise you, if
I can meet with Sir Helior I shall get you your lady again, or else he
shall beat me. Then Sir Palamides made Sir Epinogris to take his horse,
and so they rode to an hermitage, and there Sir Epinogris rested him.
And in the mean while Sir Palamides walked privily out, to rest him
under the leaves; and there beside he saw a knight come riding with a
shield that he had seen Sir Ector de Maris bear aforehand, and there
came after him a ten knights, and so these ten knights hoved under the
leaves for heat. And anon after there came a knight, with a green
shield and therein a white lion, leading a lady upon a palfrey. Then
this knight with the green shield, that seemed to be master of the ten
knights, he rode fiercely after Sir Helior; for it was he that hurt Sir
Epinogris. And when he came nigh Sir Helior he bad him defend his lady.
I will defend her, said Helior, unto my power. And so they ran together
so mightily that either of these two knights smote other down, horse
and all, to the earth, and then they wan up lightly and drew their
swords and their shields, and lashed together mightily more than an
hour. All this Sir Palamides saw and beheld, but ever at the last the
knight with Sir Ector’s shield was bigger, and at the last this knight
smote Sir Helior down, and then that knight unlaced his helm, to have
stricken off his head. And then he cried mercy, and prayed him to save
his life, and bad him take his lady.

Then Sir Palamides dressed him up, because he wist well that that same
lady was Epinogris’ lady, and he promised him to help him. Then Sir
Palamides went straight to that lady, and took her by the hand, and
asked her whether she knew a knight that hight Epinogris. Alas, she
said, that ever he knew me, or I him, for I have for his sake lost my
worship, and also his life grieveth me most of all. Not so, lady, said
Palamides, come on with me, for here is Epinogris in this hermitage.
Ah, well is me, said the lady, and he be on live. Whither wilt thou
with that lady? said the knight with Sir Ector’s shield. I will do with
her what me list, said Palamides. Wit you well, said that knight, thou
speakest over large, though thou seemest me to have at advantage,
because thou sawest me do battle but late. Thou weenest, sir knight, to
have that lady away from me so lightly; nay, think it never not, and
thou were as good a knight as is Sir Launcelot, or as is Sir Tristram,
or Sir Palamides, but thou shalt win her dearer than ever did I. And so
they went unto battle upon foot, and there they gave many sad strokes,
and either wounded other passing sore; and thus they fought still more
than an hour. Then Sir Palamides had marvel what knight he might be
that was so strong and so well breathed during, and thus said
Palamides: Knight, I require thee tell me thy name. Wit thou well, said
that knight, I dare tell thee my name, so that thou wilt tell me thy
name. I will, said Palamides. Truly, said that knight, my name is
Safere, son of king Astlabor, and Sir Palamides and Sir Segwarides are
my brethren. Now, and wit thou well my name is Sir Palamides. Then Sir
Safere kneeled down upon his knees, and prayed him of mercy; and then
they unlaced their helms, and either kissed other weeping. And in the
mean while Sir Epinogris arose out of his bed, and heard them by the
strokes, and so he armed him to help Sir Palamides if need were.


                             CHAP. LXXXIV.

_How Sir Palamides and Sir Safere conducted Sir Epinogris to his
  castle, and of other adventures._

Then Sir Palamides took the lady by the hand and brought her to Sir
Epinogris, and there was great joy betwixt them, for either swooned for
joy. When they were met,—Fair knight and lady, said Sir Safere, it
were pity to depart you, Heaven send you joy either of other. Gramercy,
gentle knight, said Epinogris, and much more thank be to my lord Sir
Palamides, that thus hath through his prowess made me to get my lady.
Then Sir Epinogris required Sir Palamides and Sir Safere his brother to
ride with them unto his castle, for the safeguard of his person. Sir,
said Palamides, we will be ready to conduct you, because that ye are
sore wounded. And so was Epinogris and his lady horsed, and his lady
behind him, upon a soft ambler.

And then they rode unto his castle, where they had great cheer, and joy
as great as ever Sir Palamides and Sir Safere ever had in their life
days. So on the morn Sir Safere and Sir Palamides departed, and rode as
fortune led them: and so they rode all that day until afternoon. And at
the last they heard a great weeping and a great noise down in a manor.
Sir, said then Sir Safere, let us wit what noise this is. I will well,
said Sir Palamides. And so they rode forth till that they came to a
fair gate of a manor, and there sat an old man saying his prayers and
beads. Then Sir Palamides and Sir Safere alight, and left their horses,
and went within the gates, and there they saw full many goodly men
weeping. Fair sirs, said Sir Palamides, wherefore weep ye, and make
this sorrow? Anon one of the knights of the castle beheld Sir Palamides
and knew him, and then went to his fellows and said, Fair fellows, wit
ye well all, we have in this castle the same knight that slew our lord
at Lonazep, for I know him well, it is Sir Palamides. Then they went
unto harness all that might bear harness, some on horseback and some on
foot, to the number of threescore. And when they were ready, they came
freshly upon Sir Palamides and upon Sir Safere with a great noise, and
said thus, Keep thee, Sir Palamides, for thou art known, and by right
thou must be dead, for thou hast slain our lord, and therefore, wit ye
well, we will slay thee, therefore defend thee. Then Sir Palamides and
Sir Safere the one set his back to other, and gave many great strokes,
and took many great strokes; and thus they fought with a twenty knights
and forty gentlemen and yeomen, nigh two hours. But at the last, though
they were loth, Sir Palamides and Sir Safere were taken and yielden,
and put in a strong prison. And within three days twelve knights passed
upon them, and they found Sir Palamides guilty, and Sir Safere not
guilty, of their lord’s death. And when Sir Safere should be delivered,
there was great dole betwixt Sir Palamides and him, and many piteous
complaints that Sir Safere made at his departing, that there is no
maker can rehearse the tenth part. Fair brother, said Palamides, let be
thy dolour and thy sorrow: and if I be ordained to die a shameful
death, welcome be it; but and I had wist of this death that I am doomed
unto, I should never have been yielden. So Sir Safere departed from his
brother with the greatest dolour and sorrow that ever made knight. And
on the morn they of the castle ordained twelve knights to ride with Sir
Palamides unto the father of the same knight that Sir Palamides slew;
and so they bound his legs under an old steed’s belly. And then they
rode with Sir Palamides unto a castle by the sea side, that hight
Pelownes, and there Sir Palamides should have justice: thus was their
ordinance. And so they rode with Sir Palamides fast by the castle of
Joyous Gard; and as they passed by that castle, there came riding out
of that castle by them one that knew Sir Palamides; and when that
knight saw Sir Palamides bounden upon a crooked courser, the knight
asked Sir Palamides for what cause he was led so. Ah, my fair fellow
and knight, said Palamides, I ride toward my death, for the slaying of
a knight at a tournament of Lonazep; and if I had not departed from my
lord Sir Tristram, as I ought not to have done, now might I have been
sure to have had my life saved. But I pray you, sir knight, recommand
me unto my lord Sir Tristam, and unto my lady queen Isoud, and say to
them, if ever I trespassed to them I ask them forgiveness. And also, I
beseech you, recommand me unto my lord king Arthur, and unto all the
fellowship of the Round Table, unto my power. Then that knight wept for
pity of Sir Palamides; and therewithal he rode unto Joyous Gard as fast
as his horse might run. And lightly that knight descended down off his
horse, and went unto Sir Tristram, and there he told him all as ye have
heard: and ever the knight wept as he had been mad.


                              CHAP. LXXXV.

_How Sir Tristram made him ready to rescue Sir Palamides, but Sir
  Launcelot rescued him or he came._

When Sir Tristram heard how Sir Palamides went to his death, he was
heavy to hear that, and said, Howbeit that I am wrath with Sir
Palamides, yet will not I suffer him to die so shameful a death, for he
is a full noble knight. And then anon Sir Tristram was armed, and took
his horse, and two squires with him, and rode a great pace toward the
castle of Pelownes, where Sir Palamides was judged to death. And these
twelve knights that led Sir Palamides passed by a well whereas Sir
Launcelot was, which was alight there, and had tied his horse to a
tree, and taken off his helm to drink of that well; and when he saw
these knights, Sir Launcelot put on his helm, and suffered them to pass
by him. And then was he ware of Sir Palamides bounden, and led
shamefully to his death. Oh, mercy, said Launcelot, what misadventure
is befallen him, that he is thus led toward his death? Forsooth, said
Launcelot, it were shame to me to suffer this noble knight so to die
and I might help him, therefore I will help him whatsoever come of it,
or else I shall die for Sir Palamides’ sake. And then Sir Launcelot
mounted upon his horse, and gat his spear in his hand, and rode after
the twelve knights that led Sir Palamides. Fair knights, said Sir
Launcelot, whither lead ye that knight? it beseemeth him full ill to
ride bounden. Then these twelve knights suddenly turned their horses,
and said to Sir Launcelot, Sir knight, we counsel thee not to meddle
with this knight, for he hath deserved death, and unto death he is
judged. That me repenteth, said Launcelot, that I may not ransom him
with fairness, for he is over good a knight to die such a shameful
death. And therefore, fair knights, said Sir Launcelot, keep you as
well as ye can, for I will rescue that knight, or die for it. Then they
began to dress their spears, and Sir Launcelot smote the foremost down,
horse and man; and so he served three more with one spear, and then
that spear brake; and therewithal Sir Launcelot drew his sword, and
then he smote on the right hand and on the left hand: then within
awhile he left none of those twelve knights but he had laid them to the
earth, and the most part of them were sore wounded. And then Sir
Launcelot took the best horse that he found, and loosed Sir Palamides,
and set him upon that horse, and so they returned again unto Joyous
Gard. And then was Sir Palamides ware of Sir Tristram how he came
riding; and when Sir Launcelot saw him he knew him right well; but Sir
Tristram knew not him, because Sir Launcelot had on his shoulder a
golden shield. So Sir Launcelot made him ready to just with Sir
Tristram, that Sir Tristram should not wend that he were Sir Launcelot.
Then Sir Palamides cried on loud unto Sir Tristram, O my lord, I
require you just not with this knight, for this good knight hath saved
me from my death. When Sir Tristram heard him say so, he came a soft
trotting pace toward them. And then Sir Palamides said, My lord Sir
Tristram, much am I beholding unto you of your great goodness that
would proffer your noble body to rescue me undeserved, for I have
greatly offended you. Notwithstanding, said Sir Palamides, here met we
with this noble knight, that worshipfully and manly rescued me from
twelve knights, and smote them down all, and wounded them sore.


                             CHAP. LXXXVI.

_How Sir Tristram and Sir Launcelot, with Palamides, came to Joyous
  Gard; and of Palamides and Sir Tristram._

Fair knight, said Sir Tristram unto Sir Launcelot, of whence be ye? I
am a knight errant, said Sir Launcelot, that rideth to seek many
adventures. What is your name? said Sir Tristram. Sir, at this time I
will not tell you. Then Sir Launcelot said unto Sir Tristram and to
Palamides, Now either of you are met together, I will depart from you.
Not so, said Sir Tristram, I pray you of knighthood to ride with me
unto my castle. Wit you well, said Sir Launcelot, I may not ride with
you, for I have many deeds to do in other places, that at this time I
may not abide with you. Truly, said Sir Tristram, I require you, as ye
be a true knight to the order of knighthood, play you with me this
night. Then Sir Tristram had a grant of Sir Launcelot: howbeit, though
he had not desired him he would have ridden with them, or soon would
come after them; for Sir Launcelot came for none other cause into that
country but for to see Sir Tristram. And when they were come within
Joyous Gard they alight, and their horses were led into a stable, and
then they unarmed them. And when Sir Launcelot was unhelmed, Sir
Tristram and Sir Palamides knew him. Then Sir Tristram took Sir
Launcelot in arms, and so did La Beale Isoud; and Sir Palamides kneeled
down upon his knees and thanked Sir Launcelot. When Sir Launcelot saw
Sir Palamides kneel, he lightly took him up, and said thus; Wit thou
well, Sir Palamides, I, and any knight in this land of worship, ought
of very right succour and rescue so noble a knight as ye are proved and
renowned throughout all this realm, endlong and overthwart. And then
was there joy among them; and the oftener that Sir Palamides saw La
Beale Isoud, the heavier he waxed day by day. Then Sir Launcelot within
three or four days departed; and with him rode Sir Ector de Maris: and
Dinadan and Sir Palamides were there left with Sir Tristram a two
months and more. But ever Sir Palamides faded and mourned, that all men
had marvel wherefore he faded so away. So upon a day, in the dawning
Sir Palamides went into the forest by himself alone, and there he found
a well, and then he looked into the well, and in the water he saw his
own visage, how he was disturbed and defaded, nothing like that he was.
What may this mean? said Sir Palamides. And thus he said to himself:
Ah, Palamides, Palamides, why art thou diffaded, thou that was wont be
called one of the fairest knights of the world? I will no more lead
this life, for I love that I may never get nor recover. And therewithal
he laid him down by the well. And then he began to make a rhyme of La
Beale Isoud and him. And in the meanwhile Sir Tristram was that same
day ridden into the forest to chase the hart of greese. But Sir
Tristram would not ride on hunting never more unarmed because of Sir
Breuse Sance Pité. And so as Sir Tristram rode into that forest up and
down, he heard one sing marvellously loud; and that was Sir Palamides,
that lay by the well. And then Sir Tristram rode softly thither, for he
deemed there was some knight errant that was at the well.

And when Sir Tristram came nigh him, he descended down from his horse,
and tied his horse fast till a tree, and then he came near him on foot.
And anon he was ware where lay Sir Palamides by the well, and sang loud
and merrily. And ever the complaints were of that noble queen La Beale
Isoud, the which was marvellously and wonderfully well said, and full
dolefully and piteously made. And all the whole song the noble knight
Sir Tristram heard from the beginning to the ending, the which grieved
and troubled him sore. But then at the last, when Sir Tristram had
heard all Sir Palamides’ complaints, he was wroth out of measure, and
thought for to slay him there as he lay. Then Sir Tristram remembered
himself that Sir Palamides was unarmed, and of the noble name that Sir
Palamides had, and the noble name that himself had, and then he made a
restraint of his anger, and so he went unto Sir Palamides a soft pace,
and said, Sir Palamides, I have heard your complaint, and of thy
treason that thou hast owed me so long. And wit thou well therefore
thou shalt die. And if it were not for shame of knighthood thou
shouldest not escape my hands, for now I know well thou hast awaited me
with treason. Tell me, said Sir Tristram, how thou wilt acquit thee.
Sir, said Palamides, thus I will acquit me:—as for queen La Beale
Isoud, ye shall wit well that I love her above all other ladies of the
world; and well I wot it shall befal me as for her love as befel to the
noble knight Sir Kehidius, that died for the love of La Beale Isoud;
and now, Sir Tristram, I will that ye wit that I have loved La Beale
Isoud many a day, and she hath been the causer of my worship. And else
I had been the most simplest knight in the world. For by her, and
because of her, I have won the worship that I have: for when I
remembered me of La Beale Isoud, I wan the worship wheresoever I came,
for the most part; and yet had I never reward nor bounty of her the
days of my life, and yet have I been her knight guerdonless; and
therefore Sir Tristram, as for any death I dread not, for I had as lief
die as to live. And if I were armed as thou art, I should lightly do
battle with thee. Well have ye uttered your treason, said Tristram. I
have done to you no treason, said Sir Palamides, for love is free for
all men, and though I have loved your lady she is my lady as well as
yours: howbeit I have wrong if any wrong be, for ye rejoice her, and
have her love, and so had I never, nor never am like to have. And yet
shall I love her to the uttermost days of my life as well as ye.


                             CHAP. LXXXVII.

_How there was a day set between Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides for to
  fight, and how Sir Tristram was hurt._

Then, said Sir Tristram, I will fight with you unto the uttermost. I
grant, said Palamides, for in a better quarrel keep I never to fight,
for, and I die of your hands, of a better knight’s hands may I not be
slain. And sithen I understand that I shall never rejoice La Beale
Isoud, I have as good will to die as to live. Then set ye a day, said
Sir Tristram, that we shall do battle. This day fifteen days, said
Palamides, will I meet with you here by, in the meadow under Joyous
Gard. Fie for shame, said Sir Tristram, will ye set so long day? let us
fight to-morn. Not so, said Palamides, for I am meagre, and have been
long sick for the love of La Beale Isoud, and therefore I will repose
me till I have my strength again. So then Sir Tristram and Sir
Palamides promised faithfully to meet at the well that day fifteen
days. I am remembered, said Sir Tristram to Palamides, that ye brake me
once a promise when that I rescued you from Breuse Sance Pité and nine
knights, and then ye promised me to meet at the peron and the grave
beside Camelot, whereas at that time ye failed of your promise. Wit you
well, said Palamides unto Sir Tristram, I was at that day in prison, so
that I might not hold my promise. Truly, said Sir Tristram, and ye had
holden your promise, this work had not been here now at this time.
Right so departed Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides. And so Sir Palamides
took his horse and his harness, and he rode unto king Arthur’s court,
and there Sir Palamides gat him four knights and four serjeants of
arms, and so he returned againward unto Joyous Gard. And in the mean
while Sir Tristram chased and hunted at all manner of venery, and about
three days afore the battle should be, as Sir Tristram chased an hart,
there was an archer shot at the hart, and by misfortune he smote Sir
Tristram in the thick of the thigh, and the arrow slew Sir Tristram’s
horse, and hurt him. When Sir Tristram was so hurt, he was passing
heavy, and wit ye well he bled sore. And then he took another horse,
and rode unto Joyous Gard with great heaviness, more for the promise he
had made with Sir Palamides, as to do battle with him within three days
after, than for any hurt of his thigh. Wherefore there was neither man
nor woman that could cheer him with anything that they could make to
him, neither queen La Beale Isoud, for ever he deemed that Sir
Palamides had smitten him so that he should not be able to do battle
with him at the day set.


                            CHAP. LXXXVIII.

_How Sir Palamides kept his day to have foughten, but Sir Tristram
  might not come; and other things._

But in no wise there was no knight about Sir Tristram that would
believe that ever Sir Palamides would hurt Sir Tristram, neither by his
own hands nor by none other consenting. Then when the fifteenth day was
come, Sir Palamides came to the well with four knights with him of
Arthur’s court, and three serjeants of arms. And for this intent Sir
Palamides brought the knights with him and the serjeants of arms, for
they should bear record of the battle betwixt Sir Tristram and Sir
Palamides. And the one serjeant brought in his helm, the other his
spear, the third his sword. So thus Sir Palamides came into the field,
and there he abode nigh two hours. And then he sent a squire unto Sir
Tristram, and desired him to come into the field to hold his promise.
When the squire was come to Joyous Gard, anon as Sir Tristram heard of
his coming, he let command that the squire should come to his presence
there as he lay in his bed. My lord Sir Tristram, said Palamides’
squire, wit you well, my lord Palamides abideth you in the field, and
he would wit whether ye would do battle or not. Ah, my fair brother,
said Sir Tristram, wit thou well that I am right heavy for these
tidings, therefore tell Sir Palamides and I were well at ease I would
not lie here, nor he should have no need to send for me, and I might
either ride or go: and for thou shalt say that I am no liar—Sir
Tristram shewed him his thigh, that the wound was six inches deep:—And
now thou hast seen my hurt, tell thy lord that this is no feigned
matter; and tell him that I had lever than all the gold of king Arthur
that I were whole: and tell Palamides, as soon as I am whole I shall
seek him endlong and overthwart, and that I promise you as I am true
knight: and if ever I may meet with him he shall have battle of me his
fill. And with this the squire departed. And when Sir Palamides wist
that Tristram was hurt, he was glad, and said, Now I am sure I shall
have no shame, for I wot well I should have had hard handling of him,
and by likely I must needs have had the worse. For he is the hardest
knight in battle that now is living except Sir Launcelot. And then
departed Sir Palamides where as fortune led him. And within a month Sir
Tristram was whole of his hurt. And then he took his horse, and rode
from country to country, and all strange adventures he achieved
wheresoever he rode, and always he enquired for Sir Palamides, but of
all that quarter of summer Sir Tristram could never meet with Sir
Palamides. But thus as Sir Tristram sought and enquired after Sir
Palamides, Sir Tristram achieved many great battles, wherethrough all
the noise fell to Sir Tristram, and it ceased of Sir Launcelot; and
therefore Sir Launcelot’s brethren and his kinsmen would have slain Sir
Tristram, because of his fame. But when Sir Launcelot wist how his
kinsmen were set, he said to them openly, Wit you well, that and the
envy of you all be so hardy to wait upon my lord Sir Tristram with any
hurt, shame, or villainy, as I am true knight I shall slay the best of
you with mine own hands. Alas, fie for shame, should ye for his noble
deeds await upon him to slay him. Jesu defend, said Launcelot, that
ever any noble knight as Sir Tristram is should be destroyed with
treason. Of this noise and fame sprang into Cornwall, and among them of
Liones, whereof they were passing glad and made great joy. And then
they of Liones sent letters unto Sir Tristram of recommendation, and
many great gifts to maintain Sir Tristram’s estate. And ever between
Sir Tristram resorted unto Joyous Gard, where as La Beale Isoud was,
that loved him as her life.

         Here endeth the tenthe book which is of syr Tristram.

    And here foloweth the Enleuenth book whiche is of sir launcelot.




                           The Eleventh Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Launcelot rode on his adventure, and how he holpe a dolorous
  lady from her pain, and how that he fought with a dragon._

Now leave we Sir Tristram de Liones, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du
Lake, and Sir Galahad, Sir Launcelot’s son, how he was born, and in
what manner, as the book of French rehearseth. Afore the time that Sir
Galahad was born, there came in an hermit unto king Arthur, upon
Whitsunday, as the knights sat at the Table Round. And when the hermit
saw the siege perilous, he asked the king and all the knights why that
siege was void. Sir Arthur and all the knights answered, There shall
never none sit in that siege but one, but if he be destroyed. Then,
said the hermit, wot ye what is he? Nay, said Arthur and all the
knights, we wot not who is he that shall sit therein. Then wot I, said
the hermit, for he that shall sit there is unborn, and this same year
he shall be born that shall sit there in that siege perilous, and he
shall win the Sangreal. When this hermit had made this mention he
departed from the court of king Arthur. And then after this feast Sir
Launcelot rode on his adventures, till on a time by adventure he passed
over the bridge of Corbin, and there he saw the fairest tower that ever
he saw, and thereunder was a fair town full of people, and all the
people, men and women, cried at once. Welcome Sir Launcelot du Lake,
the flower of all knighthood, for by thee all we shall be holpen out of
danger. What mean ye, said Sir Launcelot, that ye cry so upon me? Ah,
fair knight, said they all, here is within this tower a dolorous lady
that hath been there in pains many winters: for ever she boileth in
scalding water. And but late, said all the people, Sir Gawaine was
here, and he might not help her, and so he left her in pain. So may I,
said Sir Launcelot, leave her in pain as well as Sir Gawaine did. Nay,
said the people, we know well that it is Sir Launcelot that shall
deliver her. Well, said Launcelot, then show me what I shall do. Then
they brought Sir Launcelot into the tower. And when he came to the
chamber there as this lady was, the doors of iron unlocked and
unbolted. And so Sir Launcelot went into the chamber that was as hot as
any stew, and there Sir Launcelot took the fairest lady by the hand
that ever he saw, and she was naked as a needle, and by enchantment
queen Morgan le Fay and the queen of Northgalis had put her there in
that pains because she was called the fairest lady of that country. And
there she had been five years, and never might she be delivered out of
her great pains unto the time the best knight of the world had taken
her by the hand. Then the people brought her clothes. And when she was
arrayed, Sir Launcelot thought she was the fairest lady of the world,
but if it were queen Guenever. Then this lady said to Sir Launcelot,
Sir, if it please you will ye go with me hereby into a chapel that we
may give loving and thanking to God? Madam, said Sir Launcelot, cometh
on with me, I will go with you. So when they came there, and gave
thankings to God, all the people, both learned and lay, gave thankings
unto God and him, and said, Sir knight, since ye have delivered this
lady, ye shall deliver us from a serpent that is here in a tomb. Then
Sir Launcelot took his shield, and said, Bring me thither, and what I
may do unto the pleasure of God and you, I will do. So when Sir
Launcelot came thither, he saw written upon the tomb letters of gold
that said thus: Here shall come a libbard of king’s blood and he shall
slay this serpent, and this libbard shall engender a lion in this
foreign country, the which lion shall pass all other knights. So then
Sir Launcelot lift up the tomb, and there came out an horrible and a
fiendly dragon spitting fire out of his mouth. Then Sir Launcelot drew
out his sword and fought with the dragon long, and at last with great
pain Sir Launcelot slew that dragon. Therewithal came king Pelles, the
good and noble knight, and saluted Sir Launcelot, and he him again.
Fair knight, said the king, what is your name? I require you of your
knighthood tell me.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Sir Launcelot came to Pelles, and of the Sangreal, and of Elaine,
  king Pelles’ daughter._

Sir, said Launcelot, wit you well my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. And
my name is, said the king, Pelles, king of the foreign country, and
cousin nigh unto Joseph of Arimathie. And then either of them made much
of other, and so they went into the castle to take their repast. And
anon there came in a dove at a window, and in her mouth there seemed a
little censer of gold. And therewithal there was such a savour as all
the spicery of the world had been there. And forthwithal there was upon
the table all manner of meats and drinks that they could think upon. So
came in a damsel passing fair and young, and she bare a vessel of gold
betwixt her hands, and thereto the king kneeled devoutly, and said his
prayers, and so did all that were there. Then said Sir Launcelot, What
may this mean? This is, said the king, the richest thing that any man
hath living. And when this thing goeth about, the Round Table shall be
broken. And wit thou well, said the king, this is the holy Sancgreal
that ye have here seen. So the king and Sir Launcelot led their life
the most part of that day. And fain would king Pelles have found the
mean to have had Sir Launcelot to love his daughter fair Elaine, and
for this intent: the king knew well that Sir Launcelot should have a
child by his daughter, the which should be named Sir Galahad, the good
knight, by whom all the foreign country should be brought out of
danger, and by him the holy Graale should be achieved. Then came forth
a lady that hight dame Brisen, and she said unto the king, Sir, wit ye
well, Sir Launcelot loveth no lady in the world but all only queen
Guenever, and therefore work ye by counsel, and I shall make him to see
your daughter Elaine, and he shall not wit but that he seeth queen
Guenever. Oh, fair lady, dame Brisen, said the king, hope ye to bring
this about? Sir, said she, upon pain of my life let me deal. For this
Brisen was one of the greatest enchantresses that was that time in the
world living.

Then anon by dame Brisen’s wit she made one to come to Sir Launcelot
that he knew well. And this man brought him a ring from queen Guenever
like as it had come from her, and such one as she was wont for the most
part to wear. And when Sir Launcelot saw that token, wit ye well he was
never so fain. Where is my lady? said Sir Launcelot. She is in the
castle of Case, said the messager, but five mile hence. Then Sir
Launcelot thought to be there the same night. And then this Brisen, by
the commandment of king Pelles, let send Elaine to this castle with
twenty-five knights unto the castle of Case. Then Sir Launcelot rode
unto that castle, and there anon he was received worshipfully with such
people to his seeming as were about queen Guenever. So when Sir
Launcelot was alight, then dame Brisen brought him a cup full of wine,
and as soon as he had drank that wine he was so assotted that he wend
that maiden Elaine had been queen Guenever. Wit ye well that Sir
Launcelot was glad, and so was that lady Elaine, for well she knew that
of them should be born Sir Galahad, that should prove the best knight
of the world. And then Sir Launcelot remembered him, and he arose up
and went to the window.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Launcelot was displeased when he knew that he had been
  deceived, and how Galahad was born._

And anon as he had unshut the window, the enchantment was gone, then he
knew himself that he had been deceived. Alas, said he, that I have
lived so long; now am I shamed. So then he gat his sword in his hand,
and said, Thou traitress, who art thou? thou shalt die right here of my
hands. Then this fair lady, Elaine, kneeled down afore Sir Launcelot
and said, Fair courteous knight, come of king’s blood, I require you
have mercy upon me; and as thou art renowned the most noble knight of
the world, slay me not, for I shall have a son by thee that shall be
the most noblest knight of the world. Ah, false traitress, said Sir
Launcelot, why hast thou betrayed me? Anon tell me what thou art. Sir,
she said, I am Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles. Well, said Sir
Launcelot, I will forgive you this deed. And therewith he took her up
in his arms and kissed her, for she was as fair a lady, and thereto
young, and as wise as any was that time living. Truly, said Sir
Launcelot, I may not blame this to you, but her that made this
enchantment upon me, as between you and me; and I may find her, that
same lady Brisen, she shall lose her head for witchcraft, for there was
never knight deceived so as I am. And so Sir Launcelot armed him, and
took his leave mildly at that lady, young Elaine, and so he departed.
Then she said, My lord Sir Launcelot, I beseech you see me as soon as
you may, for I have obeyed me unto the prophecy that my father told me,
and by his commandment to fulfil this prophecy I have given the
greatest riches and the fairest flower that ever I had, and that is my
maiden love and faith, and therefore, gentle knight, owe me your good
will. And so Sir Launcelot arrayed him, and was armed, and took his
leave mildly of that young lady Elaine, and so he departed, and rode
till he came to the castle of Corbin where her father was. And as soon
as her time came she was delivered of a fair child, and they christened
him Galahad. And wit ye well that child was well kept and well
nourished, and he was named Galahad, because Sir Launcelot was so named
at the fontain stone; and after that, the Lady of the lake confirmed
him Sir Launcelot du Lake. Then after this lady was delivered and
churched there came a knight unto her, his name was Sir Bromel la
Pleche, the which was a great lord, and he had loved that lady long,
and he evermore desired her to wed her, and so by no means she could
put him off, till on a day she said to Sir Bromel, Wit thou well, sir
knight, I will not love you, for my love is set upon the best knight of
the world. Who is he? said Sir Bromel. Sir, said she, it is Sir
Launcelot du Lake that I love, and none other, and therefore woo me no
longer. Ye say well, said Sir Bromel, and since ye have told me so
much, ye shall have but little joy of Sir Launcelot, for I shall slay
him wheresoever I meet him. Sir, said the lady Elaine, do to him no
treason. Wit ye well, my lady, said Bromel, and I promise you this
twelvemonth I shall keep the bridge of Corbin for Sir Launcelot’s sake,
that he shall neither come nor go unto you but I shall meet with him.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Bors came to dame Elaine, and saw Galahad, and how he was fed
  with the Sangreal._

Then, as it befel by fortune and adventure, Sir Bors de Ganis, that was
nephew unto Sir Launcelot, came over that bridge, and there Sir Bromel
and Sir Bors justed, and Sir Bors smote Sir Bromel such a buffet that
he bare him over his horse croup. And then Sir Bromel, as an hardy
knight, pulled out his sword and dressed his shield, to do battle with
Sir Bors. And then Sir Bors alight and avoided his horse, and there
they dashed together many sad strokes, and long thus they fought, till
at the last Sir Bromel was laid to the earth, and there Sir Bors began
to unlace his helm to slay him. Then Sir Bromel cried Sir Bors’ mercy,
and yielded him. Upon this covenant thou shalt have thy life, said Sir
Bors, so thou go unto Sir Launcelot upon Whitsunday that next cometh,
and yield thee unto him as knight recreant. I will do it, said Sir
Bromel: and that he sware upon the cross of the sword, and so he let
him depart. And Sir Bors rode unto king Pelles that was within Corbin.
And when the king and Elaine his daughter wist that Sir Bors was nephew
unto Sir Launcelot, they made him great cheer. Then said dame Elaine,
We marvel where Sir Launcelot is, for he came never here but once.
Marvel not, said Sir Bors, for this half year he hath been in prison
with queen Morgan le Fay, king Arthur’s sister. Alas, said dame Elaine,
that me repenteth. And ever Sir Bors beheld that child in her arms, and
ever him seemed it was passing like Sir Launcelot. Truly, said dame
Elaine, wit ye well this is his child. Then Sir Bors wept for joy, and
he prayed to God it might prove as good a knight as his father was. And
so came in a white dove, and she bare a little censer of gold in her
mouth, and there was all manner of meats and drinks, and a maiden bare
that Sancgreal, and she said openly, Wit you well Sir Bors that this
child is Galahad, that shall sit in the siege perilous, and achieve the
Sancgreal, and he shall be much better than ever was Sir Launcelot du
Lake, that is his own father. And then they kneeled down and made their
devotions, and there was such a savour as all the spicery in the world
had been there. And when the dove took her flight, the maiden vanished
with the Sancgreal as she came. Sir, said Sir Bors unto king Pelles,
this castle may be named the castle adventurous, for here be many
strange adventures. That is soth, said the king. For well may this
place be called the adventurous place, for there come but few knights
here that go away with any worship; be he never so strong, here he may
be proved, and but late Sir Gawaine the good knight gat but little
worship here. For I let you wit, said king Pelles, here shall no knight
win no worship but if he be of worship himself, and of good living, and
that loveth God, and dreadeth God, and else he getteth no worship here,
be he never so hardy. That is a wonderful thing, said Sir Bors. What ye
mean in this country I wot not, for ye have many strange adventures,
and therefore I will lie in this castle this night. Ye shall not do so,
said king Pelles, by my counsel, for it is hard and ye escape without a
shame. I shall take the adventure that will befal me, said Sir Bors.
Then I counsel you, said the king, to be confessed clean. As for that,
said Sir Bors, I will be shriven with a good will. So Sir Bors was
confessed, and for all women Sir Bors was a virgin, save for one, that
was the daughter of king Brangoris, and their child hight Helin, and
save for her Sir Bors was a pure maiden. And so he was led unto bed in
a fair large chamber, and many doors were shut about the chamber. When
Sir Bors espied all those doors, he avoided all the people, for he
might have nobody with him; but in no wise Sir Bors would unarm him,
but so he laid him down upon the bed. And right so he saw come in a
light that he might well see a spear great and long, that came straight
upon him pointling, and to Sir Bors seemed that the head of the spear
burnt like a taper. And anon, or Sir Bors wist, the spear head smote
him into the shoulder an hand breadth in deepness, and that wound
grieved Sir Bors passing sore. And then he laid him down again for
pain, and anon therewithal came a knight armed with his shield on his
shoulder, and his sword in his hand, and he bad Sir Bors, Arise sir
knight, and fight with me. I am sore hurt, he said, but yet I shall not
fail thee. And then Sir Bors start up and dressed his shield, and then
they lashed together mightily a great while. And at the last Sir Bors
bare him backward, until that he came unto a chamber door, and there
that knight went into that chamber, and rested him a great while. And
when he had reposed him he came out freshly again, and began new battle
with Sir Bors mightily and strongly.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Sir Bors made Sir Pedivere to yield him, and of marvellous
  adventures that he had, and how he achieved them._

Then Sir Bors thought he should no more go into that chamber to rest
him, and so Sir Bors dressed him betwixt the knight and that chamber
door, and there Sir Bors smote him down, and then that knight yielded
him. What is your name? said Sir Bors. Sir, said he, my name is
Pedivere of the Straight Marches. So Sir Bors made him to swear at
Whitsunday next coming to be at the court of king Arthur and yield him
there as a prisoner, as an overcome knight by the hands of Sir Bors. So
thus departed Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches. And then Sir Bors
laid him down to rest, and then he heard and felt much noise in that
chamber; and then Sir Bors espied that there came in, he wist not
whether at the doors or windows, shot of arrows and of quarels, so
thick that he marvelled, and many fell upon him and hurt him in the
bare places. And then Sir Bors was ware where came in an hideous lion;
so Sir Bors dressed him unto the lion, and anon the lion bereft him of
his shield, and with his sword Sir Bors smote off the lion’s head.

Right so Sir Bors forthwithal saw a dragon in the court, passing
horrible, and there seemed letters of gold written in his forehead; and
Sir Bors thought that the letters made a signification of king Arthur.
Right so there came an horrible libard and an old, and there they
fought long, and did great battle together. And at the last the dragon
spit out of his mouth as it had been an hundred dragons, and lightly
all the small dragons slew the old dragon, and tare him all to pieces.
Anon withal there came an old man into the hall, and he sat him down in
a fair chair, and there seemed to be two adders about his neck, and
then the old man had an harp, and there he sang an old song, how Joseph
of Aramathie came into this land. Then when he had sung, the old man
bad Sir Bors—Go from thence, for here shall ye have no more
adventures, and full worshipfully have ye done, and better shall ye do
hereafter. And then Sir Bors seemed that there came the whitest dove
with a little golden censer in her mouth; and anon therewithal the
tempest ceased and passed that afore was marvellous to hear. So was all
that court full of good savours. Then Sir Bors saw four children
bearing four fair tapers, and an old man in the midst of the children
with a censer in his one hand, and a spear in his other hand, and that
spear was called the spear of vengeance.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Bors departed; and how Sir Launcelot was rebuked of queen
  Guenever, and of his excuse._

Now, said that old man to Sir Bors, go ye to your cousin Sir Launcelot,
and tell him of this adventure, the which had been most convenient for
him of all earthly knights, but sin is so foul in him he may not
achieve such holy deeds; for, had not been his sin, he had passed all
the knights that ever were in his days. And tell thou Sir Launcelot, of
all worldly adventures he passeth in manhood and prowess all other, but
in these spiritual matters he shall have many his better. And then Sir
Bors saw four gentlewomen coming by him poorly beseen, and he saw where
that they entered into a chamber where was great light, as it were a
summer light, and the women kneeled down afore an altar of silver with
four pillars, and as it had been a bishop kneeled down afore that table
of silver. And as Sir Bors looked over his head, he saw a sword like
silver, naked, hoving over his head, and the clearness thereof smote so
in his eyes that at that time Sir Bors was blind, and there he heard a
voice that said, Go hence, thou Sir Bors, for as yet thou art not
worthy for to be in this place. And then he went backward to his bed
till on the morn. And on the morn king Pelles made great joy of Sir
Bors, and then he departed and rode to Camelot, and there he found Sir
Launcelot du Lake, and told him of the adventures he had seen with king
Pelles at Corbin. So the noise sprang in king Arthur’s court that Sir
Launcelot had a child by Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles, wherefore
queen Guenever was wroth and gave many rebukes to Sir Launcelot, and
called him false knight. And then Sir Launcelot told the queen all, and
how he was made to meet her by enchantment, in likeness of the queen.
So the queen held Sir Launcelot excused. And, as the book saith, king
Arthur had been in France, and had made war upon the mighty king
Claudas, and had won much of his lands; and when the king was come
again he let cry a great feast, that all lords and ladies of all
England should be there, but if it were such as were rebellious against
him.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How dame Elaine, Galahad’s mother, came in great estate unto Camelot,
  and how Sir Launcelot behaved him there._

And when dame Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles, heard of this feast,
she went to her father, and required him that he would give her leave
to ride to that feast. The king answered, I will well ye go thither;
but in any wise, as ye love me and will have my blessing, that ye be
well beseen in the richest wise; and look that ye spare not for no
cost; ask, and ye shall have all that you needeth. Then, by the advice
of dame Brisen her maiden, all thing was apparelled unto the purpose,
and there was never no lady more richlier beseen. So she rode with
twenty knights and ten ladies and gentlewomen to the number of an
hundred horses. And when she came to Camelot, king Arthur and queen
Guenever said, and all the knights, that dame Elaine was the fairest
and the best beseen lady that ever was seen in that court.

And anon as king Arthur wist that she was come, he met her and saluted
her, and so did the most part of all the knights of the Round Table,
both Sir Tristram, Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Gawaine, and many more that I
will not rehearse. But when Sir Launcelot saw her he was so ashamed,
and that because he drew his sword on her, that he would not salute her
nor speak to her, and yet Sir Launcelot thought she was the fairest
woman that ever he saw in his life days. But when dame Elaine saw Sir
Launcelot that would not speak to her, she was so heavy that she wend
her heart would have to-brast. For wit ye well, out of measure she
loved him. And then Elaine said unto her woman dame Brisen, The
unkindness of Sir Launcelot slayeth me near. Ah peace, madam, said dame
Brisen, I will undertake that he shall come to you, and ye would hold
you still. That were me lever, said dame Elaine, than all the gold that
is above the earth. Let me deal, said dame Brisen. So when Elaine was
brought unto queen Guenever, either made other good cheer by
countenance, but nothing with hearts. But all men and women spake of
the beauty of dame Elaine, and of her great riches. Then the queen
commanded that dame Elaine should sleep in a chamber nigh unto her
chamber, and all under one roof. And so it was done as the queen had
commanded. Then the queen sent for Sir Launcelot, and bid him come to
her, or else, I am sure, said the queen, that ye will go to your lady,
dame Elaine, by whom ye had Galahad. Ah, madam, said Sir Launcelot,
never say ye so; for that was against my will. Then, said the queen,
look that ye come to me when I send for you. Madam, said Sir Launcelot,
I shall not fail you, but I shall be ready at your commandment. This
bargain was soon done and made between them, but dame Brisen knew it by
her crafts, and told it to her lady dame Elaine. Alas, said she, how
shall I do. Let me deal, said dame Brisen, for I shall bring him by the
hand, even to you, and he shall ween that I am queen Guenever’s
messager. Now well is me, said dame Elaine, for all the world I love
not so much as I do Sir Launcelot.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How dame Brisen by enchantment brought Sir Launcelot to dame Elaine,
  and how queen Guenever rebuked him._

So then dame Brisen came to Sir Launcelot and said, Sir Launcelot du
Lake, my lady queen Guenever awaiteth upon you. O my fair lady, said
Sir Launcelot, I am ready to go with you where ye will have me. So Sir
Launcelot took his sword in his hand, and then dame Brisen took him by
the finger and led him unto her lady, dame Elaine; and then she
departed and left them together. Wit ye well the lady was glad, and so
was Sir Launcelot, for he wend that it was the queen. Then queen
Guenever sent one of her women unto Sir Launcelot; and when she came
there, she found Sir Launcelot was away: so she came to the queen and
told her all. Alas, said the queen, where is that false knight become?
Then the queen was nigh out of her wit, and then she writhed and
weltered as a mad woman; and at the last the queen met with Sir
Launcelot, and thus she said, False traitor knight that thou art, look
thou never abide in my court, and not so hardy, thou false traitor
knight that thou art, that ever thou come in my sight. Alas, said Sir
Launcelot: and therewith he took such an heartly sorrow at her words
that he fell down to the floor in a swoon. And therewithal queen
Guenever departed. And when Sir Launcelot awoke of his swoon he lept
out at a bay window into a garden, and there with thorns he was all
to-scratched in his visage and his body, and so he ran forth he wist
not whither, and was wild wood as ever was man; and so he ran two year,
and never man might have grace to know him.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How dame Elaine was commanded by queen Guenever to avoid the court,
  and how Sir Launcelot became mad._

Now turn we unto queen Guenever and to the fair lady Elaine. When dame
Elaine heard the queen so to rebuke Sir Launcelot, and also she saw how
he swooned, and how he lept out at a bay window, then she said unto
queen Guenever, Madam, ye are greatly to blame for Sir Launcelot, for
now ye have lost him; for I saw and heard by his countenance that he is
mad for ever. Alas, madam, ye do great sin, and to yourself great
dishonour, for ye have a lord of your own, and therefore it is your
part to love him; for there is no queen in this world hath such another
king as ye have. And if ye were not, I might have the love of my lord
Sir Launcelot; and cause I have to love him, for I am his, and by him I
have borne a fair son, and his name is Galahad, and he shall be in his
time the best knight of the world. Dame Elaine, said the queen, I
charge you and command you to avoid my court; and for the love ye owe
unto Sir Launcelot discover not his counsel, for and ye do it will be
his death. As for that, said dame Elaine, I dare undertake he is marred
for ever, and that have ye made, for ye nor I are like to rejoice him;
for he made the most piteous groans when he lept out at yonder bay
window that ever I heard man make. Alas! said fair Elaine, and alas!
said the queen Guenever, for now I wot well we have lost him for ever.
So on the morn dame Elaine took her leave to depart, and she would no
longer abide. Then king Arthur brought her on her way with more than an
hundred knights through a forest. And by the way she told Sir Bors de
Ganis all how it betid, and how Sir Launcelot lept out at a bay window
araged out of his wit. Alas, said Sir Bors, where is my lord Sir
Launcelot become? Sir, said Elaine, I wot never. Alas, said Sir Bors,
betwixt you both ye have destroyed that good knight. As for me, said
dame Elaine, I said never nor did never thing that should in any wise
displease him; but with the rebuke that queen Guenever gave him I saw
him swoon to the earth; and when he awoke he took his sword in his
hand, and lept out at a window, with the grisliest groan that ever I
heard man make. Now farewell, dame Elaine, said Sir Bors, and hold my
lord Arthur with a tale as long as ye can, for I will turn again unto
queen Guenever and give her a heat: and I require you as ever ye will
have my service, make good watch, and espy if ever ye may see my lord
Sir Launcelot. Truly, said fair Elaine, I shall do all that I may do,
for as fain would I know and wit where he is become as you or any of
his kin, or queen Guenever, and cause great enough have I thereto as
well as any other. And wit ye well, said fair Elaine to Sir Bors, I
would lose my life for him rather than he should be hurt: but alas, I
cast me never for to see him; and the chief causer of this is dame
Guenever. Madam, said dame Brisen, the which had made the enchantment
before betwixt Sir Launcelot and her, I pray you heartily let Sir Bors
depart and hie him with all his might, as fast as he may, to seek Sir
Launcelot. For I warn you he is clean out of his mind, and yet he shall
be well holpen, and but by miracle. Then wept dame Elaine, and so did
Sir Bors de Ganis, and so they departed; and Sir Bors rode straight
unto queen Guenever, and when she saw Sir Bors she wept as she were
wood. Fie on your weeping, said Sir Bors, for ye weep never but when
there is no boot. Alas, said Sir Bors, that ever Sir Launcelot’s kin
saw you. For now have ye lost the best knight of our blood, and he that
was all our leader and our succour. And I dare say and make it good,
that all kings, christian nor heathen, may not find such a knight, for
to speak of his nobleness and courtesy with his beauty and his
gentleness. Alas, said Sir Bors, what shall we do that be of his blood?
Alas, said Ector de Maris. Alas, said Lionel.


                                CHAP. X.

_What sorrow queen Guenever made for Sir Launcelot, and how he was
  sought by knights of his kin._

And when the queen heard them say so, she fell to the earth in a dead
swoon. And then Sir Bors took her up, and roused her, and when she was
awaked she kneeled afore the three knights, and held up both her hands,
and besought them to seek him, and spare not for no goods but that he
be founden, for I wot he is out of his mind. And Sir Bors, Sir Ector,
and Sir Lionel departed from the queen, for they might not abide no
longer for sorrow. And then the queen sent them treasure enough for
their expenses, and so they took their horses and their armour, and
departed. And then they rode from country to country, in forests and in
wildernesses and in wastes, and ever they laid watch as well both at
forests and at all manner of men as they rode, to hearken and enquire
after him, as he that was a naked man in his shirt, with a sword in his
hand. And thus they rode nigh a quarter of a year, endlong and
overthwart, in many places, forests and wildernesses, and ofttimes were
evil lodged for his sake, and yet for all their labour and seeking
could they never hear word of him. And wit you well these three knights
were passing sorry. Then at the last Sir Bors and his fellows met with
a knight, that hight Sir Melion de Tartare. Now, fair knight, said Sir
Bors, whither be ye away? for they knew either other aforetime. Sir,
said Sir Melion, I am in the way toward the court of king Arthur. Then
we pray you, said Sir Bors, that ye will tell my lord Arthur, and my
lady queen Guenever, and all the fellowship of the Round Table, that we
cannot in no wise hear tell where Sir Launcelot is become. Then Sir
Melion departed from them, and said that he would tell the king and the
queen and all the fellowship of the Round Table, as they had desired
him. So when Sir Melion came to the court of king Arthur, he told the
king and the queen and all the fellowship of the Round Table, what Sir
Bors had said of Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Gawaine, Sir Uwaine, Sir
Sagramor le Desirous, Sir Aglovale, and Sir Percivale de Galis, took
upon them by the great desire of king Arthur, and in especial by the
queen, to seek throughout all England, Wales, and Scotland, to find Sir
Launcelot. And with them rode eighteen knights more to bear them
fellowship. And wit ye well they lacked no manner of spending: and so
were they three and twenty knights.

Now turn we to Sir Launcelot, and speak we of his care and woe and what
pain he there endured, for cold, hunger, and thirst he had plenty. And
thus as these noble knights rode together, they by one assent departed,
and then they rode by two, by three, and by four, and by five; and ever
they assigned where they should meet. And so Sir Aglovale and Sir
Percivale rode together unto their mother that was a queen in those
days. And when she saw her two sons, for joy she wept tenderly. And
then she said, Ah, my dear sons, when your father was slain he left me
four sons, of the which now be twain slain; and for the death of my
noble son Sir Lamorak shall my heart never be glad. And then she
kneeled down upon her knees tofore Aglovale and Sir Percivale, and
besought them to abide at home with her. Ah, sweet mother, said Sir
Percivale, we may not; for we be come of king’s blood of both parties,
and therefore, mother, it is our kind to haunt arms and noble deeds.
Alas, my sweet sons, then she said, for your sakes I shall lose my
liking and joy, and then wind and weather I may not endure, what for
the death of your father king Pellinore, that was shamefully slain by
the hands of Sir Gawaine and his brother Sir Gaheris, and they slew him
not manly, but by treason. Ah, my dear sons, this is a piteous
complaint for me of your father’s death, considering also the death of
Sir Lamorak, that of knighthood had but few fellows. Now, my dear sons,
have this in your mind. Then there was but weeping and sobbing in the
court when they should depart, and she fell in swooning in midst of the
court.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How a servant of Sir Aglovale’s was slain, and what vengeance Sir
  Aglovale and Sir Percivale did therefore._

And when she was awaked she sent a squire after them with spending
enough. And so when the squire had overtaken them, they would not
suffer him to ride with them, but sent him home again to comfort their
mother, praying her meekly of her blessing. And so this squire was
benighted, and by misfortune he happened to come unto a castle where
dwelled a baron. And so when the squire was come into the castle, the
lord asked him from whence he came, and whom he served? My lord, said
the squire, I serve a good knight that is called Sir Aglovale. The
squire said it to good intent, weening unto him to have been more
forborne for Sir Aglovale’s sake than if he had said he had served the
queen, Aglovale’s mother. Well, my fellow, said the lord of that
castle, for Sir Aglovale’s sake thou shalt have evil lodging, for
Aglovale slew my brother, and therefore thou shalt die on part of
payment. And then that lord commanded his men to have him away, and so
pulled him out of the castle, and there they slew him without mercy.
Right so on the morn came Sir Aglovale and Sir Percivale riding by a
church-yard, where men and women were busy, and beheld the dead squire,
and they thought to bury him. What is there, said Sir Aglovale, that ye
behold so fast? A good man start forth and said, Fair knight, here
lieth a squire slain shamefully this night. How was he slain, fair
fellow? said Sir Aglovale. My fair sir, said the man, the lord of this
castle lodged this squire this night, and because he said he was
servant unto a good knight that is with king Arthur, his name is Sir
Aglovale, therefore the lord commanded to slay him, and for this cause
is he slain. Gramercy, said Sir Aglovale, and ye shall see his death
revenged lightly, for I am that same knight for whom this squire was
slain. Then Sir Aglovale called unto him Sir Percivale, and bad him
alight lightly, and so they alight both, and betook their horses to
their men, and so they went on foot into the castle. And all so soon as
they were within the castle gate Sir Aglovale bad the porter, Go thou
unto thy lord and tell him that I am Sir Aglovale, for whom this squire
was slain this night. Anon the porter told this to his lord, whose name
was Goodewin: anon he armed him, and then he came into the court and
said, Which of you is Sir Aglovale? Here I am, said Aglovale: for what
cause slewest thou this night my mother’s squire? I slew him, said Sir
Goodewin, because of thee; for thou slewest my brother Sir Gawdelin. As
for thy brother, said Sir Aglovale, I avow it, I slew him, for he was a
false knight and a betrayer of ladies and of good knights; and for the
death of my squire thou shalt die. I defy thee, said Sir Goodewin. Then
they lashed together as eagerly as it had been two lions: and Sir
Percivale he fought with all the remnant that would fight. And within a
while Sir Percivale had slain all that would withstand him; for Sir
Percivale dealt so his strokes that were so rude that there durst no
man abide him. And within a while Sir Aglovale had Sir Goodewin at the
earth, and there he unlaced his helm and strake off his head. And then
they departed and took their horses. And then they let carry the dead
squire unto a priory, and there they interred him.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Percivale departed secretly from his brother, and how he
  loosed a knight bound with a chain, and of other things._

And when this was done, they rode into many countries, ever enquiring
after Sir Launcelot, but never they could hear of him. And at the last
they came to a castle that hight Cardican, and there Sir Percivale and
Sir Aglovale were lodged together, and privily about midnight Sir
Percivale came to Aglovale’s squire, and said, Arise and make thee
ready, for ye and I will ride away secretly. Sir, said the squire, I
would full fain ride with you where ye would have me, but, and my lord
your brother take me, he will slay me. As for that care thou not, for I
shall be thy warrant. And so Sir Percivale rode till it was afternoon,
and then he came upon a bridge of stone, and there he found a knight
that was bounden with a chain fast about the waist unto a pillar of
stone. O fair knight, said that bounden knight, I require thee loose me
of my bonds. What knight are ye? said Sir Percivale, and for what cause
are ye so bounden? Sir, I shall tell you, said that knight; I am a
knight of the Table Round, and my name is Sir Persides, and thus by
adventure I came this way, and here I lodged in this castle at the
bridge foot, and therein dwelleth an uncourteous lady, and because she
proffered me to be her paramour and I refused her, she set her men upon
me suddenly or ever I might come to my weapon, and thus they bound me,
and here I wot well I shall die, but if some man of worship break my
bands. Be ye of good cheer, said Sir Percivale, and because ye are a
knight of the Round Table as well as I, I trust to God to break your
bands. And therewith Sir Percivale drew out his sword, and strake at
the chain with such a might that he cut a-two the chain, and through
Sir Persides’ hauberk, and hurt him a little. Truly, said Sir Persides,
that was a mighty stroke as ever I felt one, for had not the chain
been, ye had slain me. And therewithal Sir Persides saw a knight coming
out of the castle all that ever he might flying. Beware Sir, said Sir
Persides, yonder cometh a man that will have ado with you. Let him
come, said Sir Percivale, and so he met with that knight in the midst
of the bridge, and Sir Percivale gave him such a buffet that he smote
him quite from his horse, and over a part of the bridge, that had not
been a little vessel under the bridge that knight had been drowned. And
then Sir Percivale took the knight’s horse, and made Sir Persides to
mount upon him, and so they rode unto the castle, and bad the lady
deliver Sir Persides’ servants, or else he would slay all that ever he
found. And so for fear she delivered them all. Then was Sir Percivale
ware of a lady that stood in that tower. Ah, madam, said Sir Percivale,
what use and custom is that in a lady to destroy good knights but if
they will be your paramour? forsooth this is a shameful custom of a
lady. And if I had not a great matter in my hand, I should foredo your
evil customs. And so Sir Persides brought Sir Percivale unto his own
castle, and there he made him great cheer all that night. And on the
morn, when Sir Percivale had heard mass and broken his fast, he bad Sir
Persides, Ride unto king Arthur, and tell the king how that ye met with
me, and tell my brother Sir Aglovale how I rescued you, and bid him
seek not after me, for I am in the quest to seek Sir Launcelot du Lake.
And though he seek me he shall not find me, and tell him I will never
see him, nor the court, till I have found Sir Launcelot. Also tell Sir
Kay the seneschal, and to Sir Mordred, that I trust to God to be of as
great worthiness as either of them. For tell them I shall never forget
their mocks and scorns that they did to me that day that I was made
knight. And tell them I will never see that court till men speak more
worship of me than ever men did of any of them both. And so Sir
Persides departed from Sir Percivale, and then he rode unto king
Arthur, and told there of Sir Percivale. And when Sir Aglovale heard
him speak of his brother Sir Percivale, he said, He departed from me
unkindly. Sir, said Sir Persides, on my life he shall prove a noble
knight as any now is living. And when he saw Sir Kay and Sir Mordred,
Sir Persides said thus: My fair lords both, Sir Percivale greeteth you
well both, and he sent you word by me that he trusteth to God or ever
he come to the court again to be of as great nobleness as ever were ye
both, and more men to speak of his nobleness than ever they did you. It
may well be, said Sir Kay and Sir Mordred, but at that time when he was
made knight he was full unlikely to prove a good knight. As for that,
said king Arthur, he must needs prove a good knight, for his father and
his brethren were noble knights.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Sir Percivale met with Sir Ector, and how they fought long, and
  each had almost slain other._

And now will we turn unto Sir Percivale that rode long, and in a forest
he met a knight with a broken shield and a broken helm, and as soon as
either saw other readily, they made them ready to just, and so hurtled
together with all the might of their horses, and met together so hard
that Sir Percivale was smitten to the earth. And then Sir Percivale
arose lightly and cast his shield on his shoulder and drew his sword,
and bad the other knight alight, and do we battle to the uttermost.
Will ye more? said that knight, and therewith he alight and put his
horse from him, and then they came together an easy pace, and there
they lashed together with noble swords, and sometime they stroke, and
sometime they foined, and either gave other many great wounds. Thus
they fought near half a day, and never rested but right little, and
there was none of them both that had less wounds than fifteen, and they
bled so much that it was marvel they stood on their feet. But this
knight that fought with Sir Percivale was a proved knight and a wise
fighting knight, and Sir Percivale was young and strong, not knowing in
fighting as the other was. Then Sir Percivale spake first, and said,
Sir knight, hold thy hand a while still, for we have foughten for a
simple matter and quarrel over long, and therefore I require thee tell
me thy name, for I was never or this time matched. Truly, said that
knight, and never or this time was there never knight that wounded me
so sore as thou hast done, and yet have I foughten in many battles; and
now shalt thou wit that I am a knight of the Table Round, and my name
is Sir Ector de Maris, brother unto the good knight Sir Launcelot du
Lake. Alas, said Sir Percivale, and my name is Sir Percivale de Galis,
that hath made my quest to seek Sir Launcelot; now I am siker that I
shall never finish my quest, for ye have slain me with your hands. It
is not so, said Sir Ector, for I am slain by your hands, and may not
live; therefore I require you, said Sir Ector unto Sir Percivale, ride
ye hereby to a priory, and bring me a priest that I may receive my
Saviour, for I may not live. And when ye come to the court of king
Arthur, tell not my brother Sir Launcelot how that ye slew me, for then
he would be your mortal enemy; but ye may say that I was slain in my
quest as I sought him. Alas, said Sir Percivale, ye say that thing that
never will be, for I am so faint for bleeding that I may scarcely
stand; how should I then take my horse?


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How by miracle they were both made whole, by the coming of the holy
  vessel of Sangreal._

Then they made both great dole out of measure. This will not avail,
said Percivale. And then he kneeled down and made his prayer devoutly
unto Almighty Jesu; for he was one of the best knights of the world
that at that time was, in whom the very faith stood most in. Right so
there came by, the holy vessel of the Sancgreal with all manner of
sweetness and savour, but they could not readily see who that bare that
vessel, but Sir Percivale had a glimmering of the vessel, and of the
maiden that bare it, for he was a perfect clean maiden. And forthwithal
they both were as whole of hide and limb as ever they were in their
life days; then they gave thankings to God with great mildness. O Jesu!
said Sir Percivale, what may this mean that we be thus healed, and
right now we were at the point of dying? I wot full well, said Sir
Ector, what it is. It is an holy vessel that is borne by a maiden, and
therein is a part of the holy blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, blessed
might He be! but it may not be seen, said Sir Ector, but if it be by a
perfect man. Truly, said Sir Percivale, I saw a damsel, as me thought,
all in white, with a vessel in both her hands, and forthwithal I was
whole. So then they took their horses and their harness, and amended
their harness as well as they might that was broken, and so they
mounted upon their horses and rode talking together. And there Sir
Ector de Maris told Sir Percivale how he had sought his brother Sir
Launcelot long, and never could hear witting of him:—In many strange
adventures have I been in this quest. And so either told other of their
adventures.

  Here endeth the enleuenth booke. And here foloweth the twelfth book.




                           The Twelfth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Launcelot in his madness took a sword and fought with a
  knight, and after lept into a bed._

And now leave we of a while of Sir Ector and of Sir Percivale, and
speak we of Sir Launcelot, that suffered and endured many sharp
showers, that ever ran wild wood from place to place, and lived by
fruit and such as he might get, and drank water two year, and other
clothing had he but little but his shirt and his breeches. Thus as Sir
Launcelot wandered here and there, he came in a fair meadow where he
found a pavilion, and there by upon a tree there hung a white shield,
and two swords hung thereby, and two spears leaned there by a tree. And
when Sir Launcelot saw the swords, anon he lept to the one sword, and
took it in his hand and drew it out. And then he lashed at the shield
that all the meadow rang of the dints, that he gave such a noise as ten
knights had foughten together. Then came forth a dwarf and lept unto
Sir Launcelot, and would have had the sword out of his hand, and then
Sir Launcelot took him by the both shoulders, and threw him to the
ground upon his neck, that he had almost broken his neck, and
therewithal the dwarf cried, Help. Then came forth a likely knight, and
well apparelled in scarlet furred with meniver. And anon as he saw Sir
Launcelot, he deemed that he should be out of his wit: and then he said
with fair speech, Good man, lay down that sword, for, as me seemeth,
thou hast more need of sleep, and of warm clothes, than to wield that
sword. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, come not too nigh; for, and
thou do, wit thou well I will slay thee. And when the knight of the
pavilion saw that, he start backward within the pavilion. And then the
dwarf armed him lightly, and so the knight thought by force and might
to take the sword from Sir Launcelot, and so he came stepping out, and
when Sir Launcelot saw him come so all armed with his sword in his
hand, then Sir Launcelot flew to him with such a might, and hit him
upon the helm such a buffet that the stroke troubled his brains, and
therewith the sword brake in three. And the knight fell to the earth as
he had been dead, the blood blasting out of his mouth, the nose, and
the ears. And then Sir Launcelot ran into the pavilion, and rushed even
into the warm bed: and there was a lady in that bed, and she gat her
smock, and ran out of the pavilion. And when she saw her lord lie on
the ground like to be dead, then she cried and wept as she had been
mad. Then with her noise the knight awaked out of his swoon, and looked
up weakly with his eyes, and then he asked her where was that mad man
that had given him such a buffet? for such a buffet had I never of
man’s hand. Sir, said the dwarf, it is not worship to hurt him, for he
is a man out of his wit, and doubt ye not he hath been a man of great
worship, and for some heartly sorrow that he hath taken he is fallen
mad: and me seemeth, said the dwarf, he resembleth much unto Sir
Launcelot; for him I saw at the great tournament beside Lonazep. Jesu
defend, said that knight, that ever that noble knight Sir Launcelot
should be in such a plight. But whatsoever he be, said that knight,
harm will I none do him. And this knight’s name was Bliant. Then he
said unto the dwarf. Go thou fast on horseback unto my brother Sir
Selivant, that is at the Castle Blank, and tell him of mine adventure,
and bid him bring with him an horse-litter, and then will we bear this
knight unto my castle.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Sir Launcelot was carried in a horse-litter, and how Sir Launcelot
  rescued Sir Bliant his host._

So the dwarf rode fast, and he came again and brought Sir Selivant with
him, and six men with an horse-litter. And so they took up the
feather-bed with Sir Launcelot, and so carried all away with them unto
the Castle Blank, and he never awaked till he was within the castle.
And then they bound his hands and his feet, and gave him good meats and
good drinks, and brought him again to his strength and his fairness,
but in his wit they could not bring him again, nor to know himself.
Thus was Sir Launcelot there more than a year and an half, honestly
arrayed, and fair fared withal. Then upon a day this lord of that
castle, Sir Bliant, took his arms on horseback with a spear to seek
adventures. And as he rode in a forest there met him two knights
adventurous. The one was Breuse Sance Pité, and his brother, Sir
Bertelot, and these two ran both at once upon Sir Bliant, and brake
their spears upon his body. And then they drew out swords, and made
great battle, and fought long together. But at the last Sir Bliant was
sore wounded, and felt himself faint, and then he fled on horseback
toward his castle. And they came hurling under the castle where as Sir
Launcelot lay in a window, and saw how two knights laid upon Sir Bliant
with their swords. And when Sir Launcelot saw that, yet as wood as he
was, he was sorry for his lord Sir Bliant. And then Sir Launcelot brake
his chains from his legs and off his arms, and in the breaking he hurt
his hands sore: and so Sir Launcelot ran out at a postern, and there he
met with the two knights that chased Sir Bliant, and there he pulled
down Sir Bertelot with his bare hands from his horse, and therewithal
he wrothe his sword out of his hands, and so he lept unto Sir Breuse,
and gave him such a buffet upon the head that he tumbled backward over
his horse croup. And when Sir Bertelot saw there his brother have such
a fall, he gat a spear in his hand, and would have run Sir Launcelot
through. That saw Sir Bliant, and strake off the hand of Sir Bertelot:
and then Sir Breuse and Sir Bertelot gat their horses and fled away.
When Sir Selivant came, and saw what Sir Launcelot had done for his
brother, then he thanked God, and so did his brother, that ever they
did him any good. But when Sir Bliant saw that Sir Launcelot was hurt
with the breaking of his irons, then was he heavy that ever he bound
him. Bind him no more, said Sir Selivant, for he is happy and gracious.
Then they made great joy of Sir Launcelot, and they bound him no more.
And so he abode there an half year and more. And on the morn early, Sir
Launcelot was ware where came a great boar with many hounds nigh him.
But the boar was so big there might no hounds tear him, and the hunters
came after blowing their horns, both on horseback and on foot: and then
Sir Launcelot was ware where one alight, and tied his horse to a tree,
and leaned his spear against the tree.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Launcelot fought against a boar and slew him, and how he was
  hurt, and brought unto an hermitage._

So came Sir Launcelot, and found the horse bounden till a tree, and a
spear leaning against a tree, and a sword tied to the saddle bow. And
then Sir Launcelot lept into the saddle, and gat that spear in his
hand, and then he rode after the boar. And then Sir Launcelot was ware
where the boar set his back to a tree, fast by an hermitage. Then Sir
Launcelot ran at the boar with his spear. And therewith the boar turned
him nimbly, and rove out the lungs and the heart of the horse, so that
Launcelot fell to the earth, and or ever Sir Launcelot might get from
the horse, the boar rove him on the brawn of the thigh, up to the hough
bone. And then Sir Launcelot was wroth, and up he gat upon his feet,
and drew his sword, and he smote off the boar’s head at one stroke. And
therewithal came out the hermit, and saw him have such a wound: then
the hermit came to Sir Launcelot and bemoaned him, and would have had
him home unto his hermitage. But when Sir Launcelot heard him speak, he
was so wroth with his wound that he ran upon the hermit to have slain
him, and the hermit ran away, and when Sir Launcelot might not overget
him he threw his sword after him, for Sir Launcelot might go no farther
for bleeding. Then the hermit turned again, and asked Sir Launcelot how
he was hurt. Fellow, said Sir Launcelot, this boar hath bitten me sore.
Then come with me, said the hermit, and I shall heal you. Go thy way,
said Sir Launcelot, and deal not with me. Then the hermit ran his way,
and there he met with a good knight with many men. Sir, said the
hermit, here is fast by my place the goodliest man that ever I saw, and
he is sore wounded with a boar, and yet he hath slain the boar. But
well I wot, said the hermit, and he be not holpen, that goodly man
shall die of that wound, and that were great pity. Then that knight, at
the desire of the hermit, gat a cart, and in that cart that knight put
the boar and Sir Launcelot, for Sir Launcelot was so feeble that they
might right easily deal with him. And so Sir Launcelot was brought unto
the hermitage, and there the hermit healed him of his wound. But the
hermit might not find Sir Launcelot’s sustenance, and so he impaired
and waxed feeble, both of his body and of his wit, for the default of
his sustenance: he waxed more wooder than he was aforehand. And then,
upon a day. Sir Launcelot ran his way into the forest, and by adventure
he came to the city of Corbin where dame Elaine was, that bare Galahad,
Sir Launcelot’s son. And so when he was entered into the town, he ran
through the town to the castle, and then all the young men of that city
ran after Sir Launcelot, and there they threw turves at him, and gave
him many sad strokes. And ever as Sir Launcelot might overreach any of
them he threw them, so that they would never come in his hands no more,
for of some he brake the legs and arms, and so fled into the castle,
and then came out knights and squires and rescued Sir Launcelot. And
when they beheld him, and looked upon his person, they thought they saw
never so goodly a man. And when they saw so many wounds upon him, all
they deemed that he had been a man of worship. And then they ordained
him clothes to his body, and straw underneath him, and a little house.
And then every day they would throw him meat, and set him drink, but
there was but few would bring meat to his hands.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Launcelot was known by dame Elaine, and was borne into a
  chamber, and after healed by the Sangreal._

So it befel, that king Pelles had a nephew, his name was Castor, and so
he desired of the king to be made knight, and so at the request of this
Castor, the king made him knight at the feast of Candlemas. And when
Sir Castor was made knight, that same day he gave many gowns. And then
Sir Castor sent for the fool, that was Sir Launcelot. And when he was
come afore Sir Castor, he gave Sir Launcelot a robe of scarlet and all
that belonged unto him. And when Sir Launcelot was so arrayed like a
knight, he was the seemliest man in all the court, and none so well
made. So when he saw his time he went into the garden, and there Sir
Launcelot laid him down by a well and slept. And so at afternoon, dame
Elaine and her maidens came into the garden to play them, and as they
roamed up and down, one of dame Elaine’s maidens espied where lay a
goodly man by the well sleeping, and anon shewed him to dame Elaine.
Peace, said dame Elaine, and say no word; and then she brought dame
Elaine where he lay. And when that she beheld him, anon she fell in
remembrance of him, and knew him verily for Sir Launcelot, and
therewithal she fell on weeping so heartily that she sank even to the
earth. And when she had thus wept a great while, then she arose and
called her maidens, and said she was sick. And so she went out of the
garden, and she went straight to her father, and there she took him
apart by herself, and then she said, Oh father, now have I need of your
help, and but if that ye help me, farewell my good days for ever. What
is that, daughter? said king Pelles. Sir, she said, thus is it: in your
garden I went for to sport, and there by the well I found Sir Launcelot
du Lake sleeping. I may not believe that, said king Pelles. Sir, she
said, truly he is there, and me seemeth he should be distract out of
his wit. Then hold you still, said the king, and let me deal. Then the
king called to him such as he most trusted, a four persons, and dame
Elaine his daughter. And when they came to the well and beheld Sir
Launcelot, anon dame Brisen knew him. Sir, said dame Brisen, we must be
wise how we deal with him, for this knight is out of his mind, and if
we awake him rudely, what he will do we all know not. But ye shall
abide, and I shall throw such an enchantment upon him that he shall not
awake within the space of an hour; and so she did. Then within a little
while after king Pelles commanded that all people should avoid, that
none should be in that way there as the king would come. And so when
this was done, these four men and these ladies laid hand on Sir
Launcelot. And so they bare him into a tower, and so into a chamber
where was the holy vessel of the Sancgreal, and by force Sir Launcelot
was laid by that holy vessel, and there came a holy man and uncovered
that vessel, and so by miracle, and by virtue of that holy vessel, Sir
Launcelot was healed and recovered. And when that he was awaked he
groaned and sighed, and complained greatly that he was passing sore.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Sir Launcelot, after that he was whole and had his mind, he was
  ashamed, and how that Elaine desired a castle for him._

And when Sir Launcelot saw king Pelles and Elaine he waxed ashamed, and
said thus: Oh Lord Jesu, how came I here? For God’s sake, my lord, let
me wit how I came here? Sir, said dame Elaine, into this country ye
came like a mad man clean out of your wit. And here have ye been kept
as a fool, and no creature here knew what ye were, until by fortune a
maiden of mine brought me unto you, where as ye lay sleeping by a well,
and anon, as I verily beheld you, I knew you. And then I told my
father, and so were ye brought afore this holy vessel, and by the
virtue of it thus were ye healed. O, said Sir Launcelot, if this be
sooth, how many there be that know of my woodness. Truly, said Elaine,
no more but my father and I and dame Brisen. Now, I pray you, said Sir
Launcelot, keep it in counsel, and let no man know it in the world, for
I am sore ashamed that I have been thus miscarried, for I am banished
out of the country of Logris for ever, that is for to say, the country
of England. And so Sir Launcelot lay more than a fortnight, or ever
that he might stir for soreness. And then upon a day he said unto dame
Elaine these words: Lady Elaine, for your sake I have had much travel,
care, and anguish, it needeth not to rehearse it, ye know how.
Notwithstanding I know well I have done foul to you, when that I drew
my sword to you, for to have slain you. And all was the cause that ye
and dame Brisen deceived me. That is truth, said dame Elaine. Now will
ye for my love, said Sir Launcelot, go unto your father, and get me a
place of him wherein I may dwell: for in the court of king Arthur may I
never come. Sir, said dame Elaine, I will live and die with you, and
only for your sake, and if my life might not avail you, and my death
might avail you, wit ye well I would die for your sake. And I will go
to my father, and I am sure there is nothing that I can desire of him
but I shall have it. And where ye be, my lord Sir Launcelot, doubt ye
not but I will be with you with all the service that I may do. So
forthwithal she went to her father, and said, Sir, my lord Sir
Launcelot desireth to be here by you in some castle of yours. Well,
daughter, said the king, sith it is his desire to abide in these
marches, he shall be in the castle of Bliant, and there shall ye be
with him, and twenty of the fairest ladies that be in this country, and
they shall all be of the great blood; and ye shall have ten knights
with you. For, daughter, I will that ye wit we all be honoured by the
blood of Sir Launcelot.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Launcelot came into the Joyous Isle, and there he named
  himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet._

Then went dame Elaine unto Sir Launcelot, and told him all how her
father had devised for him and her. Then came the knight Sir Castor,
that was nephew unto king Pelles, unto Sir Launcelot, and asked him
what was his name? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, my name is Le Chevaler Mal
Fet, that is to say, the knight that hath trespassed. Sir, said Sir
Castor, it may well be so, but ever me seemeth your name should be Sir
Launcelot du Lake, for or now I have seen you. Sir, said Launcelot, ye
are not as a gentle knight: I put case my name were Sir Launcelot, and
that it list me not to discover my name; what should it grieve you here
to keep my counsel, and ye not hurt thereby? But wit thou well, and
ever it lie in my power I shall grieve you, and that I promise you
truly. Then Sir Castor kneeled down and besought Sir Launcelot of
mercy:—For I shall never utter what ye be while that ye be in these
parts. Then Sir Launcelot pardoned him. And then after this king Pelles
with ten knights, and dame Elaine and twenty ladies, rode unto the
castle of Bliant, that stood in an island enclosed in iron, with a fair
water, deep and large. And when they were there Sir Launcelot let call
it the Joyous Isle, and there was he called none otherwise but Le
Chevaler Mal Fet, the knight that hath trespassed. Then Sir Launcelot
let make him a shield all of sable, and a queen crowned in the midst
all of silver, and a knight, clean armed, kneeling before her; and
every day once, for any mirths that all the ladies might make him, he
would once every day look towards the realm of Logris where king Arthur
and queen Guenever were. And then would he fall upon a weeping as
though his heart should to-brast. So it fell that time that Sir
Launcelot heard of a justing fast by his castle, within three leagues.
Then he called unto him a dwarf, and he bade him go unto that justing,
and, or ever the knights depart, look thou make there a cry in the
hearing of all the knights, that there is one knight in the Joyous
Isle, that is the castle Bliant, and say that his name is Le Chevaler
Mal Fet, that will just against knights that will come; and who that
putteth that knight to the worse shall have a fair maid and a jerfalcon.


                               CHAP. VII.

_Of a great tourneying in the Joyous Isle, and how Sir Percivale and
  Sir Ector came thither, and Sir Percivale fought with him._

So when this cry was made, unto Joyous Isle drew knights to the number
of five hundred. And wit ye well there was never seen in Arthur’s days
one knight that did so much deeds of arms as Sir Launcelot did three
days together. For, as the book maketh truly mention, he had the better
of all the five hundred knights, and there was not one slain of them.
And after that Sir Launcelot made them all a great feast. And in the
meanwhile came Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir Ector de Maris under that
castle that was called the Joyous Isle. And as they beheld that gay
castle they would have gone to that castle, but they might not for the
broad water, and bridge could they find none. Then they saw on the
other side a lady with a sperhawk in her hand, and Sir Percivale called
unto her, and asked that lady who was in that castle. Fair knight, she
said, here within this castle is the fairest lady in this land, and her
name is Elaine. Also we have in this castle the fairest knight and the
mightiest man that is, I dare say, living, and he calleth himself Le
Chevaler Mal Fet. How came he into these marches? said Sir Percivale.
Truly, said the damsel, he came into this country like a mad man, with
dogs and boys chasing him through the city of Corbin; and by the holy
vessel of the Sancgreal he was brought into his wit again, but he will
not do battle with no knight but by undorne or by noon. And if ye list
to come into the castle, said the lady, ye must ride unto the further
side of the castle, and there shall ye find a vessel that will bear you
and your horse. Then they departed and came unto the vessel. And then
Sir Percivale alight, and said to Sir Ector de Maris, Ye shall abide me
here until that I wit what manner a knight he is. For it were shame
unto us, inasmuch as he is but one knight, and we should both do battle
with him. Do ye as ye list, said Sir Ector de Maris, and here I shall
abide you until that I hear of you. Then passed Sir Percivale the
water. And when he came to the castle-gate, he bad the porter, Go thou
to the good knight within the castle, and tell him here is come an
errant knight to just with him. Sir, said the porter, ride ye within
the castle, and there is a common place for justing, that lords and
ladies may behold you. So anon as Sir Launcelot had warning, he was
soon ready; and there Sir Percivale and Sir Launcelot encountered with
such a might, and their spears were so rude, that both the horses and
the knights fell to the earth. Then they avoided their horses and flang
out noble swords, and hewed away cantels of their shields, and hurtled
together with their shields like two boars, and either wounded other
passing sore. At the last Sir Percivale spake first, when they had
foughten there more than two hours. Fair knight, said Sir Percivale, I
require thee tell me thy name, for I met never with such a knight. Sir,
said Sir Launcelot, my name is Le Chevaler Mal Fet: now tell me your
name, said Sir Launcelot, I require you gentle knight. Truly, said Sir
Percivale, my name is Sir Percivale de Galis, that was brother unto the
good knight Sir Lamorak de Galis, and king Pellinore was our father,
and Sir Aglovale is my brother. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, what have I
done to fight with you that art a knight of the Table Round, that
sometime was your fellow!


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How each of them knew other, and of their great courtesy. And how his
  brother Sir Ector came unto him, and of their joy._

And therewithal Sir Launcelot kneeled down upon his knees, and threw
away his shield and his sword from him. When Sir Percivale saw him do
so, he marvelled what he meaned. And then thus he said, Sir knight,
whatsoever thou be, I require thee upon the high order of knighthood
tell me thy true name. Then he said, Truly my name is Sir Launcelot du
Lake, king Ban’s son of Benoy. Alas, said Sir Percivale, what have I
done! I was sent by the queen for to seek you, and so I have sought you
nigh this two year; and yonder is Sir Ector de Maris your brother
abideth me on the other side of the yonder water. Now, said Sir
Percivale, I pray you forgive me mine offence that I have here done. It
is soon forgiven, said Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Percivale sent for Sir
Ector de Maris. And when Sir Launcelot had a sight of him, he ran unto
him and took him in his arms, and then Sir Ector kneeled down and
either wept upon other, that all had pity to behold them. Then came
dame Elaine, and she there made them great cheer as might lie in her
power; and there she told Sir Ector and Sir Percivale how and in what
manner Sir Launcelot came into that country, and how he was healed. And
there it was known how long Sir Launcelot was with Sir Bliant and with
Sir Selivant, and how he first met with them, and how he departed from
them because of a boar; and how the hermit healed Sir Launcelot of his
great wound, and how that he came to Corbin.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Sir Bors and Sir Lionel came to king Brandegore, and how Sir Bors
  took his son Helin le Blank, and of Sir Launcelot._

Now leave we Sir Launcelot in the Joyous Isle with the lady dame
Elaine, and Sir Percivale and Sir Ector playing with them, and turn we
to Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Lionel, that had sought Sir Launcelot nigh
by the space of two years, and never could they hear of him. And as
they thus rode by adventure, they came to the house of Brandegore, and
there Sir Bors was well known, for he had a child of the king’s
daughter fifteen years before, and his name was Helin le Blank. And
when Sir Bors saw that child it liked him passing well. And so those
knights had good cheer of the king Brandegore. And on the morn Sir Bors
came afore king Brandegore, and said, Here is my son Helin le Blank,
that as it is said he is my son; and since it is so, I will that ye wit
I will have him with me unto the court of king Arthur. Sir, said the
king, ye may well take him with you, but he is over tender of age. As
for that, said Sir Bors, I will have him with me, and bring him to the
house of most worship of the world. So when Sir Bors should depart,
there was made great sorrow for the departing of Helin le Blank, and
great weeping was there made. But Sir Bors and Sir Lionel departed. And
within a while they came to Camelot, where was king Arthur. And when
king Arthur understood that Helin le Blank was Sir Bors’ son, and
nephew unto king Brandegore, then king Arthur let him make knight of
the Round Table; and so he proved a good knight and an adventurous.

Now will we turn to our matter of Sir Launcelot. It befel upon a day
Sir Ector and Sir Percivale came to Sir Launcelot and asked him what he
would do, and whether he would go with them unto king Arthur or not?
Nay, said Sir Launcelot, that may not be by no mean; for I was so
entreated at the court that I cast me never to come there more. Sir,
said Sir Ector, I am your brother, and ye are the man in the world that
I love most, and if I understood that it were your disworship, ye may
understand I would never counsel you thereto; but king Arthur and all
his knights, and in especial queen Guenever, made such dole and sorrow
that it was marvel to hear and see. And ye must remember the great
worship and renown that ye be of, how that ye have been more spoken of
than any other knight that is now living; for there is none that
beareth the name now but ye and Sir Tristram; therefore, brother, said
Sir Ector, make you ready to ride to the court with us, and I dare say
there was never knight better welcome to the court than ye: and I wot
well, and can make it good, said Sir Ector, it hath cost my lady the
queen twenty thousand pound the seeking of you. Well, brother, said Sir
Launcelot, I will do after your counsel, and ride with you. So then
they took their horses, and made them ready, and took their leave at
king Pelles and at dame Elaine. And when Sir Launcelot should depart,
dame Elaine made great sorrow. My lord Sir Launcelot, said dame Elaine,
at this same feast of Pentecost shall your son and mine, Galahad, be
made knight, for he is fully now fifteen winter old. Do as ye list,
said Sir Launcelot, God give him grace to prove a good knight. As for
that, said dame Elaine, I doubt not he shall prove the best man of his
kin, except one. Then shall he be a man good enough, said Sir Launcelot.


                                CHAP. X.

_How Sir Launcelot with Sir Percivale and Sir Ector came to the court,
  and of the great joy of him._

Then they departed, and within five days’ journey they came to Camelot,
that is called in English, Winchester. And when Sir Launcelot was come
among them, the king and all the knights made great joy of him. And
there Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir Ector de Maris began and told the
whole adventures, that Sir Launcelot had been out of his mind the time
of his absence, how he called himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet, the knight
that had trespassed, and in three days Sir Launcelot smote down five
hundred knights. And ever, as Sir Ector and Sir Percivale told these
tales of Sir Launcelot, queen Guenever wept as she should have died.
Then the queen made great cheer. Truly, said king Arthur, I marvel for
what cause ye Sir Launcelot went out of your mind? I and many others
deem it was for the love of fair Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles,
by whom ye are noised that ye have a child, and his name is Galahad;
and men say he shall do marvels. My lord, said Sir Launcelot, if I did
any folly, I have that I sought. And therewithal the king spake no
more; but all Sir Launcelot’s kin knew for whom he went out of his
mind. And then there were great feasts made and great joy. And many
great lords and ladies, when they heard that Sir Launcelot was come to
the court again, they made great joy.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How La Beale Isoud counselled Sir Tristram to go unto the court to the
  great feast of Pentecost._

Now will we leave of this matter, and speak we of Sir Tristram and of
Sir Palamides, that was the Saracen unchristened. When Sir Tristram was
come home unto Joyous Gard from his adventures, all this while that Sir
Launcelot was thus missed two year and more, Sir Tristram bare the
renown through all the realm of Logris, and many strange adventures
befel him, and full well and manly and worshipfully he brought them to
an end. So when he was come home, La Beale Isoud told him of the great
feast that should be at Pentecost next following; and there she told
him how Sir Launcelot had been missed two years, and all that while he
had been out of his mind, and how he was holpen by the holy vessel the
Sancgreal. Alas, said Sir Tristram, that caused some debate betwixt him
and queen Guenever. Sir, said dame Isoud, I know it all, for queen
Guenever sent me a letter, in the which she wrote me all how it was,
for to require you to seek him; and now, blessed be God, said La Beale
Isoud, he is whole and sound, and come again to the court. Thereof am I
glad, said Sir Tristram, and now shall ye and I make us ready, for both
ye and I will be at the feast. Sir, said Isoud, and it please you I
will not be there, for through me ye be marked of many good knights,
and that causeth you to have much more labour for my sake than needeth
you. Then will I not be there, said Sir Tristram, but if ye be there.
Not so, said La Beale Isoud, for then shall I be spoken of shame among
all queens and ladies of estate, for ye that are called one of the
noblest knights of the world, and ye a knight of the Round Table, how
may ye be missed at that feast? What shall be said among all
knights?—See how Sir Tristram hunteth, and hawketh, and cowereth
within a castle with his lady, and forsaketh your worship. Alas, shall
some say, it is pity that ever he was made knight, or that ever he
should have the love of a lady. Also what shall queens and ladies say
of me?—It is pity that I have my life, that I will hold so noble a
knight as ye are from his worship. Truly, said Sir Tristram unto La
Beale Isoud, it is passing well said of you, and nobly counselled, and
now I well understand that ye love me; and like as ye have counselled
me, I will do a part thereafter. But there shall no man nor child ride
with me, but myself. And so will I ride on Tuesday next coming, and no
more harness of war but my spear and my sword.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Tristram departed unarmed, and met with Sir Palamides, and how
  they smote each other, and how Sir Palamides forbare him._

And so when the day came, Sir Tristram took his leave at La Beale
Isoud; and she sent with him four knights, and within half a mile he
sent them again: and within a mile after Sir Tristram saw afore him
where Sir Palamides had stricken down a knight, and almost wounded him
to the death. Then Sir Tristram repented him that he was not armed, and
then he hoved still. With that Sir Palamides knew Sir Tristram, and
cried on high, Sir Tristram, now be we met, for or we depart we will
redress our old sores! As for that, said Sir Tristram, there was never
yet Christian man that might make his boast that ever I fled from him;
and wit ye well Sir Palamides, thou that art a Saracen shall never make
thy boast that Sir Tristram de Liones shall flee from thee. And
therewith Sir Tristram made his horse to run, and with all his might he
came straight upon Sir Palamides, and brast his spear upon him in an
hundred pieces. And forthwithal Sir Tristram drew his sword. And then
he turned his horse and struck at Palamides six great strokes upon his
helm, and then Sir Palamides stood still and beheld Sir Tristram, and
marvelled of his woodness and of his folly. And then Sir Palamides said
to himself, And Sir Tristram were armed it were hard to cease him of
this battle, and if I turn again and slay him I am shamed wheresoever
that I go. Then Sir Tristram spake, and said, Thou coward knight, what
castest thou to do? why wilt thou not do battle with me, for have thou
no doubt I shall endure all thy malice. Ah, Sir Tristram, said Sir
Palamides, full well thou wotest I may not fight with thee for shame,
for thou art here naked, and I am armed, and if I slay thee dishonour
shall be mine. And well thou wotest, said Sir Palamides to Sir
Tristram, I know thy strength and thy hardiness to endure against a
good knight. That is truth, said Sir Tristram, I understand thy
valiantness well. Ye say well, said Sir Palamides, now I require you
tell me a question that I shall say to you. Tell me what it is, said
Sir Tristram, and I shall answer you the truth. I put the case, said
Sir Palamides, that ye were armed at all rights as well as I am, and I
naked as ye be, what would ye do to me now by your true knighthood? Ah,
said Sir Tristram, now I understand thee well, Sir Palamides, for now
must I say my own judgment, and, as God me bless, that I shall say
shall not be said for no fear that I have of thee. But this is all;
wit, Sir Palamides, as at this time thou shouldest depart from me, for
I would not have ado with thee. No more will I, said Sir Palamides, and
therefore ride forth on thy way. As for that I may choose, said Sir
Tristram, either to ride or to abide. But Sir Palamides, said Sir
Tristram, I marvel of one thing, that thou that art so good a knight,
that thou wilt not be christened, and thy brother Sir Safere hath been
christened many a day.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How that Sir Tristram gat him harness of a knight which was hurt, and
  how he overthrew Sir Palamides._

As for that, said Sir Palamides, I may not yet be christened, for one
avow that I have made many years agone; howbeit in my heart I believe
in Jesus Christ and his mild mother Mary; but I have but one battle to
do, and when that is done I will be baptised with a good will. By my
head, said Sir Tristram, as for one battle thou shalt not seek it no
longer. For God defend, said Sir Tristram, that through my default thou
shouldest longer live thus a Saracen. For yonder is a knight that ye,
Sir Palamides, have hurt and smitten down; now help me that I were
armed in his armour, and I shall soon fulfil thine avows. As ye will,
said Sir Palamides, so it shall be. So they rode unto that knight that
sat upon a bank, and then Sir Tristram saluted him, and he weakly
saluted him again. Sir knight, said Sir Tristram, I require you tell me
your right name. Sir, he said, my name is Sir Galleron of Galway, and
knight of the Table Round. Truly, said Sir Tristram, I am right heavy
of your hurts: but this is all, I must pray you to lend me all your
whole armour, for ye see I am unarmed, and I must do battle with this
knight. Sir, said the hurt knight, ye shall have it with a good will;
but ye must beware, for I warn you that knight is wight. Sir, said
Galleron, I pray you tell me your name, and what is that knight’s name
that hath beaten me. Sir, as for my name, it is Sir Tristram de Liones,
and as for the knight’s name that hath hurt you, it is Sir Palamides,
brother unto the good knight Sir Safere, and yet is Sir Palamides
unchristened. Alas, said Sir Galleron, that is pity that so good a
knight and so noble a man of arms should be unchristened. Truly, said
Sir Tristram, either he shall slay me, or I him, but that he shall be
christened or ever we depart in sunder. My lord Sir Tristram, said Sir
Galleron, your renown and worship is well known through many realms,
and God save you this day from shenship and shame. Then Sir Tristram
unarmed Galleron, the which was a noble knight and had done many deeds
of arms, and he was a large knight of flesh and bone. And when he was
unarmed he stood upon his feet, for he was bruised in the back with a
spear; yet, so as Sir Galleron might, he armed Sir Tristram. And then
Sir Tristram mounted upon his own horse, and in his hand he gat Sir
Galleron’s spear. And therewithal Sir Palamides was ready, and so they
came hurtling together, and either smote other in the midst of their
shields, and therewithal Sir Palamides’ spear brake, and Sir Tristram
smote down the horse; and then Sir Palamides, as soon as he might,
avoided his horse, and dressed his shield, and pulled out his sword.
That saw Sir Tristram, and therewith he alight, and tied his horse to a
tree.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides fought long together, and after
  accorded; and how Sir Tristram made him to be christened._

And then they came together as two wild boars, lashing together,
tracing and traversing as noble men that oft had been well proved in
battle; but ever Sir Palamides dread the might of Sir Tristram, and
therefore he suffered him to breathe him. Thus they fought more than
two hours; and often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palamides
that he made him to kneel; and Sir Palamides brake and cut away many
pieces of Sir Tristram’s shield, and then Sir Palamides wounded Sir
Tristram, for he was a well fighting man. Then Sir Tristram was wood
wrath out of measure, and rashed upon Sir Palamides with such a might
that Sir Palamides fell groveling to the earth, and therewithal he
leapt up lightly upon his feet, and then Sir Tristram wounded Sir
Palamides sore through the shoulder. And ever Sir Tristram fought still
in like hard, and Sir Palamides failed not, but gave him many sad
strokes. And at the last Sir Tristram doubled his strokes, and by
fortune Sir Tristram smote Sir Palamides’ sword out of his hand, and if
Sir Palamides had stooped for his sword, he had been slain. Then
Palamides stood still and beheld his sword with a sorrowful heart. How
now, said Sir Tristram unto Palamides, now have I thee at advantage as
thou hadst me this day, but it shall never be said in no court, nor
among good knights, that Sir Tristram shall slay any knight that is
weaponless, and therefore take thou thy sword, and let us make an end
of this battle. As for to do this battle, said Palamides, I dare right
well end it; but I have no great lust to fight no more, and for this
cause, said Palamides, mine offence to you is not so great but that we
may be friends. All that I have offended is and was for the love of La
Beale Isoud. And as for her, I dare say she is peerless above all other
ladies, and also I proffered her never no dishonour; and by her I have
gotten the most part of my worship, and sithen I offended never as to
her own person. And as for the offence that I have done, it was against
your own person, and for that offence ye have given me this day many
sad strokes, and some I have given you again; and now I dare say I felt
never man of your might, nor so well breathed, but if it were Sir
Launcelot du Lake. Wherefore I require you, my lord, forgive me all
that I have offended unto you. And this same day have me to the next
church, and first let me be clean confessed, and after see you now that
I be truly baptized. And then will we all ride together unto the court
of Arthur, that we be there at the high feast. Now take your horse,
said Sir Tristram, and as ye say, so it shall be; and all your evil
will God forgive it you, and I do. And here, within this mile, is the
suffragan of Carlisle, that shall give you the sacrament of baptism.
Then they took their horses, and Sir Galleron rode with them. And when
they came to the suffragan Sir Tristram told him their desire. Then the
suffragan let fill a great vessel with water. And when he had hallowed
it, he then confessed clean Sir Palamides, and Sir Tristram and Sir
Galleron were his godfathers. And then soon after they departed, riding
towards Camelot, where king Arthur and queen Guenever was, and for the
most part all the knights of the Round Table. And so the king and all
the court were glad that Sir Palamides was christened. And at the same
feast in came Galahad and sat in the Siege Perilous.

And so therewithal departed and dissevered all the knights of the Round
Table. And Sir Tristram returned again unto Joyous Gard, and Sir
Palamides followed the questing beast.

Here endeth the second book of syr Tristram that was drawen oute of
  Frensshe in to Englysshe.

But here is no rehersal of the thyrd book. And here foloweth the noble
  tale of the Sancgreal that called is the hooly vessel and the
  sygnefycacyon of the blessid blood of our lord Jhesu Cryste, blessid
  mote it be, the which was brought in to this land by Joseph of
  Armathye, therefor on al synful souls blessid lord haue thou mercy.

             Explicit liber xii. Et incipit Decimustercius.




                          The Thirteenth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How at the Vigil of the feast of Pentecost entered into the hall,
  before king Arthur, a damsel, and desired Sir Launcelot for to come
  and dub a knight, and how he went with her._

At the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table
were comen unto Camelot, and there heard their service, and the tables
were set ready to the meat, right so entered into the hall a full fair
gentlewoman on horseback, that had ridden full fast, for her horse was
all besweat. Then she there alight, and came before the king, and
saluted him; and then he said, Damsel, God thee bless! Sir, said she, I
pray you say me where Sir Launcelot is? Yonder ye may see him, said the
king. Then she went unto Launcelot and said, Sir Launcelot, I salute
you on king Pelles’ behalf, and I require you come on with me hereby
into a forest. Then Sir Launcelot asked her with whom she dwelled? I
dwell, said she, with king Pelles. What will ye with me? said Sir
Launcelot. Ye shall know, said she, when ye come thither. Well, said
he, I will gladly go with you. So Sir Launcelot bade his squire saddle
his horse and bring his arms; and in all haste he did his commandment.
Then came the queen unto Launcelot and said, Will ye leave us at this
high feast? Madam, said the gentlewoman, wit ye well he shall be with
you to-morrow by dinner-time. If I wist, said the queen, that he should
not be with us here to-morn, he should not go with you by my good will.

Right so departed Sir Launcelot with the gentlewoman, and rode until
that he came into a forest, and into a great valley, where they saw an
abbey of nuns; and there was a squire ready, and opened the gates; and
so they entered, and descended off their horses, and there came a fair
fellowship about Sir Launcelot and welcomed him, and were passing glad
of his coming. And then they led him into the Abbess’s chamber, and
unarmed him, and right so he was ware upon a bed lying two of his
cousins, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and then he waked them, and when they
saw him they made great joy. Sir, said Sir Bors unto Sir Launcelot,
what adventure hath brought thee hither, for we wend to-morrow to have
found you at Camelot? Truly, said Sir Launcelot, a gentlewoman brought
me hither, but I know not the cause. In the meanwhile, as they thus
stood talking together, there came twelve nuns which brought with them
Galahad, the which was passing fair and well made, that unneth in the
world men might not find his match; and all those ladies wept. Sir,
said the ladies, we bring you here this child, the which we have
nourished, and we pray you to make him a knight; for of a more worthier
man’s hand may he not receive the order of knighthood. Sir Launcelot
beheld that young squire, and saw him seemly and demure as a dove, with
all manner of good features, that he wend of his age never to have seen
so fair a man of form. Then said Sir Launcelot, Cometh this desire of
himself? He and all they said, Yea. Then shall he, said Sir Launcelot,
receive the high order of knighthood as to-morrow at the reverence of
the high feast. That night Sir Launcelot had passing good cheer, and on
the morn at the hour of prime, at Galahad’s desire, he made him knight,
and said, God make him a good man, For beauty faileth you not as any
that liveth.


                               CHAP. II.

_How the letters were found written in the siege perilous, and of the
  marvellous adventure of the sword in a stone._

Now, fair sir, said Sir Launcelot, will ye come with me unto the court
of king Arthur? Nay, said he, I will not go with you as at this time.
Then he departed from them and took his two cousins with him, and so
they came unto Camelot by the hour of undorne on Whitsunday. By that
time the king and the queen were gone to the minster to hear their
service: then the king and the queen were passing glad of Sir Bors and
Sir Lionel, and so was all the fellowship. So when the king and all the
knights were come from service, the barons espied in the sieges of the
Round Table, all about written with gold letters. Here ought to sit he,
and he ought to sit here. And thus they went so long until that they
came to the siege perilous, where they found letters newly written of
gold, that said: Four hundred winters and fifty-four accomplished after
the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ ought this siege to be fulfilled.
Then all they said, This is a marvellous thing, and an adventurous. In
the name of God, said Sir Launcelot; and then he accounted the term of
the writing, from the birth of our Lord unto that day. It seemeth me,
said Sir Launcelot, this siege ought to be fulfilled this same day, for
this is the Feast of Pentecost after the four hundred and four and
fifty year; and if it would please all parties, I would none of these
letters were seen this day, till he be come that ought to achieve this
adventure. Then made they to ordain a cloth of silk for to cover these
letters in the siege perilous. Then the king bad haste unto dinner.
Sir, said Sir Kay the steward, if ye go now unto your meat, ye shall
break your old custom of your court. For ye have not used on this day
to sit at your meat or that ye have seen some adventure. Ye say sooth,
said the king, but I had so great joy of Sir Launcelot and of his
cousins, which be come to the court whole and sound, that I bethought
me not of my old custom. So as they stood speaking, in came a squire,
and said unto the king, Sir, I bring unto you marvellous tidings. What
be they? said the king. Sir, there is here beneath at the river a great
stone, which I saw fleet above the water, and therein saw I sticking a
sword. The king said, I will see that marvel. So all the knights went
with him, and when they came unto the river, they found there a stone
fleeting, as it were of red marble, and therein stack a fair and a rich
sword, and in the pomell thereof were precious stones, wrought with
subtil letters of gold. Then the barons read the letters, which said in
this wise: Never shall man take me hence but only he by whose side I
ought to hang, and he shall be the best knight of the world. When the
king had seen these letters, he said unto Sir Launcelot, Fair sir, this
sword ought to be yours, for I am sure ye be the best knight of the
world. Then Sir Launcelot answered full soberly: Certes, sir, it is not
my sword: also, sir, wit ye well I have no hardiness to set my hand to,
for it longed not to hang by my side. Also who that assayeth to take
that sword, and faileth of it, he shall receive a wound by that sword,
that he shall not be whole long after. And I will that ye wit that this
same day will the adventures of the Sancgreal, that is called the holy
vessel, begin.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Gawaine assayed to draw out the sword, and how an old man
  brought in Galahad._

Now, fair nephew, said the king unto Sir Gawaine, assay ye for my love.
Sir, he said, save your good grace, I shall not do that. Sir, said the
king, assay to take the sword, and at my commandment. Sir, said
Gawaine, your commandment I will obey. And therewith he took up the
sword by the handles, but he might not stir it. I thank you, said the
king to Sir Gawaine. My lord Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot, now wit
ye well, this sword shall touch you so sore that ye shall will ye had
never set your hand thereto, for the best castle of this realm. Sir, he
said, I might not withsay mine uncle’s will and commandment. But when
the king heard this, he repented it much, and said unto Sir Percivale
that he should assay for his love. And he said, Gladly, for to bear Sir
Gawaine fellowship. And therewith he set his hand on the sword, and
drew it strongly, but he might not move it. Then were there more that
durst be so hardy to set their hands thereto. Now may ye go to your
dinner, said Sir Kay unto the king, for a marvellous adventure have ye
seen. So the king and all went unto the court, and every knight knew
his own place, and set him therein, and young men that were knights
served them. So when they were served, and all sieges fulfilled, save
only the siege perilous, anon there befell a marvellous adventure, that
all the doors and the windows of the place shut by themself. Not for
then the hall was not greatly darkened, and therewith they abashed both
one and other. Then king Arthur spake first, and said, Fair fellows and
lords, we have seen this day marvels, but or night I suppose we shall
see greater marvels. In the mean while came in a good old man, and an
ancient, clothed all in white, and there was no knight knew from whence
he came. And with him he brought a young knight, both on foot, in red
arms, without sword or shield, save a scabbard hanging by his side. And
these words he said, Peace be with you, fair lords. Then the old man
said unto Arthur, Sir, I bring here a young knight the which is of
king’s lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathie, whereby the
marvels of this court and of strange realms shall be fully accomplished.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How the old man brought Galahad to the siege perilous and set him
  therein, and how all the knights marvelled._

The king was right glad of his words, and said unto the good man, Sir,
ye be right welcome, and the young knight with you. Then the old man
made the young man to unarm him; and he was in a coat of red sendel,
and bare a mantle upon his shoulder that was furred with ermine, and
put that upon him. And the old knight said unto the young knight, Sir,
follow me. And anon he led him unto the siege perilous, where beside
sat Sir Launcelot, and the good man lift up the cloth, and found there
letters that said thus: This is the siege of Galahad the haut prince.
Sir, said the old knight, wit ye well that place is yours. And then he
set him down surely in that siege. And then he said to the old man,
Sir, ye may now go your way, for well have ye done that ye were
commanded to do. And recommend me unto my grandsire king Pelles, and
unto my lord Petchere, and say them on my behalf, I shall come and see
them as soon as ever I may. So the good man departed, and there met him
twenty noble squires, and so took their horses and went their way. Then
all the knights of the Table Round marvelled them greatly of Sir
Galahad, that he durst sit there in that siege perilous, and was so
tender of age, and wist not from whence he came, but all only by God,
and said, This is he by whom the Sancgreal shall be achieved, for there
sat never none but he, but he were mischieved. Then Sir Launcelot
beheld his son, and had great joy of him. Then Sir Bors told his
fellows, Upon pain of my life this young knight shall come unto great
worship. This noise was great in all the court, so that it came to the
queen. Then she had marvel what knight it might be that durst adventure
him to sit in the siege perilous. Many said unto the queen, he
resembled much unto Sir Launcelot. I may well suppose, said the queen,
that he is son of Sir Launcelot and king Pelles’ daughter, and his name
is Galahad. I would fain see him, said the queen, for he must needs be
a noble man, for so is his father; I report me unto all the Table
Round. So when the meat was done, that the king and all were risen, the
king went unto the siege perilous, and lift up the cloth, and found
there the name of Galahad, and then he shewed it unto Sir Gawaine, and
said, Fair nephew, now have we among us Sir Galahad the good knight,
that shall worship us all, and upon pain of my life he shall achieve
the Sancgreal, right so as Sir Launcelot hath done us to understand.
Then came king Arthur unto Galahad, and said, Sir, ye be welcome, for
ye shall move many good knights to the quest of the Sancgreal, and ye
shall achieve that never knights might bring to an end. Then the king
took him by the hand, and went down from the palace to shew Galahad the
adventures of the stone.


                                CHAP. V.

_How king Arthur shewed the stone, hoving on the water, to Galahad, and
  how he drew out the sword._

The queen heard thereof, and came after with many ladies, and shewed
them the stone where it hoved on the water. Sir, said the king unto Sir
Galahad, here is a great marvel as ever I saw, and right good knights
have assayed and failed. Sir, said Galahad, that is no marvel, for this
adventure is not theirs, but mine, and for the surety of this sword I
brought none with me; for here by my side hangeth the scabbard. And
anon he laid his hand on the sword, and lightly drew it out of the
stone, and put it in the sheath and said unto the king, Now it goeth
better than it did aforehand. Sir, said the king, a shield God shall
send you. Now have I, said Sir Galahad, that sword that sometime was
the good knight’s Balin le Savage, and he was a passing good man of his
hands. And with this sword he slew his brother Balan, and that was
great pity, for he was a good knight, and either slew other through a
dolorous stroke that Balan gave unto my grandfather king Pelles, the
which is not yet whole, nor not shall be till I heal him. Therewith the
king and all espied where came riding down the river a lady on a white
palfrey toward them. Then she saluted the king and the queen, and asked
if that Sir Launcelot was there? And then he answered himself, I am
here, fair lady. Then she said, all with weeping, How your great doing
is changed sith this day in the morn. Damsel, why say ye so? said
Launcelot. I say you sooth, said the damsel, for ye were this day the
best knight of the world, but who should say so now should be a liar,
for there is now one better than ye. And well it is proved by the
adventures of the sword whereto ye durst not set your hand, and that is
the change and leaving of your name; wherefore I make unto you a
remembrance, that ye shall not ween from henceforth that ye be the best
knight of the world. As touching unto that, said Launcelot, I know well
I was never the best. Yes, said the damsel, that were ye, and are yet
of any sinful man of the world. And sir king, Nacien the hermit sendeth
thee word, that thee shall befall the greatest worship that ever befell
king in Britain; and I say you wherefore, for this day the Sancgreal
shall appear in thy house, and feed thee and all thy fellowship of the
Round Table. So she departed and went that same way that she came.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How King Arthur had all the knights together, for to just in the
  meadow beside Camelot or they departed._

Now, said the king, I am sure at this quest of the Sancgreal shall all
ye of the Table Round depart, and never shall I see you again whole
together, therefore I will see you all whole together in the meadow of
Camelot, to just and to tourney, that after your death men may speak of
it, that such good knights were wholly together such a day. As unto
that counsel, and at the king’s request, they accorded all, and took on
their harness that longed unto justing. But all this moving of the king
was for this intent, for to see Galahad proved, for the king deemed he
should not lightly come again unto the court after his departing. So
were they assembled in the meadow, both more and less. Then Sir
Galahad, by the prayer of the king and the queen, did upon him a noble
jesserance, and also he did on his helm, but shield would he take none
for no prayer of the king. And then Sir Gawaine and other knights
prayed him to take a spear. Right so he did; and the queen was in a
tower with all her ladies for to behold that tournament. Then Sir
Galahad dressed him in the midst of the meadow, and began to break
spears marvellously, that all men had wonder of him, for he there
surmounted all other knights, for within a while he had thrown down
many good knights of the Table Round save twain, that was Sir Launcelot
and Sir Percivale.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How the queen desired to see Galahad, and how after all the knights
  were replenished with the holy Sangreal, and how they avowed the
  enquest of the same._

Then the king, at the queen’s request, made him to alight and to unlace
his helm, that the queen might see him in the visage. And when she
beheld him she said, Soothly, I dare well say that Sir Launcelot is his
father, for never two men resembled more in likeness, therefore it is
no marvel though he be of great prowess. So a lady that stood by the
queen said, Madam, ought he of right to be so good a knight? Yea,
forsooth, said the queen, for he is of all parties come of the best
knights of the world, and of the highest lineage; for Sir Launcelot is
come but of the eighth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, and Sir
Galahad is of the ninth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ; therefore I
dare say they be the greatest gentlemen of the world. And then the king
and all estates went home unto Camelot, and so went to evensong to the
great minster. And so after upon that to supper, and every knight sat
in his own place as they were toforehand. Then anon they heard cracking
and crying of thunder, that them thought the place should all to-drive.
In the midst of this blast entered a sun-beam more clearer by seven
times than ever they saw day, and all they were alighted of the grace
of the Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to behold other, and either
saw other by their seeming fairer than ever they saw afore. Not for
then there was no knight might speak one word a great while, and so
they looked every man on other, as they had been dumb. Then there
entered into the hall the holy Graile covered with white samite, but
there was none might see it, nor who bare it. And there was all the
hall full filled with good odours, and every knight had such meats and
drinks as he best loved in this world: and when the holy Graile had
been borne through the hall, then the holy vessel departed suddenly,
that they wist not where it became. Then had they all breath to speak.
And then the king yielded thankings unto God of his good grace that he
had sent them. Certes, said the king, we ought to thank our Lord Jesu
greatly, for that he hath shewed us this day at the reverence of this
high feast of Pentecost. Now, said Sir Gawaine, we have been served
this day of what meats and drinks we thought on, but one thing beguiled
us, we might not see the holy Graile, it was so preciously covered;
wherefore I will make here avow, that to-morn, without longer abiding,
I shall labour in the quest of the Sancgreal, that I shall hold me out
a twelvemonth and a day, or more if need be, and never shall I return
again unto the court till I have seen it more openly than it hath been
seen here: and if I may not speed, I shall return again as he that may
not be against the will of our Lord Jesu Christ. When they of the Table
Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up the most party, and made
such avows as Sir Gawaine had made.

Anon as king Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he wist
well that they might not againsay their avows. Alas! said king Arthur
unto Sir Gawaine, ye have nigh slain me with the avow and promise that
ye have made. For through you ye have bereft me of the fairest
fellowship and the truest of knighthood that ever were seen together in
any realm of the world. For when they depart from hence, I am sure they
all shall never meet more in this world, for they shall die many in the
quest. And so it forethinketh me a little, for I have loved them as
well as my life, wherefore it shall grieve me right sore the
departition of this fellowship. For I have had an old custom to have
them in my fellowship.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How great sorrow was made of the king and the queen and ladies for the
  departing of the knights, and how they departed._

And therewith the tears filled in his eyes. And then he said, Gawaine,
Gawaine, ye have set me in great sorrow. For I have great doubt that my
true fellowship shall never meet here more again. Ah, said Sir
Launcelot, comfort yourself, for it shall be unto us as a great honour,
and much more than if we died in any other places, for of death we be
sure. Ah Launcelot, said the king, the great love that I have had unto
you all the days of my life maketh me to say such doleful words; for
never christian king had never so many worthy men at this table as I
have had this day at the Round Table, and that is my great sorrow. When
the queen, ladies, and gentlewomen wist these tidings, they had such
sorrow and heaviness that there might no tongue tell it, for those
knights had holden them in honour and charity. But among all other
queen Guenever made great sorrow. I marvel, said she, my lord would
suffer them to depart from him. Thus was all the court troubled, for
the love of the departition of those knights. And many of those ladies
that loved knights would have gone with their lovers; and so had they
done, had not an old knight come among them in religious clothing, and
then he spake all on high and said, Fair lords which have sworn in the
quest of the Sancgreal, thus sendeth you Nacien the hermit word, that
none in this quest lead lady nor gentlewoman with him, for it is not to
do in so high a service as they labour in, for I warn you plain, he
that is not clean of his sins he shall not see the mysteries of our
Lord Jesu Christ; and for this cause they left these ladies and
gentlewomen. After this the queen came unto Galahad, and asked him of
whence he was, and of what country? He told her of whence he was. And
son unto Sir Launcelot, she said he was: as to that he said neither yea
nor nay. Truly, said the queen, of your father ye need not to shame
you, for he is the goodliest knight and of the best men of the world
come, and of the stock, of all parties, of kings. Wherefore ye ought of
right to be of your deeds a passing good man, and certainly, she said,
ye resemble him much. Then Sir Galahad was a little ashamed, and said,
Madam, sith ye know in certain, wherefore do ye ask it me? for he that
is my father shall be known openly, and all betimes. And then they went
to rest them. And in the honour of the highness of Galahad he was led
into king Arthur’s chamber, and there rested in his own bed. And as
soon as it was day the king arose, for he had no rest of all that night
for sorrow. Then he went unto Gawaine and to Sir Launcelot, that were
arisen for to hear mass. And then the king again said, Ah Gawaine,
Gawaine, ye have betrayed me. For never shall my court be amended by
you, but ye will never be sorry for me, as I am for you. And therewith
the tears began to run down by his visage. And therewith the king said,
Ah knight, Sir Launcelot, I require thee thou counsel me, for I would
that this quest were undone, and it might be. Sir, said Sir Launcelot,
ye saw yesterday so many worthy knights that then were sworn, that they
may not leave it in no manner of wise. That wot I well, said the king,
but it shall so heavy me at their departing, that I wot well there
shall no manner of joy remedy me. And then the king and the queen went
unto the minster. So anon Launcelot and Gawaine commanded their men to
bring their arms. And when they all were armed, save their shields and
their helms, then they came to their fellowship, which all were ready
in the same wise for to go to the minster to hear their service.

Then after the service was done, the king would wit how many had taken
the quest of the holy Graile, and to account them he prayed them all.
Then found they by tale an hundred and fifty, and all were knights of
the Round Table. And then they put on their helms, and departed, and
recommanded them all wholly unto the queen, and there was weeping and
great sorrow. Then the queen departed into her chamber so that no man
should perceive her great sorrows. When Sir Launcelot missed the queen
he went into her chamber, and when she saw him she cried aloud, O, Sir
Launcelot, ye have betrayed me and put me to death, for to leave thus
my lord. Ah, madam, said Sir Launcelot, I pray you be not displeased,
for I shall come again as soon as I may with my worship. Alas, said
she, that ever I saw you! but He that suffered death upon the cross for
all mankind, be to your good conduct and safety, and all the whole
fellowship. Right so departed Sir Launcelot, and found his fellowship
that abode his coming. And so they mounted upon their horses, and rode
through the streets of Camelot, and there was weeping of the rich and
poor, and the king turned away, and might not speak for weeping. So
within a while they came to a city and a castle that hight Vagon: there
they entered into the castle, and the lord of that castle was an old
man that hight Vagon, and he was a good man of his living, and set open
the gates, and made them all the good cheer that he might. And so on
the morrow they were all accorded that they should depart every each
from other. And then they departed on the morrow with weeping and
mourning cheer, and every knight took the way that him best liked.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Galahad gat him a shield, and how they sped that presumed to take
  down the said shield._

Now rideth Sir Galahad yet without shield, and so he rode four days
without any adventure. And at the fourth day after even-song he came to
a white abbey, and there he was received with great reverence, and led
to a chamber, and then he was unarmed, and then was he ware of two
knights of the Round Table, one was king Bagdemagus, and that other was
Sir Uwaine. And when they saw him they went unto him and made of him
great solace, and so they went to supper. Sirs, said Sir Galahad, what
adventure brought you hither? Sir, said they, it is told us that within
this place is a shield that no man may bear about his neck but that if
he be mischieved or dead within three days, or else maimed for ever.
Ah, sir, said king Bagdemagus, I shall bear it to-morrow for to assay
this strange adventure. In the name of God, said Sir Galahad. Sir, said
Bagdemagus, and I may not achieve the adventure of this shield ye shall
take it upon you, for I am sure ye shall not fail. Sir, said Galahad, I
agree right well thereto, for I have no shield. So on the morn they
arose and heard mass. Then king Bagdemagus asked where the adventurous
shield was. Anon a monk led him behind an altar where the shield hung
as white as any snow, but in the midst was a red cross. Sir, said the
monk, this shield ought not to be hanged about no knight’s neck, but he
be the worthiest knight of the world, and therefore I counsel you
knights to be well advised. Well, said king Bagdemagus, I wot well that
I am not the best knight of the world, but yet shall I assay to bear
it. And so he bare it out of the monastery; and then he said unto Sir
Galahad, If it will please you, I pray you abide here still, till ye
know how I shall speed. I shall abide you here, said Galahad. Then king
Bagdemagus took with him a squire, the which should bring tidings unto
Sir Galahad how he sped. Then when they had ridden a two mile, and came
in a fair valley afore an hermitage, then they saw a goodly knight come
from that part in white armour, horse and all, and he came as fast as
his horse might run with his spear in the rest, and king Bagdemagus
dressed his spear against him, and brake it upon the white knight; but
the other struck him so hard that he brake the mails, and thrust him
through the right shoulder, for the shield covered him not as at that
time, and so he bare him from his horse, and therewith he alighted and
took the white shield from him, saying, Knight, thou hast done thyself
great folly, for this shield ought not to be borne but by him that
shall have no peer that liveth. And then he came to king Bagdemagus’s
squire and said, Bear this shield unto the good knight Sir Galahad,
that thou left in the abbey, and greet him well from me. Sir, said the
squire, what is your name? Take thou no heed of my name, said the
knight, for it is not for thee to know, nor for none earthly man. Now,
fair sir, said the squire, at the reverence of Jesu Christ tell me for
what cause this shield may not be borne, but if the bearer thereof be
mischieved. Now, sith thou hast conjured me so, said the knight, this
shield behoveth to no man but unto Galahad. And the squire went unto
Bagdemagus and asked him whether he were sore wounded or not? Yea
forsooth, said he, I shall escape hard from the death. Then he fetched
his horse, and brought him with great pain unto an abbey. Then was he
taken down softly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and there was looked
to his wounds. And, as the book telleth, he lay there long, and escaped
hard with the life.


                                CHAP. X.

_How Galahad departed with the shield. And how king Evelake had
  received the shield of Joseph of Aramathie._

Sir Galahad, said the squire, that knight that wounded Bagdemagus
sendeth you greeting, and bad that ye should bear this shield, where
through great adventures should befall. Now blessed be God and fortune,
said Sir Galahad. And then he asked his arms, and mounted upon his
horse, and hung the white shield about his neck, and commended them
unto God. And Sir Uwaine said he would bear him fellowship if it
pleased him. Sir, said Galahad, that may ye not, for I must go alone,
save this squire shall bear me fellowship: and so departed Uwaine. Then
within a while came Galahad there as the white knight abode him by the
hermitage, and every each saluted other courteously. Sir, said Galahad,
by this shield been many marvels fallen. Sir, said the knight, it
befell after the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ thirty-two year, that
Joseph of Armathie, the gentle knight the which took down our Lord off
the holy cross, at that time he departed from Jerusalem with a great
party of his kindred with him. And so he laboured till that they came
to a city that hight Sarras. And at that same hour that Joseph came to
Sarras, there was a king that hight Evelake, that had great war against
the Saracens, and in especially against one Saracen, the which was the
king Evelake’s cousin, a rich king and a mighty, which marched nigh
this land, and his name was called Tolleme la Feintes. So on a day this
two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of Armathie, went
to king Evelake, and told him he should be discomfit and slain, but if
he left his belief of the old law, and believed upon the new law. And
then there he shewed him the right belief of the Holy Trinity, to the
which he agreed unto with all his heart, and there this shield was made
for king Evelake, in the name of Him that died upon the cross. And then
through his good belief he had the better of king Tolleme. For when
Evelake was in the battle, there was a cloth set afore the shield, and
when he was in the greatest peril he let put away the cloth, and then
his enemies saw a figure of a man on the cross, where through they all
were discomfit. And so it befell that a man of king Evelake’s was
smitten his hand off, and bare that hand in his other hand. And Joseph
called that man unto him, and bad him, Go with good devotion, touch the
cross. And as soon as that man had touched the cross with his hand, it
was as whole as ever it was tofore. Then soon after there fell a great
marvel, that the cross of the shield at one time vanished away, that no
man wist where it became. And then king Evelake was baptised, and for
the most part all the people of that city. So soon after Joseph would
depart, and king Evelake would go with him, whether he would or nould.
And so by fortune they came into this land, that at that time was
called Great Britain. And there they found a great felon paynim, that
put Joseph into prison. And so by fortune tidings came unto a worthy
man that hight Mondrames, and he assembled all his people, for the
great renown he had heard of Joseph, and so he came into the land of
Great Britain, and disherited this felon paynim and consumed him, and
therewith delivered Joseph out of prison. And after that all the people
were turned to the christian faith.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Joseph made a cross on the white shield with his blood, and how
  Galahad was by a monk brought to a tomb._

Not long after that Joseph was laid in his deadly bed. And when king
Evelake saw that, he made much sorrow, and said, For thy love I have
left my country, and sith ye shall depart out of this world leave me
some token of yours, that I may think on you. Joseph said, that will I
do full gladly. Now bring me your shield that I took you when ye went
into battle against king Tolleme. Then Joseph bled sore at the nose
that he might not by no means be staunched. And there upon that shield
he made a cross of his own blood. Now may ye see a remembrance that I
love you, for ye shall never see this shield but ye shall think on me,
and it shall be always as fresh as it is now; and never shall no man
bear this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time
that Galahad the good knight bear it, and the last of my lineage shall
have it about his neck, that shall do many marvellous deeds. Now, said
king Evelake, where shall I put this shield, that this worthy knight
may have it? Ye shall leave it there as Nacien the hermit shall be put
after his death. For thither shall that good knight come the fifteenth
day after that he shall receive the order of knighthood. And so that
day that they set is this time that ye have his shield. And in the same
abbey lieth Nacien the hermit. And then the white knight vanished away.
Anon, as the squire had heard these words, he alight off his hackney,
and kneeled down at Galahad’s feet, and prayed him that he might go
with him till he had made him knight.—If I would not refuse you?—Then
will ye make me a knight, said the squire, and that order, by the grace
of God, shall be well set in me. So Sir Galahad granted him, and turned
again unto the abbey there they came from. And there men made great joy
of Sir Galahad. And anon as he was alight, there was a monk brought him
unto a tomb in a church-yard, where that was such a noise that who that
heard it should verily nigh be mad or lose his strength. And, sir, they
said, we deem it is a fiend.


                               CHAP. XII.

_Of the marvel that Sir Galahad saw and heard in the tomb, and how he
  made Melias knight._

Now lead me thither, said Galahad. And so they did, all armed save his
helm. Now, said the good man, go to the tomb and lift it up. So he did,
and heard a great noise, and piteously he said that all men might hear
it. Sir Galahad, the servant of Jesu Christ, come thou not nigh me, for
thou shalt make me go again there where I have been so long. But
Galahad was nothing afraid, but lift up the stone, and there came out
so foul a smoke, and after he saw the foulest figure leap thereout that
ever he saw in the likeness of a man; and then he blessed him, and wist
well it was a fiend. Then heard he a voice say, Galahad, I see there
environ about thee so many angels that my power may not dare thee.
Right so Sir Galahad saw a body all armed lie in that tomb, and beside
him a sword. Now, fair brother, said Galahad, let us remove this body,
for it is not worthy to lie in this church-yard, for he was a false
Christian man. And therewith they all departed and went to the abbey.
And anon as he was unarmed, a good man came and set him down by him,
and said, Sir, I shall tell you what betokeneth all that ye saw in the
tomb: For that covered body betokeneth the duresse of the world, and
the great sin that our Lord found in the world, for there was such
wretchedness that the father loved not the son, nor the son loved not
the father, and that was one of the causes that our Lord took flesh and
blood of a clean maiden; for our sins were so great at that time that
well nigh all was wickedness. Truly, said Galahad, I believe you right
well. So Sir Galahad rested him there that night. And upon the morn he
made the squire knight, and asked him his name, and of what kindred he
was come. Sir, said he, men call me Melias de Lile, and I am the son of
the king of Denmark. Now, fair sir, said Galahad, sith ye be come of
kings and queens, now look that knighthood be well set in you, for ye
ought to be a mirror unto all chivalry. Sir, said Melias, ye say sooth.
But, sir, sithen ye have made me a knight, ye must of right grant me my
first desire that is reasonable. Ye say sooth, said Galahad. Then
Melias said, that ye will suffer me to ride with you in this quest of
the Sancgreal till that some adventure depart us.—I grant you, sir.
Then men brought Sir Melias his armour, and his spear, and his horse;
and so Sir Galahad and he rode forth all that week ere they found any
adventure. And then upon a Monday, in the morning, as they were
departed from an abbey, they came to a cross which departed two ways;
and in that cross were letters written, that said thus: Now ye knights
errant, the which goeth to seek knights adventurous, see here two ways;
that one way defendeth thee that thou ne go that way, for he shall not
go out of the way again, but if he be a good man and a worthy knight;
and if thou go on the left hand, thou shalt not there lightly win
prowess, for thou shalt in this way be soon assayed. Sir, said Melias
to Galahad, if it like you to suffer me to take the way on the left
hand, tell me, for there I shall well prove my strength. It were
better, said Galahad, ye rode not that way, for I deem I should better
escape in that way than ye.—Nay, my lord, I pray you let me have that
adventure.—Take it, in God’s name, said Galahad.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_Of the adventure that Melias had, and how Galahad revenged him, and
  how Melias was carried into an abbey._

And then rode Melias into an old forest, and therein he rode two days
and more. And then he came into a fair meadow, and there was a fair
lodge of boughs. And then he espied in that lodge a chair, wherein was
a crown of gold subtily wrought. Also there was clothes covered upon
the earth, and many delicious meats were set thereon. Sir Melias beheld
this adventure, and thought it marvellous, but he had no hunger, but of
the crown of gold he took much keep, and therewith he stooped down, and
took it up, and rode his way with it. And anon he saw a knight came
riding after him that said, Knight, set down that crown which is not
yours, and therefore defend you. Then Sir Melias blessed him, and said,
Fair Lord of heaven, help and save thy new-made knight. And then they
let their horses run as fast as they might, so that the other knight
smote Sir Melias through hauberk and through the left side, that he
fell to the earth nigh dead. And then he took the crown and went his
way, and Sir Melias lay still and had no power to stir. In the
meanwhile by fortune there came Sir Galahad and found him there in
peril of death. And then he said, Ah, Melias, who hath wounded you?
therefore it had been better to have ridden that other way. And when
Sir Melias heard him speak, Sir, he said, for God’s love let me not die
in this forest, but bear me unto the abbey here beside, that I may be
confessed and have my rites. It shall be done, said Galahad, but where
is he that hath wounded you? With that Sir Galahad heard in the leaves
cry on high, Knight, keep thee from me! Ah sir, said Melias, beware,
for that is he that hath slain me. Sir Galahad answered, Sir knight,
come on your peril. Then either dressed to other, and came together as
fast as their horses might run; and Galahad smote him so that his spear
went through his shoulder, and smote him down off his horse, and in the
falling Galahad’s spear brake. With that came out another knight out of
the leaves and brake a spear upon Galahad, or ever he might turn him.
Then Galahad drew out his sword and smote off the left arm of him, so
that it fell to the earth. And then he fled, and Sir Galahad sued fast
after him. And then he turned again unto Sir Melias, and there he
alight and dressed him softly on his horse tofore him, for the
truncheon of his spear was in his body, and Sir Galahad start up behind
him, and held him in his arms, and so brought him to the abbey, and
there unarmed him and brought him to his chamber. And then he asked his
Saviour. And when he had received Him he said unto Sir Galahad, Sir,
let death come when it pleaseth him. And therewith he drew out the
truncheon of the spear out of his body: and then he swooned. Then came
there an old monk, which sometime had been a knight, and beheld Sir
Melias. And anon he ransacked him, and then he said unto Sir Galahad, I
shall heal him of this wound, by the grace of God, within the term of
seven weeks. Then was Sir Galahad glad, and unarmed him, and said he
would abide there three days. And then he asked Sir Melias how it stood
with him. Then he said, he was turned unto helping, God be thanked.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How Sir Galahad departed, and how he was commanded to go to the castle
  of maidens to destroy the wicked custom._

Now will I depart, said Galahad, for I have much on hand, for many good
knights be full busy about it, and this knight and I were in the same
quest of the Sancgreal. Sir, said a good man, for his sin he was thus
wounded: and I marvel, said the good man, how ye durst take upon you so
rich a thing as the high order of knighthood without clean confession,
and that was the cause ye were bitterly wounded. For the way on the
right hand betokeneth the high way of our Lord Jesu Christ, and the way
of a true good liver. And the other way betokeneth the way of sinners
and of misbelievers. And when the devil saw your pride and presumption
for to take you in the quest of the holy Sancgreal, that made you to be
overthrown, for it may not be achieved but by virtuous living. Also,
the writing on the cross was a signification of heavenly deeds, and of
knightly deeds in God’s works, and no knightly deeds in worldly works;
and pride is head of all deadly sins, that caused this knight to depart
from Sir Galahad: and where thou tookest the crown of gold thou
sinnedst in covetise and in theft. All this were no knightly deeds. And
this Galahad the holy knight, the which fought with the two knights,
the two knights signify the two deadly sins which were wholly in this
knight Sir Melias, and they might not withstand you, for ye are without
deadly sin. Now departed Galahad from thence, and betaught them all
unto God. Sir Melias said, My lord Galahad, as soon as I may ride I
shall seek you. God send you health, said Galahad; and so took his
horse and departed and rode many journeys forward and backward, as
adventure would lead him. And at the last it happened him to depart
from a place or a castle, the which was named Abblasoure, and he had
heard no mass, the which he was wont ever to hear or that he departed
out of any castle or place, and kept that for a custom. Then Sir
Galahad came unto a mountain, where he found an old chapel, and found
there nobody, for all all was desolate, and there he kneeled tofore the
altar, and besought God of wholesome counsel. So, as he prayed, he
heard a voice that said, Go thou now, thou adventurous knight, to the
Castle of Maidens, and there do thou away the wicked customs.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How Sir Galahad fought with the knights of the castle, and destroyed
  the wicked custom._

When Sir Galahad heard this he thanked God, and took his horse, and he
had not ridden but half a mile, he saw in a valley afore him a strong
castle with deep ditches, and there ran beside it a fair river, that
hight Severn, and there he met with a man of great age, and either
saluted other, and Galahad asked him the castle’s name? Fair sir, said
he, it is the Castle of Maidens. That is a cursed castle, said Galahad,
and all they that be conversant therein; for all pity is out thereof,
and all hardiness and mischief is therein.—Therefore I counsel you,
sir knight, to turn again. Sir, said Galahad, wit you well I shall not
turn again. Then looked Sir Galahad on his arms that nothing failed
him, and then he put his shield afore him, and anon there met him seven
fair maidens, the which said unto him, Sir knight, ye ride here in a
great folly, for ye have the water to pass over. Why should I not pass
the water? said Galahad. So rode he away from them, and met with a
squire that said, Knight, those knights in the castle defy you, and
forbid you, ye go no further till that they wit what ye would. Fair
sir, said Galahad, I come for to destroy the wicked custom of this
castle.—Sir, and ye will abide by that, ye shall have enough to
do.—Go you now, said Galahad, and haste my needs. Then the squire
entered into the castle. And anon after there came out of the castle
seven knights, and all were brethren. And when they saw Galahad, they
cried, Knight, keep thee, for we assure thee nothing but death. Why,
said Galahad, will ye all have ado with me at once? Yea, said they,
thereto mayest thou trust. Then Galahad put forth his spear, and smote
the foremost to the earth, that near he brake his neck. And therewith
all the other smote him on his shield great strokes, so that their
spears brake. Then Sir Galahad drew out his sword, and set upon them so
hard that it was marvel to see it, and so, through great force, he made
them to forsake the field; and Galahad chased them till they entered
into the castle, and so passed through the castle at another gate. And
there met Sir Galahad an old man, clothed in religious clothing, and
said, Sir, have here the keys of this castle. Then Sir Galahad opened
the gates, and saw so much people in the streets that he might not
number them, and all said, Sir, ye be welcome, for long have we abiden
here our deliverance. Then came to him a gentlewoman, and said, These
knights be fled, but they will come again this night, and here to begin
again their evil custom. What will ye that I shall do? said Galahad.
Sir, said the gentlewoman, that ye send after all the knights hither
that hold their lands of this castle, and make them to swear for to use
the customs that were used heretofore of old time. I will well, said
Galahad. And there she brought him an horn of ivory, bounden with gold
richly, and said, Sir, blow this horn, which will be heard two mile
about this castle. When Sir Galahad had blown the horn he set him down
upon a bed. Then came a priest unto Galahad, and said, Sir, it is past
a seven year agone that these seven brethren came into this castle, and
harboured with the lord of this castle, that hight the duke Lianour,
and he was lord of all this country. And when they espied the duke’s
daughter that was a full fair woman, then by their false covin they
made debate betwixt themselves, and the duke of his goodness would have
departed them; and there they slew him and his eldest son. And then
they took the maiden, and the treasure of the castle. And then by great
force they held all the knights of this castle against their will under
their obeisance, and in great servage and truage, robbing and pilling
the poor common people of all that they had. So it happened on a day
the duke’s daughter said, Ye have done unto me great wrong to slay mine
own father and my brother, and thus to hold our lands: not for then,
she said, ye shall not hold this castle for many years, for by one
knight ye shall be overcome. Thus she prophesied seven years agone.
Well, said the seven knights, sithen ye say so, there shall never lady
nor knight pass this castle, but they shall abide maugre their heads,
or die therefore, till that knight be come by whom we shall lose this
castle. And therefore it is called the Maidens’ Castle, for they have
devoured many maidens. Now, said Sir Galahad, is she here for whom this
castle was lost? Nay, said the priest, she was dead within these three
nights after that she was thus enforced; and sithen have they kept her
younger sister, which endureth great pains with many other ladies. By
this were the knights of the country come. And then he made them do
homage and fealty to the duke’s daughter, and set them in great ease of
heart. And in the morn there came one to Galahad, and told him how that
Gawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine had slain the seven brethren. I suppose
well, said Sir Galahad: and took his armour and his horse and commended
them unto God.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How Sir Gawaine came to the Abbey for to follow Galahad, and how he
  was shriven to a Hermit._

Now, saith the tale, after Sir Gawaine departed, he rode many journeys
both toward and froward. And at the last he came to the abbey where Sir
Galahad had the white shield. And there Sir Gawaine learned the way to
sue after Sir Galahad, and so he rode to the abbey where Melias lay
sick, and there Sir Melias told Sir Gawaine of the marvellous adventure
that Sir Galahad did. Certes, said Sir Gawaine, I am not happy that I
took not the way that he went; for, and I may meet with him, I will not
depart from him lightly, for all marvellous adventures Sir Galahad
achieveth. Sir, said one of the monks, he will not of your fellowship.
Why? said Sir Gawaine. Sir, said he, for ye be wicked and sinful, and
he is full blessed.

Right as they thus stood talking together, there came in riding Sir
Gareth. And then they made joy either of other. And on the morn they
heard mass, and so departed. And by the way they met with Sir Uwaine
les Avoutres. And there Sir Uwaine told Sir Gawaine how he had met with
none adventure sith he departed from the court. Nor we, said Sir
Gawaine. And either promised other of those three knights not to depart
while that they were in that quest, but if fortune caused it. So they
departed and rode by fortune till that they came by the Castle of
Maidens. And there the seven brethren espied the three knights, and
said, Sithen we be banished by one knight from this castle, we shall
destroy all the knights of king Arthur’s that we may overcome, for the
love of Sir Galahad. And therewith the seven knights set upon the three
knights: and by fortune Sir Gawaine slew one of the brethren, and each
one of his fellows slew another, and so slew the remnant. And then they
took the way under the castle; and there they lost the way that Sir
Galahad rode, and there every each of them departed from other, and Sir
Gawaine rode till he came to an hermitage, and there he found the good
man saying his evensong of Our Lady. And there Sir Gawaine asked
harbour for charity, and the good man granted it him gladly. Then the
good man asked him what he was? Sir, he said, I am a knight of king
Arthur’s, that am in the quest of the Sancgreal, and my name is Sir
Gawaine. Sir, said the good man, I would wit how it standeth betwixt
God and you? Sir, said Sir Gawaine, I will with a good will shew you my
life, if it please you. And there he told the hermit how a monk of an
abbey called me wicked knight. He might well say it, said the hermit,
for when ye were first made knight, ye should have taken you to
knightly deeds and virtuous living, and ye have done the contrary, for
ye have lived mischievously many winters, and Sir Galahad is a maid,
and sinned never, and that is the cause he shall achieve where he goeth
that ye nor none such shall not attain, nor none in your fellowship;
for ye have used the most untruest life that ever I heard knight live.
For, certes, had ye not been so wicked as ye are, never had the seven
brethren been slain by you and your two fellows. For Sir Galahad,
himself alone, beat them all seven the day before, but his living is
such he shall slay no man lightly. Also I may say you, the Castle of
Maidens betokeneth the good souls that were in prison afore the
Incarnation of Jesu Christ. And the seven knights betoken the seven
deadly sins that reigned that time in the world. And I may liken the
good Galahad unto the Son of the High Father, that light within a maid,
and bought all the souls out of thrall: so did Sir Galahad deliver all
the maidens out of the woful castle. Now, Sir Gawaine, said the good
man, thou must do penance for thy sin.—Sir, what penance shall I
do?—Such as I will give, said the good man. Nay, said Sir Gawaine, I
may do no penance; for we knights adventurous often suffer great woe
and pain. Well, said the good man, and then he held his peace. And on
the morn Sir Gawaine departed from the hermit, and betaught him unto
God. And by adventure he met with Sir Aglovale and Sir Griflet, two
knights of the Table Round. And they two rode four days without finding
of any adventure, and at the fifth day they departed. And every each
held as fell them by adventure.

Here leaveth the tale of Sir Gawaine and his fellows, and speak we of
Sir Galahad.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How Sir Galahad met with Sir Launcelot and with Sir Percivale, and
  smote them down, and departed from them._

So when Sir Galahad was departed from the Castle of Maidens, he rode
till he came to a waste forest, and there he met with Sir Launcelot and
Sir Percivale, but they knew him not, for he was new disguised. Right
so, Sir Launcelot his father dressed his spear, and brake it upon Sir
Galahad, and Sir Galahad smote him so again, that he smote down horse
and man. And then he drew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir
Percivale, and smote him so on the helm that it rove to the coif of
steel, and had not the sword swerved Sir Percivale had been slain, and
with the stroke he fell out of his saddle. This justs was done tofore
the hermitage where a recluse dwelled. And when she saw Sir Galahad
ride, she said, God be with thee, best knight of the world. Ah certes,
said she all aloud, that Launcelot and Percivale might hear it, and
yonder two knights had known thee as well as I do, they would not have
encountered with thee. When Sir Galahad heard her say so he was sore
adread to be known: therewith he smote his horse with his spurs, and
rode a great pace froward them. Then perceived they both that he was
Galahad, and up they gat on their horses, and rode fast after him, but
in a while he was out of their sight. And then they turned again with
heavy cheer. Let us spere some tidings, said Percivale, at yonder
recluse. Do as ye list, said Sir Launcelot. When Sir Percivale came to
the recluse, she knew him well enough, and Sir Launcelot both. But Sir
Launcelot rode overthwart and endlong in a wild forest, and held no
path, but as wild adventure led him. And at the last he came to a stony
cross, which departed two ways in waste land, and by the cross was a
stone that was of marble, but it was so dark that Sir Launcelot might
not wit what it was. Then Sir Launcelot looked by him, and saw an old
chapel, and there he wend to have found people. And Sir Launcelot tied
his horse till a tree, and there he did off his shield, and hung it
upon a tree. And then he went to the chapel door, and found it waste
and broken. And within he found a fair altar full richly arrayed with
cloth of clean silk, and there stood a fair clean candlestick which
bare six great candles, and the candlestick was of silver. And when Sir
Launcelot saw this light, he had great will for to enter into the
chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter: then was he
passing heavy and dismayed. Then he returned and came to his horse, and
did off his saddle and bridle, and let him pasture; and unlaced his
helm, and ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his
shield tofore the cross.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How Sir Launcelot, half sleeping and half waking, saw a sick man borne
  in a litter, and how he was healed with the Sangreal._

And so he fell on sleep, and half waking and half sleeping he saw come
by him two palfreys all fair and white, the which bare a litter,
therein lying a sick knight. And when he was nigh the cross, he there
abode still. All this Sir Launcelot saw and beheld, for he slept not
verily; and he heard him say, Oh, sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow
leave me? and when shall the holy vessel come by me where through I
shall be blessed? For I have endured thus long for little trespass. A
full great while complained the knight thus, and always Sir Launcelot
heard it. With that Sir Launcelot saw the candlestick with the six
tapers come before the cross, and he saw nobody that brought it. Also
there came a table of silver, and the holy vessel of the Sancgreal,
which Sir Launcelot had seen aforetime in king Peschour’s house. And
therewith the sick knight set him up, and held up both his hands, and
said, Fair sweet Lord, which is here within this holy vessel, take heed
unto me, that I may be whole of this malady. And therewith on his hands
and on his knees he went so nigh that he touched the holy vessel, and
kissed it, and anon he was whole, and then he said, Lord God I thank
thee, for I am healed of this sickness. So when the holy vessel had
been there a great while it went unto the chapel, with the chandelier
and the light, so that Launcelot wist not where it was become, for he
was overtaken with sin that he had no power to arise against the holy
vessel; wherefore after that many men said of him shame, but he took
repentance after that. Then the sick knight dressed him up, and kissed
the cross. Anon his squire brought him his arms, and asked his lord how
he did? Certes, said he, I thank God right well, through the holy
vessel I am healed. But I have great marvel of this sleeping knight,
that had no power to awake when this holy vessel was brought hither. I
dare right well say, said the squire, that he dwelleth in some deadly
sin, whereof he was never confessed. By my faith, said the knight,
whatsoever he be he is unhappy, for as I deem he is of the fellowship
of the Round Table, the which is entered into the quest of the
Sancgreal. Sir, said the squire, here I have brought you all your arms,
save your helm and your sword, and therefore by my assent now may ye
take this knight’s helm and his sword. And so he did. And when he was
clean armed he took Sir Launcelot’s horse, for he was better than his
own: and so departed they from the cross.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How a voice spake to Sir Launcelot, and how he found his horse and his
  helm borne away, and after went afoot._

Then anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set him up, and bethought him what
he had seen there, and whether it were dreams or not. Right so heard he
a voice that said, Sir Launcelot, more harder than is the stone, and
more bitter than is the wood, and more naked and barer than is the leaf
of the fig-tree, therefore go thou from hence and withdraw thee from
this holy place. And when Sir Launcelot heard this he was passing
heavy, and wist not what to do, and so departed, sore weeping, and
cursed the time that he was born. For then he deemed never to have had
worship more. For those words went to his heart, till that he knew
wherefore he was called so. Then Sir Launcelot went to the cross, and
found his helm, his sword, and his horse, taken away. And then he
called himself a very wretch, and most unhappy of all knights: and
there he said, My sin and my wickedness have brought me unto great
dishonour. For when I sought worldly adventures for worldly desires I
ever achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was I
discomfit in no quarrel, were it right or wrong. And now I take upon me
the adventures of holy things, and now I see and understand that mine
old sin hindereth me, and shameth me, so that I had no power to stir
nor to speak when the holy blood appeared afore me. So thus he sorrowed
till it was day, and heard the fowls sing: then somewhat he was
comforted. But when Sir Launcelot missed his horse and his harness,
then he wist well God was displeased with him. Then he departed from
the cross on foot into a forest. And so by prime he came to an high
hill, and found an hermitage, and an hermit therein, which was going
unto mass. And then Launcelot kneeled down and cried on our Lord mercy
for his wicked works. So when mass was done, Launcelot called him, and
prayed him for charity for to hear his life. With a good will, said the
good man. Sir, said he, be ye of king Arthur’s court, and of the
fellowship of the Round Table? Yea forsooth, and my name is Sir
Launcelot du Lake, that hath been right well said of, and now my good
fortune is changed, for I am the most wretch of the world. The hermit
beheld him, and had marvel how he was so abashed. Sir, said the hermit,
ye ought to thank God more than any knight living; for He hath caused
you to have more worldly worship than any knight that now liveth. And
for your presumption to take upon you in deadly sin for to be in His
presence, where His flesh and His blood was, that caused you ye might
not see it with worldly eyes, for He will not appear where such sinners
be, but if it be unto their great hurt, and unto their great shame. And
there is no knight living now that ought to give God so great thanks as
ye; for He hath given you beauty, seemliness, and great strength, above
all other knights, and therefore ye are the more beholding unto God
than any other man to love Him and dread Him; for your strength and
manhood will little avail you and God be against you.


                               CHAP. XX.

_How Sir Launcelot was shriven, and what sorrow he made; and of the
  good ensamples which were shewed him._

Then Sir Launcelot wept with heavy cheer, and said, Now I know well ye
say me sooth. Sir, said the good man, hide none old sin from me. Truly,
said Sir Launcelot, that were me full loth to discover. For this
fourteen years I never discovered one thing that I have used, and that
may I now blame my shame and my misadventure. And then he told there
that good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen unmeasurably,
and out of measure long;—and all my great deeds of arms that I have
done, I did the most part for the queen’s sake, and for her sake would
I do battle were it right or wrong, and never did I battle all only for
God’s sake, but for to win worship, and to cause me to be the better
beloved, and little or nought I thanked God of it. Then Sir Launcelot
said, I pray you counsel me. I will counsel you, said the hermit, if ye
will ensure me that ye will never come in that queen’s fellowship, as
much as ye may forbear. And then Sir Launcelot promised him he would
not, by the faith of his body. Look that your heart and your mouth
accord, said the good man, and I shall ensure you ye shall have more
worship than ever ye had. Holy father, said Sir Launcelot, I marvel of
the voice that said to me marvellous words, as ye have heard
toforehand. Have ye no marvel, said the good man, thereof; for it
seemeth well God loveth you; for men may understand a stone is hard of
kind, and namely one more than another, and that is to understand by
thee Sir Launcelot, for thou wilt not leave thy sin for no goodness
that God hath sent thee, therefore thou art more than any stone, and
never wouldest thou be made soft nor by water nor by fire, and that is,
the heat of the Holy Ghost may not enter in thee. Now take heed; in all
the world men shall not find one knight to whom our Lord hath given so
much of grace as He hath given you: for He hath given you fairness with
seemliness: He hath given thee wit, discretion to know good from evil:
He hath given thee prowess and hardiness; and given thee to work so
largely that thou hast had at all days the better wheresoever thou
camest. And now our Lord will suffer thee no longer, but that thou
shalt know Him, whether thou wilt or nilt. And why the voice called
thee bitterer than wood, for where overmuch sin dwelleth, there may be
but little sweetness, wherefore thou art likened to an old rotten tree.
Now have I shewed thee why thou art harder than the stone, and bitterer
than the tree. Now shall I shew thee why thou art more naked and barer
than the fig-tree. It befell that our Lord on Palm-Sunday preached in
Jerusalem, and there He found in the people that all hardness was
harboured in them, and there He found in all the town not one that
would harbour Him. And then He went without the town, and found in the
midst of the way a fig-tree, the which was right fair and well
garnished of leaves, but fruit had it none. Then our Lord cursed the
tree that bare no fruit; that betokeneth the fig-tree unto Jerusalem,
that had leaves and no fruit. So thou, Sir Launcelot, when the holy
Graile was brought afore thee, He found in thee no fruit, nor good
thought nor good will, and defouled with lechery. Certes, said Sir
Launcelot, all that ye have said is true, and from henceforward I cast
me by the grace of God never to be so wicked as I have been, but as to
follow knighthood, and to do feats of arms. Then the good man enjoined
Sir Launcelot such penance as he might do, and to sue knighthood, and
so he assoiled him and prayed Sir Launcelot to abide with him all that
day. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, for I have neither helm, nor
horse, nor sword. As for that, said the good man, I shall help you or
to-morn at even of an horse, and all that longeth unto you. And then
Sir Launcelot repented him greatly.

 Here leueth of the history of syr launcelot. And here foloweth of syr
              Percyuale de galys which is the xiiii. book.




                          The Fourteenth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Percivale came to a recluse, and asked counsel; and how she
  told him that she was his aunt._

Now saith the tale, that when Sir Launcelot was ridden after Sir
Galahad, the which had all these adventures above said, Sir Percivale
turned again unto the recluse, where he deemed to have tidings of that
knight that Launcelot followed. And so he kneeled at her window, and
the recluse opened it, and asked Sir Percivale what he would? Madam, he
said, I am a knight of king Arthur’s court, and my name is Sir
Percivale de Galis. When the recluse heard his name, she had great joy
of him, for mickle she had loved him tofore any other knight, for she
ought to do so, for she was his aunt. And then she commanded the gates
to be opened, and there he had all the cheer that she might make him,
and all that was in her power was at his commandment. So, on the morn,
Sir Percivale went to the recluse, and asked her if she knew that
knight with the white shield? Sir, said she, why would ye wit? Truly,
madam, said Sir Percivale, I shall never be well at ease till that I
know of that knight’s fellowship, and that I may fight with him, for I
may not leave him so lightly, for I have the shame yet. Ah, Percivale,
said she, would ye fight with him? I see well ye have great will to be
slain as your father was, through outrageousness. Madam, said Sir
Percivale, it seemeth by your words that ye know me? Yea, said she, I
well ought to know you, for I am your aunt, although I be in a priory
place. For some called me sometime the queen of the Waste Lands, and I
was called the queen of most riches in the world; and it pleased me
never my riches so much as doth my poverty. Then Sir Percivale wept for
very pity, when he knew it was his aunt. Ah, fair nephew, said she,
when heard ye tidings of your mother? Truly, said he, I heard none of
her, but I dream of her much in my sleep, and therefore I wot not
whether she be dead or on live. Certes, fair nephew, said she, your
mother is dead; for after your departing from her, she took such a
sorrow that anon after she was confessed she died. Now God have mercy
on her soul, said Sir Percivale, it sore forethinketh me; but all we
must change the life. Now fair aunt, tell me what is the knight? I deem
it be he that bare the red arms on Whitsunday. Wit you well, said she,
that this is he, for otherwise ought he not to do, but to go in red
arms, and that same knight hath no peer, for he worketh all by miracle,
and he shall never be overcome of no earthly man’s hand.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Merlin likened the Round Table to the world, and how the knights
  that should achieve the Sangreal should be known._

Also Merlin made the Round Table in tokening of the roundness of the
world, for by the Round Table is the world signified by right. For all
the world, Christian and heathen, repair unto the Round Table, and when
they are chosen to be of the fellowship of the Round Table, they think
them more blessed, and more in worship, than if they had gotten half
the world; and ye have seen that they have lost their fathers and their
mothers, and all their kin, and their wives and their children, for to
be of your fellowship. It is well seen by you; for since ye departed
from your mother ye would never see her, ye found such a fellowship at
the Round Table. When Merlin had ordained the Round Table, he said, by
them which should be fellows of the Round Table the truth of the
Sancgreal should be well known. And men asked him how men might know
them that should best do, and to achieve the Sancgreal? then he said
there should be three white bulls that should achieve it, and the two
should be maidens, and the third should be chaste. And that one of the
three should pass his father as much as the lion passeth the libard,
both of strength and hardiness. They that heard Merlin say so, said
thus unto Merlin: Sithen there shall be such a knight, thou shouldst
ordain by thy crafts a siege that no man should sit in it but he all
only that shall pass all other knights. Then Merlin answered that he
would do so. And then he made the siege perilous, in the which Galahad
sat in at his meat on Whitsunday last past. Now madam, said Sir
Percivale, so much have I heard of you, that by my good will I will
never have ado with Sir Galahad, but by way of kindness. And for God’s
love, fair aunt, can ye teach me some way where I may find him, for
much would I love the fellowship of him? Fair nephew, said she, ye must
ride unto a castle the which is called Goothe, where he hath a cousin
german, and there may ye be lodged this night. And as he teacheth you,
sue after as fast as ye can, and if he can tell you no tidings of him,
ride straight unto the castle of Carbonek, where the maimed king is
there lying, for there shall ye hear true tidings of him.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Percivale came into a monastery, where he found king Evelake,
  which was an old man._

Then departed Sir Percivale from his aunt, either making great sorrow.
And so he rode till evensong time. And then he heard a clock smite. And
then he was ware of a house closed well with walls and deep ditches,
and there he knocked at the gate, and was let in, and he alight, and
was led unto a chamber, and soon he was unarmed. And there he had right
good cheer all that night, and on the morn he heard his mass, and in
the monastery he found a priest ready at the altar. And on the right
side he saw a pew closed with iron, and behind the altar he saw a rich
bed and a fair, as of cloth of silk and gold. Then Sir Percivale espied
that therein was a man or a woman, for the visage was covered. Then he
left off his looking, and heard his service. And when it came to the
sacring, he that lay within that perclose dressed him up, and uncovered
his head, and then him beseemed a passing old man, and he had a crown
of gold upon his head, and his shoulders were naked and uncovered unto
his middle. And then Sir Percivale espied his body was full of great
wounds, both on the shoulders, arms, and visage. And ever he held up
his hands unto our Lord’s body, and cried, Fair sweet Father Jesu
Christ, forget not me, and so he lay down, but always he was in his
prayers and orisons: and him seemed to be of the age of three hundred
winter. And when the mass was done, the priest took our Lord’s body and
bare it to the sick king. And when he had used it, he did off his
crown, and commanded the crown to be set on the altar. Then Sir
Percivale asked one of the brethren what he was. Sir, said the good
man, ye have heard much of Joseph of Armathie, how he was sent by Jesu
Christ into this land, for to teach and preach the holy christian
faith, and therefore he suffered many persecutions, the which the
enemies of Christ did unto him. And in the city of Sarras he converted
a king whose name was Evelake. And so this king came with Joseph into
this land: and always he was busy to be there as the Sancgreal was, and
on a time he nighed it so nigh that our Lord was displeased with him,
but ever he followed it more and more, till God struck him almost
blind. Then this king cried mercy, and said, Fair Lord, let me never
die till the good knight of my blood of the ninth degree be come, that
I may see him openly that he shall achieve the Sancgreal, that I may
kiss him.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Percivale saw many men of arms, bearing a dead knight, and how
  he fought against them._

When the king thus had made his prayers, he heard a voice that said,
Heard be thy prayers, for thou shalt not die till he have kissed thee:
and when that knight shall come, the clearness of your eyes shall come
again, and thou shalt see openly, and thy wounds shall be healed, and
erst shall they never close. And this befell of king Evelake: and this
same king hath lived this three hundred winters this holy life. And men
say the knight is in the court that shall heal him. Sir, said the good
man, I pray you tell me what knight that ye be, and if ye be of king
Arthur’s court and of the Table Round? Yea, forsooth, said he, and my
name is Sir Percivale de Galis. And when the good man understood his
name, he made great joy of him. And then Sir Percivale departed, and
rode till the hour of noon. And he met in a valley about twenty men of
arms, which bear in a bier a knight deadly slain. And when they saw Sir
Percivale, they asked him of whence he was? and he answered, Of the
court of king Arthur. Then they cried all at once, Slay him. Then Sir
Percivale smote the first to the earth, and his horse upon him. And
then seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at once, and the
remnant slew his horse, so that he fell to the earth. So had they slain
him or taken him, had not the good knight Sir Galahad, with the red
arms, come there by adventure into those parts. And when he saw all
those knights upon one knight, he cried, Save me that knight’s life.
And then he dressed him toward the twenty men of arms as fast as his
horse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote the foremost
horse and man to the earth. And when his spear was broken he set his
hand to his sword, and smote on the right hand and on the left hand,
that it was marvel to see. And at every stroke he smote one down, or
put him to a rebuke, so that they would fight no more, but fled to a
thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed them. And when Sir Percivale saw
him chase them so, he made great sorrow that his horse was away. And
then he wist well it was Sir Galahad. And then he cried aloud, Ah fair
knight, abide and suffer me to do thankings unto thee, for much have ye
done for me! But ever Sir Galahad rode so fast, that at the last he
passed out of his sight. And as fast as Sir Percivale might he went
after him on foot, crying. And then he met with a yeoman riding upon an
hackney, the which led in his hand a great black steed, blacker than
any bear. Ah fair friend, said Sir Percivale, as ever I may do for you,
and to be your true knight in the first place ye will require me, that
ye will lend me that black steed, that I might overtake a knight, the
which rideth afore me. Sir knight, said the yeoman, I pray you hold me
excused of that, for that I may not do. For wit ye well, the horse is
such a man’s horse, that, and I lent it you or any other man, that he
would slay me. Alas, said Sir Percivale, I had never so great sorrow as
I have had for losing of yonder knight. Sir, said the yeoman, I am
right heavy for you, for a good horse would beseem you well, but I dare
not deliver you this horse, but if ye would take him from me. That will
I not do, said Sir Percivale. And so they departed, and Sir Percivale
sat him down under a tree, and made sorrow out of measure. And as he
was there, there came a knight riding on the horse that the yeoman led,
and he was clean armed.


                                CHAP. V.

_How a yeoman desired him to get again an horse, and how Sir
  Percivale’s hackney was slain, and how he gat an horse._

And anon the yeoman came pricking after as fast as ever he might, and
asked Sir Percivale if he saw any knight riding on his black steed? Yea
sir, forsooth, said he, why ask ye me that? Ah, sir, that steed he hath
taken from me with strength, wherefore my lord will slay me in what
place he findeth me. Well, said Sir Percivale, what wouldest thou that
I did? thou seest well that I am on foot, but and I had a good horse I
should bring him soon again. Sir, said the yeoman, take mine hackney
and do the best ye can, and I shall follow you on foot, to wit how that
ye shall speed. Then Sir Percivale alight upon that hackney, and rode
as fast as he might. And at the last he saw that knight. And then he
cried, Knight, turn again; and he turned, and set his spear against Sir
Percivale, and he smote the hackney in the midst of the breast, that he
fell down dead to the earth, and there he had a great fall, and the
other rode his way. And then Sir Percivale was wood wroth, and cried,
Abide, wicked knight, coward and false-hearted knight, turn again and
fight with me on foot. But he answered not, but past on his way. When
Sir Percivale saw he would not turn, he cast away his helm and sword,
and said, Now am I a very wretch, cursed, and most unhappy above all
other knights. So in this sorrow he abode all that day till it was
night, and then he was faint, and laid him down and slept till it was
midnight. And then he awaked, and saw afore him a woman which said unto
him right fiercely, Sir Percivale, what doest thou here? He answered
and said, I do neither good nor great ill. If thou wilt ensure me, said
she, that thou wilt fulfil my will when I summon thee, I shall lend
thee mine own horse, which shall bear thee whither thou wilt. Sir
Percivale was glad of her proffer, and ensured her to fulfil all her
desire.—Then abide me here, and I shall go fetch you an horse. And so
she came soon again, and brought an horse with her that was inly black.
When Sir Percivale beheld that horse, he marvelled that it was so great
and so well apparelled: and not for then he was so hardy, and he lept
upon him, and took none heed of himself. And so anon as he was upon him
he thrust to him with his spurs, and so rode by a forest, and the moon
shone clear. And within an hour and less, he bare him four days’
journey thence, till he came to a rough water the which roared, and his
horse would have borne him into it.


                               CHAP. VI.

_Of the great danger that Sir Percivale was in by his horse, and how he
  saw a serpent and a lion fight._

And when Sir Percivale came nigh the brim, and saw the water so
boisterous, he doubted to overpass it. And then he made a sign of the
cross in his forehead. When the fiend felt him so charged, he shook off
Sir Percivale, and he went into the water, crying and roaring, making
great sorrow; and it seemed unto him that the water burnt. Then Sir
Percivale perceived it was a fiend, the which would have brought him
unto his perdition. Then he commended himself unto God, and prayed our
Lord to keep him from all such temptations. And so he prayed all that
night, till on the morn that it was day. Then he saw that he was in a
wild mountain the which was closed with the sea nigh all about, that he
might see no land about him which might relieve him, but wild beasts.
And then he went into a valley, and there he saw a young serpent bring
a young lion by the neck, and so he came by Sir Percivale. With that
came a great lion crying and roaring after the serpent. And as fast as
Sir Percivale saw this, he marvelled, and hied him thither, but anon
the lion had overtaken the serpent, and began battle with him. And then
Sir Percivale thought to help the lion, for he was the more natural
beast of the two; and therewith he drew his sword, and set his shield
afore him, and there gave the serpent such a buffet that he had a
deadly wound. When the lion saw that, he made no resemblant to fight
with him, but made him all the cheer that a beast might make a man.
Then Sir Percivale perceived that, and cast down his shield, which was
broken, and then he did off his helm for to gather wind, for he was
greatly enchafed with the serpent. And the lion went alway about him
fawning as a spaniel. And then he stroked him on the neck and on the
shoulders. And then he thanked God of the fellowship of that beast. And
about noon, the lion took his little whelp, and trussed him, and bare
him there he came from. Then was Sir Percivale alone. And as the tale
telleth, he was one of the men of the world at that time that most
believed in our Lord Jesu Christ. For in these days there were few
folks that believed in God perfectly. For in those days the son spared
not the father no more than a stranger. And so Sir Percivale comforted
himself in our Lord Jesu, and besought God that no temptation should
bring him out of God’s service, but to endure as his true champion.
Thus when Sir Percivale had prayed, he saw the lion come toward him,
and then he couched down at his feet. And so all that night the lion
and he slept together: and when Sir Percivale slept he dreamed a
marvellous dream, that there two ladies met with him, and that one sat
upon a lion, and that other sat upon a serpent, and that one of them
was young, and the other was old, and the youngest him thought said,
Sir Percivale, my lord saluteth thee, and sendeth thee word that thou
array thee and make thee ready, for to-morn thou must fight with the
strongest champion of the world. And if thou be overcome, thou shalt
not be quit for losing of any of thy members, but thou shalt be shamed
for ever to the world’s end. And then he asked her what was her lord.
And she said, the greatest lord of all the world. And so she departed
suddenly, that he wist not where.


                               CHAP. VII.

_Of the vision that Sir Percivale saw, and how his vision was
  expounded, and of his lion._

Then came forth the other lady that rode upon the serpent, and she
said, Sir Percivale, I complain me of you that ye have done unto me,
and have not offended unto you. Certes, madam, said he, unto you nor no
lady I never offended. Yes, said she, I shall tell you why. I have
nourished in this place a great while a serpent, which served me a
great while, and yesterday ye slew him as he gat his prey. Say me for
what cause ye slew him, for the lion was not yours? Madam, said Sir
Percivale, I know well the lion was not mine, but I did it, for the
lion is of a more gentler nature than the serpent, and therefore I slew
him; me seemeth I did not amiss against you. Madam, said he, what would
ye that I did? I would, said she, for the amends of my beast that ye
become my man. And then he answered, That will I not grant you. No,
said she, truly ye were never but my servant, since ye received the
homage of our Lord Jesu Christ. Therefore I ensure you in what place I
may find you without keeping, I shall take you as he that sometime was
my man. And so she departed from Sir Percivale, and left him sleeping,
the which was sore travailed of his vision. And on the morn he rose and
blessed him, and he was passing feeble. Then was Sir Percivale ware in
the sea, and saw a ship come sailing toward him, and Sir Percivale went
unto the ship, and found it covered within and without with white
samite. And at the board stood an old man clothed in a surplice in
likeness of a priest. Sir, said Sir Percivale, ye be welcome. God keep
you, said the good man. Sir, said the old man, of whence be ye? Sir,
said Sir Percivale, I am of king Arthur’s court, and a knight of the
Table Round, the which am in the quest of the Sancgreal, and here I am
in great duresse, and never like to escape out of this wilderness.
Doubt not, said the good man, and ye be so true a knight as the order
of chivalry requireth, and of heart as ye ought to be, ye should not
doubt that none enemy should slay you. What are ye? said Sir Percivale.
Sir, said the old man, I am of a strange country, and hither I come to
comfort you. Sir, said Sir Percivale, what signifieth my dream that I
dreamed this night? And there he told him altogether. She which rode
upon the lion, said the good man, betokeneth the new law of holy
Church, that is to understand faith, good hope, belief, and baptism.
For she seemed younger than the other, it is great reason, for she was
born in the resurrection and the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ. And
for great love she came to thee, to warn thee of thy great battle that
shall befall thee. With whom, said Sir Percivale, shall I fight? With
the most champion of the world, said the old man, for, as the lady
said, but if thou quit thee well, thou shalt not be quit by losing of
one member, but thou shalt be shamed to the world’s end. And she that
rode upon the serpent signifieth the old law, and that serpent
betokeneth a fiend. And why she blamed thee that thou slewest her
servant, it betokeneth nothing: the serpent that thou slewest
betokeneth the devil that thou rodest upon to the rock, and when thou
madest a sign of the cross, there thou slewest him, and put away his
power. And when she asked thee amends and to become her man, and thou
saidest thou wouldest not, that was to make thee to believe on her and
leave thy baptism. So he commanded Sir Percivale to depart. And so he
lept over the board, and the ship and all went away he wist not
whither. Then he went up unto the rock and found the lion, which alway
kept him fellowship, and he stroked him upon the back, and had great
joy of him.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How Sir Percivale saw a ship coming to him-ward, and how the lady of
  the ship told him of her disheritance._

By that Sir Percivale had abiden there till midday he saw a ship come
rowing in the sea as all the wind of the world had driven it. And so it
drove under that rock. And when Sir Percivale saw this, he hied him
thither, and found the ship covered with silk more blacker than any
bier, and therein was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she was
clothed richly that none might be better. And when she saw Sir
Percivale, she said, Who brought you in this wilderness where ye be
never like to pass hence? for ye shall die here for hunger and
mischief. Damsel, said Sir Percivale, I serve the best man of the
world, and in his service he will not suffer me to die, for who that
knocketh shall enter, and who that asketh shall have, and who that
seeketh him, he hideth him not. But then she said, Sir Percivale wot ye
what I am? Yea, said he. Now who taught you my name? said she. Now,
said Sir Percivale, I know you better than ye ween. And I came out of
the waste forest, where I found the red knight with the white shield,
said the damsel. Ah damsel, said he, with that knight would I meet
passing fain. Sir, said she, and ye will ensure me, by the faith that
ye owe unto knighthood, that ye shall do my will what time I summon
you, I shall bring you unto that knight. Yea, said he, I shall promise
you to fulfil your desire. Well, said she, now shall I tell you, I saw
him in the forest chasing two knights to a water, the which is called
Mortaise, and he drove them into that water for dread of death, and the
two knights passed over, and the red knight passed after, and there his
horse was drenched, and he through great strength escaped unto the
land. Thus she told him, and Sir Percivale was passing glad thereof.
Then she asked him if he had eaten any meat late? Nay madam, truly I
ate no meat nigh these three days, but late here I spake with a good
man that fed me with his good words and holy, and refreshed me greatly.
Ah, sir knight, said she, that same man is an enchanter, and a
multiplier of words. For, and ye believe him, ye shall plainly be
shamed, and die in this rock for pure hunger, and be eaten with wild
beasts, and ye be a young man and a goodly knight, and I shall help you
and ye will. What are ye? said Sir Percivale, that proffereth me thus
great kindness. I am, said she, a gentlewoman that am disherited, which
was sometime the richest woman of the world. Damsel, said Sir
Percivale, who hath disherited you, for I have great pity of you? Sir,
said she, I dwelled with the greatest man of the world, and he made me
so fair and so clear that there was none like me, and of that great
beauty I had a little pride, more than I ought to have had. Also, I
said a word that pleased him not. And then he would not suffer me to be
any longer in his company, and so drove me from mine heritage, and so
disherited me, and he had never pity of me nor of none of my council,
nor of my court. And sithen, sir knight, it hath befallen me so, and
through me and mine I have taken from him many of his men, and made
them to become my men. For they ask never nothing of me but I give it
them, that and much more. Thus I and all my servants war against him
night and day. Therefore I know now no good knight, nor no good man,
but I get them on my side and I may. And for that I know that thou art
a good knight, I beseech you to help me. And for ye be a fellow of the
Round Table, wherefore ye ought not to fail no gentlewoman which is
disherited, and she besought you of help.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Sir Percivale promised her help, and how he required her of love,
  and how he was saved from the fiend._

Then Sir Percivale promised her all the help that he might. And then
she thanked him. And at that time the weather was hot, and then she
called unto her a gentlewoman, and bad her bring forth a pavilion; and
so she did, and pight it upon the gravel. Sir, said she, now may ye
rest you in this heat of the day. Then he thanked her, and she put off
his helm and his shield, and there he slept a great while. And then he
awoke, and asked her if she had any meat, and she said, Yea, also ye
shall have enough; and so there was set enough upon the table, and
thereon so much that he had marvel for there was all manner of meats
that he could think on. Also he drank there the strongest wine that
ever he drank, him thought, and therewith he was a little heated more
than he ought to be. With that he beheld the gentlewoman, and him
thought that she was the fairest creature that ever he saw. And then
Sir Percivale proffered her love, and prayed her that she would be his.
Then she refused him in a manner when he required her, for the cause he
should be the more ardent on her, and ever he ceased not to pray her of
love. And when she saw him well enchafed, then she said, Sir Percivale,
wit ye well, I shall not fulfil your will, but if ye swear from
henceforth ye shall be my true servant, and to do nothing but that I
shall command you: will ye ensure me this as ye be a true knight? Yea,
said he, fair lady, by the faith of my body. Well, said she, now shall
ye do with me whatso it please you, and now wit ye well that ye are the
knight in the world that I have most desire to. And then Sir Percivale
came near to her, to proffer her love, and by adventure and grace he
saw his sword lie upon the ground all naked, in whose pommel was a red
cross, and the sign of the crucifix therein, and bethought him on his
knighthood, and his promise made toforehand unto the good man. Then he
made the sign of the cross in his forehead, and therewith the pavilion
turned up so down, and then it changed unto a smoke and a black cloud,
and then he was adread, and cried aloud,—


                                CHAP. X.

_How Sir Percivale for penance rove himself through the thigh; and how
  she was known for the devil._

Fair sweet Father, Jesu Christ, ne let me not be shamed, the which was
near lost had not thy good grace been! And then he looked into a ship,
and saw her enter therein, which said, Sir Percivale, ye have betrayed
me. And so she went with the wind roaring and yelling, that it seemed
that all the water burnt after her. Then Sir Percivale made great
sorrow, and drew his sword unto him, saying, Sithen my flesh will be my
master, I shall punish it. And therewith he rove himself through the
thigh, that the blood start about him, and said, O good Lord, take this
in recompensation of that I have done against thee my Lord. So then he
clothed him and armed him, and called himself a wretch, saying, How
nigh was I lost, and to have lost that I should never have gotten
again, that was my virginity, for that may never be recovered after it
is once lost. And then he stopped his bleeding wound with a piece of
his shirt. Thus as he made his moan, he saw the same ship come from the
Orient that the good man was in the day before: and the noble knight
was ashamed with himself, and therewith he fell in a swoon. And when he
awoke he went unto him weakly, and there he saluted this good man. And
then he asked Sir Percivale, How hast thou done sith I departed? Sir,
said he, here was a gentlewoman, and led me into deadly sin: and there
he told him altogether. Knew ye not the maid? said the good man. Sir,
said he, nay: but well I wot the fiend sent her hither to shame me. Oh,
good knight, said he, thou art a fool, for that gentlewoman was the
master fiend of hell, the which hath power above all devils, and that
was the old lady that thou sawest in thy vision riding on the serpent.
Then he told Sir Percivale how our Lord Jesu Christ beat him out of
heaven for his sin, the which was the most brightest angel of heaven,
and therefore he lost his heritage, and that was the champion that thou
foughtest withal, the which had overcome thee, had not the grace of God
been: now beware, Sir Percivale, and take this for an ensample. And
then the good man vanished away. Then Sir Percivale took his arms, and
entered into the ship, and so departed from thence.

Here endeth the fourtenthe booke, whiche is of syr percyual. And here
  foloweth of syre launcelot whiche is the fyftenth book.




                          The Fifteenth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Launcelot came into a chapel, where he found dead, in a white
  shirt, a man of religion of an hundred winter old._

When the hermit had kept Sir Launcelot three days, the hermit gat him
an horse, an helm, and a sword. And then he departed about the hour of
noon. And then he saw a little house, and when he came near he saw a
chapel, and there beside he saw an old man that was clothed all in
white full richly, and then Sir Launcelot said, God save you. God keep
you, said the good man, and make you a good knight. Then Sir Launcelot
alight, and entered into the chapel, and there he saw an old man dead,
in a white shirt of passing fine cloth. Sir, said the good man, this
man that is dead ought not to be in such clothing as ye see him in, for
in that he brake the oath of his order. For he hath been more than an
hundred winters a man of a religion. And then the good man and Sir
Launcelot went into the chapel, and the good man took a stole about his
neck, and a book, and then he conjured on that book, and with that they
saw in an hideous figure and an horrible, that there was no man so
hard-hearted nor so hard but he should have been afeard. Then said the
fiend, Thou hast travailed me greatly, now tell me what thou wilt with
me? I will, said the good man, that thou tell me how my fellow became
dead, and whether he be saved or damned? Then he said with a horrible
voice, He is not lost, but saved. How may that be? said the good man;
it seemed to me that he lived not well, for he brake his order for to
wear a shirt, where he ought to wear none: and who that trespasseth
against our order doth not well. Not so, said the fiend, this man that
lieth here dead was come of a great lineage. And there was a lord that
hight the earl de Vale, that held great war against this man’s nephew,
the which hight Aguarus. And so this Aguarus saw the earl was bigger
than he, then he went for to take counsel of his uncle, the which lieth
here dead as ye may see. And then he asked leave, and went out of his
hermitage for to maintain his nephew against the mighty earl. And so it
happed that this man that lieth here dead did so much by his wisdom and
hardiness that the earl was taken, and three of his lords, by force of
this dead man.


                               CHAP. II.

_Of a dead man, how men would have hewen him, and it would not be, and
  how Sir Launcelot took the hair of the dead man._

Then was there peace betwixt the earl and this Aguarus, and great
surety that the earl should never war against him. Then this dead man
that here lieth came to this hermitage again, and then the earl made
two of his nephews for to be avenged upon this man. So they came on a
day, and found this dead man at the sacring of his mass, and they abode
him till he had said mass. And then they set upon him and drew out
swords to have slain him. But there would no sword bite on him, more
than upon a gad of steel, for the high Lord which he served he him
preserved. Then made they a great fire, and did off all his cloathes
and the hair off his back; and then this dead man hermit said unto
them, Ween ye to burn me? It shall not lie in your power, nor to perish
me as much as a thread, and there were any on my body. No! said one of
them, it shall be assayed. And then they despoiled him, and put upon
him this shirt, and cast him in a fire, and there he lay all that night
till it was day, in that fire, and was not dead. And so in the morn I
came and found him dead, but I found neither thread nor skin perished;
and so took him out of the fire with great fear, and laid him here as
ye may see. And now may ye suffer me to go my way, for I have said you
the truth. And then he departed with a great tempest. Then was the good
man and Sir Launcelot more gladder than they were tofore. And then Sir
Launcelot dwelled with that good man that night. Sir, said the good
man, be ye not Sir Launcelot du Lake? Yea, sir, said he. What seek ye
in this country? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, I go to seek the adventures
of the Sancgreal. Well, said he, seek it ye may well, but though it
were here ye shall have no power to see it, no more than a blind man
should see a bright sword, and that is long on your sin, and else ye
were more abler than any man living. And then Sir Launcelot began to
weep. Then said the good man, Were ye confessed sith ye entered into
the quest of the Sancgreal? Yea, sir, said Sir Launcelot. Then upon the
morn, when the good man had sung his mass, then they buried the dead
man. Then Sir Launcelot said, Father, what shall I do? Now, said the
good man, I require you take this hair that was this holy man’s, and
put it next thy skin, and it shall prevail thee greatly. Sir, and I
will do it, said Sir Launcelot. Also I charge you that ye eat no flesh
as long as ye be in the quest of the Sancgreal, nor ye shall drink no
wine, and that ye hear mass daily and ye may do it. So he took the hair
and put it upon him, and so departed at evensong time. And so rode he
into a forest, and there he met with a gentlewoman riding upon a white
palfrey, and then she asked him, Sir knight, whither ride ye? Certes
damsel, said Launcelot, I wot not whither I ride, but as fortune
leadeth me. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said she, I wot what adventure ye seek,
for ye were aforetime nearer than ye be now, and yet shall ye see it
more openly than ever ye did, and that shall ye understand in short
time. Then Sir Launcelot asked her where he might be harboured that
night? Ye shall not find this day nor night, but to-morn ye shall find
harbour good, and ease of that ye be in doubt of. And then he commended
her unto God. Then he rode till that he came to a cross, and took that
for his host as for that night.


                               CHAP. III.

_Of a vision that Sir Launcelot had, and how he told it to an hermit,
  and desired counsel of him._

And so he put his horse to pasture, and did off his helm and his
shield, and made his prayers unto the cross that he never fall in
deadly sin again. And so he laid him down to sleep. And anon as he was
asleep it befell him there a vision, that there came a man afore him
all by compass of stars, and that man had a crown of gold on his head,
and that man led in his fellowship seven kings and two knights. And all
these worshipped the cross, kneeling upon their knees, holding up their
hands towards the heaven; and all they said, Fair sweet Father of
heaven, come and visit us, and yield unto us every each as we have
deserved. Then looked Launcelot up to the heaven, and him seemed the
clouds did open, and an old man came down with a company of angels, and
alight among them, and gave unto every each his blessing, and called
them his servants, and good and true knights. And when this old man had
said thus, he came to one of those knights and said, I have lost all
that I have set in thee, for thou hast ruled thee against me as a
warrior, and used wrong wars with vain glory, more for the pleasure of
the world than to please me, therefore thou shalt be confounded without
thou yield me my treasure. All this vision saw Sir Launcelot at the
cross. And on the morn he took his horse and rode till mid day, and
there, by adventure, he met with the same knight that took his horse,
his helm, and his sword, when he slept when the Sancgreal appeared
afore the cross. When Sir Launcelot saw him he saluted him not fair,
but cried on high, Knight, keep thee, for thou hast done to me great
unkindness. And then they put afore them their spears, and Sir
Launcelot came so fiercely upon him that he smote him and his horse
down to the earth, that he had nigh broken his neck. Then Sir Launcelot
took the knight’s horse, that was his own aforehand, and descended from
the horse he sat upon, and tied the knight’s own horse to a tree, that
he might find that horse when that he was arisen.

Then Sir Launcelot rode till night, and by adventure he met an hermit,
and each of them saluted other, and there he rested with that good man
all night, and gave his horse such as he might get. Then said the good
man unto Launcelot, Of whence be ye? Sir, said he, I am of Arthur’s
court, and my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake, that am in the quest of
the Sancgreal. And therefore I pray you to counsel me of a vision, the
which I had at the cross. And so he told him all.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot his vision, and told him
  that Sir Galahad was his son._

Lo, Sir Launcelot, said the good man, there thou mightest understand
the high lineage that thou art come of, and thy vision betokeneth:
After the passion of Jesu Christ forty years, Joseph of Aramathie
preached the victory of king Evelake, that he had in the battles the
better of his enemies. And of the seven kings and the two knights: the
first of them is called Nappus, an holy man; and the second hight
Nacien, in remembrance of his grandsire, and in him dwelled our Lord
Jesu Christ; and the third was called Hellias le Grose; and the fourth
hight Lisais; and the fifth hight Jonas, he departed out of his country
and went into Wales, and took the daughter of Manuel, whereby he had
the land of Gaul, and he came to dwell in this country, and of him came
king Launcelot thy grandsire, which there wedded the king’s daughter of
Ireland, and he was as worthy a man as thou art, and of him came king
Ban thy father, the which was the last of the seven kings. And by thee,
Sir Launcelot, it signifieth that the angels said thou were none of the
seven fellowships. And the last was the ninth knight, he was signified
to a lion, for he should pass all manner of earthly knights, that is
Sir Galahad, the which thou gat of king Pelles’ daughter, and thou
ought to thank God more than any other man living; for of a sinner
earthly thou hast no peer as in knighthood, nor never shall be. But
little thank hast thou given to God for all the great virtues that God
hath lent thee.

Sir, said Launcelot, ye say that that good knight is my son. That
oughtest thou to know, and no man better, said the good man, for by the
daughter of king Pelles thou hadst Galahad, and that was he that at the
feast of Pentecost sat in the siege perilous, and therefore make thou
it known openly that he is thy son, for that will be your worship and
honour, and to all thy kindred. And I counsel you in no place press not
upon him to have ado with him. Well, said Launcelot, me seemeth that
good knight should pray for me unto the high Father that I fall not to
sin again. Trust thou well, said the good man, thou farest much the
better for his prayer; but the son shall not bear the wickedness of the
father, nor the father shall not bear the wickedness of the son, but
every each shall bear his own burthen; and therefore beseek thou only
God, and he will help thee in all thy needs. And then Sir Launcelot and
he went to supper, and so laid him to rest, and the hair pricked so Sir
Launcelot’s skin, which grieved him full sore, but he took it meekly,
and suffered the pain. And so on the morn he heard his mass, and took
his arms, and so took his leave.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Sir Launcelot justed with many knights, and how he was taken._

And then he mounted upon his horse and rode into a forest, and held no
highway. And as he looked afore him he saw a fair plain, and beside
that a fair castle, and afore the castle were many pavilions of silk
and of divers hue. And him seemed that he saw there five hundred
knights riding on horseback, and there were two parties; they that were
of the castle were all on black horses, and their trappings black. And
they that were without were all on white horses and trappings: and
every each hurtled to other, that it marvelled Sir Launcelot. And at
the last him thought they of the castle were put to the worse. Then
thought Sir Launcelot for to help there the weaker party, in increasing
of his chivalry. And so Sir Launcelot thrust in among the party of the
castle, and smote down a knight, horse and man, to the earth. And then
he rashed here and there, and did marvellous deeds of arms. And then he
drew out his sword and strake many knights to the earth, so that all
those that saw him marvelled that ever one knight might do so great
deeds of arms. But always the white knights held them nigh about Sir
Launcelot, for to tire him and wind him.

But at the last, as a man may not ever endure, Sir Launcelot waxed so
faint of fighting and travailing, and was so weary of his great deeds,
that he might not lift up his arms for to give one stroke, so that he
wend never to have borne arms: and then they all took him and led him
away into a forest, and there made him to alight and to rest him. And
then all the fellowship of the castle were overcome for the default of
him, and then they said all unto Sir Launcelot, Blessed be God that ye
be now of our fellowship, for we shall hold you in our prison. And so
they left him with few words. And then Sir Launcelot made great
sorrow,—For never or now was I never at tournament nor justs but I had
the best, and now I am shamed. And then he said, Now I am sure that I
am more sinfuller than ever I was. Thus he rode sorrowing, and half a
day was he out of despair, till that he came into a deep valley, and
when Sir Launcelot saw he might not ride up into the mountain, he there
alight under an apple-tree, and there he left his helm and his shield,
and put his horse unto pasture. And then he laid him down to sleep. And
then him thought there came an old man afore him, the which said, Ah,
Launcelot, of evil faith and poor belief, wherefore is thy will turned
so lightly towards thy deadly sin? And when he had said thus he
vanished away, and Launcelot wist not where he was become. Then he took
his horse, and armed him. And as he rode by the way he saw a chapel,
where was a recluse, which had a window that she might see up to the
altar. And all aloud she called Launcelot, for that he seemed a knight
errant. And then he came, and she asked him what he was, and of what
place, and where about he went to seek.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Launcelot told his vision unto a woman, and how she expounded
  it to him._

And then he told her altogether word by word, and the truth how it
befel him at the tournament. And after told her his vision, that he had
had that night in his sleep, and prayed her to tell him what it might
mean, for he was not well content with it. Ah, Launcelot, said she, as
long as ye were knight of earthly knighthood, ye were the most
marvellous man of the world, and most adventurous. Now, said the lady,
since ye be set among the knights of heavenly adventures, if adventure
fell the contrary at that tournament, have thou no marvel; for that
tournament yesterday was but a tokening of our Lord. And not for then
there was none enchantment, for they at the tournament were earthly
knights. The tournament was a token for to see who should have most
knights, either Eliazar the son of king Pelles, or Argustus the son of
king Harlon; but Eliazar was all clothed in white, and Argustus was
covered in black, the which were come. All what this betokeneth I shall
tell you. The day of Pentecost, when king Arthur held his court, it
befell that earthly kings and knights took a tournament together, that
is to say, the quest of the Sancgreal. The earthly knights were they,
the which were clothed all in black, and the covering betokeneth the
sins whereof they be not confessed. And they with the covering of white
betokeneth virginity, and they that chosen chastity. And thus was the
quest begun in them. Then thou beheld the sinners and the good men, and
when thou sawest the sinners overcome, thou inclinedst to that party,
for boasting and pride of the world, and all that must be left in that
quest. For in this quest thou shalt have many fellows and thy betters,
for thou art so feeble of evil trust and good belief, this made it when
thou were there where they took thee, and led thee into the forest. And
anon there appeared the Sancgreal unto the white knights, but thou was
so feeble of good belief and faith, that thou might not abide it, for
all the teaching of the good man, but anon thou turnedst unto the
sinners; and that caused thy misadventure, that thou shouldest know
good from evil and vain glory of the world, the which is not worth a
pear. And for great pride thou madest great sorrow that thou hadst not
overcome all the white knights with the covering of white, by whom was
betokened virginity and chastity, and therefore God was wroth with you,
for God loveth no such deeds in this quest; and this vision signifieth
that thou were of evil faith and of poor belief, the which will make
thee to fall into the deep pit of hell, if thou keep thee not. Now have
I warned thee of thy vain glory and of thy pride, that thou hast many
times erred against thy Maker. Beware of everlasting pain, for of all
earthly knights I have most pity of thee, for I know well thou hast not
thy peer of any earthly sinful man. And so she commanded Sir Launcelot
to dinner; and after dinner he took his horse and commended her to God,
and so rode into a deep valley, and there he saw a river and an high
mountain. And through the water he must needs pass, the which was
hideous; and then in the name of God he took it with good heart. And
when he came over he saw an armed knight, horse and man black as any
bear: without any word he smote Sir Launcelot’s horse to the earth, and
so he passed on: he wist not where he was become. And then he took his
helm and his shield, and thanked God of his adventure.

Here leueth of the story of syr launcelot. And speke we of sir Gawayne,
                      the whiche is the xvi. book.




                          The Sixteenth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Gawaine was nigh weary of the quest of the Sangreal, and of
  his marvellous dream._

When Sir Gawaine was departed from his fellowship, he rode long without
any adventure. For he found not the tenth part of adventure as he was
wont to do. For Sir Gawaine rode from Whitsunday unto Michaelmas, and
found none adventure that pleased him. So on a day it befell Gawaine
met with Sir Ector de Maris, and either made great joy of other, that
it were marvel to tell. And so they told every each other, and
complained them greatly that they could find none adventure.

Truly, said Sir Gawaine unto Sir Ector, I am nigh weary of this quest,
and loth I am to follow further in strange countries. One thing
marvelleth me, said Sir Ector, I have met with twenty knights, fellows
of mine, and all they complain as I do. I marvel, said Sir Gawaine,
where that Sir Launcelot your brother is. Truly, said Sir Ector, I
cannot hear of him, nor of Sir Galahad, Percivale, nor Sir Bors. Let
them be, said Sir Gawaine, for they four have no peers. And if one
thing were not in Sir Launcelot, he had no fellow of none earthly man;
but he is as we be, but if he took more pain upon him. But and these
four be met together, they will be loth that any man meet with them;
for, and they fail of the Sancgreal, it is in waste of all the remnant
to recover it. Thus as Ector and Gawaine rode more than eight days. And
on a Saturday they found an old chapel, the which was wasted that there
seemed no man thither repaired, and there they alight, and set their
spears at the door, and in they entered into the chapel, and there made
their orisons a great while, and then set them down in the sieges of
the chapel. And as they spake of one thing and other, for heaviness
they fell on sleep, and there befell them both marvellous adventures.
Sir Gawaine him seemed he came into a meadow full of herbs and flowers.
And there he saw a rack of bulls an hundred and fifty, that were proud
and black, save three of them were all white, and one had a black spot,
and the other two were so fair and so white that they might be no
whiter. And these three bulls which were so fair were tied with two
strong cords. And the remnant of the bulls said among them, Go we hence
to seek better pasture. And so some went, and some came again; but they
were so lean that they might not stand upright; and of the bulls that
were so white, that one came again, and no more. But when this white
bull was come again among these other, there arose up a great cry for
lack of wind that failed them; and so they departed, one here and
another there. This vision befell Sir Gawaine that night.


                               CHAP. II.

_Of the vision of Sir Ector, and how he justed with Sir Uwaine les
  Avoutres, his sworn brother._

But to Sir Ector de Maris befell another vision, the contrary. For it
seemed him that his brother Sir Launcelot and he alight out of a chair
and lept upon two horses, and the one said to the other, Go we seek
that we shall not find. And him thought that a man beat Sir Launcelot
and despoiled him, and clothed him in another array, the which was all
full of knots, and set him upon an ass. And so he rode till he came to
the fairest well that ever he saw, and Sir Launcelot alight, and would
have drunk of that well. And when he stooped to drink of the water, the
water sank from him. And when Sir Launcelot saw that, he turned and
went thither as the head came from. And in the meanwhile he trowed that
himself and Sir Ector rode till that they came to a rich man’s house,
where there was a wedding. And there he saw a king, the which said, Sir
knight, here is no place for you: and then he turned again unto the
chair that he came from. Thus within a while both Gawaine and Ector
awaked, and either told other of their vision, the which marvelled them
greatly. Truly, said Ector, I shall never be merry till I hear tidings
of my brother Launcelot.

Now as they sat thus talking, they saw an hand shewing unto the elbow,
and was covered with red samite, and upon that hung a bridle not rich,
and held within the fist a great candle which burnt right clear, and so
passed afore them, and entered into the chapel, and then vanished away,
and they wist not where. And anon came down a voice which said, Knights
full of evil faith and poor belief, these two things have failed you,
and therefore ye may not come to the adventures of the Sancgreal. Then
first spake Gawaine and said, Ector, have ye heard these words? Yea
truly, said Sir Ector, I heard all. Now go we, said Sir Ector, unto
some hermit that will tell us of our vision, for it seemeth me we
labour all in vain. And so they departed and rode into a valley, and
there met with a squire which rode on an hackney, and they saluted him
fair. Sir, said Gawaine, can thou teach us to any hermit? Here is one
in a little mountain, said the squire, but it is so rough that there
may no horse go thither; and therefore ye must go on foot: there shall
ye find a poor house, and there is Nacien the hermit, which is the
holiest man in this country. And so they departed either from other.
And then in a valley they met with a knight all armed, which proffered
them to just as far as he saw them. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, sith I
departed from Camelot there was none proffered me to just but once. And
now, sir, said Ector, let me just with him. Nay, said Gawaine, ye shall
not, but if I be beaten, it shall not forthink me then if ye go after
me. And then either enbraced other to just, and came together as fast
as their horses might run, and brast their shields and the mails, and
the one more than the other: and Gawaine was wounded in the left side,
but the other knight was smitten through the breast, and the spear came
out on the other side, and so they fell both out of their saddles, and
in the falling they brake both their spears. Anon Gawaine arose, and
set his hand to his sword, and cast his shield afore him. But all for
nought was it, for the knight had no power to arise against him. Then
said Gawaine, Ye must yield you as an overcome man, or else I may slay
you. Ah, sir knight, said he, I am but dead; for God’s sake, and of
your gentleness, lead me here unto an abbey, that I may receive my
Creator. Sir, said Gawaine, I know no house of religion hereby. Sir,
said the knight, set me on an horse tofore you, and I shall teach you.
Gawaine set him up in the saddle, and he lept up behind him for to
sustain him, and so came to an abbey, where they were well received;
and anon he was unarmed, and received his Creator. Then he prayed
Gawaine to draw the truncheon of the spear out of his body. Then
Gawaine asked him what he was, that knew him not? I am, said he, of
king Arthur’s court, and was a fellow of the Round Table, and we were
brethren sworn together, and now, Sir Gawaine, thou hast slain me, and
my name is Uwaine les Avoutres, that sometime was son unto king Uriens,
and was in the quest of the Sancgreal; and now forgive it thee God, for
it shall ever be said that the one sworn brother hath slain the other.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector came to an hermitage to be confessed,
  and how they told to the hermit their visions._

Alas, said Sir Gawaine, that ever this misadventure is befallen me. No
force, said Uwaine, sith I shall die this death, of a much more
worshipfuller man’s hands might I not die; but when ye come to the
court, recommand me unto my lord king Arthur, and all those that be
left onlive, and for old brotherhood think on me. Then began Gawaine to
weep, and Ector also. And then Uwaine himself, and Sir Gawaine, drew
out the truncheon of the spear; and anon departed the soul from the
body. Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector buried him, as men ought to bury a
king’s son, and made written upon his name, and by whom he was slain.

Then departed Gawaine and Ector, as heavy as they might for their
misadventure; and so rode till that they came unto the rough mountain,
and there they tied their horses, and went on foot to the hermitage.
And when they were come up, they saw a poor house, and beside the
chapel a little courtlage, where Nacien the hermit gathered worts, as
he which had tasted none other meat of a great while. And when he saw
the errant knights, he came toward them and saluted them, and they him
again. Fair lords, said he, what adventure brought you hither? Sir,
said Gawaine, to speak with you, for to be confessed. Sir, said the
hermit, I am ready. Then they told him so much that he wist well what
they were, and then he thought to counsel them if he might. Then began
Gawaine first, and told him of his vision that he had had in the
chapel: and Ector told him all as it is afore rehearsed. Sir, said the
hermit unto Sir Gawaine, the fair meadow and the rack therein ought to
be understood the Round Table, and by the meadow ought to be understood
humility and patience, those be the things which be always green and
quick; for men may no time overcome humility and patience, therefore
was the Round Table founded, and the chivalry hath been at all times,
so by the fraternity which was there that she might not be overcome.
For men said she was founded in patience and in humility. At the rack
ate an hundred and fifty bulls, but they ate not in the meadow, for
their hearts should be set in humility and patience, and the bulls were
proud and black, save only three. By the bulls is to understand the
fellowship of the Round Table, which for their sin and their wickedness
be black. Blackness is to say without good or virtuous works. And the
three bulls which were white, save only one which was spotted;—the two
white betoken Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale, for they be maidens clean
and without spot; and the third that had a spot signifieth Sir Bors de
Ganis, which trespassed but once in his virginity, but since he kept
himself so well in chastity that all is forgiven him, and his misdeeds.
And why those three were tied by the necks, they be three knights in
virginity and chastity, and there is no pride smitten in them. And the
black bulls which said, Go we hence, they were those which at
Pentecost, at the high feast, took upon them to go in the quest of the
Sancgreal without confession: they might not enter in the meadow of
humility and patience. And therefore they returned into waste
countries, that signifieth death, for there shall die many of them:
every each of them shall slay other for sin, and they that shall escape
shall be so lean that it shall be marvel to see them. And of the three
bulls without spot, the one shall come again, and the other two never.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How the hermit expounded their vision._

Then spake Nacien unto Ector. Sooth it is that Launcelot and ye came
down of one chair: the chair betokeneth mastership and lordship, which
ye came down from. But ye two knights, said the hermit, ye go to seek
that ye shall never find, that is the Sancgreal. For it is the secret
thing of our Lord Jesu Christ. What is to mean, that Sir Launcelot fell
down off his horse:—he hath left pride, and taken him to humility, for
he hath cried mercy loud for his sin, and sore repented him, and our
Lord hath clothed him in His clothing, which is full of knots, that is
the hair which he weareth daily. And the ass that he rode upon is a
beast of humility. For God would not ride upon no steed, nor upon no
palfrey. So in ensample that an ass betokeneth meekness, that thou
sawest Sir Launcelot ride on in thy sleep: and the well where as the
water sank from him when he should have taken thereof, and when he saw
he might not have it, he returned thither from whence he came, for the
well betokeneth the high grace of God, the more men desire it to take
it, the more shall be their desire. So when he came nigh the Sancgreal,
he meeked him that he held him not a man worthy to be so nigh the holy
vessel, for he had been so defouled in deadly sin by the space of many
years, yet when he kneeled to drink of the well, there he saw great
providence of the Sancgreal. And for he had served so long the devil,
he shall have vengeance four and twenty days long, for that he hath
been the devil’s servant four and twenty years. And then soon after he
shall return unto Camelot out of this country, and he shall say a part
of such things as he hath found.

Now will I tell you what betokeneth the hand with the candle and the
bridle; that is to understand the Holy Ghost, where charity is ever,
and the bridle signifieth abstinence. For when she is bridled in
Christian man’s heart, she holdeth him so short that he falleth not in
deadly sin. And the candle which sheweth clearness and sight,
signifieth the right way of Jesu Christ. And when he went, and said,
Knights of poor faith and of wicked belief,—these three things failed,
charity, abstinence, and truth, therefore ye may not attain that high
adventure of the Sancgreal.


                                CHAP. V.

_Of the good counsel that the hermit gave to him._

Certes, said Gawaine, soothly have ye said, that I see it openly. Now I
pray you, good man and holy father, tell me why we met not with so many
adventures as we were wont to do, and commonly have the better. I shall
tell you gladly, said the good man: The adventure of the Sancgreal,
which ye and many other have undertaken the quest of it, and find it
not, the cause is, for it appeareth not to sinners. Wherefore marvel
not though ye fail thereof, and many other. For ye be an untrue knight,
and a great murderer, and to good men signifieth other things than
murder. For I dare say, as sinful as Sir Launcelot hath been, sith that
he went into the quest of the Sancgreal he slew never man, nor nought
shall till that he come unto Camelot again. For he hath taken upon him
for to forsake sin. And were not that he is not stable, but by his
thought he is likely to turn again, he should be next to achieve it,
save Galahad his son. But God knoweth his thought, and his
unstableness, and yet shall he die right an holy man; and no doubt he
hath no fellow of no earthly sinful man. Sir, said Gawaine, it seemeth
me by your words, that for our sins it will not avail us to travail in
this quest. Truly, said the good man, there be an hundred such as ye
be, that never shall prevail but to have shame. And when they had heard
these voices, they commanded him unto God.

Then the good man called Gawaine, and said, It is long time passed sith
that ye were made knight, and never since thou servedst thy Maker, and
now thou art so old a tree, that in thee there is neither life nor
fruit; wherefore bethink thee that thou yield unto our Lord the bare
rind, sith the fiend hath the leaves and the fruit. Sir, said Gawaine,
and I had leisure I would speak with you, but my fellow here, Sir
Ector, is gone, and abideth me yonder beneath the hill. Well, said the
good man, thou were better to be counselled. Then departed Gawaine, and
came to Ector, and so took their horses, and rode till they came to a
foster’s house which harboured them right well. And on the morn they
departed from their host, and rode long or they could find any
adventure.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Bors met with an hermit, and how he was confessed to him, and
  of his penance enjoined to him._

When Bors was departed from Camelot, he met with a religious man riding
on an ass, and Sir Bors saluted him. Anon the good man knew him that he
was one of the knights errant that was in the quest of the Sancgreal.
What are ye? said the good man. Sir, said he, I am a knight that fain
would be counselled in the quest of the Sancgreal: for he shall have
much earthly worship that may bring it to an end. Certes, said the good
man, that is sooth, for he shall be the best knight of the world, and
the fairest of all the fellowship. But wit you well, there shall none
attain it but by cleanness, that is, pure confession. So rode they
together till that they came to an hermitage. And there he prayed Bors
to dwell all that night with him: and so he alight, and put away his
armour, and prayed him that he might be confessed; and so they went
into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed: and they eat bread,
and drank water, together. Now, said the good man, I pray thee that
thou eat none other, till that thou sit at the table where the
Sancgreal shall be. Sir, said he, I agree me thereto; but how wit ye
that I shall sit there? Yes, said the good man, that know I, but there
shall be but few of your fellows with you. All is welcome, said Sir
Bors, that God sendeth me. Also, said the good man, instead of a shirt,
and in sign of chastisement, ye shall wear a garment; thereof I pray
you do off all your clothes and your shirt, and so he did. And then he
took him a scarlet coat, so that should be instead of his shirt, till
he had fulfilled the quest of the Sancgreal. And the good man found him
in so marvellous a life, and so stable, that he marvelled, and felt
that he was never corrupt in fleshly lusts, but in one time that he
begat Elian le Blank. Then he armed him, and took his leave, and so
departed. And so a little from thence he looked up into a tree, and
there he saw a passing great bird upon an old tree, and it was passing
dry, without leaves, and the bird sat above, and had birds, the which
were dead for hunger. So smote he himself with his beak, the which was
great and sharp. And so the great bird bled till that he died among his
birds. And the young birds took the life by the blood of the great
bird. When Bors saw this, he wist well it was great tokening. For when
he saw the great bird arose not, then he took his horse and went his
way. So by evensong, by adventure he came to a strong tower, and an
high, and there was he lodged gladly.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Sir Bors was lodged with a lady, and how he took on him for to
  fight against a champion for her land._

And when he was unarmed, they led him into an high tower, where was a
lady, young, lusty, and fair. And she received him with great joy, and
made him to sit down by her, and so was he set to sup with flesh and
many dainties. And when Sir Bors saw that, he bethought him on his
penance, and bad a squire to bring him water. And so he brought him,
and he made sops therein, and ate them. Ah, said the lady, I trow ye
like not my meat. Yes, truly, said Sir Bors, God thank you madam, but I
may eat none other meat this day. Then she spake no more as at that
time, for she was loth to displease him.

Then after supper they spake of one thing and other. With that there
came a squire, and said, Madam, ye must purvey you to-morn for a
champion, for else your sister will have this castle, and also your
lands, except ye can find a knight that will fight to-morn in your
quarrel against Pridam le Noire. Then she made sorrow, and said, Ah
Lord God, wherefore granted ye to hold my land, whereof I should now be
disherited without reason and right. And when Sir Bors had heard her
say thus, he said, I shall comfort you. Sir, said she, I shall tell
you, there was here a king that hight Aniause, which held all this land
in his keeping. So it mishapped he loved a gentlewoman, a great deal
elder than I. So took he her all this land to her keeping, and all his
men to govern, and she brought up many evil customs, whereby she put to
death a great part of his kinsmen. And when he saw that, he let chase
her out of this land, and betook it me, and all this land in my charge:
but anon, as that worthy king was dead, this other lady began to war
upon me, and hath destroyed many of my men, and turned them against me,
that I have well nigh no man left me, and I have nought else but this
high tower that she left me. And yet she hath promised me to have this
tower, without I can find a knight to fight with her champion. Now tell
me, said Sir Bors, what is that Pridam le Noire? Sir, said she, he is
the most doubted man of this land.—Now may ye send her word that ye
have found a knight that shall fight with that Pridam le Noire in God’s
quarrel and yours. Then that lady was not a little glad, and sent word
that she was provided. And that night Sir Bors had good cheer, but in
no bed he would come, but laid him on the floor, nor never would do
otherwise till that he had met with the quest of Sancgreal.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_Of a vision which Sir Bors had that night, and how he fought and
  overcame his adversary._

And anon as he was asleep, him befell a vision, that there came to him
two birds, the one as white as a swan, and the other was marvellous
black, but it was not so great as the other, but in the likeness of a
raven. Then the white bird came to him, and said, And thou wouldst give
me meat and serve me, I should give thee all the riches of the world,
and I shall make thee as fair and as white as I am. So the white bird
departed, and there came the black bird to him, and said, And thou wilt
serve me to-morrow, and have me in no despite, though I be black, for
wit thou well that more availeth my blackness, than the other’s
whiteness. And then he departed. And he had another vision: him thought
that he came to a great place, which seemed a chapel, and there he
found a chair set on the left side, which was worm-eaten and feeble.
And on the right hand were two flowers like a lily, and the one would
have taken the other’s whiteness, but a good man parted them, that the
one touched not the other, and then out of every flower came out many
flowers, and fruit great plenty. Then him thought the good man said,
Should not he do great folly, that would let these two flowers perish
for to succour the rotten tree, that it fell not to the earth? Sir,
said he, it seemeth me that this wood might not avail. Now keep thee,
said the good man, that thou never see such adventure befall thee. Then
he awaked and made a sign of the cross in the midst of the forehead,
and so rose and clothed him, and there came the lady of the place, and
she saluted him, and he her again, and so went to a chapel, and heard
their service. And there came a company of knights that the lady had
sent for, to lead Sir Bors unto battle. Then asked he his arms. And
when he was armed, she prayed him to take a little morsel to dine. Nay,
madam, said he, that shall I not do, till I have done my battle, by the
grace of God. And so he lept upon his horse, and departed all the
knights and men with him. And as soon as these two ladies met together,
she which Bors should fight for, complained her, and said, Madam, ye
have done me wrong to bereave me of my lands that king Aniause gave me,
and full loth I am there should be any battle. Ye shall not choose,
said the other lady, or else your knight withdraw him. Then there was
the cry made, which party had the better of those two knights, that
this lady should enjoy all the land. Now departed the one knight here,
and the other there. Then they came together with such force that they
pierced their shields and their hauberks, and the spears flew in
pieces, and they wounded either other sore. Then hurtled they together
so that they fell both to the earth, and their horses betwixt their
legs. And anon they arose, and set hands to their swords, and smote
each one other upon the heads, that they made great wounds and deep,
that the blood went out of their bodies. For there found Sir Bors
greater defence in that knight more than he wend. For that Pridam was a
passing good knight, and he wounded Sir Bors full evil, and he him
again. But ever this Sir Pridam held the stour in like hard. That
perceived Sir Bors, and suffered him till he was nigh attaint, and then
he ran upon him more and more, and the other went back for dread of
death. So in his withdrawing he fell upright, and Sir Bors drew his
helm so strongly that he rent it from his head, and gave him great
strokes with the flat of his sword upon the visage, and bade him yield
him, or he should slay him. Then he cried him mercy, and said, Fair
knight, for God’s love slay me not, and I shall ensure thee never to
war against thy lady, but be alway toward her. Then Bors let him be.
Then the old lady fled with all her knights.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How the lady was restored to her lands by the battle of Sir Bors, and
  of his departing, and how he met Sir Lionel taken and beaten with
  thorns, and also of a maid which should have been dishonoured._

So then came Bors to all those that held lands of his lady, and said he
should destroy them but if they did such service unto her as belonged
to their lands. So they did their homage, and they that would not were
chased out of their lands. Then befell that young lady to come to her
estate again, by the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de Ganis. So when all
the country was well set in peace, then Sir Bors took his leave and
departed, and she thanked him greatly, and would have given him great
riches, but he refused it. Then he rode all that day till night, and
came to an harbour, to a lady which knew him well enough, and made of
him great joy. Upon the morn, as soon as the day appeared, Bors
departed from thence, and so rode into a forest unto the hour of
mid-day, and there befell him a marvellous adventure. So he met at the
departing of the two ways two knights, that led Lionel his brother all
naked, bounden upon a strong hackney, and his hands bounden tofore his
breast: and every each of them held in his hand thorns, wherewith they
went beating him so sore that the blood trailed down more than in an
hundred places of his body, so that he was all blood tofore and behind,
but he said never a word, as he which was great of heart; he suffered
all that ever they did to him as though he had felt none anguish. Anon
Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his brother: and so he
looked upon the other side of him, and saw a knight which brought a
fair gentlewoman, and would have set her in the thickest place of the
forest, for to have been the more surer out of the way from them that
sought him. And she, which was nothing assured, cried with an high
voice, Saint Mary, succour your maid!

And anon she espied where Sir Bors came riding. And when she came nigh
him, she deemed him a knight of the Round Table, whereof she hoped to
have some comfort; and then she conjured him, by the faith that he owed
unto Him in whose service thou art entered in, and for the faith ye owe
unto the high order of knighthood, and for the noble king Arthur’s
sake, that I suppose that made thee knight, that thou help me, and
suffer me not to be shamed of this knight!

When Bors heard her say thus, he had so much sorrow there he nist not
what to do. For if I let my brother be in adventure he must be slain,
and that would I not for all the earth. And if I help not the maid, she
is shamed for ever, and also she shall lose her honour, the which she
shall never get again. Then lift he up his eyes, and said weeping, Fair
sweet Lord Jesu Christ, whose liege man I am, keep Lionel my brother,
that these knights slay him not; and for pity of you, and for Mary’s
sake, I shall succour this maid.


                                CHAP. X.

_How Sir Bors left to rescue his brother, and rescued the damsel; and
  how it was told him that Lionel was dead._

Then dressed he him unto the knight the which had the gentlewoman, and
then he cried, Sir knight, let your hand off that maiden, or ye be but
dead. And then he set down the maiden and was armed at all pieces, save
he lacked his spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew out his
sword, and Bors smote him so hard that it went through his shield and
haberjon on the left shoulder; and through great strength he beat him
down to the earth; and at the pulling out of Bors’ spear there he
swooned.

Then came Bors to the maid, and said, How seemeth it you? Of this
knight ye be delivered at this time. Now Sir, said she, I pray you lead
me there as this knight had me.—So shall I do gladly: and took the
horse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon him, and so
brought her as she desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have better sped
than ye weened, for if ye had not saved me five hundred men should have
died for it.—What knight was he that had you in the forest?—By my
faith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I never with what craft the
fiend enchafed him, for yesterday he took me from my father privily;
for I nor none of my father’s men mistrusted him not. And if he had
shamed me, he should have died for the sin, and his body shamed and
dishonoured for ever. Thus as she stood talking with him, there came
twelve knights seeking after her, and anon she told them all how Bors
had delivered her; then they made great joy, and besought him to come
to her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcome. Truly,
said Bors, that may not be at this time, for I have a great adventure
to do in this country. So he commended them unto God, and departed.
Then Sir Bors rode after Lionel his brother by the trace of their
horses. Thus he rode seeking a great while. Then he overtook a man
clothed in a religious clothing, and rode on a strong black horse,
blacker than a bery, and said, Sir knight, what seek you? Sir, said he,
I seek my brother, that I saw within a while beaten with two knights.
Ah Bors, discomfort you not, nor fall into no vain hope, for I shall
tell you tidings such as they be; for truly he is dead. Then shewed he
him a new slain body, lying in a bush, and it seemed him well that it
was the body of Lionel. And then he made such a sorrow that he fell to
the earth all in a swoon, and lay a great while there. And when he came
to himself he said, Fair brother, sith the company of you and me is
parted, shall I never have joy in my heart; and now He which I have
taken unto my Master, He be my help. And when he had said thus, he took
his body lightly in his arms, and put it upon the bow of his saddle.
And then he said to the man, Canst thou tell me unto some chapel, where
that I may bury this body? Come on, said he, here is one fast by. And
so long they rode till they saw a fair tower, and afore it there seemed
an old feeble chapel. And then they alight both, and put him into a
tomb of marble.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Sir Bors told his dream to a priest which he had dreamed, and of
  the counsel that the priest gave to him._

Now leave we him here, said the good man, and go we to harbour till
to-morrow, we will come here again to do him service. Sir, said Bors,
be ye a priest? Yea, forsooth, said he.—Then I pray you tell me a
dream that befell to me the last night.—Say on, said he. Then he began
so much to tell him of the great bird in the forest: and after told him
of his birds, one white, another black; and of the rotten tree, and of
the white flowers. Sir, said the priest, I shall tell you a part now,
and the other deal to-morrow. The white fowl betokeneth a gentlewoman,
fair and rich, which loveth thee, and hath loved thee long; and if thou
refuse her love, she shall go die anon, if thou have no pity on her.
That signifieth the great bird, the which shall make thee for to refuse
her. Now, for no fear nor for no dread that thou hast of God, thou
shalt not refuse her, but thou wouldest not do it for to be holden
chaste, for to conquer the praise of the vain-glory of the world; for
that shall befall thee now, and thou refuse her, that Launcelot, the
good knight thy cousin, shall die. And therefore men shall now say that
thou art a manslayer, both of thy brother Sir Lionel, and of thy cousin
Sir Launcelot du Lake, the which thou mightest have saved and rescued
full easily. But thou weenedst to rescue a maid, which pertained
nothing to thee. Now look thou whether it had been greater harm of thy
brother’s death, or else to have suffered her for to have lost her
honour. Then asked he him, Hast thou heard the tokens of thy dream, the
which I have told to you? Yea forsooth, said Sir Bors, all your
exposition and declaring of my dream I have well understood and heard.
Then said the man in this black clothing, Then is it in thy default if
Sir Launcelot thy cousin die. Sir, said Bors, that were me loth; for
wit ye well there is nothing in the world but I had lever do it than to
see my lord Sir Launcelot du Lake to die in my default. Choose ye now
the one or the other, said the good man. And then he led Sir Bors into
an high tower, and there he found knights and ladies. Those ladies said
he was welcome, and so they unarmed him. And when he was in his
doublet, men brought him a mantle furred with ermine, and put it about
him, and then they made him such cheer that he had forgotten all his
sorrow and anguish, and only set his heart in these delights and
dainties, and took no more thought for his brother Sir Lionel, neither
of Sir Launcelot du Lake his cousin. And anon came out of a chamber to
him the fairest lady that ever he saw, and more richer beseen than ever
he saw queen Guenever, or any other estate. Lo! said they, Sir Bors,
here is the lady unto whom we all owe our service, and I trow she be
the richest lady, and the fairest of all the world, and the which
loveth you best above all other knights, for she will have no knight
but you. And when he understood that language, he was abashed. Not for
then she saluted him, and he her; and then they sat down together, and
spake of many things, insomuch that she besought him to be her love,
for she had loved him above all earthly men, and she should make him
richer than ever was man of his age. When Sir Bors understood her words
he was right evil at ease, which in no manner would not break chastity,
so wist not he how to answer her.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How the devil in a woman’s likeness would have tempted Sir Bors, and
  how by God’s grace he escaped._

Alas! said she, Bors, shall ye not do my will? Madam, said Sir Bors,
there is no lady in this world whose will I will fulfil as of this
thing, for my brother lieth dead which was slain right late. Ah, Bors,
said she, I have loved you long for the great beauty I have seen in
you, and great hardiness I have heard of you, that needs ye must give
me your love, and, therefore, I pray you grant it me. Truly, said he, I
shall not do it in no manner of wise. Then she made him such sorrow as
though she would have died. Well, Bors, said she, unto this have ye
brought me nigh to mine end. And therewith she took him by the hand,
and bade him behold her,—And ye shall see how I shall die for your
love. Ah, said then he, that shall I never see. Then she departed, and
went up into a high battlement, and led with her twelve gentlewomen:
and when they were above, one of the gentlewomen cried and said, Ah,
Sir Bors, gentle knight, have mercy on us all, and suffer my lady to
have her will: and if ye do not, we must suffer death with our lady,
for to fall down off this high tower. And if ye suffer us thus to die
for so little a thing, all ladies and gentlewomen will say of you
dishonour. Then looked he upward: they seemed all ladies of great
estate and richly and well beseen. Then had he of them great pity: not
for that he was un-counselled within himself, that lever he had they
all had lost their souls than he is: and with that they fell adown all
at once unto the earth. And when he saw that, he was all abashed, and
had thereof great marvel. With that he blessed his body and his visage;
and anon he heard a great noise and a great cry, as though all the
fiends of hell had been about him, and therewith he saw neither tower,
ne lady, ne gentlewoman, nor no chapel where he brought his brother to.
Then held he up both his hands to the heaven, and said, Fair Father
God, I am grievously escaped. And then he took his arms and his horse,
and rode on his way. Then he heard a clock smite on his right hand, and
thither he came to an abbey on his right hand, closed with high walls,
and there was let in. Then they supposed that he was one of the quest
of the Sancgreal. So they led him into a chamber, and unarmed him.
Sirs, said Sir Bors, if there be any holy man in this house, I pray you
let me speak with him. Then one of them led him unto the abbot, which
was in a chapel. And then Sir Bors saluted him, and he him again. Sir,
said Bors, I am a knight errant, and told him all the adventure which
he had seen. Sir knight, said the abbot, I wot not what ye be, for I
wend never that a knight of your age might have been so strong in the
grace of our Lord Jesu Christ. Not for then ye shall go unto your rest,
for I will not counsel you this day, it is too late, and to-morrow I
shall counsel you as I can.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_Of the holy communication of an abbot to Sir Bors, and how the abbot
  counselled him._

And that night was Sir Bors served richly, and on the morn early he
heard mass, and the abbot came to him and bad him good morrow, and Bors
to him again. And then he told him he was a fellow of the quest of the
Sancgreal, and how he had charge of the holy man to eat bread and
water. Then [said the abbot] our Lord Jesu Christ shewed Him unto you,
in the likeness of a soul that suffered great anguish for us since He
was put upon the cross, and bled His heart blood for mankind: there was
the token and the likeness of the Sancgreal that appeared afore you,
for the blood that the great fowl bled revived the chickens from death
to life. And by the bare tree is betokened the world, which is naked
and without fruit, but if it come of our Lord. Also the lady for whom
ye fought for, and king Aniause, which was lord there tofore,
betokeneth Jesu Christ, which is the King of the world; and that ye
fought with the champion for the lady, this it betokeneth: for when ye
took the battle for the lady, by her ye shall understand the new law of
Jesu Christ and holy Church; and by the other lady ye shall understand
the old law and the fiend, which all day warreth against holy Church,
therefore ye did your battle with right. For ye be Jesu Christ’s
knights, therefore ye ought to be defenders of holy Church. And by the
black bird might ye understand the holy Church, which saith I am black,
but he is fair. And by the white bird might men understand the fiend.
And I shall tell you how the swan is white without forth, and black
within; it is hypocrisy which is without yellow or pale, and seemeth
without forth the servants of Jesu Christ, but they be within so
horrible of filth and sin, and beguile the world evil. Also when the
fiend appeared to thee in likeness of a man of religion, and blamed
thee that thou left thy brother for a lady, so led thee where thou
seemed thy brother was slain, but he is yet on live, and all was for to
put thee in error, and bring thee unto vain hope and lechery, for he
knew thou were tender hearted, and all was for thou shouldest not find
the blessed adventure of the Sancgreal. And the third fowl betokeneth
the strong battle against the fair ladies which were all devils. Also
the dry tree, and the white lily:—the dry tree betokeneth thy brother
Sir Lionel, which is dry without virtue, and therefore many men ought
to call him the rotten tree, and the worm-eaten tree, for he is a
murderer and doth contrary to the order of knighthood. And the two
white flowers signify two maidens, the one is a knight which was
wounded the other day, and the other is the gentlewoman which ye
rescued; and why the other flower drew nigh the other, that was the
knight which would have dishonoured her, and himself both. And, Sir
Bors, ye had been a great fool, and in great peril, to have seen those
two flowers perish for to succour the rotten tree, for and they had
sinned together they had been damned: and for that ye rescued them
both, men might call you a very knight and servant of Jesu Christ.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How Sir Bors met with his brother Sir Lionel, and how Sir Lionel would
  have slain Sir Bors._

Then went Sir Bors from thence, and commended the abbot unto God. And
then he rode all that day, and harboured with an old lady. And on the
morn he rode to a castle in a valley, and there he met with a yeoman
going a great pace toward a forest. Say me, said Sir Bors, canst thou
tell me of any adventure? Sir, said he, here shall be under this castle
a great and a marvellous tournament. Of what folks shall it be? said
Sir Bors. The earl of Plains (said he) shall be on the one party, and
the lady’s nephew of Hervin on the other party. Then Bors thought to be
there, if he might meet with his brother Sir Lionel, or any other of
his fellowship which were in the quest of the Sancgreal. And then he
turned to an hermitage that was in the entry of the forest. And when he
was come thither, he found there Sir Lionel his brother, which sat all
armed at the entry of the chapel door, for to abide there harbour till
on the morn that the tournament shall be. And when Sir Bors saw him he
had great joy of him, that was it marvel to tell of his joy. And then
he alight off his horse and said, Fair sweet brother, when came ye
hither? Anon as Sir Lionel saw him he said, Ah Bors, ye may not make
none avaunt, but, as for you, I might have been slain; when ye saw two
knights leading me away, beating me, ye left me to succour a
gentlewoman, and suffered me in peril of death: for never erst ne did
no brother to another so great an untruth. And for that misdeed now I
ensure you but death, for well have ye deserved it; therefore keep thee
from henceforward, and that shall ye find as soon as I am armed. When
Sir Bors understood his brother’s wrath, he kneeled down to the earth,
and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to
forgive him his evil will. Nay, said Lionel, that shall never be, and I
may have the higher hand, that I make mine avow to God: thou shalt have
death for it, for it were pity ye lived any longer. Right so he went
in, and took his harness, and mounted upon his horse, and came tofore
him and said, Bors, keep thee from me, for I shall do to thee as I
would to a felon or a traitor, for ye be the untruest knight that ever
came out of so worthy an house as was king Bors de Ganis, which was our
father; therefore start upon thy horse, and so shall ye be most at your
advantage. And but if ye will, I will run upon thee there as ye stand
upon foot, and so the shame shall be mine and the harm yours; but of
that shame reck I nought. When Sir Bors saw that he must fight with his
brother or else to die, he nist not what to do. Then his heart
counselled him not thereto, in as much as Lionel was born or he,
wherefore he ought to bear him reverence; yet kneeled he down afore
Lionel’s horse feet, and said, Fair sweet brother, have mercy upon me
and slay me not, and have in remembrance the great love which ought to
be between us twain. What Sir Bors said to Lionel he recked not, for
the fiend had brought him in such a will that he should slay him. Then
when Lionel saw he would none other, and that he would not have risen
to give him battle, he rushed over him, so that he smote Bors with his
horse feet upward to the earth, and hurt him so sore that he swooned of
distress, the which he felt in himself to have died without confession.
So when Lionel saw this, he alight off his horse, to have smitten off
his head. And so he took him by the helm, and would have rent it from
his head. Then came the hermit running unto him, which was a good man
and of great age, and well had he heard all the words that were between
them, and so fell down upon Sir Bors.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How Sir Colgrevance fought against Sir Lionel for to save Sir Bors,
  and how the hermit was slain._

Then he said to Lionel, Ah, gentle knight, have mercy upon me and on
thy brother, for if thou slay him thou shalt be dead of sin, and that
were sorrowful; for he is one of the worthiest knights of the world,
and of the best conditions. So God me help, said Lionel, Sir priest,
but if ye flee from him I shall slay you, and he shall never the sooner
be quit. Certes, said the good man, I had lever ye slay me than him,
for my death shall not be great harm, not half so much as of his. Well,
said Lionel, I am agreed; and set his hand to his sword, and smote him
so hard that his head went backward. Not for that he restrained him of
his evil will, but took his brother by the helm, and unlaced it to have
stricken off his head, and had slain him without fail, but so it
happed, Colgrevance, a fellow of the Round Table, came at that time
thither, as our Lord’s will was. And when he saw the good man slain, he
marvelled much what it might be. And then he beheld Lionel would have
slain his brother, and knew Sir Bors which he loved right well. Then
start he down and took Lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly
aback from Bors, and said, Lionel, will ye slay your brother, the
worthiest knight of the world one? and that should no good man suffer.
Why, said Sir Lionel, will ye let me? therefore if ye intermit you in
this, I shall slay you, and him after. Why, said Colgrevance, is this
sooth, that ye will slay him? Slay him will I, said he, who so say the
contrary; for he hath done so much against me that he hath well
deserved it; and so ran upon him, and would have smitten him through
the head; and Sir Colgrevance ran betwixt them and said, And ye be so
hardy to do so mote, we two shall meddle together. When Lionel
understood his words, he took his shield afore him, and asked him what
he was; and he told him Colgrevance, one of his fellows. Then Lionel
defied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helm. Then he drew
his sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended him right
manfully. So long endured the battle that Sir Bors rose up all
anguishly, and beheld Sir Colgrevance, the good knight, fight with his
brother for his quarrel. Then was he full sorry and heavy, and thought,
if Colgrevance slew him that was his brother he should never have joy,
and if his brother slew Colgrevance the shame should ever be his. Then
would he have risen to have departed them but he had not so much might
to stand on foot: so he abode him so long till Colgrevance had the
worse, for Sir Lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy, for he had
pierced the hauberk and the helm, that he abode but death. For he had
lost much of his blood, that it was marvel that he might stand upright.
Then beheld he Sir Bors, which sat dressing him upward, and said, Ah
Bors, why come ye not to cast me out of peril of death, wherein I have
put me to succour you, which were right now nigh the death? Certes,
said Lionel, that shall not avail you, for none of you shall bear
other’s warrant, but that ye shall die both of my hand. When Bors heard
that, he did so much he rose and put on his helm. Then perceived he
first the hermit priest which was slain, then made he a marvellous
sorrow upon him.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How Sir Lionel slew Sir Colgrevance, and how after he would have slain
  Sir Bors._

Then oft Colgrevance cried upon Sir Bors, Why will ye let me die here
for your sake? if it please you that I die for you the death, it will
please me the better for to save a worthy man. With that word Sir
Lionel smote off the helm from his head. Then Colgrevance saw that he
might not escape; then he said, Fair sweet Jesu, that I have misdone
have mercy upon my soul; for such sorrow that my heart suffereth for
goodness, and for alms deed that I would have done here, be to me
aligement of penance unto my soul’s health. At these words Lionel smote
him so sore that he bare him to the earth. So when he had slain
Colgrevance, he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him
such a stroke that he made him stoop; and he, that was full of
humility, prayed him, for God’s love to leave this battle: For and it
befell, fair brother, that I slew you, or ye me, we should be dead of
that sin. Never God me help but if I have on you mercy, and I may have
the better hand. Then drew Bors his sword, all weeping, and said, Fair
brother, God knoweth mine intent. Ah, fair brother, ye have done full
evil this day to slay such an holy priest, the which never trespassed.
Also ye have slain a gentle knight, and one of our fellows. And well
wot ye that I am not afeard of you greatly, but I dread the wrath of
God; and this is an unkindly war, therefore God shew miracle upon us
both. Now God have mercy upon me, though I defend my life against my
brother. With that Bors lift up his hand, and would have smitten his
brother.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How there came a voice which charged Sir Bors to touch not him, and of
  a cloud that came between them._

And then he heard a voice that said, Flee, Bors, and touch him not, or
else thou shalt slay him. Right so alight a cloud betwixt them in
likeness of a fire, and a marvellous flame, that both their two shields
burnt. Then were they sore afraid, that they fell both to the earth,
and lay there a great while in a swoon. And when they came to
themselves, Bors saw that his brother had no harm: then he held up both
his hands, for he dread God had taken vengeance upon him. With that he
heard a voice say, Bors, go hence and bear thy brother no longer
fellowship, but take thy way anon right to the sea, for Sir Percivale
abideth thee there. Then he said to his brother, Fair sweet brother,
forgive me, for God’s love, all that I have trespassed unto you. Then
he answered, God forgive it thee, and I do gladly. So Sir Bors departed
from him, and rode the next way to the sea. And at the last, by fortune
he came to an abbey which was nigh the sea. That night Bors rested him
there, and in his sleep there came a voice to him, and bad him go to
the sea; then he start up, and made a sign of the cross in the midst of
his forehead, and took his harness, and made ready his horse, and
mounted upon him. And at a broken wall he rode out, and rode so long
till that he came to the sea. And on the strand he found a ship covered
all with white samite. And he alight, and betook him to Jesu Christ.
And as soon as he entered into the ship, the ship departed into the
sea, and went so fast that him seemed the ship went flying, but it was
soon dark, so that he might know no man, and so he slept till it was
day. Then he awaked, and saw in the midst of the ship a knight lie, all
armed save his helm. Then knew he that it was Sir Percivale of Wales,
and then he made of him right great joy. But Sir Percivale was abashed
of him, and he asked him what he was. Ah, fair sir, said Bors, know ye
me not? Certes, said he, I marvel how ye came hither, but if our Lord
brought you hither himself: then Sir Bors smiled, and did off his helm.
Then Percivale knew him, and either made great joy of other, that it
was marvel to hear. Then Bors told him how he came into the ship, and
by whose admonishment. And either told other of their temptations, as
ye have heard toforehand. So went they downward in the sea, one while
backward another while forward, and every each comforted other, and oft
were in their prayers. Then said Sir Percivale, We lack nothing but
Galahad the good knight.

 And thus endeth the syxteenth book whiche is of syre Gawayne, Ector de
            marys, and syre Bors de ganys and sir percyual.

  And here foloweth the seuententh book which is of the noble knyghte
                             syre Galahad.




                         The Seventeenth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Galahad fought at a tournament, and how he was known of Sir
  Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris._

Now saith this story, when Galahad had rescued Percivale from the
twenty knights, he rode then into a vast forest, wherein he rode many
journeys, and he found many adventures, the which he brought to an end,
whereof the story maketh here no mention. Then he took his way to the
sea on a day, and it befell as he passed by a castle where was a wonder
tournament, but they without had done so much that they within were put
to the worse, yet were they within good knights enough. When Galahad
saw that those within were at so great a mischief that men slew them at
the entry of the castle, then he thought to help them, and put a spear
forth, and smote the first that he fell to the earth, and the spear
brake to pieces. Then he drew his sword, and smote there as they were
thickest, and so he did wonderful deeds of arms, that all they
marvelled. Then it happed that Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris were with
the knights without; but when they espied the white shield with the red
cross, the one said to the other, Yonder is the good knight Sir Galahad
the haut prince: now he should be a great fool which should meet with
him to fight. So by adventure he came by Sir Gawaine, and he smote him
so hard that he clave his helm, and the coif of iron unto his head, so
that Gawaine fell to the earth: but the stroke was so great, that it
slanted down to the earth, and carved the horse shoulder in two. When
Ector saw Gawaine down, he drew him aside, and thought it no wisdom for
to abide him, and also for natural love, that he was his uncle. Thus
through his great hardiness he beat aback all the knights without. And
then they within came out and chased them all about. But when Galahad
saw there would none turn again, he stole away privily, so that none
wist where he was become. Now by my head, said Gawaine to Ector, now
are the wonders true that were said of Launcelot du Lake, that the
sword which stuck in the stone should give me such a buffet that I
would not have it for the best castle in this world, and soothly now it
is proved true, for never before had I such a stroke of man’s hand.
Sir, said Ector, me seemeth your quest is done. And yours is not done,
said Gawaine, but mine is done; I shall seek no further. Then Gawaine
was borne into a castle, and unarmed him, and laid him in a rich bed,
and a leech found that he might live, and to be whole within a month.
Thus Gawaine and Ector abode together. For Sir Ector would not away
till Gawaine were whole. And the good knight Galahad rode so long till
he came that night to the castle of Carboneck; and it befell him thus
that he was benighted in an hermitage. So the good man was fain when he
saw he was a knight errant. Then when they were at rest, there came a
gentlewoman knocking at the door, and called Galahad, and so the good
man came to the door to wit what she would. Then she called the hermit,
Sir Ulfin, I am a gentlewoman that would speak with the knight that is
with you. Then the good man awaked Galahad, and bad him arise, and
speak with a gentlewoman that seemeth hath great need of you. Then
Galahad went to her, and asked her what she would. Galahad, said she, I
will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse, and follow me, for I
shall shew you within these three days the highest adventure that ever
any knight saw. Anon Galahad armed him, and took his horse and
commended him to God, and bad the gentlewoman go, and he would follow
there as she liked.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Sir Galahad rode with a damsel, and came to the ship whereas Sir
  Bors and Sir Percivale were in._

So she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till that she came
to the sea the which was called Collibe. And at the night they came
unto a castle in a valley, was closed with a running water, and with
strong walls and high. And so she entered into the castle with Galahad,
and there had he great cheer, for the lady of that castle was the
damsel’s lady. So when he was unarmed, then said the damsel, Madam,
shall we abide here all this day? Nay, said she, but till he hath
dined, and till he hath slept a little. So he eat and slept a while,
till that the maid called him, and armed him by torchlight. And when
the maid was horsed, and he both, the lady took Galahad a fair child
and rich, and so they departed from the castle, till they came to the
sea-side, and there they found the ship where Bors and Percivale were
in, the which cried on the ship’s board, Sir Galahad, ye be welcome, we
have abiden you long. And when he heard them, he asked them what they
were. Sir, said she, leave your horse here, and I shall leave mine; and
took their saddles and their bridles with them, and made a cross on
them, and so entered into the ship. And the two knights received them
both with great joy, and every each knew other. And so the wind arose,
and drove them through the sea in a marvellous place. And within a
while it dawned. Then did Galahad off his helm and his sword, and asked
of his fellows from whence came that fair ship. Truly, said they, ye
wot as well as we, but of God’s grace. And then they told every each to
other of all their hard adventures, and of their great temptation.
Truly, said Galahad, ye are much bounden to God, for ye have escaped
great adventures: and had not the gentlewoman been I had not come here;
for as for you, I wend never to have found you in these strange
countries. Ah, Galahad, said Bors, if Launcelot your father were here
then were we well at ease, for then me seemeth we failed nothing. That
may not be, said Galahad, but if it please our Lord. By then the ship
went from the land of Logris, and by adventure it arrived up betwixt
two rocks passing great and marvellous, but there they might not land,
for there was a swallow of the sea, save there was another ship, and
upon it they might go without danger. Go we thither, said the
gentlewoman, and there shall we see adventures, for so is our Lord’s
will. And when they came thither, they found the ship rich enough, but
they found neither man nor woman therein. But they found in the end of
the ship two fair letters written, which said a dreadful word and a
marvellous:—Thou man which shall enter into this ship, beware thou be
in steadfast belief, for I am Faith; and therefore beware how thou
enterest, for and thou fail I shall not help thee. Then said the
gentlewoman, Percivale, wot ye what I am? Certes, said he, nay, to my
witting. Wit you well, said she, that I am thy sister, which am
daughter of king Pellinore. And therefore wit ye well ye are the man in
the world that I most love. And if ye be not in perfect belief of Jesu
Christ, enter not in no manner of wise, for then should ye perish in
the ship, for he is so perfect he will suffer no sin in him. When
Percivale understood that she was his very sister, he was inwardly
glad, and said, Fair sister, I shall enter therein, for if I be a
mis-creature, or an untrue knight, there shall I perish.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Galahad entered into the ship, and of a fair bed therein, with
  other marvellous things, and of a sword._

In the mean while Galahad blessed him and entered therein, and then
next the gentlewoman, and then Sir Bors and Sir Percivale. And when
they were therein, it was so marvellous fair and rich that they
marvelled. And in the midst of the ship was a fair bed, and Sir Galahad
went thereto, and found there a crown of silk. And at the feet was a
sword rich and fair, and it was drawn out of the sheath half a foot and
more, and the sword was of divers fashions, and the pommel was of
stone, and there was in him all manner of colours that any man might
find, and every each of the colours had divers virtues, and the scales
of the haft were of two ribs of divers beasts. The one beast was a
serpent, which was conversant in Calidone, and is called the serpent of
the fiend. And the bone of him is of such a virtue, that there is no
hand that handleth him shall never be weary nor hurt: and the other
beast is a fish, which is not right great, and haunteth the flood of
Eufrates; and that fish is called Ertanax, and his bones be of such a
manner of kind, that who that handleth them shall have so much will
that he shall never be weary, and he shall not think on joy nor sorrow
that he hath had, but only that thing that he beholdeth before him. And
as for this sword there shall never man begripe it at the handle but
one, but he shall pass all other. In the name of God, said Percivale, I
shall essay to handle it. So he set his hand to the sword, but he might
not begripe it. By my faith, said he, now have I failed. Bors set his
hand thereto and failed. Then Galahad beheld the sword, and saw the
letters like blood, that said, Let see who shall assay to draw me out
of my sheath, but if he be more hardier than other, and who that
draweth me, wit ye well that he shall never fail of shame of his body,
or to be wounded to the death. By my faith, said Galahad, I would draw
this sword out of the sheath, but the offending is so great, that I
shall not set my hand thereto. Now sir, said the gentlewoman, wit ye
well that the drawing of this sword is forbidden to all men, save all
only unto you. Also this ship arrived in the realm of Logris, and that
time was deadly war between king Labor, which was father unto the
maimed king, and king Hurlame, which was a Saracen. But then was he
newly christened, so that men held him afterwards one of the wittiest
men of the world. And so upon a day it befell that king Labor and king
Hurlame had assembled their folk upon the sea, where this ship was
arrived, and there king Hurlame was discomfit, and his men slain, and
he was afeard to be dead, and fled to his ship, and there found this
sword, and drew it, and came out and found king Labor, the man in the
world of all Christendom in whom was then the greatest faith. And when
king Hurlame saw king Labor, he dressed this sword, and smote him upon
the helm so hard, that he clave him and his horse to the earth with the
first stroke of his sword. And it was in the realm of Logris; and so
befell great pestilence and great harm to both realms. For sithen
increased neither corn nor grass, nor well nigh no fruit, nor in the
water was no fish, wherefore men call it the lands of the two marches,
the waste land, for that dolorous stroke. And when king Hurlame saw
this sword so carving, he turned again to fetch the scabbard: and so
came into this ship, and entered, and put up the sword in the sheath.
And as soon as he had done it, he fell down dead afore the bed. Thus
was the sword proved, that none ne drew it but he were dead or maimed.
So lay he there till a maiden came into the ship, and cast him out, for
there was no man so hardy of the world to enter into that ship for the
defence.


                               CHAP. IV.

_Of the marvels of the sword and of the scabbard._

And then beheld they the scabbard; it seemed to be of a serpent’s skin.
And thereon were letters of gold and silver. And the girdle was but
poorly to come to, and not able to sustain such a rich sword, and the
letters said: He which shall wield me, ought to be more harder than any
other, if he bear me as truly as I ought to be borne. For the body of
him which I ought to hang by, he shall not be shamed in no place while
he is gird with this girdle, nor never none be so hardy to do away this
girdle for it ought not to be done away, but by the hands of a maid,
and that she be a king’s daughter, and queen’s, and she must be a maid
all the days of her life, both in will and in deed; and if she break
her virginity, she shall die the most villainous death that ever did
any woman. Sir, said Percivale, turn this sword, that we may see what
is on the other side. And it was red as blood, with black letters as
any coal, which said, He that shall praise me most, most shall he find
me to blame at a great need, and to whom I should be most debonair
shall I be most felon, and that shall be at one time. Fair brother,
said she to Percivale, it befell about a forty year after the passion
of Jesu Christ, that Nacien, the brother-in-law of king Mordrains, was
borne into a town more than fourteen days’ journey from his country, by
the commandment of our Lord, into an isle, into the parts of the west,
that men call the Isle of Turnance. So befell it that he found this
ship at the entry of a rock, and he found the bed, and this sword, as
we have heard now. Not for then he had not so much hardiness to draw
it: and there he dwelled an eight days, and at the ninth day there fell
a great wind which departed him out of the isle, and brought him to
another isle by a rock, and there he found the greatest giant that ever
man might see. Therewith came that horrible giant to slay him, and then
he looked about him, and might not fly, and he had nothing to defend
him with. So he ran to his sword, and when he saw it naked he praised
it much, and then he shook it, and therewith he brake it in the midst.
Ah, said Nacien, the thing I most praised ought I now most to blame.
And therewith he threw the pieces of his sword over his bed. And after
he lept over the board to fight with the giant, and slew him. And anon
he entered into the ship again, and the wind arose, and drove him
through the sea, that by adventure he came to another ship where king
Mordrains was, which had been tempted full evil with a fiend in the
port of perilous rock. And when that one saw the other they made great
joy of other, and either told other of their adventure, and how the
sword failed him at his most need. When Mordrains saw the sword he
praised it much,—but the breaking was not to do but by wickedness of
thyselfward, for thou art in some sin:—and there he took the sword,
and set the pieces together, and they soldered as fair as ever they
were tofore; and there he put the sword in the sheath, and laid it down
on the bed. Then heard they a voice that said, Go out of this ship a
little while, and enter into the other, for dread ye fall in deadly
sin; for, and ye be found in deadly sin, ye may not escape but perish.
And so they went into the other ship. And as Nacien went over the
board, he was smitten with a sword on the right foot, that he fell down
noseling to the ship’s board, and therewith he said, O God, how am I
hurt. And then there came a voice and said, Take thou that for thy
forfeit that thou didst in drawing of this sword, therefore thou
receivest a wound, for thou were never worthy to handle it, as the
writing maketh mention. In the name of God, said Galahad, ye are right
wise of these works.


                                CHAP. V.

_How king Pelles was smitten through both thighs because he drew the
  sword, and other marvellous histories._

Sir, said she, there was a king that hight Pelles the maimed king. And
while he might ride, he supported much Christendom, and holy Church. So
upon a day he hunted in a wood of his which lasted unto the sea, and at
the last he lost his hounds and his knights, save only one: and there
he and his knight went till that they came toward Ireland, and there he
found the ship. And when he saw the letters and understood them, yet he
entered, for he was right perfect of his life: but his knight had none
hardiness to enter, and there found he this sword, and drew it out as
much as ye may see. So therewith entered a spear, wherewith he was
smitten him through both the thighs, and never sith might he be healed,
nor nought shall tofore we come to him. Thus, said she, was king
Pelles, your grandsire, maimed for his hardiness. In the name of God,
damsel, said Galahad. So they went toward the bed to behold all about
it, and above the head there hung two swords. Also there were two
spindles which were as white as any snow, and other that were as red as
blood, and other above green as any emerald: of these three colours
were the spindles, and of natural colour within, and without any
painting. These spindles, said the damsel, were when sinful Eve came to
gather fruit, for which Adam and she were put out of paradise, she took
with her the bough on which the apple hung on. Then perceived she that
the branch was fair and green, and she remembered her the loss which
came from the tree. Then she thought to keep the branch as long as she
might. And for she had no coffer to keep it in, she put it in the
earth. So by the will of our Lord the branch grew to a great tree
within a little while, and was as white as any snow, branches, boughs,
and leaves, that was a token a maiden planted it. But after the tree
which was white became green as any grass, and all that came out of it.
And in the same time there was Abel begotten; thus was the tree long of
green colour. And so it befell many days after, under the same tree
Cain slew Abel, whereof befell great marvel. For anon as Abel had
received the death under the green tree, it lost the green colour and
became red, and that was in tokening of the blood. And anon all the
plants died thereof, but the tree grew and waxed marvellously fair, and
it was the fairest tree and the most delectable that any man might
behold and see, and so died the plants that grew out of it tofore the
time that Abel was slain under it. So long endured the tree till that
Solomon king David’s son reigned, and held the land after his father.
This Solomon was wise, and knew all the virtues of stones and trees,
and so he knew the course of the stars, and many other diverse things.

This Solomon had an evil wife, where through he wend that there had
never been no good woman, and so he despised them in his books. So
answered a voice him once, Solomon, if heaviness come to a man by a
woman, ne reck thou never. For yet shall there come a woman whereof
there shall come greater joy unto man an hundred times more than this
heaviness giveth sorrow, and that woman shall be born of thy lineage.
Then when Solomon heard these words, he held himself but a fool, and
the truth he perceived by old books. Also the Holy Ghost shewed him the
coming of the glorious Virgin Mary. Then asked he of the voice if it
should be in the end of his lineage. Nay, said the voice, but there
shall come a man which shall be a maid, and the last of your blood, and
he shall be as good a knight as duke Josua thy brother-in-law.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Solomon took David’s sword by the counsel of his wife, and of
  other matters marvellous._

Now have I certified thee of that thou stoodst in doubt. Then was
Solomon glad that there should come any such of his lineage, but ever
he marvelled and studied who that should be, and what his name might
be. His wife perceived that he studied, and thought that she would know
it at some season, and so she waited her time, and asked of him the
cause of his studying, and there he told her altogether how the voice
told him. Well, said she, I shall let make a ship of the best wood and
most durable that men may find. So Solomon sent for all the carpenters
of the land and the best. And when they had made the ship, the lady
said to Solomon, Sir, said she, since it is so that this knight ought
to pass all other knights of chivalry which have been tofore him, and
shall come after him, moreover I shall tell you, said she, ye shall go
into our Lord’s temple, whereas is king David’s sword, your father, the
which is the marvellousest and sharpest that ever was taken in any
knight’s hand. Therefore take that, and take off the pommel, and
thereto make ye a pommel of precious stones, that it be so subtilly
made that no man perceive it but that they be all one. And after make
there an hilt so marvellously and wonderly that no man may know it. And
after make a marvellous sheath. And when ye have made all this, I shall
let make a girdle thereto, such as shall please me. All this king
Solomon did let make as she devised, both the ship and all the remnant.
And when the ship was ready in the sea to sail, the lady let make a
great bed, and marvellous rich, and set her upon the bed’s head covered
with silk, and laid the sword at the feet, and the girdles were of
hemp, and therewith the king was angry. Sir, wit ye well, said she,
that I have none so high a thing which were worthy to sustain so high a
sword, and a maid shall bring other knights thereto, but I wot not when
it shall be, nor what time. And there she let make a covering to the
ship, of cloth of silk that should never rot for no manner of weather.
Yet went that lady, and made a carpenter to come to the tree which Abel
was slain under. Now, said she, carve me out of this tree as much wood
as will make me a spindle. Ah, madam, said he, this is the tree the
which our first mother planted. Do it, said she, or else I shall
destroy thee. Anon as he began to work there came out drops of blood,
and then would he have left, but she would not suffer him, and so he
took away as much wood as might make a spindle, and so she made him to
take as much of the green tree, and of the white tree. And when these
three spindles were shapen, she made them to be fastened upon the
ceiling of the bed. When Solomon saw this, he said to his wife, Ye have
done marvellously, for though all the world were here right now, they
could not devise wherefore all this was made, but our Lord himself, and
thou that hast done it wotest not what it shall betoken. Now let it be,
said she, for ye shall hear tidings sooner than ye ween.

Now shall ye hear a wonderful tale of king Solomon and his wife.


                               CHAP. VII.

_A wonderful tale of king Solomon and his wife._

That night lay Solomon before the ship with little fellowship. And when
he was on sleep, him thought there came from heaven a great company of
angels, and alight into the ship, and took water which was brought by
an angel in a vessel of silver, and sprinkled all the ship. And after
he came to the sword and drew letters on the hilt. And after went to
the ship’s board, and wrote there other letters, which said: Thou man
that wilt enter within me, beware that thou be full within the faith,
for I ne am but faith and belief. When Solomon espied these letters he
was abashed, so that he durst not enter, and so drew him aback, and the
ship was anon shoven in the sea, and he went so fast that he lost sight
of him within a little while. And then a little voice said, Solomon,
the last knight of thy lineage shall rest in this bed. Then went
Solomon and awaked his wife, and told her of the adventures of the ship.

Now saith the history, that a great while the three fellows beheld the
bed and the three spindles. Then they were at certain that they were of
natural colours, without painting. Then they lift up a cloth which was
above the ground, and there they found a rich purse by seeming. And
Percivale took it, and found therein a writ, and so he read it, and
devised the manner of the spindles, and of the ship, whence it came,
and by whom it was made. Now, said Galahad, where shall we find the
gentlewoman that shall make new girdles to the sword. Fair sir, said
Percivale’s sister, dismay you not, for by the leave of God I shall let
make a girdle to the sword, such one as shall belong thereto. And then
she opened a box, and took out girdles which were seemly wrought with
golden threads, and upon that were set full precious stones, and a rich
buckle of gold. Lo lords, said she, here is a girdle that ought to be
set about the sword. And wit ye well the greatest part of this girdle
was made of my hair, which I loved well while that I was a woman of the
world. But as soon as I wist that this adventure was ordained me, I
clipped off my hair and made this girdle in the name of God. Ye be well
found, said Sir Bors, for certes you have put us out of great pain,
wherein we should have entered ne had your tidings been. Then went the
gentlewoman and set it on the girdle of the sword. Now, said the
fellowship, what is the name of the sword, and what shall we call it?
Truly, said she, the name of the sword is, the sword with the strange
girdles, and the sheath, mover of blood; for no man that hath blood in
him shall never see the one part of the sheath which was made of the
tree of life. Then they said to Galahad, In the name of Jesu Christ,
and pray you that ye gird you with this sword, which hath been desired
so much in the realm of Logris. Now let me begin, said Galahad, to
gripe this sword for to give you courage: but wit ye well it belongeth
no more to me then it doth to you. And then he griped about it with his
fingers a great deal. And then she girt him about the middle with the
sword:—Now reck I not though I die, for now I hold me one of the
blessed maidens of the world, which hath made the worthiest knight of
the world. Damsel, said Galahad, ye have done so much that I shall be
your knight all the days of my life. Then they went from that ship, and
went to the other. And anon the wind drove them into the sea a great
pace, but they had no victual: but it befell that they came on the morn
to a castle that men call Carteloise, that was in the marches of
Scotland. And when they had passed the port, the gentlewoman said,
Lords, here be men arriven that, and they wist that ye were of king
Arthur’s court, ye should be assailed anon. Damsel, said Galahad, he
that cast us out of the rock shall deliver us from them.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How Galahad and his fellows came to a castle, and how they were fought
  withal, and how they slew their adversaries, and other matters._

So it befell, as they spake thus there came a squire by them, and asked
what they were. And they said they were of king Arthur’s house. Is that
sooth? said he. Now by my head, said he, ye be ill arrayed; and then
turned he again unto the cliff fortress. And within a while they heard
a horn blow. Then a gentlewoman came to them, and asked them of whence
they were, and they told her. Fair lords, said she, for God’s love turn
again if ye may, for ye be come unto your death. Nay, they said, we
will not turn again, for He shall help us in whose service we be
entered in. Then as they stood talking, there came knights well armed,
and bad them yield them, or else to die. That yielding, said they,
shall be noyous to you; and therewith they let their horses run, and
Sir Percivale smote the foremost to the earth, and took his horse and
mounted thereupon, and the same did Galahad. Also Sir Bors served
another so. For they had no horses in that country, for they left their
horses when they took their ship in other countries. And so when they
were horsed then began they to set upon them. And they of the castle
fled into the strong fortress, and the three knights after them, into
the castle, and so alight on foot, and with their swords slew them
down, and gat into the hall. Then when they beheld the great multitude
of people they had slain, they held themselves great sinners. Certes,
said Bors, I ween and God had loved them that we should not have had
power to have slain them thus but they have done so much against our
Lord that he will not suffer them to reign no longer. Say ye not so,
said Galahad, for if they misdid against God the vengeance is not ours,
but to Him which hath power thereof. So came there out of a chamber a
good man which was a priest, and bear God’s body in a cup. And when he
saw them which lay dead in the hall, he was all abashed. And Galahad
did off his helm and kneeled down, and so did his two fellows. Sir,
said they, have ye no dread of us, for we be of king Arthur’s court.
Then asked the good man how they were slain so suddenly; and they told
it him. Truly, said the good man, and ye might live as long as the
world might endure, never might ye have done so great an alms-deed as
this. Sir, said Galahad, I repent me much, inasmuch as they were
christened. Nay, repent you not, said he, for they were not christened,
and I shall tell you how that I wot of this castle. Here was lord earl
Hernox not but one year, and he had three sons good knights of arms,
and a daughter the fairest gentlewoman that men knew. So those three
knights loved their sister so sore that they burnt in love, and so they
dishonoured her, maugre her head. And for she cried to her father, they
slew her, and took their father and put him in prison, and wounded him
nigh to the death, but a cousin of hers rescued him. And then did they
great untruth: they slew clerks and priests, and made beat down
chapels, that our Lord’s service might not be served nor said; and this
same day their father sent to me for to be confessed and houseled, but
such shame had never man as I had this day with the three brethren: but
the earl bad me suffer, for he said they should not long endure, for
three servants of our Lord should destroy them: and now it is brought
to an end. And by this ye may wit that our Lord is not displeased with
your deeds. Certes, said Galahad, and it had not pleased our Lord,
never should we have slain so many men in so little a while. And then
they brought the earl Hernox out of prison into the midst of the hall,
that knew Galahad anon, and yet he saw him never afore but by
revelation of our Lord.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How the three knights, with Percivale’s sister, came into the waste
  forest, and of an hart and four lions and other things._

Then began he to weep right tenderly, and said, Long have I abiden your
coming, but for God’s love hold me in your arms, that my soul may
depart out of my body in so good a man’s arms as ye be. Gladly, said
Galahad. And then one said on high that all heard, Galahad, well hast
thou avenged me on God’s enemies. Now behoveth thee to go to the maimed
king as soon as thou mayest, for he shall receive by thee health which
he hath abiden so long. And therewith the soul departed from the body.
And Galahad made him to be buried as he ought to be.

Right so departed the three knights, and Percivale’s sister with them.
And so they came into a waste forest, and there they saw afore them a
white hart, which four lions led. Then they took them to assent for to
follow after, for to know whither they repaired; and so they rode
after, a great pace, till that they came to a valley, and thereby was
an hermitage where a good man dwelled; and the hart and the lions
entered also. So when they saw all this, they turned to the chapel, and
saw the good man in a religious weed, and in the armour of our Lord,
for he would sing mass of the Holy Ghost, and so they entered in and
heard mass. And at the secrets of the mass, they three saw the hart
become a man, the which marvelled them, and set him upon the altar in a
rich siege, and saw the four lions were changed, the one to the form of
a man, the other to the form of a lion, and the third to an eagle, and
the fourth was changed unto an ox. Then took they their siege where the
hart sat, and went out through a glass window, and there was nothing
perished nor broken, and they heard a voice say, In such a manner
entered the son of God in the womb of a maid, Mary. And when they heard
these words, they fell down to the earth, and were astonied, and
therewith was a great clearness. And when they were come to themselves
again, they went to the good man, and prayed him that he would say them
truth. What thing have ye seen? said he: and they told him all that
they had seen. Ah, lords, said he, ye be welcome, now wot I well ye be
the good knights the which shall bring the Sancgreal to an end; for ye
be they unto whom our Lord shall shew great secrets. And well ought our
Lord be signified to an hart; for the hart when he is old he waxeth
young again in his white skin: right so cometh again our Lord from
death to life, for he lost earthly flesh, that was the deadly flesh
which he had taken in the womb of the blessed virgin Mary; and for that
cause appeared our Lord as a while hart without spot. And the four that
were with him is to understand the four evangelists, which set in
writing a part of Jesu Christ’s deeds that he did some time when he was
among you an earthly man. For wit ye well never erst might no knight
know the truth, for, ofttimes or this, our Lord shewed him unto good
men and unto good knights in likeness of an hart. But I suppose from
henceforth ye shall see no more. And then they joyed much, and dwelled
there all that day. And upon the morrow, when they had heard mass they
departed, and commended the good man to God. And so they came to a
castle, and passed by. So there came a knight armed after them, and
said, Lords, hark what I shall say to you.


                                CHAP. X.

_How they were desired of a strange custom, the which they would not
  obey; and how they fought and slew many knights._

This gentlewoman that ye lead with you is a maid? Sir, said she, a maid
I am. Then he took her by the bridle and said, By the holy cross ye
shall not escape me tofore ye have yielden the custom of this castle.
Let her go, said Percivale; ye be not wise, for a maid in what place
she cometh is free. So in the meanwhile there came out a ten or twelve
knights armed, out of the castle, and with them came gentlewomen which
held a dish of silver, and then they said, This gentlewoman must yield
us the custom of this castle. Sir, said a knight, what maid passeth
hereby shall give this dish full of blood of her right arm. Blame have
ye, said Galahad, that brought up such customs, and I ensure you of
this gentlewoman ye shall fail while that I live. Truly, said Sir
Percivale, I had lever be slain. And I also, said Sir Bors. By my
truth, said the knight, then shall ye die, for ye may not endure
against us, though ye were the best knights of the world. Then let them
run each to other, and the three fellows beat the ten knights, and then
set their hands to their swords, and beat them down and slew them. Then
there came out of the castle well a threescore knights armed. Fair
lords, said the three fellows, have mercy upon yourselves, and have not
ado with us. Nay, fair lords, said the knights of the castle, we
counsel you to withdraw you, for ye are the best knights of the world,
and therefore do no more, for ye have done enough. We will let you go
with this harm, but we must needs have the custom. Certes, said
Galahad, for nought speak ye. Well, said they, will ye die? We be not
yet come thereto, said Galahad. Then began they to meddle together, and
Galahad drew his sword with the strange girdles, and smote on the right
hand and on the left hand, and slew what that ever abode him, and did
such marvels that there was none that saw him but they wend he had been
none earthly man but a monster. And his two fellows halp him passing
well, and so they held the journey every each in like hard, till it was
night. Then must they needs part. So came a good knight and said to the
three fellows, If ye will come in to night, and take such harbour as
here is, ye shall be right welcome, and we shall ensure you by the
faith of our bodies, as we are true knights, to leave you in such
estate to-morrow as we find you, without any falsehood. And as soon as
ye know of the custom we dare say ye will accord. Therefore, for God’s
love, said the gentlewoman, go thither, and spare not for me. Go we,
said Galahad, and so they entered into the castle. And when they were
alight, they made great joy of them. So within a while the three
knights asked the custom of the castle, and wherefore it was. What it
is, said they, we will say you sooth.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Sir Percivale’s sister bled a dish full of blood for to heal a
  lady; wherefore she died; and how that the body was put in a ship._

There is in this castle a gentlewoman which we and this castle is hers,
and many other. So it befell many years agone there fell upon her a
malady. And when she had lain a great while, she fell into a measle,
and of no leech she could have no remedy. But at the last an old man
said, and she might have a dish full of blood of a maid and a clean
virgin in will and in work, and a king’s daughter, that blood should be
her health, and for to anoint her withal: and for this thing was this
custom made. Now, said Percivale’s sister, Fair knights, I see well
that this gentlewoman is but dead. Certes, said Galahad, and if ye
bleed so much, ye may die. Truly, said she, and I die for to heal her,
I shall get me great worship and soul’s health, and worship to my
lineage, and better is one harm than twain. And therefore there shall
be no more battle, but to-morn I shall yield you your custom of this
castle. And then there was great joy, more than there was tofore. For
else had there been mortal war upon the morn; notwithstanding she would
none other, whether they would or nold. That night were the three
fellows eased with the best, and on the morn they heard mass, and Sir
Percivale’s sister bad bring forth the sick lady. So she was, the which
was evil at ease. Then said she, Who shall let me blood? So one came
forth and let her blood, and she bled so much that the dish was full.
Then she lift up her hand and blessed her. And then she said to the
lady, Madam, I am come to the death, for to make you whole; for God’s
love pray for me. With that she fell in a swoon. Then Galahad and his
two fellows start up to her, and lift her up, and stanched her, but she
had bled so much that she might not live. Then she said, when she was
awaked, Fair brother Percivale, I die for the healing of this lady. So
I require you that ye bury not me in this country, but as soon as I am
dead put me in a boat at the next haven, and let me go as adventure
will lead me; and as soon as ye three come to the city of Sarras, there
to achieve the holy Graile, ye shall find me under a tower arrived, and
there bury me in the spiritual place, for I say you so much, there
Galahad shall be buried, and ye also, in the same place. Then Percivale
understood these words, and granted it her, weeping. And then said a
voice, Lords and fellows, to-morrow at the hour of prime ye three shall
depart every each from other, till the adventure bring you to the
maimed king. Then asked she her Saviour, and as soon as she had
received him the soul departed from the body. So the same day was the
lady healed, when she was anointed withal. Then Sir Percivale made a
letter of all that she had holpen them as in strange adventures, and
put it in her right hand, and so laid her in a barge, and covered it
with black silk; and so the wind arose, and drove the barge from the
land, and all knights beheld it, till it was out of their sight.

Then they drew all to the castle, and so forthwith there fell a sudden
tempest, and a thunder, lightning, and rain, as all the earth would
have broken. So half the castle turned up so down. So it passed
evensong or the tempest was ceased. Then they saw afore them a knight
armed and wounded hard in the body and in the head, that said, Oh God,
succour me, for now it is need! After this knight came another knight
and a dwarf which cried to them afar, Stand, ye may not escape. Then
the wounded knight held up his hands to God, that he should not die in
such tribulation. Truly, said Galahad, I shall succour him for His sake
that he calleth upon. Sir, said Bors, I shall do it, for it is not for
you, for he is but one knight. Sir, said he, I grant. So Sir Bors took
his horse, and commended him to God, and rode after to rescue the
wounded knight.

Now turn we to the two fellows.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Galahad and Percivale found in a castle many tombs of maidens that
  had bled to death._

Now saith the story that all night Galahad and Percivale were in a
chapel in their prayers, for to save Sir Bors. So on the morrow they
dressed them in their harness toward the castle, to wit what was fallen
of them therein. And when they came there, they found neither man nor
woman that he ne was dead by the vengeance of our Lord. With that they
heard a voice that said, This vengeance is for blood shedding of
maidens. Also they found at the end of the chapel a churchyard, and
therein might they see a threescore fair tombs, and that place was so
fair and so delectable that it seemed them there had been none tempest.
For there lay the bodies of all the good maidens which were martyred
for the sick lady’s sake. Also they found the names of every each, and
of what blood they were come, and all were of kings’ blood, and twelve
of them were kings’ daughters. Then they departed, and went into a
forest. Now, said Percivale unto Galahad, we must depart; so pray we
our Lord that we may meet together in short time. Then they did off
their helms, and kissed together, and wept at their departing.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Sir Launcelot entered into the ship where Sir Percivale’s sister
  lay dead; and how he met with Sir Galahad his son._

Now saith the history, that when Launcelot was come to the water of
Mortoise, as it is rehearsed before, he was in great peril, and so he
laid him down and slept, and took the adventure that God would send him.

So when he was asleep, there came a vision unto him and said,
Launcelot, arise up, and take thine armour, and enter into the first
ship that thou shalt find. And when he had heard these words, he start
up and saw great clearness about him. And then he lift up his hand and
blessed him, and so took his arms, and made him ready; and so by
adventure he came by a strand, and found a ship, the which was without
sail or oar. And as soon as he was within the ship, there he felt the
most sweetness that ever he felt; and he was fulfilled with all thing
that he thought on or desired. Then said he, Fair sweet Father Jesu
Christ, I wot not in what joy I am, for this joy passeth all earthly
joys that ever I was in. And so in this joy he laid him down to the
ship’s board, and slept till day. And when he awoke, he found there a
fair bed, and therein lying a gentlewoman dead, the which was Sir
Percivale’s sister. And as Launcelot devised her, he espied in her
right hand a writ, the which he read, the which told him all the
adventures that ye have heard tofore, and of what lineage she was come.
So with this gentlewoman Sir Launcelot was a month and more. If ye
would ask how he lived, He that fed the people of Israel with manna in
the desert, so was he fed. For every day, when he had said his prayers,
he was sustained with the grace of the Holy Ghost. So on a night he
went to play him by the water side, for he was somewhat weary of the
ship. And then he listened, and heard an horse come, and one riding
upon him. And when he came nigh he seemed a knight. And so he let him
pass, and went there as the ship was, and there he alight, and took the
saddle and the bridle and put the horse from him, and went into the
ship. And then Launcelot dressed unto him and said, Ye be welcome. And
he answered and saluted him again, and asked him, What is your name?
for much my heart giveth unto you. Truly, said he, my name is Launcelot
du Lake. Sir, said he, then be ye welcome, for ye were the beginner of
me in this world. Ah, said he, are ye Galahad? Yea forsooth, said he.
And so he kneeled down and asked him his blessing, and after took off
his helm and kissed him. And there was great joy between them, for
there is no tongue can tell the joy that they made either of other, and
many a friendly word spoken between, as kind would, the which is no
need here to be rehearsed. And there every each told other of their
adventures and marvels that were befallen to them in many journeys,
sith that they departed from the court. Anon as Galahad saw the
gentlewoman dead in the bed, he knew her well enough, and told great
worship of her, and that she was the best maid living, and it was great
pity of her death. But when Launcelot heard how the marvellous sword
was gotten, and who made it, and all the marvels rehearsed afore, then
he prayed Galahad his son that he would shew him the sword, and so he
did. And anon he kissed the pommel, and the hilts, and the scabbard.
Truly, said Launcelot, never erst knew I of so high adventures done,
and so marvellous and strange. So dwelled Launcelot and Galahad within
that ship half a year, and served God daily and nightly with all their
power. And often they arrived in isles far from folk, where there
repaired none but wild beasts; and there they found many strange
adventures and perilous, which they brought to an end. But because the
adventures were with wild beasts, and not in the quest of the
Sancgreal, therefore the tale maketh here no mention thereof, for it
would be too long to tell of all those adventures that befell them.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How a knight brought unto Sir Galahad an horse, and bad him come from
  his father Sir Launcelot._

So after, on a Monday, it befell that they arrived in the edge of a
forest, tofore a cross, and then saw they a knight, armed all in white,
and was richly horsed, and led in his right hand a white horse. And so
he came to the ship, and saluted the two knights on the high Lord’s
behalf, and said, Galahad, sir, ye have been long enough with your
father, come out of the ship, and start upon this horse, and go where
the adventures shall lead thee in the quest of the Sancgreal. Then he
went to his father, and kissed him sweetly, and said, Fair sweet
father, I wot not when I shall see you more, till I see the body of
Jesu Christ. I pray you, said Launcelot, pray ye to the high Father
that He hold me in his service. And so he took his horse; and there
they heard a voice, that said, Think for to do well, for the one shall
never see the other before the dreadful day of doom. Now, son Galahad,
said Launcelot, since we shall depart, and never see other, I pray to
the high Father to preserve both me and you both. Sir, said Galahad, no
prayer availeth so much as yours. And therewith Galahad entered into
the forest. And the wind arose, and drove Launcelot more than a month
throughout the sea, where he slept but little, but prayed to God that
he might see some tidings of the Sancgreal. So it befell on a night, at
midnight he arrived afore a castle, on the back side, which was rich
and fair. And there was a postern opened towards the sea, and was open
without any keeping, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shone
clear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard a voice that said, Launcelot, go out of
this ship, and enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a great part
of thy desire. Then he ran to his arms, and so armed him, and so he
went to the gate, and saw the lions. Then set he hand to his sword, and
drew it. Then there came a dwarf suddenly, and smote him on the arm so
sore that the sword fell out of his hand. Then heard he a voice say, Oh
man of evil faith and poor belief, wherefore trowest thou more on thy
harness than in thy Maker? for He might more avail thee than thine
armour, in whose service thou art set. Then said Launcelot, Fair Father
Jesu Christ, I thank thee of thy great mercy, that thou reprovest me of
my misdeed. Now see I well that ye hold me for your servant. Then took
he again his sword, and put it up in his sheath, and made a cross in
his forehead, and came to the lions, and they made semblant to do him
harm. Notwithstanding he passed by them without hurt, and entered into
the castle to the chief fortress, and there were they all at rest. Then
Launcelot entered in so armed, for he found no gate nor door but it was
open. And at the last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut, and
he set his hand thereto to have opened it, but he might not.


                               CHAP. XV.

_How Sir Launcelot was tofore the door of the chamber wherein the holy
  Sancgreal was._

Then he enforced him mickle to undo the door. Then he listened, and
heard a voice which sang so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing;
and him thought the voice said, Joy and honour be to the Father of
Heaven! Then Launcelot kneeled down tofore the chamber, for well wist
he that there was the Sancgreal within that chamber. Then said he, Fair
sweet Father Jesu Christ, if ever I did thing that pleased the Lord,
for thy pity have me not in despite for my sins done aforetime, and
that thou shew me something of that I seek! And with that he saw the
chamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the house
was as bright as all the torches of the world had been there. So came
he to the chamber door, and would have entered. And anon a voice said
to him, Flee Launcelot, and enter not, for thou oughtest not to do it:
and if thou enter thou shalt forthink it. Then he withdrew him aback
right heavy. Then looked he up in the midst of the chamber, and saw a
table of silver, and the holy vessel covered with red samite, and many
angels about it, whereof one held a candle of wax burning, and the
other held a cross, and the ornaments of an altar. And before the holy
vessel he saw a good man clothed as a priest, and it seemed that he was
at the sacring of the mass. And it seemed to Launcelot that above the
priest’s hands there were three men, whereof the two put the youngest
by likeness between the priest’s hands, and so he lift it up right
high, and it seemed to shew so to the people. And then Launcelot
marvelled not a little, for him thought that the priest was so greatly
charged of the figure, that him seemed that he should fall to the
earth. And when he saw none about him that would help him, then came he
to the door a great pace, and said, Fair Father Jesu Christ, ne take it
for no sin though I help the good man, which hath great need of help.
Right so entered he into the chamber, and came toward the table of
silver; and when he came nigh he felt a breath that him thought it was
intermeddled with fire, which smote him so sore in the visage that him
thought it burnt his visage; and therewith he fell to the earth, and
had no power to arise, as he that was so araged that had lost the power
of his body, and his hearing, and his saying. Then felt he many hands
about him, which took him up and bare him out of the chamber door,
without any amending of his swoon, and left him there seeming dead to
all people. So upon the morrow, when it was fair day, they within were
arisen, and found Launcelot lying afore the chamber door. All they
marvelled how that he came in. And so they looked upon him, and felt
his pulse, to wit whether there were any life in him; and so they found
life in him, but he might neither stand, nor stir no member that he
had; and so they took him by every part of the body, and bare him into
a chamber, and laid him in a rich bed, far from all folk, and so he lay
four days. Then the one said he was on live, and the other said nay. In
the name of God, said an old man, for I do you verily to wit he is not
dead, but he is so full of life as the mightiest of you all, and
therefore I counsel you that he be well kept till God send him life
again.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How Sir Launcelot had lain fourteen days and as many nights as a dead
  man, and other divers matters._

In such manner they kept Launcelot four and twenty days, and also many
nights, that ever he lay still as a dead man; and at the twenty-fifth
day befell him after midday that he opened his eyes. And when he saw
folk he made great sorrow and said, Why have ye awaked me? for I was
more at ease than I am now. Oh Jesu Christ, who might be so blessed
that might see openly thy great marvels of secretness there where no
sinner may be. What have ye seen? said they about him. I have seen,
said he, so great marvels that no tongue may tell, and more than any
heart can think, and had not my son been here afore me I had seen much
more. Then they told him how he had lain there four and twenty days and
nights. Then him thought it was punishment for the twenty-four years
that he had been a sinner, wherefore our Lord put him in penance four
and twenty days and nights. Then looked Sir Launcelot before him, and
saw the hair which he had borne nigh a year, for that he forethought
him right much that he had broken his promise unto the hermit, which he
had avowed to do. Then they asked him how it stood with him. Forsooth,
said he, I am whole of body, thanked be our Lord; therefore, sirs, for
God’s love tell me where that I am? Then said they all that he was in
the castle of Carbonek. Therewith came a gentlewoman, and brought him a
shirt of small linen cloth, but he changed not there, but took the hair
to him again. Sir, said they, the quest of the Sancgreal is achieved
right now in you, that never shall ye see of the Sancgreal no more than
ye have seen. Now I thank God, said Launcelot, of His great mercy, of
that I have seen, for it sufficeth me, for, as I suppose, no man in
this world hath lived better than I have done to achieve that I have
done. And therewith he took the hair, and clothed him in it, and above
that he put a linen shirt, and after a robe of scarlet, fresh and new.
And when he was so arrayed, they marvelled all, for they knew him that
he was Launcelot, the good knight. And then they said all, O my lord
Sir Launcelot, be that ye? And he said, Truly I am he. Then came word
to king Pelles, that the knight that had lain so long dead was Sir
Launcelot; then was the king right glad, and went to see him. And when
Launcelot saw him come, he dressed him against him, and there made the
king great joy of him. And there the king told him tidings, that his
fair daughter was dead. Then Launcelot was right heavy of it, and said,
Sir, me forthinketh the death of your daughter, for she was a full fair
lady, fresh and young. And well I wot she bare the best knight that is
now on earth, or that ever was since God was born. So the king held him
there four days. And on the morrow he took his leave at king Pelles,
and at all the fellowship that were there, and thanked them of the
great labour. Right so as they sat at dinner in the chief hall, then
was it so befallen that the Sancgreal had fulfilled the tables with all
manner of meats that any heart might think. So as they sat, they saw
all the doors and windows of the place were shut without man’s hand,
whereof they were all abashed, and none wist what to do. And then it
happed suddenly a knight came to the chief door, and knocked, and
cried, Undo the door; but they would not. And ever he cried, Undo, but
they would not. And at the last it annoyed them so much, that the king
himself arose, and came to a window where the knight called. Then he
said, Sir knight, ye shall not enter at this time, while the Sancgreal
is here, and therefore go into another. For certes ye be none of the
knights of the quest, but one of them which hath served the fiend, and
hast left the service of our Lord. And he was passing wroth at the
king’s words. Sir knight, said the king, sin ye would so fain enter,
say me of what country ye be? Sir, said he, I am of the realm of
Logris, and my name is Ector de Maris, and brother unto my lord Sir
Launcelot. Truly, said the king, me forthinketh of that I have said,
for your brother is here within. And when Ector de Maris understood
that his brother was there, for he was the man in the world that he
most dread and loved, and then he said, Alas, now doubleth my sorrow
and shame, full truly said the good man of the hill unto Gawaine and to
me of our dreams. Then went he out of the court as fast as his courser
might run, and so through out the castle.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How Sir Launcelot returned towards Logris, and of other adventures
  which he saw in the way._

Then king Pelles came to Sir Launcelot, and told him tidings of his
brother, whereof he was sorry that he wist not what to do. So Sir
Launcelot departed, and took his armour, and said that he would go see
the realm of Logris—which I have not seen in a twelvemonth. And
therewith commended the king to God, and so rode through many realms.
And at the last he came to a white abbey, and there they made him that
night great cheer. And on the morn he arose and heard mass, and afore
an altar he found a rich tomb which was newly made, and then he took
heed, and saw the sides written with letters of gold, which said, Here
lieth king Bagdemagus of Gore, the which king Arthur’s nephew
slew:—and named him Sir Gawaine. Then was not he a little sorry, for
Launcelot loved him much more than any other, and had it been any other
than Gawaine he should not have escaped from death to life:—said to
himself, Alas, this is a great hurt to king Arthur’s court, the loss of
such a man. And then he departed, and came to the abbey where Galahad
did the adventure of the tombs, and wan the white shield with the red
cross, and there had he great cheer all that night. And on the morn he
turned unto Camelot, where he found king Arthur and the queen. But many
of the knights of the Round Table were slain and destroyed, more than
half. And so three were come home, Ector, Gawaine, and Lionel, and many
other that need not to be rehearsed. And all the court was passing glad
of Sir Launcelot; and the king asked him many tidings of his son
Galahad. And there Launcelot told the king of his adventures that had
befallen him since he departed. And also he told him of the adventures
of Galahad, Percivale, and Bors, which that he knew by the letter of
the dead damsel, and as Galahad had told him. Now, God would, said the
king, that they were all three here. That shall never be, said
Launcelot, for two of them shall ye never see, but one of them shall
come again.

Now leave we this story, and speak we of Galahad.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How Galahad came to king Mordrains, and of other matters and
  adventures._

Now saith the story that Galahad rode many journeys in vain. And at the
last he came to the abbey where king Mordrains was, and when he heard
that, he thought he would abide to see him. And upon the morn, when he
had heard mass, Galahad came unto king Mordrains, and anon the king saw
him, the which had lain blind of long time. And then he dressed him
against him, and said, Galahad, the servant of Jesu Christ, whose
coming I have abiden so long, now embrace me, and let me rest on thy
breast, so that I may rest between thine arms, for thou art a clean
virgin above all knights, as the flower of the lily, in whom virginity
is signified, and thou art the rose, the which is the flower of all
good virtue, and in colour of fire. For the fire of the Holy Ghost is
taken so in thee, that my flesh, which was all dead of oldness, is
become young again. When Galahad heard his words, then he embraced him
and all his body. Then said he, Fair Lord Jesu Christ, now I have my
will, now I require thee in this point that I am in, thou come and
visit me. And anon our Lord heard his prayer. Therewith the soul
departed from the body. And then Galahad put him in the earth as a king
ought to be: and so departed, and came into a perilous forest, where he
found the well the which boiled with great waves, as the tale telleth
tofore. And as soon as Galahad set his hand thereto it ceased, so that
it burnt no more, and the heat departed: for that it burnt it was a
sign of lust; but that heat might not abide his pure virginity. And
this was taken in the country for a miracle, and so ever after was it
called Galahad’s well. Then by adventure he came into the country of
Gore, and into the abbey where Sir Launcelot had been toforehand, and
found the tomb of king Bagdemagus (but was founder thereof Joseph of
Armathie’s son) and the tomb of Simeon where Launcelot had failed. Then
he looked into a croft under the minster, and there he saw a tomb which
burnt full marvellously. Then asked he the brethren what it was? Sir,
said they, a marvellous adventure that may not be brought unto none
end, but by him that passeth of bounty and of knighthood all them of
the Round Table. I would, said Galahad, that ye would lead me thereto.
Gladly, said they: and so led him till a cave; and he went down upon
steps and came nigh the tomb, and then the flaming failed and the fire
staunched, the which many a day had been great. Then came there a voice
that said, Much are ye beholden to thank our Lord, the which hath given
you a good hour, that ye may draw out the souls of earthly pain, and to
put them into the joys of paradise. I am of your kindred, the which
have dwelled in this heat this three hundred winter and four and fifty,
to be purged of the sin that I did against Joseph of Armathie. Then
Galahad took the body in his arms, and bear it into the minster. And
that night lay Galahad in the abbey: and on the morn he gave him
service, and put him in the earth, afore the high altar.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How Sir Percivale and Sir Bors met with Sir Galahad, and how they came
  to the castle of Carbonek, and other matters._

So departed he from thence, and commended the brethren to God. And so
he rode five days till that he came to the maimed king, and ever
followed Percivale the five days, asking where he had been, and so one
told him how the adventures of Logris were achieved. So on a day it
befell that they came out of a great forest, and there they met at
travers with Sir Bors, the which rode alone. It is no need to tell if
they were glad, and them he saluted, and they yielded him honour and
good adventure; and every each told other. Then said Bors, It is more
than a year and a half that I ne lay ten times where men dwelled, but
in wild forests and in mountains, but God was ever my comfort.

Then rode they a great while till that they came to the castle of
Carbonek. And when they were entered within the castle king Pelles knew
them. Then there was great joy, for they wist well by their coming that
they had fulfilled the quest of the Sancgreal. Then Eliazar, king
Pelles’ son, brought afore them the broken sword wherewith Joseph was
stricken through the thigh. Then Bors set his hand thereto, if he might
have soldered it again, but it would not be. Then he took it to
Percivale, but he had no more power thereto than he. Now have ye it
again, said Percivale to Galahad, for and it be ever achieved by one
bodily man, ye must do it. And then took he the pieces and set them
together, and they seemed that they had never been broken, and as well
as it had been first forged. And when they within espied that the
adventure of the sword was achieved, then they gave the sword to Bors,
for it might not be better set, for he was a good knight, and a worthy
man. And a little afore even the sword arose great and marvellous, and
was full of great heat, that many men fell for dread. And anon alight a
voice among them, and said, They that ought not to sit at the table of
Jesu Christ arise, for now shall very knights be fed. So they went
thence all save king Pelles and Eliazar his son, the which were holy
men, and a maid which was his niece. And so these three fellows and
they three were there; no more. Anon they saw knights all armed come in
at the hall door, and did off their helms and their arms, and said unto
Galahad, Sir, we have hied right much for to be with you at this table,
where the holy meat shall be parted. Then said he, Ye be welcome: but
of whence be ye? So three of them said they were of Gaul, and other
three said they were of Ireland, and the other three said they were of
Denmark. So as they sat thus, there came out a bed of tree of a
chamber, the which four gentlewomen brought, and in the bed lay a good
man sick, and a crown of gold upon his head; and there in the midst of
the place they set him down, and went again their way. Then he lift up
his head and said, Galahad, knight, ye be welcome, for much have I
desired your coming, for in such pain and in such anguish I have been
long. But now I trust to God the term is come that my pain shall be
allayed, that I shall pass out of this world, so as it was promised me
long ago. Therewith a voice said, There be two among you that be not in
the quest of the Sancgreal, and therefore depart ye.


                               CHAP. XX.

_How Galahad and his fellows were fed of the holy Sangreal, and how our
  Lord appeared to them, and other things._

Then king Pelles and his son departed. And therewithal beseemed them
that there came a man and four angels from heaven, clothed in likeness
of a bishop, and had a cross in his hand, and these four angels bare
him up in a chair, and set him down before the table of silver
whereupon the Sancgreal was, and it seemed that he had in midst of his
forehead letters that said, See ye here Joseph the first bishop of
Christendom, the same which our Lord succoured in the city of Sarras,
in the spiritual place. Then the knights marvelled, for that bishop was
dead more than three hundred year tofore. Oh knights, said he, marvel
not, for I was sometime an earthly man. With that they heard the
chamber door open, and there they saw angels, and two bare candles of
wax, and the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled
marvellously, that three drops fell within a box which he held with his
other hand. And they set the candles upon the table, and the third the
towel upon the vessel, and the fourth the holy spear even upright upon
the vessel. And then the bishop made semblant as though he would have
gone to the sacring of the mass. And then he took an ubbly, which was
made in likeness of bread; and at the lifting up there came a figure in
likeness of a child, and the visage was as red and as bright as any
fire, and smote himself into the bread, so that they all saw it, that
the bread was formed of a fleshly man, and then he put it into the holy
vessel again. And then he did that longed to a priest to do to a mass.
And then he went to Galahad and kissed him, and bad him go and kiss his
fellows, and so he did anon. Now, said he, servants of Jesu Christ, ye
shall be fed afore this table with sweet meats, that never knights
tasted. And when he had said, he vanished away; and they set them at
the table in great dread, and made their prayers. Then looked they, and
saw a man come out of the holy vessel, that had all the signs of the
passion of Jesu Christ, bleeding all openly, and said, My knights and
my servants and my true children, which be come out of deadly life into
spiritual life, I will now no longer hide me from you, but ye shall see
now a part of my secrets and of my hid things: now hold and receive the
high meat which ye have so much desired. Then took he himself the holy
vessel, and came to Galahad, and he kneeled down and there he received
his Saviour, and after him so received all his fellows; and they
thought it so sweet that it was marvellous to tell. Then said he to
Galahad, Son, wotest thou what I hold betwixt my hands? Nay, said he,
but if ye will tell me. This is, said he, the holy dish wherein I ate
the lamb on Sher-thursday. And now hast thou seen that thou most
desiredst to see, but yet hast thou not seen it so openly as thou shalt
see it in the city of Sarras, in the spiritual place. Therefore thou
must go hence, and bear with thee this holy vessel, for this night it
shall depart from the realm of Logris, that it shall never be seen more
here, and wotest thou wherefore? for he is not served nor worshipped to
his right, by them of this land, for they be turned to evil living,
therefore I shall disherit them of the honour which I have done them.
And therefore go ye three to-morrow unto the sea, where ye shall find
your ship ready, and with you take the sword with the strange girdles,
and no more with you, but Sir Percivale and Sir Bors. Also I will that
ye take with you of the blood of this spear, for to anoint the maimed
king, both his legs and all his body, and he shall have his health.
Sir, said Galahad, why shall not these other fellows go with us?—For
this cause, for right as I departed mine apostles, one here and another
there, so I will that ye depart. And two of you shall die in my
service, but one of you shall come again, and tell tidings. Then gave
he them his blessing and vanished away.


                               CHAP. XXI.

_How Galahad anointed with the blood of the spear the maimed king, and
  other adventures._

And Galahad went anon to the spear which lay upon the table, and
touched the blood with his fingers, and came after to the maimed king,
and anointed his legs. And therewith he clothed him anon, and start
upon his feet out of his bed as an whole man, and thanked our Lord that
he had healed him. And that was not to the world-ward, for anon he
yield him to a place of religion of white monks, and was a full holy
man. That same night, about midnight came a voice among them, which
said, My sons and not my chieftains, my friends and not my warriors, go
ye hence, where ye hope best to do, and as I bad you.—Ah, thanked be
thou, Lord, that thou wilt vouchsafe to call us thy sinners. Now may we
well prove that we have not lost our pains.

And anon in all haste they took their harness and departed. But the
three knights of Gaul, one of them hight Claudine, king Claudas’ son,
and the other two were great gentlemen. Then prayed Galahad to every
each of them, that if they come to king Arthur’s court, that they
should salute my lord Sir Launcelot my father, and of them of the Round
Table, and prayed them if that they came on that part that they should
not forget it. Right so departed Galahad, Percivale, and Bors with him.
And so they rode three days, and then they came to a rivage, and found
the ship whereof the tale speaketh of tofore. And when they came to the
board, they found in the midst the table of silver which they had left
with the maimed king, and the Sancgreal, which was covered with red
samite. Then were they glad to have such things in their fellowship,
and so they entered, and made great reverence thereto, and Galahad fell
in his prayer long time to our Lord, that, at what time he asked, that
he should pass out of this world: so much he prayed, till a voice said
to him, Galahad, thou shalt have thy request, and when thou askest the
death of thy body thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou find the life
of the soul. Percivale heard this, and prayed him of fellowship that
was between them, to tell him wherefore he asked such things. That
shall I tell you, said Galahad: the other day when we saw a part of the
adventures of the Sancgreal, I was in such a joy of heart that I trow
never man was that was earthly, and therefore I wot well when my body
is dead my soul shall be in great joy to see the blessed Trinity every
day, and the majesty of our Lord Jesu Christ. So long were they in the
ship that they said to Galahad, Sir, in this bed ought ye to lie, for
so saith the scripture. And so he laid him down and slept a great
while. And when he awaked he looked afore him, and saw the city of
Sarras. And as they would have landed, they saw the ship wherein
Percivale had put his sister in. Truly, said Percivale, in the name of
God, well hath my sister holden us covenant. Then took they out of the
ship the table of silver, and he took it to Percivale and to Bors to go
tofore, and Galahad came behind, and right so they went to the city,
and at the gate of the city they saw an old man crooked. Then Galahad
called him, and bad him help to bear this heavy thing. Truly, said the
old man, it is ten year ago that I might not go but with crutches. Care
thou not, said Galahad, and arise up and shew thy good will. And so he
assayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was. Then ran he to the
table, and took one part against Galahad. And anon arose there great
noise in the city, that a <DW36> was made whole by knights marvellous
that entered into the city. Then anon after, the three knights went to
the water, and brought up into the palace Percivale’s sister, and
buried her as richly as a king’s daughter ought to be. And when the
king of the city, which was cleped Estorause, saw the fellowship, he
asked them of whence they were, and what thing it was that they had
brought upon the table of silver. And they told him the truth of the
Sancgreal, and the power which that God had set there. Then the king
was a tyrant, and was come of the line of paynims, and took them, and
put them in prison in a deep hole.


                              CHAP. XXII.

_How they were fed with the Sangreal while they were in prison, and how
  Galahad was made king._

But as soon as they were there, our Lord sent them the Sancgreal,
through whose grace they were alway fulfilled while that they were in
prison. So at the year’s end it befell that this king Estorause lay
sick, and felt that he should die. Then he sent for the three knights,
and they came afore him, and he cried them mercy of that he had done to
them, and they forgave it him goodly, and he died anon. When the king
was dead, all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be their
king. Right so as they were in counsel, there came a voice among them,
and bad them choose the youngest knight of them three to be their king,
for he shall well maintain you and all yours. So they made Galahad king
by all the assent of the whole city, and else they would have slain
him. And when he was come to behold the land, he let make about the
table of silver a chest of gold and of precious stones that covered the
holy vessel, and every day early the three fellows would come afore it
and make their prayers. Now at the year’s end, and the self day after
Galahad had borne the crown of gold, he arose up early, and his
fellows, and came to the palace, and saw tofore them the holy vessel,
and a man kneeling on his knees, in likeness of a bishop, that had
about him a great fellowship of angels, as it had been Jesu Christ
himself. And then he arose and began a mass of Our Lady. And when he
came to the sacrament of the mass, and had done, anon he called
Galahad, and said to him, Come forth, the servant of Jesu Christ, and
thou shalt see that thou hast much desired to see. And then he began to
tremble right hard, when the deadly flesh began to behold the spiritual
things. Then he held up his hands toward heaven, and said, Lord, I
thank thee, for now I see that that hath been my desire many a day.
Now, blessed Lord, would I not longer live, if it might please thee
Lord. And therewith the good man took our Lord’s body betwixt his
hands, and proffered it to Galahad, and he received it right gladly and
meekly. Now, wotest thou what I am? said the good man. Nay, said
Galahad.—I am Joseph of Armathie, which our Lord hath sent here to
thee to bear thee fellowship. And wotest thou wherefore that he hath
sent me more than any other? For thou hast resembled me in two things,
in that thou hast seen the marvels of the Sancgreal, and in that thou
hast been a clean maiden, as I have been and am. And when he had said
these words, Galahad went to Percivale and kissed him, and commanded
him to God. And so he went to Sir Bors and kissed him, and commanded
him to God, and said, Fair lord, salute me to my lord Sir Launcelot, my
father, and as soon as ye see him bid him remember of this unstable
world. And therewith he kneeled down tofore the table and made his
prayers, and then suddenly his soul departed to Jesu Christ, and a
great multitude of angels bare his soul up to heaven, that the two
fellows might well behold it. Also the two fellows saw come from heaven
an hand, but they saw not the body; and then it came right to the
vessel, and took it and the spear, and so bare it up to heaven. Sithen
was there never man so hardy to say that he had seen the Sancgreal.


                              CHAP. XXIII.

_Of the sorrow that Percivale and Bors made when Galahad was dead; and
  of Percivale how he died, and other matters._

When Percivale and Bors saw Galahad dead, they made as much sorrow as
ever did two men: and if they had not been good men they might lightly
have fallen in despair. And the people of the country and of the city
were right heavy. And then he was buried. And as soon as he was buried,
Sir Percivale yielded him to an hermitage out of the city, and took a
religious clothing; and Bors was alway with him, but never changed he
his secular clothing, for that he purposed him to go again into the
realm of Logris. Thus a year and two months lived Sir Percivale in the
hermitage a full holy life, and then passed out of this world. And Bors
let bury him by his sister and by Galahad in the spiritualties. When
Bors saw that he was in so far countries as in the parts of Babylon, he
departed from Sarras, and armed him, and came to the sea, and entered
into a ship, and so it befell him in good adventure he came into the
realm of Logris. And he rode so fast till he came to Camelot where the
king was. And then was there great joy made of him in the court, for
they wend all he had been dead, forasmuch as he had been so long out of
the country. And when they had eaten, the king made great clerks to
come afore him, that they should chronicle of the high adventures of
the good knights. When Bors had told him of the adventures of the
Sancgreal, such as had befallen him and his three fellows, that was
Launcelot, Percivale, Galahad and himself. There Launcelot told the
adventures of the Sancgreal that he had seen. All this was made in
great books, and put in almeries at Salisbury. And anon Sir Bors said
to Sir Launcelot, Galahad your own son saluted you by me, and after you
king Arthur, and all the court, and so did Sir Percivale: for I buried
them with mine own hands in the city of Sarras. Also, Sir Launcelot,
Galahad prayeth you to remember of this uncertain world, as ye behight
him when ye were together more than half a year. This is true, said
Launcelot; now I trust to God his prayer shall avail me. Then Launcelot
took Sir Bors in his arms, and said, Gentle cousin, ye are right
welcome to me, and all that ever I may do for you and for yours, ye
shall find my poor body ready at all times whiles the spirit is in it,
and that I promise you faithfully, and never to fail. And wit ye well,
gentle cousin Sir Bors, that ye and I will never depart in sunder
whilst our lives may last. Sir, said he, I will as ye will.

Thus endeth thistory of the Sancgreal that was breuely drawen oute of
  Frensshe in to Englysshe, the whiche is a story cronycled for one of
  the truest and the holyest that is in thys world, the which is the
  xvii book.

                 And here foloweth the eyghtenth book.




                          The Eighteenth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_Of the joy of king Arthur and the queen had of the achievement of the
  Sangreal; and how Launcelot fell to his old love again._

So after the quest of the Sancgreal was fulfilled, and all knights that
were left on live were come again unto the Table Round, as the book of
the Sancgreal maketh mention, then was there great joy in the court,
and in especial king Arthur and queen Guenever made great joy of the
remnant that were come home, and passing glad was the king and the
queen of Sir Launcelot and of Sir Bors. For they had been passing long
away in the quest of the Sancgreal. Then, as the book saith, Sir
Launcelot began to resort unto queen Guenever again, and forgat the
promise and the perfection that he made in the quest. For, as the book
saith, had not Sir Launcelot been in his privy thoughts and in his mind
so set inwardly to the queen, as he was in seeming outward to God,
there had no knight passed him in the quest of the Sancgreal: but ever
his thoughts were privily on the queen, and so they loved together more
hotter than they did toforehand, that many in the court spake of it,
and in especial Sir Agravaine, Sir Gawaine’s brother, for he was ever
open mouthed. So befell that Sir Launcelot had many resorts of ladies
and damsels, that daily resorted unto him, that besought him to be
their champion. And in all such matters of right Sir Launcelot appealed
him daily to do for the pleasure of our Lord Jesu Christ. And ever as
much as he might he withdrew him from the company and fellowship of
queen Guenever, for to eschew the slander and noise: wherefore the
queen waxed wroth with Sir Launcelot, and upon a day she called Sir
Launcelot unto her chamber, and said thus: Sir Launcelot, I see and
feel daily that thy love beginneth to slake, for thou hast no joy to be
in my presence, but ever thou art out of this court, and quarrels and
matters thou hast now adays for ladies and gentlewomen, more than ever
thou were wont to have aforehand. Ah, madam, said Launcelot, in this ye
must hold me excused for divers causes. One is, I was but late in the
quest of the Sancgreal, and I thank God, of his great mercy, and never
of my deserving, that I saw in that my quest as much as ever saw any
sinful man, and so was it told me. And if I had not had my privy
thoughts to return to your love again as I do, I had seen as great
mysteries as ever saw my son Galahad, or Percivale, or Sir Bors, and
therefore, madam, I was but late in that quest. Wit ye well, madam, it
may not be yet lightly forgotten the high service in whom I did my
diligent labour. Also, madam, wit ye well that there be many men speak
of our love in this court, and have you and me greatly in a wait, as
Sir Agravaine, and Sir Mordred: and, madam, wit ye well, I dread them
more for your sake than for any fear that I have of them myself, for I
may happen to escape and rid myself in a great need, where ye must
abide all that will be said unto you. And then if that ye fall in any
distress through wilful folly, then is there none other remedy or help
but by me and my blood. And wit ye well, madam, the boldness of you and
me will bring us to great shame and slander, and that were me loth to
see you dishonoured. And that is the cause that I take upon me more for
to do for damsels and maidens than ever I did tofore, that men should
understand my joy and my delight is my pleasure to have ado for damsels
and maidens.


                               CHAP. II.

_How the queen commanded Sir Launcelot to avoid the court, and of the
  sorrow that Launcelot made._

All this while the queen stood still, and let Sir Launcelot say what he
would. And when he had all said, she brast out on weeping, and so she
sobbed and wept a great while: and when she might speak, she said,
Launcelot, now I well understand that thou art a false recreant knight,
and lovest and holdest other ladies, and by me thou hast disdain and
scorn. For wit thou well, she said, now I understand thy falsehood, and
therefore shall I never love thee no more, and never be thou so hardy
to come in my sight; and right here I discharge thee this court, that
thou never come within it, and I forfend thee my fellowship, and upon
pain of thy head that thou see me no more. Right so Sir Launcelot
departed with great heaviness, that hardly he might sustain himself for
great dole making. Then he called Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir
Lionel, and told them how the queen had forfend him the court, and so
he was in will to depart into his own country. Fair sir, said Sir Bors
de Ganis, ye shall not depart out of this land by mine advice; ye must
remember in what honour ye are renowned, and called the noblest knight
of the world, and many great matters ye have in hand, and women in
their hastiness will do oftimes that sore repenteth them, and therefore
by mine advice ye shall take your horse, and ride to the good hermitage
here beside Windsor, that sometime was a good knight, his name is Sir
Brasias, and there shall ye abide till I send you word of better
tidings. Brother, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well I am full loth to
depart out of this realm, but the queen hath defended me so highly that
me seemeth she will never be my good lady as she hath been. Say ye
never so, said Sir Bors, for many times or this time she hath been
wroth with you, and after it she was the first that repented it. Ye say
well, said Launcelot, for now will I do by your counsel, and take mine
horse and my harness, and ride to the hermit Sir Brasias, and there
will I repose me until I hear some manner of tidings from you. But,
fair brother, I pray you get me the love of my lady queen Guenever, and
ye may. Sir, said Sir Bors, ye need not to move me of such matters, for
well ye wot I will do what I may to please you. And then the noble
knight Sir Launcelot departed with right heavy cheer, suddenly, that
none earthly creature wist of him, nor where he was become, but Sir
Bors. So when Sir Launcelot was departed, the queen made no manner of
sorrow in shewing, to none of his blood, nor to none other: but, wit ye
well, inwardly, as the book saith, she took great thought, but she bare
it out with a proud countenance, as though she felt nothing nor danger.


                               CHAP. III.

_How at a dinner that the queen made there was a knight poisoned, which
  Sir Mador laid on the queen._

And then the queen let make a privy dinner in London unto the knights
of the Round Table. And all was for to show outward that she had as
great joy in all other knights of the Table Round as she had in Sir
Launcelot. All only at that dinner she had Sir Gawaine and his
brethren, that is to say, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gareth, and
Sir Mordred. Also there was Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir
Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir
Lionel, Sir Palamides, Sir Safere his brother, Sir La Cote Male Taile,
Sir Persant, Sir Ironside, Sir Brandiles, Sir Kay le Seneschal, Sir
Mador de la Porte, Sir Patrise, a knight of Ireland, Aliduk, Sir
Astomore, and Sir Pinel le Savage, the which was cousin to Sir Lamorak
de Galis, the good knight that Sir Gawaine and his brethren slew by
treason. And so these four and twenty knights should dine with the
queen in a privy place by themselves, and there was made a great feast
of all manner of dainties. But Sir Gawaine had a custom that he used
daily at dinner and at supper, that he loved well all manner of fruit,
and in especial apples and pears. And therefore, whosoever dined or
feasted Sir Gawaine would commonly purvey for good fruit for him; and
so did the queen for to please Sir Gawaine, she let purvey for him of
all manner of fruit, for Sir Gawaine was a passing hot knight of
nature. And this Pinel hated Sir Gawaine because of his kinsman Sir
Lamorak de Galis, and therefore for pure envy and hate Sir Pinel
enpoisoned certain apples, for to enpoison Sir Gawaine. And so this was
well unto the end of the meat: and so it befell by misfortune a good
knight named Patrise, cousin unto Sir Mador de la Porte, to take a
poisoned apple. And when he had eaten it he swelled so till he brast,
and there Sir Patrise fell down suddenly dead among them. Then every
knight lept from the board ashamed and araged for wrath, nigh out of
their wits. For they wist not what to say: considering queen Guenever
made the feast and dinner, they all had suspicion unto her. My lady,
the queen, said Gawaine, wit ye well, madam, that this dinner was made
for me: for all folks that know my conditions understand that I love
well fruit, and now I see well I had near been slain; therefore, madam,
I dread lest ye will be shamed. Then the queen stood still, and was
sore abashed, that he nist not what to say. This shall not so be ended,
said Sir Mador de la Porte, for here have I lost a full noble knight of
my blood, and therefore upon this shame and despite I will be revenged
to the utterance. And there openly Sir Mador appealed the queen of the
death of his cousin Sir Patrise. Then stood they all still, that none
of them would speak a word against him. For they had a great suspicion
unto the queen because she let make that dinner. And the queen was so
abashed that she could none other ways do but wept so heartily that she
fell in a swoon. With this noise and cry came to them king Arthur. And
when he wist of that trouble, he was a passing heavy man.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Mador appeached the queen of treason, and there was no knight
  would fight for her at the first time._

And ever Sir Mador stood still afore the king, and ever he appealed the
queen of treason: for the custom was such that time that all manner of
shameful death was called treason. Fair lords, said king Arthur, me
repenteth of this trouble, but the case is so I may not have ado in
this matter, for I must be a rightful judge, and that repenteth me that
I may not do battle for my wife: for, as I deem, this deed came never
by her, and therefore I suppose she shall not be all distained, but
that some good knight shall put his body in jeopardy, rather than she
shall be burnt in a wrong quarrel. And therefore, Sir Mador, be not so
hasty, for it may happen she shall not be all friendless, and therefore
desire thou thy day of battle, and she shall purvey her of some good
knight that shall answer you, or else it were to me great shame, and to
all my court. My gracious lord, said Sir Mador, ye must hold me
excused, for though ye be our king in that degree, ye are but a knight
as we are, and ye are sworn unto knighthood as well as we, and
therefore I beseech you that ye be not displeased. For there is none of
the four and twenty knights that were bidden to this dinner but all
they have great suspicion unto the queen. What say ye all, my lords?
said Sir Mador. Then they answered by and by that they could not excuse
the queen, for why she made the dinner, and either it must come by her
or by her servants. Alas, said the queen, I made this dinner for a good
intent, and never for none evil; so Almighty God help me in my right as
I was never purposed to do such evil deeds, and that I report me unto
God. My lord the king, said Sir Mador, I require you, as ye be a
righteous king, give me a day that I may have justice. Well, said the
king, I give the day this day fifteen days, that thou be ready armed on
horseback in the meadow beside Westminster. And if it so fall that
there be any knight to encounter with you, there mayest thou do the
best, and God speed the right. And if it so fall that there be no
knight at that day, then must my queen be burnt, and there shall she be
ready to have her judgment. I am answered, said Sir Mador; and every
knight went where it liked him. So when the king and the queen were
together, the king asked the queen how this case befell? The queen
answered, So God me help I wot not how, nor in what manner. Where is
Sir Launcelot? said king Arthur, and he were here, he would not grudge
to do battle for you. Sir, said the queen, I wot not where he is, but
his brother and his kinsmen deem that he is not within this realm. That
me repenteth, said king Arthur, for and he were here he would soon
stint this strife. Then I will counsel you, said the king, and unto Sir
Bors—That ye will do battle for her for Sir Launcelot’s sake,—and
upon my life he will not refuse you. For well I see, said the king,
that none of these four and twenty knights that were with you at your
dinner, where Sir Patrise was slain, will do battle for you, nor none
of them will say well of you, and that shall be great slander for you
in this court. Alas, said the queen, and I may not do withal, but now I
miss Sir Launcelot, for and he were here he would put me soon to my
heart’s ease. What aileth you, said the king, ye cannot keep Sir
Launcelot on your side? For, wit ye well, said the king, who that hath
Sir Launcelot upon his party hath the most man of worship in the world
upon his side. Now go your way, said the king unto the queen, and
require Sir Bors to do battle for you for Sir Launcelot’s sake.


                                CHAP. V.

_How the queen required Sir Bors to fight for her, and how he granted
  upon condition; and how he warned Sir Launcelot thereof._

So the queen departed from the king, and sent for Sir Bors into her
chamber. And when he was come, she besought him of succour. Madam, said
he, what would ye that I did, for I may not with my worship have ado in
this matter, because I was at the same dinner, for dread that any of
those knights would have me in suspicion. Also madam, said Sir Bors,
now miss ye Sir Launcelot, for he would not have failed you neither in
right nor in wrong, as ye have well proved when ye have been in danger,
and now ye have driven him out of this country, by whom ye and all we
were daily worshipped by. Therefore, madam, I marvel me how ye dare for
shame require me to do any thing for you, in so much ye have chased him
out of your country, by whom we were borne up and honoured. Alas, fair
knight, said the queen, I put me wholly in your grace, and all that is
done amiss I will amend as ye will counsel me. And therewith she
kneeled down upon both her knees, and besought Sir Bors to have mercy
upon her,—or I shall have a shameful death, and thereto I never
offended. Right so came king Arthur, and found the queen kneeling afore
Sir Bors. Then Sir Bors pulled her up, and said, Madam, ye do to me
great dishonour. Ah, gentle knight, said the king, have mercy upon my
queen, courteous knight, for I am now in certain she is untruly
defamed. And therefore, courteous knight, said the king, promise her to
do battle for her: I require you, for the love of Sir Launcelot. My
lord, said Sir Bors, ye require me the greatest thing that any man may
require me; and wit ye well, if I grant to do battle for the queen I
shall wrath many of my fellowship of the Table Round; but as for that,
said Bors, I will grant my lord, for my lord Sir Launcelot’s sake, and
for your sake, I will at that day be the queen’s champion, unless that
there come by adventure a better knight than I am to do battle for her.
Will ye promise me this, said the king, by your faith? Yea sir, said
Sir Bors, of that will I not fail you, nor her both, but if that there
come a better knight than I am, and then shall he have the battle. Then
was the king and the queen passing glad, and so departed, and thanked
him heartily. So then Sir Bors departed secretly upon a day, and rode
unto Sir Launcelot, there as he was with the hermit Sir Brasias, and
told him of all their adventure. Ah, said Sir Launcelot, this is come
happily as I would have it, and therefore I pray you make you ready to
do battle, but look that ye tarry till ye see me come, as long as ye
may. For I am sure Mador is an hot knight, when he is enchafed, for the
more ye suffer him, the hastier will he be to battle. Sir, said Bors,
let me deal with him; doubt ye not ye shall have all your will. Then
departed Sir Bors from him, and came to the court again. Then was it
noised in all the court that Sir Bors should do battle for the queen:
wherefore many knights were displeased with him, that he would take
upon him to do battle in the queen’s quarrel, for there were but few
knights in the court but they deemed the queen was in the wrong, and
that she had done that treason. So Sir Bors answered thus unto his
fellows of the Table Round: Wit ye well, my fair lords, it were shame
to us all, and we suffered to see the most noble queen of the world to
be shamed openly, considering her lord and our lord is the man of most
worship in the world, and most christened, and he hath ever worshipped
us all, in all places. Many answered him again:—As for our most noble
king Arthur, we love him and honour him as well as ye do; but as for
queen Guenever we love her not, because she is a destroyer of good
knights. Fair lords, said Sir Bors, me seemeth ye say not as ye should
say, for never yet in my days knew I never, nor heard say, that ever
she was a destroyer of any good knight: but at all times, as far as I
ever could know, she was always a maintainer of good knights, and
always she hath been large and free of her goods to all good knights,
and the most bounteous lady of her gifts and her good grace that ever I
saw or heard speak of. And therefore it were shame, said Sir Bors, to
us all to our most noble king’s wife, and we suffered her to be
shamefully slain. And wit ye well, said Sir Bors, I will not suffer it,
for I dare say so much, the queen is not guilty of Sir Patrise’s death,
for she owed him never none ill will, nor none of the four and twenty
knights that were at that dinner; for I dare say for good love she bad
us to dinner, and not for no mal-engine; and that I doubt not shall be
proved hereafter: for howsoever the game goeth, there was treason among
us. Then some said to Sir Bors, We may well believe your words. And so
some of them were well pleased, and some were not so.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How at the day Sir Bors made him ready for to fight for the queen; and
  when he should fight how another discharged him._

The day came on fast until the even that the battle should be. Then the
queen sent for Sir Bors, and asked him how he was disposed. Truly
madam, said he, I am disposed in likewise as I promised you; that is
for to say, I shall not fail you, unless by adventure there come a
better knight than I am, to do the battle for you: then, madam, am I
discharged of my promise. Will ye, said the queen, that I tell my lord
Arthur thus? Do as it shall please you, madam. Then the queen went unto
the king, and told him the answer of Sir Bors. Have ye no doubt, said
the king, of Sir Bors, for I call him now one of the best knights of
the world, and the most profitablest man. And thus it past on until the
morn. And the king and the queen, and all manner of knights that were
there at that time, drew them unto the meadow beside Westminster, where
the battle should be. And so when the king was come with the queen, and
many knights of the Round Table, then the queen was put there in the
constable’s ward, and a great fire made about an iron stake, that, and
Sir Mador de la Porte had the better, she should be burnt. Such custom
was used in those days, that neither for favour, neither for love, nor
affinity, there should be none other but righteous judgment, as well
upon a king as upon a knight, and as well upon a queen as upon another
poor lady. So in this meanwhile came in Sir Mador de la Porte, and took
his oath afore the king, That the queen did this treason until his
cousin Sir Patrise, and unto his oath he would prove it with his body,
hand for hand, who that would say the contrary. Right so came in Sir
Bors de Ganis, and said, that as for queen Guenever, she is in the
right, and that will I make good with my hands, that she is not
culpable of this treason that is put upon her. Then make thee ready,
said Sir Mador, and we shall prove whether thou be in the right or I.
Sir Mador, said Sir Bors, wit thou well I know you for a good knight:
not for then I shall not fear so greatly, but I trust to God I shall be
able to withstand your malice: but thus much have I promised my lord
Arthur, and my lady the queen, that I shall do battle for her in this
case to the uttermost, unless that there come a better knight than I
am, and discharge me. Is that all, said Sir Mador, either come thou off
and do battle with me, or else say nay. Take your horse, said Sir Bors,
and, as I suppose, ye shall not tarry long, but ye shall be answered.
Then either departed to their tents, and made them ready to horseback
as they thought best. And anon Sir Mador came into the field with his
shield on his shoulder, and his spear in his hand. And so rode about
the place, crying unto king Arthur, Bid your champion come forth and he
dare! Then was Sir Bors ashamed, and took his horse and came to the
lists’ end. And then was he ware where came from a wood there fast by a
knight, all armed upon a white horse, with a strange shield of strange
arms, and he came riding all that he might run. And so he came to Sir
Bors, and said, Fair knight, I pray you be not displeased, for here
must a better knight than ye are have this battle; therefore I pray you
withdraw you. For wit ye well I have had this day a right great
journey, and this battle ought to be mine, and so I promised you when I
spake with you last, and with all my heart I thank you of your good
will. Then Sir Bors rode unto king Arthur, and told him how there was a
knight come that would have the battle for to fight for the queen. What
knight is he? said the king. I wot not, said Sir Bors, but such
covenant he made with me to be here this day. Now my lord, said Sir
Bors, here am I discharged.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Sir Launcelot fought against Sir Mador for the queen, and how he
  overcame Sir Mador and discharged the queen._

Then the king called to that knight, and asked him if he would fight
for the queen. Then he answered to the king, Therefore came I hither,
and therefore, Sir king, he said, tarry me no longer, for I may not
tarry. For anon as I have finished this battle I must depart hence, for
I have ado many matters elsewhere. For wit you well, said that knight,
this is dishonour to you all knights of the Round Table, to see and
know so noble a lady, and so courteous a queen, as queen Guenever is,
thus to be rebuked and shamed amongst you. Then they all marvelled what
knight that might be that so took the battle upon him, for there was
not one that knew him, but if it were Sir Bors. Then said Sir Mador de
la Porte unto the king, Now let me wit with whom I shall have ado
withal. And then they rode to the lists’ end, and there they couched
their spears, and ran together with all their mights. And Sir Mador’s
spear brake all to pieces, but the other’s spear held, and bare Sir
Mador’s horse and all backward to the earth a great fall. But mightily
and suddenly he avoided his horse, and put his shield afore him, and
then drew his sword, and bad the other knight alight and do battle with
him on foot. Then that knight descended from his horse lightly like a
valiant man, and put his shield afore him, and drew his sword, and so
they came eagerly unto battle, and either gave other many great
strokes, tracing and traversing, rasing and foining, and hurtling
together with their swords, as it were wild boars. Thus were they
fighting nigh an hour, for this Sir Mador was a strong knight, and
mightily proved in many strong battles. But at last this knight smote
Sir Mador groveling upon the earth, and the knight stept near him to
have pulled Sir Mador flatling upon the ground; and therewith suddenly
Sir Mador arose, and in his rising he smote that knight through the
thick of the thighs, that the blood ran out fiercely. And when he felt
himself so wounded, and saw his blood, he let him arise upon his feet;
and then he gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell to the
earth flatling, and therewith he strode to him for to have pulled off
his helm off his head. And then Sir Mador prayed that knight to save
his life, and so he yielded him as overcome, and released the queen of
his quarrel. I will not grant thee thy life, said that knight, only
that thou freely release the queen for ever, and that no mention be
made upon Sir Patrise’s tomb that ever queen Guenever consented to that
treason. All this shall be done, said Sir Mador, I clearly discharge my
quarrel for ever. Then the knights parters of the lists took up Sir
Mador and led him to his tent. And the other knight went straight to
the stair foot where sat king Arthur, and by that time was the queen
come to the king, and either kissed other heartily. And when the king
saw that knight, he stooped down to him and thanked him, and in
likewise did the queen: and the king prayed him to put off his helmet,
and to repose him, and to take a sop of wine, and then he put off his
helm to drink, and then every knight knew him that it was Sir Launcelot
du Lake. Anon as the king wist that, he took the queen in his hand, and
went unto Sir Launcelot, and said, Sir, grant mercy of your great
travail that ye have had this day for me and for my queen. My lord,
said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well I ought of right ever to be in your
quarrel, and in my lady the queen’s quarrel to do battle, for ye are
the man that gave me the high honour of knighthood, and that day my
lady your queen did me great worship, and else I had been shamed; for
that same day ye made me knight through my hastiness I lost my sword,
and my lady your queen found it, and lapped it in her train, and gave
me my sword when I had need thereto, and else had I been shamed among
all knights. And therefore, my lord Arthur, I promised her at that day
ever to be her knight in right or in wrong. Grant mercy, said king
Arthur, for this journey, and wit ye well, said the king, I shall
acquit your goodness. And ever the queen beheld Sir Launcelot, and wept
so tenderly that she sank almost to the ground for sorrow that he had
done to her so great goodness, where she shewed him great unkindness.
Then the knights of his blood drew unto him, and there either of them
made great joy of other. And so came all the knights of the Table Round
that were there at that time, and welcomed him. And then Sir Mador was
had to leech-craft, and Sir Launcelot was healed of his wound. And then
there was made great joy and mirths in that court.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How the truth was known by the maiden of the lake, and of divers other
  matters._

And so it befell that the damsel of the lake, her name was Nimue, the
which wedded the good knight Sir Pelleas, and so she came to the court,
for ever she did great goodness unto king Arthur, and to all his
knights, through her sorcery and enchantments. And so when she heard
how the queen was an angered for the death of Sir Patrise, then she
told it openly that she was never guilty, and there she disclosed by
whom it was done, and named him Sir Pinel, and for what cause he did
it. There it was openly disclosed, and so the queen was excused, and
the knight Pinel fled into his country. Then was it openly known that
Sir Pinel enpoisoned the apples at the feast, to that intent to have
destroyed Sir Gawaine, because Sir Gawaine and his brethren destroyed
Sir Lamorak de Galis, to the which Sir Pinel was cousin unto. Then was
Sir Patrise buried in the church of Westminster, in a tomb, and
thereupon was written, Here lieth Sir Patrise of Ireland, slain by Sir
Pinel le Savage, that enpoisoned apples to have slain Sir Gawaine, and
by misfortune Sir Patrise eat one of those apples, and then suddenly he
brast. Also there was written upon the tomb, that queen Guenever was
appealed of treason of the death of Sir Patrise by Sir Mador de la
Porte, and there was made mention how Sir Launcelot fought with him for
queen Guenever, and overcame him in plain battle. All this was written
upon the tomb of Sir Patrise, in excusing of the queen. And then Sir
Mador sued daily and long to have the queen’s good grace. And so by the
means of Sir Launcelot he caused him to stand in the queen’s grace, and
all was forgiven. Thus it passed forth till our Lady day, Assumption.
Within a fifteen days of that feast the king let cry a great justs and
a tournament that should be at that day at Camelot, that is Winchester.
And the king let cry that he and the king of Scots would just against
all that would come against them. And when this cry was made, thither
came many knights. So there came thither the king of Northgalis, and
king Anguish of Ireland, and the king with the hundred knights, and Sir
Galahalt the haut prince, and the king of Northumberland, and many
other noble dukes and earls of divers countries. So king Arthur made
him ready to depart to these justs, and would have had the queen with
him: but at that time she would not, she said, for she was sick and
might not ride at that time. That me repenteth, said the king, for this
seven year ye saw not such a fellowship together, except at Whitsuntide
when Galahad departed from the court. Truly, said the queen to the
king, ye must hold me excused. I may not be there, and that me
repenteth. And many deemed the queen would not be there because of Sir
Launcelot du Lake, for Sir Launcelot would not ride with the king; for
he said that he was not whole of the wound the which Sir Mador had
given him. Wherefore the king was heavy and passing wroth, and so he
departed towards Winchester with his fellowship. And so by the way the
king lodged in a town called Astolat, that is now in English called
Gilford, and there the king lay in the castle. So when the king was
departed, the queen called Sir Launcelot unto her, and said, Sir
Launcelot ye are greatly to blame, thus to hold you behind my lord:
what trow ye, what will your enemies and mine say and deem? nought else
but see how Sir Launcelot holdeth him ever behind the king, and so doth
the queen, for that they would be together; and thus will they say,
said the queen to Sir Launcelot, have ye no doubt thereof.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Sir Launcelot rode to Astolat, and received a sleeve to bear upon
  his helm at the request of a maid._

Madam, said Sir Launcelot, I allow your wit, it is of late come sin ye
were wise, and therefore, madam, as at this time I will be ruled by
your counsel, and this night I will take my rest, and to-morrow by time
will take my way toward Winchester. But wit you well, said Sir
Launcelot to the queen, that at that justs I will be against the king
and all his fellowship. Ye may there do as ye list, said the queen, but
by my counsel ye shall not be against your king and your fellowship,
for therein be full many hardy knights of your blood, as ye wot well
enough, it needeth not to rehearse them. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, I
pray you that ye be not displeased with me, for I will take the
adventure that God will send me. And so upon the morn early Sir
Launcelot heard mass, and brake his fast, and so took his leave of the
queen, and departed. And then he rode so much until he came to Astolat,
that is Gilford; and there it happed him in the eventide he came to an
old baron’s place, that hight Sir Bernard of Astolat. And as Sir
Launcelot entered into his lodging, king Arthur espied him as he did
walk in a garden beside the castle, how he took his lodging, and knew
him full well. It is well, said king Arthur unto the knights that were
with him in that garden beside the castle, I have now espied one knight
that will play his play at the justs to the which we be gone toward, I
undertake he will do marvels. Who is that, we pray you tell us, said
many knights that were there at that time. Ye shall not wit for me,
said the king, at this time. And so the king smiled, and went to his
lodging. So when Sir Launcelot was in his lodging, and unarmed him in
his chamber, the old baron and hermit came unto him, making his
reverence, and welcomed him in the best manner; but the old knight knew
not Sir Launcelot. Fair sir, said Sir Launcelot to his host, I would
pray you to lend me a shield that were not openly known, for mine is
well known. Sir, said his host, ye shall have your desire, for me
seemeth ye be one of the likeliest knights of the world, and therefore
I shall shew you friendship. Sir, wit you well I have two sons which
were but late made knights, and the eldest hight Sir Tirre, and he was
hurt that same day that he was made knight, that he may not ride, and
his shield ye shall have, for that is not known, I dare say, but here
and in no place else. And my youngest son hight Sir Lavaine, and if it
please you he shall ride with you unto that justs, and he is of his age
strong and wight. For much my heart giveth unto you that ye should be a
noble knight, therefore, I pray you tell me your name, said Sir
Bernard. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, ye must hold me excused as at
this time, and if God give me grace to speed well at the justs I shall
come again and tell you. But I pray you, said Sir Launcelot, in any
wise let me have your son Sir Lavaine with me, and that I may have his
brother’s shield. Also this shall be done, said Sir Bernard.

This old baron had a daughter that time that was called that time the
fair maid of Astolat. And ever she beheld Sir Launcelot wonderfully.
And, as the book saith, she cast such a love unto Sir Launcelot that
she could never withdraw her love, wherefore she died; and her name was
Elaine le Blank. So thus as she came to and fro, she was so hot in her
love that she besought Sir Launcelot to wear upon him at the justs a
token of hers. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, and if I grant you
that, ye may say I do more for your love than ever I did for lady or
damsel. Then he remembered him that he would go to the justs disguised,
and for because he had never afore that time borne no manner of token
of no damsel, then he bethought him that he would bear one of her, that
none of his blood thereby might know him. And then he said, Fair
maiden, I will grant you to wear a token of yours upon my helmet, and
therefore what it is shew it me. Sir, she said, it is a red sleeve of
mine, of scarlet well embroidered with great pearls. And so she brought
it him. So Sir Launcelot received it and said, Never did I erst so much
for no damsel. And then Sir Launcelot betook the fair maiden his shield
in keeping, and prayed her to keep that until that he came again. And
so that night he had merry rest and great cheer. For ever the damsel
Elaine was about Sir Launcelot, all the while she might be suffered.


                                CHAP. X.

_How the tourney began at Winchester, and what knights were at the
  justs, and other things._

So upon a day on the morn, king Arthur and all his knights departed;
for their king had tarried there three days to abide his noble knights.
And so when the king was riden, Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine made them
ready for to ride, and either of them had white shields, and the red
sleeve Sir Launcelot let carry with him. And so they took their leave
at Sir Bernard the old baron, and at his daughter the fair maiden of
Astolat. And then they rode so long till they came to Camelot, that
time called Winchester. And there was great press of kings, dukes,
earls, and barons, and many noble knights. But there Sir Launcelot was
lodged privily, by the means of Sir Lavaine, with a rich burgess, that
no man in that town was ware what they were. And so they sojourned
there till our Lady day, Assumption, as the great feast should be. So
then trumpets blew unto the field, and king Arthur was set on high upon
a scaffold, to behold who did best. But, as the French book saith, king
Arthur would not suffer Sir Gawaine to go from him, for never had Sir
Gawaine the better and Sir Launcelot were in the field; and many times
was Sir Gawaine rebuked when Launcelot came into any justs disguised.
Then some of the kings, as king Anguish of Ireland and the king of
Scotland, were that time turned upon the side of king Arthur. And then
on the other party was the king of Northgalis, and the king with the
hundred knights, and the king of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt the
haut prince. But these three kings and this duke were passing weak to
hold against king Arthur’s party: for with him were the noblest knights
of the world. So then they withdrew them either party from other, and
every man made him ready in his best manner to do what he might. Then
Sir Launcelot made him ready, and put the red sleeve upon his head, and
fastened it fast; and so Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of
Winchester privily, and rode until a little leaved wood, behind the
party that held against king Arthur’s party, and there they held them
still till the parties smote together. And then came in the king of
Scots and the king of Ireland on Arthur’s party: and against them came
the king of Northumberland; and the king with the hundred knights smote
down the king of Northumberland, and the king with the hundred knights
smote down king Anguish of Ireland. Then Sir Palamides, that was on
Arthur’s party, encountered with Sir Galahalt, and either of them smote
down other, and either party halp their lords on horseback again. So
there began a strong assail upon both parties. And then there came in
Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor le Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Kay
le Seneschal, Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Sir Mordred, Sir Meliot de
Logris, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Safere, Sir Epinogris, and Sir
Galleron of Galway. All these fifteen knights were knights of the Table
Round. So these with more others came in together, and beat on back the
king of Northumberland, and the king of North Wales. When Sir Launcelot
saw this, as he hoved in a little leaved wood, then he said unto Sir
Lavaine, See yonder is a company of good knights, and they hold them
together as boars that were chafed with dogs. That is truth, said Sir
Lavaine.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine entered in the field against them of
  king Arthur’s court, and how Launcelot was hurt._

Now, said Sir Launcelot, and ye will help me a little, ye shall see
yonder fellowship which chaseth now these men in our side, that they
shall go as fast backward as they went forward. Sir, spare not, said
Sir Lavaine, for I shall do what I may. Then Sir Launcelot and Sir
Lavaine came in at the thickest of the press, and there Sir Launcelot
smote down Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor. Sir Dodinas, Sir Kay, Sir
Griflet, and all this he did with one spear. And Sir Lavaine smote down
Sir Lucan le Buttelere, and Sir Bedivere. And then Sir Launcelot gat
another spear, and there he smote down Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and
Sir Mordred, and Sir Meliot de Logris. And Sir Lavaine smote down
Ozanna le Cure Hardy: and then Sir Launcelot drew his sword, and there
he smote on the right hand and on the left hand, and by great force he
unhorsed Sir Safere, Sir Epinogris, and Sir Galleron. And then the
knights of the Table Round withdrew them aback, after they had gotten
their horses as well as they might. O mercy, said Sir Gawaine, what
knight is yonder, that doth so marvellous deeds of arms in that field?
I wot what he is, said king Arthur. But as at this time I will not name
him. Sir, said Sir Gawaine, I would say it were Sir Launcelot, by his
riding and his buffets that I see him deal: but ever me seemeth it
should not be he, for that he beareth the red sleeve upon his head, for
I wist him never bear token, at no justs, of lady nor gentlewoman. Let
him be said king Arthur, he will be better known and do more or ever he
depart. Then the party that were against king Arthur were well
comforted, and then they held them together, that beforehand were sore
rebuked. Then Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel, called unto
them the knights of their blood, as Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis,
Sir Aliduke, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Bellangere le Beuse, so
these nine knights of Sir Launcelot’s kin thrust in mightily, for they
were all noble knights. And they, of great hate and despite that they
had unto him, thought to rebuke that noble knight Sir Launcelot, and
Sir Lavaine, for they knew them not. And so they came hurtling
together, and smote down many knights of Northgalis and of
Northumberland. And when Sir Launcelot saw them fare so, he gat a spear
in his hand, and there encountered with him all at once Sir Bors, Sir
Ector, and Sir Lionel, and all they three smote him at once with their
spears. And with force of themselves they smote Sir Launcelot’s horse
to the earth. And by misfortune Sir Bors smote Sir Launcelot through
the shield into the side, and the spear brake, and the head left still
in his side. When Sir Lavaine saw his master lie on the ground, he ran
to the king of Scots, and smote him to the earth, and by great force he
took his horse and brought him to Sir Launcelot, and maugre them all he
made him to mount upon that horse. And then Launcelot gat a spear in
his hand, and there he smote Sir Bors horse and man to the earth, in
the same wise he served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, and Sir Lavaine smote
down Sir Blamor de Ganis. And then Sir Launcelot drew his sword, for he
felt himself so sore and hurt that he wend there to have had his death.
And then he smote Sir Bleoberis such a buffet on the helmet that he
fell down to the earth in a swoon. And in the same wise he served Sir
Aliduke and Sir Galihud. And Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Bellangere,
that was the son of Alisander le Orphelin. And by this was Sir Bors
horsed, and then he came with Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, and all they
three smote with swords upon Sir Launcelot’s helmet. And when he felt
their buffets, and his wound the which was so grievous, then he thought
to do what he might while he might endure; and then he gave Sir Bors
such a buffet that he made him bow his head passing low, and
therewithal he rased off his helm, and might have slain him, and so
pulled him down. And in the same wise he served Sir Ector and Sir
Lionel. For, as the book saith, he might have slain them, but when he
saw their visages his heart might not serve him thereto, but left them
there.

And then afterward he hurled in the thickest press of them all, and did
there the marvellousest deeds of arms that ever man saw or heard speak
of; and ever Sir Lavaine the good knight with him. And there Sir
Launcelot with his sword smote and pulled down, as the French book
maketh mention, more than thirty knights, and the most party were of
the Table Round. And Sir Lavaine did full well that day, for he smote
down ten knights of the Table Round.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of the field, and in
  what jeopardy Launcelot was._

Mercy, said Sir Gawaine to Arthur, I marvel what knight that he is with
the red sleeve. Sir, said king Arthur, he will be known or he depart.
And then the king blew unto lodging, and the prize was given by heralds
unto the knight with the white shield, that bare the red sleeve. Then
came the king with the hundred knights, the king of Northgalis, and the
king of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince, and said unto
Sir Launcelot, Fair knight, God thee bless, for much have ye done this
day for us, therefore we pray you that ye will come with us, that ye
may receive the honour and the prize as ye have worshipfully deserved
it. My fair lords, said Sir Launcelot, wit you well, if I have deserved
thank I have sore bought it, and that me repenteth, for I am like never
to escape with my life, therefore, fair lords, I pray you that ye will
suffer me to depart where me liketh, for I am sore hurt. I take none
force of none honour, for I had lever to repose me than to be lord of
all the world. And therewithal he groaned piteously, and rode a great
gallop away-ward from them, until he came under a wood’s side; and when
he saw that he was from the field nigh a mile, that he was sure he
might not be seen, then he said with an high voice, O gentle knight Sir
Lavaine, help me that this truncheon were out of my side, for it
sticketh so sore that it nigh slayeth me. O mine own lord, said Sir
Lavaine, I would fain do that might please you, but I dread me sore,
and I draw out the truncheon, that ye shall be in peril of death. I
charge you, said Sir Launcelot, as ye love me draw it out. And
therewithal he descended from his horse, and right so did Sir Lavaine,
and forthwith Sir Lavaine drew the truncheon out of his side. And he
gave a great shriek, and a marvellous grisly groan, and his blood brast
out nigh a pint at once, that at last he sank down, and so swooned pale
and deadly. Alas, said Sir Lavaine, what shall I do? And then he turned
Sir Launcelot into the wind, but so he lay there nigh half an hour as
he had been dead. And so at the last Sir Launcelot cast up his eyes,
and said, O Lavaine, help me that I were on my horse, for here is fast
by within this two mile a gentle hermit, that sometime was a full noble
knight and a great lord of possessions: and for great goodness he hath
taken him to wilful poverty, and forsaken many lands, and his name is
Sir Baudewin of Brittany, and he is a full noble surgeon, and a good
leech. Now let see, help me up that I were there. For ever my heart
giveth me that I shall never die of my cousin-german’s hands. And then
with great pain Sir Lavaine halp him upon his horse; and then they rode
a great gallop together, and ever Sir Launcelot bled that it ran down
to the earth. And so by fortune they came to that hermitage, which was
under a wood, and a great cliff on the other side, and a fair water
running under it. And then Sir Lavaine beat on the gate with the butt
of his spear, and cried fast, Let in for Jesu’s sake. And there came a
fair child to them, and asked them what they would? Fair son, said Sir
Lavaine, go and pray thy lord the hermit for God’s sake to let in here
a knight that is full sore wounded, and this day tell thy lord that I
saw him do more deeds of arms than ever I heard say that any man did.
So the child went in lightly, and then he brought the hermit, the which
was a passing good man. So when Sir Lavaine saw him, he prayed him for
God’s sake of succour. What knight is he? said the hermit, is he of the
house of king Arthur or not? I wot not, said Sir Lavaine, what is he,
nor what is his name, but well I wot I saw him do marvellously this
day, as of deeds of arms. On whose party was he? said the hermit. Sir,
said Sir Lavaine, he was this day against king Arthur, and there he wan
the prize of all the knights of the Round Table. I have seen the day,
said the hermit, I would have loved him the worse because he was
against my lord king Arthur, for sometime I was one of the fellowship
of the Round Table, but I thank God now I am otherwise disposed. But
where is he? let me see him. Then Sir Lavaine brought the hermit to him.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Launcelot was brought to an hermit for to be healed of his wound,
  and of other matters._

And when the hermit beheld him as he sat leaning upon his saddle-bow,
ever bleeding piteously, and ever the knight hermit thought that he
should know him, but he could not bring him to knowledge, because he
was so pale for bleeding. What knight are ye? said the hermit, and
where were ye born? My fair lord, said Sir Launcelot, I am a stranger,
and a knight adventurous that laboureth throughout many realms for to
win worship. Then the hermit advised him better, and saw by a wound on
his cheek that he was Sir Launcelot. Alas, said the hermit, mine own
lord, why hide you your name from me: forsooth I ought to know you of
right, for ye are the most noblest knight of the world; for well I know
you for Sir Launcelot. Sir, said he, sith ye know me, help me and ye
may, for God’s sake; for I would be out of this pain at once, either to
death or to life. Have ye no doubt, said the hermit, ye shall live and
fare right well. And so the hermit called to him two of his servants,
and so he and his servants bare him into the hermitage, and lightly
unarmed him and laid him in his bed. And then anon the hermit stanched
his blood, and made him to drink good wine, so that Sir Launcelot was
well refreshed, and knew himself. For in those days it was not the
guise of hermits as is now adays. For there were none hermits in those
days but that they had been men of worship and of prowess, and those
hermits held great household, and refreshed people that were in
distress.

Now turn we unto king Arthur, and leave we Sir Launcelot in the
hermitage. So when the kings were come together on both parties, and
the great feast should be holden, king Arthur asked the king of
Northgalis and their fellowship where was that knight that bare the red
sleeve:—Bring him before me, that he may have his laud and honour and
the prize, as it is right. Then spake Sir Galahalt the haut prince and
the king with the hundred knights: We suppose that knight is
mischieved, and that he is never like to see you, nor none of us all,
and that is the greatest pity that ever we wist of any knight. Alas,
said Arthur, how may this be? is he so hurt? What is his name? said
king Arthur. Truly, said they all, we know not his name, nor from
whence he came, nor whither he would. Alas, said the king, these be to
me the worst tidings that came to me this seven year: for I would not
for all the lands I hold, to know and wit it were so that that noble
knight were slain. Know ye him? said they all. As for that, said
Arthur, whether I know him or know him not, ye shall not know for me
what man he is, but Almighty Jesu send me good tidings of him. And so
said they all. By my head, said Sir Gawaine, if it be so, that the good
knight be so sore hurt, it is great damage and pity to all this land,
for he is one of the noblest knights that ever I saw in a field handle
a spear or a sword. And if he may be found I shall find him, for I am
sure he is not far from this town. Bear you well, said king Arthur, and
ye may find him, unless that he be in such a plight that he may not
hold himself. Jesu defend, said Sir Gawaine, but wit I shall what he
is, and I may find him. Right so, Sir Gawaine took a squire with him,
upon hackneys, and rode all about Camelot within six or seven miles.
But so he came again, and could hear no word of him.

Then within two days king Arthur and all the fellowship returned unto
London again. And so as they rode by the way, it happed Sir Gawaine at
Astolat to lodge with Sir Bernard, there as was Sir Launcelot lodged.
And so as Sir Gawaine was in his chamber to repose him, Sir Bernard the
old baron came unto him, and his daughter Elaine, for to cheer him, and
to ask him what tidings, and who did best at that tournament of
Winchester. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, there were two knights that bare
two white shields; but the one of them bare a red sleeve upon his head,
and certainly he was one of the best knights that ever I saw just in
field. For I dare say, said Sir Gawaine, that one knight with the red
sleeve smote down forty valiant knights of the Table Round, and his
fellow did right well and worshipfully. Now blessed be God, said the
fair maiden of Astolat, that that knight sped so well, for he is the
man in the world that I first loved, and truly he shall be the last
that ever I shall love. Now fair maid, said Sir Gawaine, is that good
knight your love? Certainly, sir, said she, wit ye well he is my love.
Then know ye his name, said Sir Gawaine. Nay, truly, said the damsel, I
know not his name, nor from whence he cometh, but to say that I love
him, I promise you and God that I love him. How had ye knowledge of him
first? said Sir Gawaine.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How Sir Gawaine was lodged with the lord of Astolat, and there had
  knowledge that it was Sir Launcelot that bare the red sleeve._

Then she told him as ye have heard tofore, and how her father betook
him her brother to do him service, and how her father lent him her
brother Sir Tirre’s shield,—And here with me he left his own shield.
For what cause did he so? said Sir Gawaine. For this cause, said the
damsel, for his shield was too well known among many noble knights. Ah,
fair damsel, said Sir Gawaine, please it you let me have a sight of
that shield. Sir, said she, it is in my chamber covered with a case,
and if ye will come with me, ye shall see it. Not so, said Sir Bernard,
till his daughter let send for it. So when the shield was come, Sir
Gawaine took off the case: and when he beheld that shield, he knew anon
that it was Sir Launcelot’s shield, and his own arms. Ah, mercy, said
Sir Gawaine, now is my heart more heavier then ever it was tofore. Why?
said Elaine. For I have great cause, said Sir Gawaine: is that knight
that owneth this shield your love? Yea truly, said she, my love he is,
God would I were his love. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, fair damsel, ye
have right, for, and he be your love, ye love the most honourable
knight of the world, and the man of most worship. So me thought ever,
said the damsel, for never, or that time, for no knight that ever I saw
loved I never none erst. God grant, said Sir Gawaine, that either of
you may rejoice other, but that is in a great adventure. But truly,
said Sir Gawaine unto the damsel, ye may say ye have a fair grace, for
why, I have known that noble knight this four and twenty year, and
never or that day I nor none other knight, I dare make it good, saw nor
heard say that ever he bare token or sign of no lady, gentlewoman, nor
maiden, at no justs nor tournament. And therefore, fair maiden, said
Sir Gawaine, ye are much beholden to him to give him thanks. But I
dread me, said Sir Gawaine, that ye shall never see him in this world,
and that is great pity that ever was of earthly knight. Alas, said she,
how may this be? Is he slain? I say not so, said Sir Gawaine, but wit
ye well, he is grievously wounded, by all manner of signs, and by men’s
sight more likely to be dead then to be on live; and wit ye well he is
the noble knight Sir Launcelot, for by this shield I know him. Alas,
said the fair maiden of Astolat, how may this be, and what was his
hurt? Truly, said Sir Gawaine, the man in the world that loved him best
hurt him so, and I dare say, said Sir Gawaine, and that knight that
hurt him knew the very certainty that he had hurt Sir Launcelot, it
would be the most sorrow that ever came to his heart. Now, fair father,
said then Elaine, I require you give me leave to ride and to seek him,
or else I wot well I shall go out of my mind, for I shall never stint
till that I find him and my brother Sir Lavaine. Do as it liketh you,
said her father, for me right sore repenteth of the hurt of that noble
knight. Right so the maid made her ready, and before Sir Gawaine making
great dole. Then on the morn Sir Gawaine came to king Arthur, and told
him how he had found Sir Launcelot’s shield in the keeping of the fair
maiden of Astolat. All that knew I aforehand, said king Arthur, and
that caused me I would not suffer you to have ado at the great justs:
for I espied, said king Arthur, when he came in till his lodging, full
late in the evening in Astolat. But marvel have I, said Arthur, that
ever he would bear any sign of any damsel: for, or now, I never heard
say nor knew that ever he bare any token of none earthly woman. By my
head, said Sir Gawaine, the fair maiden of Astolat loveth him
marvellously well; what it meaneth I cannot say; and she is ridden
after to seek him. So the king and all came to London, and there Sir
Gawaine openly disclosed to all the court that it was Sir Launcelot
that justed best.


                               CHAP. XV.

_Of the sorrow that Sir Bors had for the hurt of Launcelot; and of the
  anger that the queen had because Launcelot bore the sleeve._

And when Sir Bors heard that, wit ye well he was a heavy man, and so
were all his kinsmen. But when queen Guenever wist that Sir Launcelot
bare the red sleeve of the fair maiden of Astolat, she was nigh out of
her mind for wrath. And then she sent for Sir Bors de Ganis in all the
haste that might be. So when Sir Bors was come tofore the queen, then
she said, Ah, Sir Bors, have ye heard say how falsely Sir Launcelot
hath betrayed me? Alas, madam, said Sir Bors, I am afraid he hath
betrayed himself, and us all. No force, said the queen, though he be
destroyed, for he is a false traitor knight. Madam, said Sir Bors, I
pray you say ye not so, for wit you well I may not hear such language
of him. Why, Sir Bors, said she, should I not call him traitor, when he
bare the red sleeve upon his head at Winchester, at the great justs?
Madam, said Sir Bors, that sleeve-bearing repenteth me sore, but I dare
say he did it to none evil intent, but for this cause he bare the red
sleeve, that none of his blood should know him; for, or then, we nor
none of us all never knew that ever he bare token or sign of maid,
lady, ne gentlewoman. Fie on him, said the queen, yet for all his pride
and boasting, there ye proved yourself his better. Nay, madam, say ye
never more so, for he beat me and my fellows, and might have slain us,
and he had would. Fie on him, said the queen, for I heard Sir Gawaine
say before my lord Arthur, that it were marvel to tell the great love
that is between the fair maiden of Astolat and him. Madam, said Sir
Bors, I may not warn Sir Gawaine to say what it pleased him: but I dare
say as for my lord Sir Launcelot, that he loveth no lady, gentlewoman,
nor maid, but all he loveth in like much, and therefore, madam, said
Sir Bors, ye may say what ye will, but wit ye well I will haste me to
seek him, and find him wheresoever he be, and God send me good tidings
of him. And so leave we them there, and speak we of Sir Launcelot, that
lay in great peril.

So as fair Elaine came to Winchester, she sought there all about, and
by fortune Sir Lavaine was ridden to play him, to enchafe his horse.
And anon as Elaine saw him she knew him, and then she cried onloud
until him. And when he heard her, anon he came to her; and then she
asked her brother, How did my lord, Sir Launcelot? Who told you,
sister, that my lord’s name was Sir Launcelot? Then she told him how
Sir Gawaine by his shield knew him. So they rode together till that
they came to the hermitage, and anon she alight. So Sir Lavaine brought
her in to Sir Launcelot. And when she saw him lie so sick and pale in
his bed, she might not speak, but suddenly she fell to the earth down
suddenly in a swoon, and there she lay a great while. And when she was
relieved she sighed, and said, My lord Sir Launcelot, alas, why be ye
in this plight? and then she swooned again. And then Sir Launcelot
prayed Sir Lavaine to take her up,—And bring her to me. And when she
came to herself, Sir Launcelot kissed her, and said, Fair maiden, why
fare ye thus? Ye put me to pain; wherefore make ye no more such cheer,
for, and ye be come to comfort me, ye be right welcome, and of this
little hurt that I have, I shall be right hastily whole, by the grace
of God. But I marvel, said Sir Launcelot, who told you my name. Then
the fair maiden told him all how Sir Gawaine was lodged with her
father,—And there by your shield he discovered your name. Alas, said
Sir Launcelot, that me repenteth, that my name is known, for I am sure
it will turn unto anger. And then Sir Launcelot compassed in his mind
that Sir Gawaine would tell queen Guenever how he bare the red sleeve,
and for whom, that he wist well would turn unto great anger. So this
maiden, Elaine, never went from Sir Launcelot, but watched him day and
night, and did such attendance to him that the French book saith there
was never woman did more kindlier for man than she. Then Sir Launcelot
prayed Sir Lavaine to make espies in Winchester for Sir Bors if he came
there, and told him by what tokens he should know him, by a wound in
his forehead: For well I am sure, said Sir Launcelot, that Sir Bors
will seek me, for he is the same good knight that hurt me.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_How Sir Bors sought Launcelot and found him in the hermitage, and of
  the lamentation between them._

Now turn we unto Sir Bors de Ganis, that came unto Winchester to seek
after his cousin, Sir Launcelot; and so when he came to Winchester,
anon there were men that Sir Lavaine had made to lie in a watch for
such a man; and anon Sir Lavaine had warning; and then Sir Lavaine came
to Winchester, and found Sir Bors, and there he told him what he was,
and with whom he was, and what was his name. Now, fair knight, said Sir
Bors, I require you that ye will bring me to my lord Sir Launcelot.
Sir, said Sir Lavaine, take your horse, and within this hour ye shall
see him. And so they departed, and came to the hermitage.

And when Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot lie in his bed, pale and
discoloured, anon Sir Bors lost his countenance, and for kindness and
pity he might not speak, but wept tenderly a great while. And then when
he might speak he said thus: O my lord Sir Launcelot, God you bless,
and send you hasty recovery; and full heavy am I of my misfortune and
of mine unhappiness, for now I may call myself unhappy, and I dread me
that God is greatly displeased with me, that he would suffer me to have
such a shame for to hurt you, that are all our leader and all our
worship, and therefore I call myself unhappy. Alas, that ever such a
caitiff knight as I am should have power by unhappiness to hurt the
most noblest knight of the world. Where I so shamefully set upon you
and overcharged you, and where ye might have slain me, ye saved me, and
so did not I: for I, and your blood, did to you our utterance. I
marvel, said Sir Bors, that my heart or my blood would serve me,
wherefore my lord Sir Launcelot, I ask your mercy. Fair cousin, said
Sir Launcelot, ye be right welcome, and wit ye well overmuch ye say for
to please me, the which pleaseth me not; for why? I have the same
sought, for I would with pride have overcome you all, and there in my
pride I was near slain, and that was in mine own default, for I might
have given you warning of my being there. And then had I had no hurt;
for it is an old said saw, there is hard battle there as kin and
friends do battle either against other; there may be no mercy, but
mortal war. Therefore, fair cousin, said Sir Launcelot, let this speech
overpass, and all shall be welcome that God sendeth; and let us leave
off this matter, and let us speak of some rejoicing: for this that is
done may not be undone, and let us find a remedy how soon that I may be
whole. Then Sir Bors leaned upon his bed’s side, and told Sir Launcelot
how the queen was passing wroth with him, because he ware the red
sleeve at the great justs. And there Sir Bors told him all how Sir
Gawaine discovered it by your shield that ye left with the fair maiden
of Astolat. Then is the queen wroth, said Sir Launcelot, and therefore
am I right heavy, for I deserved no wrath, for all that I did was
because that I would not be known. Right so excused I you, said Sir
Bors, but all was in vain, for she said more largely to me than I to
you now. But is this she, said Sir Bors, that is so busy about you,
that men call the fair maiden of Astolat? She it is, said Sir
Launcelot, that by no means I cannot put from me. Why should ye put her
from you? said Sir Bors, she is a passing fair damsel, and a well
beseen and well taught; and God would, fair cousin, said Sir Bors, that
ye could love her, but as to that I may not, nor I dare not, counsel
you. But I see well, said Sir Bors, by her diligence about you, that
she loveth you entirely. That me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot. Sir,
said Sir Bors, she is not the first that hath lost her pain upon you,
and that is the more pity. And so they talked of many more things. And
so within three days or four, Sir Launcelot was big and strong again.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How Sir Launcelot armed him to assay if he might bear arms, and how
  his wound burst out again._

Then Sir Bors told Sir Launcelot how there was sworn a great tournament
and justs betwixt king Arthur and the king of Northgalis, that should
be on Allhallowmass day, beside Winchester. Is that truth? said Sir
Launcelot, then shall ye abide with me still a little while, until that
I be whole, for I feel myself right big and strong. Blessed be God,
said Sir Bors. Then were they there nigh a month together; and ever
this maiden Elaine did ever her diligent labour, night and day, unto
Sir Launcelot, that there was never child nor wife more meeker to
father and husband, than was that fair maiden of Astolat. Wherefore Sir
Bors was greatly pleased with her. So upon a day, by the assent of Sir
Launcelot, Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine they made the hermit to seek in
woods for divers herbs. And so Sir Launcelot made fair Elaine to gather
herbs for him, to make him a bath. In the mean while, Sir Launcelot
made him to arm him at all pieces, and there he thought to assay his
armour and his spear, for his hurt or not. And so when he was upon his
horse, he stirred him fiercely, and the horse was passing lusty and
fresh, because he was not laboured a month before. And then Sir
Launcelot couched that spear in the rest: that courser lept mightily
when he felt the spurs; and he that was upon him, the which was the
noblest horse of the world, strained him mightily and stably, and kept
still the spear in the rest. And therewith Sir Launcelot strained
himself so straitly, with so great force, to get the horse forward,
that the bottom of the wound brast, both within and without, and
therewithal the blood came out so fiercely that he felt himself so
feeble that he might not sit upon his horse. And then Sir Launcelot
cried unto Sir Bors, Ah, Sir Bors, and Sir Lavaine, help, for I am come
to mine end. And therewith he fell down on the one side to the earth,
like a dead corpse. And then Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine came to him, with
sorrow making out of measure. And so by fortune the maiden Elaine heard
their mourning, and then she came thither. And when she found Sir
Launcelot there armed in that place, she cried and wept as she had been
wood, and then she kissed him, and did what she might to awake him. And
then she rebuked her brother and Sir Bors, and called them false
traitors, why they would take him out of his bed; then she cried, and
said she would appeal them of his death. With this came the holy
hermit, Sir Baudewin of Britanny; and when he found Sir Launcelot in
that plight he said but little, but wit ye well he was wroth; and then
he bade them, Let us have him in. And so they all bare him unto the
hermitage, and unarmed him, and laid him in his bed, and evermore his
wound bled piteously, but he stirred no limb of him. Then the knight
hermit put a thing in his nose, and a little deal of water in his
mouth, and then Sir Launcelot waked of his swoon, and then the hermit
stanched his bleeding. And when he might speak, he asked Sir Launcelot
why he put his life in jeopardy. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, because I
wend I had been strong, and also Sir Bors told me that there should be
at Allhallowmass a great justs betwixt king Arthur and the king of
Northgalis, and therefore I thought to assay it myself, whether I might
be there or not. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said the hermit, your heart and
your courage will never be done until your last day, but ye shall do
now by my counsel; let Sir Bors depart from you, and let him do at that
tournament what he may, and by the grace of God, said the knight
hermit, by that the tournament be done, and ye come hither again, Sir
Launcelot shall be as whole as ye, so that he will be governed by me.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How Sir Bors returned and told tidings of Sir Launcelot, and of the
  tourney, and to whom the prize was given._

Then Sir Bors made him ready to depart from Sir Launcelot; and then Sir
Launcelot said, Fair cousin, Sir Bors, recommend me unto all them unto
whom me ought to recommend me unto, and I pray you enforce yourself at
that justs, that ye may be best, for my love, and here shall I abide
you, at the mercy of God, till ye come again. And so Sir Bors departed,
and came to the court of king Arthur, and told them in what place he
had left Sir Launcelot. That me repenteth, said the king, but sin he
shall have his life, we may all thank God. And there Sir Bors told the
queen in what jeopardy Sir Launcelot was, when he would essay his
horse: and all that he did, madam, was for the love of you, because he
would have been at this tournament. Fie on him, recreant knight, said
the queen, for wit ye well I am right sorry and he shall have his life.
His life shall he have, said Sir Bors, and who that would otherwise,
except you, madam, we that be of his blood should help to short their
lives. But, madam, said Sir Bors, ye have been oft-times displeased
with my lord Sir Launcelot, but at all times at the end ye find him a
true knight. And so he departed. And then every knight of the Round
Table that was there present at that time, made them ready to be at
that justs at Allhallowmass. And thither drew many knights of divers
countries. And as Allhallowmass drew near, thither came the king of
Northgalis, and the king with the hundred knights, and Sir Galahalt the
haut prince of Surluse, and thither came king Anguish of Ireland, and
the king of Scots. So these three kings came on king Arthur’s party.
And so that day Sir Gawaine did great deeds of arms, and began first,
and the heralds numbered that Sir Gawaine smote down twenty knights.
Then Sir Bors de Ganis came in the same time, and he was numbered that
he smote down twenty knights. And therefore the prize was given betwixt
them both, for they began first, and the longest endured.

Also Sir Gareth, as the book saith, did that day great deeds of arms,
for he smote down, and pulled down, thirty knights. But when he had
done these deeds he tarried not, but so departed, and therefore he lost
his prize. And Sir Palamides did great deeds of arms that day, for he
smote down twenty knights, but he departed suddenly; and men deemed Sir
Gareth and he rode together to some manner adventure. So when this
tournament was done, Sir Bors departed, and rode till he came to Sir
Launcelot his cousin, and then he found him walking on his feet, and
there either made great joy of other. And so Sir Bors told Sir
Launcelot of all the justs, like as ye have heard. I marvel, said Sir
Launcelot, that Sir Gareth, when he had done such deeds of arms, that
he would not tarry. Thereof we marvelled all, said Sir Bors, for, but
if it were you, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak de Galis, I saw never
knight bear down so many in so little a while as did Sir Gareth. And
anon as he was gone, he wist not where. By my head, said Sir Launcelot,
he is a noble knight, and a mighty man, and well breathed; and if he
were well assayed, said Sir Launcelot, I would deem he were good enough
for any man that beareth the life; and he is a gentle knight,
courteous, true, and bounteous, meek and mild, and in him is no manner
of mal-engine, but plain, faithful, and true. So then they made them
ready to depart from the hermit. And so upon a morn they took their
horses, and Elaine le Blank with them; and when they came to Astolat,
there they were well lodged, and had great cheer of Sir Bernard the old
baron, and of Sir Tirre his son. And so upon the morn, when Sir
Launcelot should depart, fair Elaine brought her father with her, and
Sir Tirre and Sir Lavaine, and thus she said:


                               CHAP. XIX.

_Of the great lamentation of the fair maid of Astolat when Launcelot
  should depart, and how she died for his love._

My lord Sir Launcelot, now I see ye will depart, now, fair knight and
courteous knight, have mercy upon me, and suffer me not to die for thy
love. What would ye that I did? said Sir Launcelot. I would have you to
my husband, said Elaine. Fair damsel, I thank you, said Sir Launcelot,
but truly, said he, I cast me never to be wedded man. Then, fair
knight, said she, will ye be my love? Jesu defend me, said Sir
Launcelot, for then I rewarded to your father and your brother full
evil for their great goodness. Alas, said she, then must I die for your
love. Ye shall not so, said Sir Launcelot, for wit ye well, fair
maiden, I might have been married and I had would, but I never applied
me to be married yet. But because, fair damsel, that ye love me as ye
say ye do, I will, for your good will and kindness, shew you some
goodness, and that is this; that wheresoever ye will beset your heart
upon some good knight that will wed you, I shall give you together a
thousand pound yearly, to you and to your heirs. Thus much will I give
you, fair madam, for your kindness, and always while I live to be your
own knight. Of all this, said the maiden, I will none, for, but if ye
will wed me, or else be my lover, wit you well, Sir Launcelot, my good
days are done. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, of these two things ye
must pardon me. Then she shrieked shrilly, and fell down in a swoon;
and then women bare her into her chamber, and there she made overmuch
sorrow. And then Sir Launcelot would depart; and there he asked Sir
Lavaine what he would do. What should I do, said Sir Lavaine, but
follow you, but if ye drive me from you, or command me to go from you?
Then came Sir Bernard to Sir Launcelot, and said to him, I cannot see
but that my daughter Elaine will die for your sake. I may not do
withal, said Sir Launcelot, for that me sore repenteth; for I report me
to yourself that my proffer is fair, and me repenteth, said Sir
Launcelot, that she loveth me as she doth: I was never the causer of
it, for I report me to your son, I early nor late proffered her bounty
nor fair behests; and as for me, said Sir Launcelot, I dare do all that
a good knight should do, that she is a true maiden, both for deed and
for will; and I am right heavy of her distress, for she is a full fair
maiden, good, and gentle, and well taught. Father, said Sir Lavaine, I
dare make good she is pure and good as my lord Sir Launcelot hath said;
but she doth as I do, for since I first saw my lord Sir Launcelot I
could never depart from him, nor nought I will and I may follow him.
Then Sir Launcelot took his leave, and so they departed, and came unto
Winchester. And when Arthur wist that Sir Launcelot was come, whole and
sound, the king made great joy of him, and so did Sir Gawaine, and all
the knights of the Round Table except Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred.
Also queen Guenever was wood wroth with Sir Launcelot, and would by no
means speak with him, but estranged herself from him, and Sir Launcelot
made all the means that he might to speak with the queen, but it would
not be.

Now speak we of the fair maiden of Astolat, that made such sorrow day
and night, that she never slept, eat, nor drank; and ever she made her
complaint unto Sir Launcelot. So when she had thus endured a ten days,
that she feebled so that she must needs pass out of this world, then
she shrived her clean, and received her Creator. And ever she
complained still upon Sir Launcelot. Then her ghostly father bade her
leave such thoughts. Then she said, Why should I leave such thoughts?
am I not an earthly woman? and all the while the breath is in my body I
may complain me, for my belief is I do none offence though I love an
earthly man, and I take God to my record I never loved none but Sir
Launcelot du Lake, nor never shall; and a pure maiden I am for him and
for all other. And since it is the sufferance of God that I shall die
for the love of so noble a knight, I beseech the High Father of heaven
to have mercy upon my soul, and upon mine innumerable pains that I
suffered may be allegiance of part of my sins. For sweet Lord Jesu,
said the fair maiden, I take thee to record, on thee I was never great
offender against thy laws, but that I loved this noble knight Sir
Launcelot out of measure, and of myself, good Lord, I might not
withstand the fervent love wherefore I have my death. And then she
called her father Sir Bernard, and her brother Sir Tirre, and heartily
she prayed her father that her brother might write a letter like as she
did endite it; and so her father granted her. And when the letter was
written word by word like as she devised, then she prayed her father
that she might be watched until she were dead,—And while my body is
hot, let this letter be put in my right hand, and my hand bound fast
with the letter until that I be cold, and let me be put in a fair bed,
with all the richest clothes that I have about me, and so let my bed,
and all my richest clothes, be laid with me in a chariot unto the next
place where Thames is, and there let me be put within a barget, and but
one man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither, and that my
barget be covered with black samite, over and over. Thus, father, I
beseech you, let it be done. So her father granted it her faithfully,
all things should be done like as she had devised. Then her father and
her brother made great dole, for, when this was done, anon she died.
And so when she was dead, the corpse, and the bed, all was led the next
way unto Thames, and there a man, and the corpse, and all, were put
into Thames, and so the man steered the barget unto Westminster, and
there he rowed a great while to and fro or any espied it.


                               CHAP. XX.

_How the corpse of the maid of Astolat arrived tofore king Arthur, and
  of the burying, and how Sir Launcelot offered the mass-penny._

So by fortune king Arthur and the queen Guenever were speaking together
at a window; and so as they looked into Thames, they espied this black
barget, and had marvel what it meant. Then the king called Sir Kay, and
shewed it him. Sir, said Sir Kay, wit you well there is some new
tidings. Go thither, said the king to Sir Kay, and take with you Sir
Brandiles and Agravaine, and bring me ready word what is there. Then
these three knights departed, and came to the barget, and went in; and
there they found the fairest corpse lying in a rich bed, and a poor man
sitting in the barget’s end, and no word would he speak. So these three
knights returned unto the king again, and told him what they found.
That fair corpse will I see, said the king. And so then the king took
the queen by the hand and went thither. Then the king made the barget
to be holden fast; and then the king and the queen entered, with
certain knights with them. And there he saw the fairest woman lie in a
rich bed, covered unto her middle with many rich clothes, and all was
of cloth of gold, and she lay as though she had smiled. Then the queen
espied a letter in her right hand, and told it to the king. Then the
king took it, and said, Now I am sure this letter will tell what she
was, and why she is come hither. Then the king and the queen went out
of the barget, and so commanded a certain man to wait upon the barget.
And so when the king was come within his chamber, he called many
knights about him, and said that he would wit openly what was written
within that letter. Then the king brake it, and made a clerk to read
it; and this was the intent of the letter:—Most noble knight, Sir
Launcelot, now hath death made us two at debate for your love; I was
your lover, that men called the fair maiden of Astolat; therefore unto
all ladies I make my moan; yet pray for my soul, and bury me at the
least, and offer ye my mass-penny. This is my last request. And a clean
maiden I died, I take God to witness. Pray for my soul, Sir Launcelot,
as thou art peerless.—This was all the substance in the letter. And
when it was read, the king, the queen, and all the knights wept for
pity of the doleful complaints. Then was Sir Launcelot sent for. And
when he was come, king Arthur made the letter to be read to him; and
when Sir Launcelot heard it word by word, he said, My lord Arthur, wit
ye well I am right heavy of the death of this fair damsel. God knoweth
I was never causer of her death by my willing, and that will I report
me to her own brother; here he is, Sir Lavaine. I will not say nay,
said Sir Launcelot, but that she was both fair and good, and much I was
beholden unto her, but she loved me out of measure. Ye might have
shewed her, said the queen, some bounty and gentleness, that might have
preserved her life. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, she would none other way
be answered, but that she would be my wife, or else my love, and of
these two I would not grant her; but I proffered her, for her good love
that she shewed me, a thousand pound yearly to her and to her heirs,
and to wed any manner knight that she could find best to love in her
heart. For, madam, said Sir Launcelot, I love not to be constrained to
love; for love must arise of the heart, and not by no constraint. That
is truth, said the king, and many knights: love is free in himself, and
never will be bounden; for where he is bounden he loseth himself. Then
said the king unto Sir Launcelot, It will be your worship that ye
oversee that she be interred worshipfully. Sir, said Sir Launcelot,
that shall be done as I can best devise. And so many knights went
thither to behold that fair maiden. And so upon the morn she was
interred richly, and Sir Launcelot offered her mass-penny, and all the
knights of the Table Round that were there at that time offered with
Sir Launcelot. And then the poor man went again with the barget. Then
the queen sent for Sir Launcelot, and prayed him of mercy, for why she
had been wroth with him causeless. This is not the first time, said Sir
Launcelot, that ye have been displeased with me causeless; but, madam,
ever I must suffer you, but what sorrow I endure I take no force. So
this passed on all that winter, with all manner of hunting and hawking,
and justs and tourneys were many betwixt many great lords; and ever in
all places Sir Lavaine gat great worship, so that he was nobly renowned
among many knights of the Table Round.


                               CHAP. XXI.

_Of great justs done all a Christmas, and of a great justs and tourney
  ordained by king Arthur, and of Sir Launcelot._

Thus it passed on till Christmas, and every day there was justs made
for a diamond, who that justed best should have a diamond. But Sir
Launcelot would not just, but if it were at a great justs cried. But
Sir Lavaine justed there all that Christmas passing well, and best was
praised; for there were but few that did so well. Wherefore all manner
of knights deemed that Sir Lavaine should be made knight of the Round
Table at the next feast of Pentecost. So at after Christmas king Arthur
let call unto him many knights, and there they advised together to make
a party and a great tournament and justs. And the king of Northgalis
said to Arthur he would have on his party king Anguish of Ireland, and
the king with the hundred knights, and the king of Northumberland, and
Sir Galahalt the haut prince; and so these four kings and this mighty
duke took party against king Arthur and the knights of the Table Round.
And the cry was made that the day of the justs should be beside
Westminster on Candlemas day, whereof many knights were glad, and made
them ready to be at that justs in the freshest manner. Then queen
Guenever sent for Sir Launcelot, and said thus: I warn you that ye ride
no more in no justs nor tournaments, but that your kinsmen may know
you. And at these justs that shall be, ye shall have of me a sleeve of
gold; and I pray you, for my sake, enforce yourself there that men may
speak of you worship. But I charge you as ye will have my love, that ye
warn your kinsmen that ye will bear that day the sleeve of gold upon
your helmet. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, it shall be done. And so either
made great joy of other. And when Sir Launcelot saw his time, he told
Sir Bors that he would depart, and have no more with him but Sir
Lavaine, unto the good hermit that dwelled in the forest of Windsor,
his name was Sir Brastias, and there he thought to repose him, and to
take all the rest that he might, because he would be fresh at that day
of justs. So Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed, that no creature
wist where he was become, but the noble men of his blood. And when he
was come to the hermitage, wit you well he had good cheer. And so daily
Sir Launcelot would go to a well fast by the hermitage, and there he
would lie down, and see the well spring and bubble, and sometime he
slept there. So at that time there was a lady dwelled in that forest,
and she was a great huntress, and daily she used to hunt, and always
she bare her bow with her; and no men went never with her, but always
women, and they were shooters, and could well kill a deer, both at the
stalk and at the trest; and they daily bare bows and arrows, horns and
wood-knives, and many good dogs they had, both for the string and for a
bait. So it happed that this lady, the huntress, had baited her dogs
for the bow at a barren hind, and so this barren hind took her flight
over heaths and woods, and ever this lady and part of her gentlewomen
coasted the hind, and checked it by the noise of the hounds, to have
met with the hind at some water. And so it happed the hind came to the
well whereas Sir Launcelot was sleeping and slumbering. And so when the
hind came to the well, for heat she went to soil, and there she lay a
great while; and the dogs came fast after, and umbecast about, for she
had lost the very perfect track of the hind. Right so, there came that
lady the huntress, that knew by the dog that she had that the hind was
at the soil in that well. And there she came stiffly, and found the
hind, and she put a broad arrow in her bow, and shot at the hind, and
overshot the hind, and so, by misfortune, the arrow smote Sir Launcelot
in the thick of the thigh, over the barbs. When Sir Launcelot felt
himself so hurt, he hurled up woodly, and saw the lady that had smitten
him. And when he saw she was a woman, he said thus, Lady, or damsel,
what that thou be, in an evil time bare ye a bow, the devil made you a
shooter.


                              CHAP. XXII.

_How Launcelot after that he was hurt of a gentlewoman came to an
  hermit, and of other matters._

Now mercy, fair sir, said the lady, I am a gentlewoman that useth here
in this forest hunting, and truly I saw you not, but as here was a
barren hind at the soil in this well, and I wend to have done well, but
my hand swerved. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, ye have mischieved me. And
so the lady departed, and Sir Launcelot, as well as he might, pulled
out the arrow, and the head abode still in his thigh; and so he went
weakly to the hermitage, evermore bleeding as he went. And when Sir
Lavaine and the hermit espied that Sir Launcelot was hurt, wit you well
they were passing heavy: but Sir Lavaine nor the hermit wist not how he
was hurt, nor by whom. And then they were wroth out of measure. Then
with great pain the hermit gat out the arrow’s head out of Sir
Launcelot’s thigh, and much of his blood he shed, and the wound was
passing sore, and unhappily smitten; for it was in such a place that he
might not sit in no saddle. Ah, mercy, said Sir Launcelot, I call
myself the most unhappiest man that liveth; for ever when I would
fainest have worship, there befalleth me ever some unhappy thing. Now,
so heaven me help, I shall be in the field upon Candlemas day at the
justs, whatsoever fall of it. So all that might be gotten to heal Sir
Launcelot was had. So when the day was come, Sir Launcelot let devise
that he was arrayed, and Sir Lavaine, and their horses, as though they
had been Saracens. And so they departed, and came nigh to the field.
The king of Northgalis with an hundred knights with him, and the king
of Northumberland brought with him an hundred good knights, and king
Anguish of Ireland brought with him an hundred good knights ready to
just, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince brought with him an hundred good
knights, and the king with the hundred knights brought with him as
many; and all these were proved good knights. Then came in king
Arthur’s party, and there came in the king of Scots with an hundred
knights, and king Uriens of Gore brought with him an hundred good
knights, and king Howel of Britanny brought with him an hundred
knights. And Chalance of Clarance brought with him an hundred knights,
and king Arthur himself came into the field with two hundred knights,
and the most part were knights of the Table Round that were proved
noble knights. And there were old knights set in scaffolds, for to
judge with the queen who did best.


                              CHAP. XXIII.

_How Sir Launcelot behaved him at the justs, and other men also._

Then they blew to the field, and there the king of Northgalis
encountered with the king of Scots, and there the king of Scots had a
fall, and the king of Ireland smote down king Uriens, and the king of
Northumberland smote down king Howel of Britanny, and Sir Galahalt, the
haut prince, smote down Chalance of Clarance. And then king Arthur was
wood wroth, and ran to the king with the hundred knights, and there
king Arthur smote him down, and after with that same spear king Arthur
smote down three other knights. And then when his spear was broken king
Arthur did passing well. And so therewithal came in Sir Gawaine, and
Sir Gaheris, Sir Agravaine, and Sir Mordred, and there every each of
them smote down a knight, and Sir Gawaine smote down four knights. And
then there began a strong meddle, for then there came in the knights of
Launcelot’s blood, and Sir Gareth and Sir Palamides with them, and many
knights of the Table Round, and they began to hold the four kings and
the mighty duke so hard that they were discomfit, but this duke
Galahalt the haut prince was a noble knight, and by his mighty prowess
of arms he held the knights of the Table Round straight enough. All
this doing saw Sir Launcelot, and then he came into the field with Sir
Lavaine, as it had been thunder. And then anon Sir Bors and the knights
of his blood espied Sir Launcelot, and said to them all, I warn you
beware of him with the sleeve of gold upon his head, for he is himself
Sir Launcelot du Lake. And for great goodness Sir Bors warned Sir
Gareth. I am well apayed, said Sir Gareth, that I may know him. But who
is he, said they all, that rideth with him in the same array? That is
the good and gentle knight Sir Lavaine, said Sir Bors. So Sir Launcelot
encountered with Sir Gawaine, and there by force Sir Launcelot smote
down Sir Gawaine and his horse to the earth, and so he smote down Sir
Agravaine and Sir Gaheris, and also he smote down Sir Mordred, and all
this was with one spear. Then Sir Lavaine met with Sir Palamides, and
either met other so hard and so fiercely that both their horses fell to
the earth. And then were they horsed again, and then met Sir Launcelot
with Sir Palamides, and there Sir Palamides had a fall. And so Sir
Launcelot, or ever he stint, as fast as he might get spears, he smote
down thirty knights, and the most part of them were knights of the
Table Round. And ever the knights of his blood withdrew them, and made
them ado in other places where Sir Launcelot came not; and then king
Arthur was wroth when he saw Sir Launcelot do such deeds, and then the
king called unto him Sir Gawaine, Sir Mordred, Sir Kay, Sir Griflet,
Sir Lucan the butler, Sir Bedivere, Sir Palamides, and Safere his
brother; and so the king with these nine knights made them ready to set
upon Sir Launcelot and upon Sir Lavaine. All this espied Sir Bors and
Sir Gareth. Now I dread me sore, said Sir Bors, that my lord Sir
Launcelot will be hard matched. By my head, said Sir Gareth, I will
ride unto my lord Sir Launcelot for to help him, fall of him what may,
for he is the same man that made me knight. Ye shall not so, said Sir
Bors, by my counsel, unless that ye were disguised. Ye shall see me
disguised, said Sir Gareth: and therewithal he espied a Welsh knight
where he was to repose himself, and he was sore hurt afore by Sir
Gawaine, and to him Sir Gareth rode, and prayed him of his knighthood
to lend him his shield for his. I will well, said the Welsh knight. And
when Sir Gareth had his shield, the book saith, it was green, with a
maiden that seemed in it. Then Sir Gareth came driving to Sir Launcelot
all that he might, and said, Knight, keep thyself, for yonder cometh
king Arthur with nine noble knights with him to put you to a rebuke,
and so I am come to bear you fellowship for old love ye have shewed me.
Gramercy, said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir Gareth, encounter ye with
Sir Gawaine, and I shall encounter with Sir Palamides, and let Sir
Lavaine match with the noble king Arthur. And when we have delivered
them, let us three hold us sadly together. Then came king Arthur with
his nine knights with him, and Sir Launcelot encountered with Sir
Gawaine, and gave him such a buffet that the bow of his saddle brast,
and Sir Gawaine fell to the earth. Then Sir Gareth encountered with the
good knight Sir Palamides, and he gave him such a buffet that both his
horse and he dashed to the earth. Then encountered king Arthur with Sir
Lavaine, and there either of them smote other to the earth, horse and
all, that they lay a great while. Then Sir Launcelot smote down Sir
Agravaine, and Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred. And Sir Gareth smote down
Sir Kay, Sir Safere, and Sir Griflet. And then Sir Lavaine was horsed
again, and he smote down Sir Lucan the butler, and Sir Bedivere, and
then there began great throng of good knights. Then Sir Launcelot
hurtled here and there, and rased and pulled off helms, so that at that
time there might none sit him a buffet with spear nor with sword. And
Sir Gareth did such deeds of arms that all men wondered what knight he
was with the green shield; for he smote down that day and pulled down
more than thirty knights. And, as the French book saith, Sir Launcelot
marvelled, when he beheld Sir Gareth do such deeds, what knight he
might be: and Sir Lavaine pulled down and smote down twenty knights.
Also Sir Launcelot knew not Sir Gareth, for, and Sir Tristram de Liones
or Sir Lamorak de Galis had been alive, Sir Launcelot would have deemed
he had been one of them twain. So ever as Sir Launcelot, Sir Gareth,
Sir Lavaine, fought, and on the one side Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris,
Sir Lionel, Sir Lamorak de Galis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Galihud, Sir
Galihodin, Sir Pelleas, and with more other of king Ban’s blood, fought
upon another party, and held the king with the hundred knights, and
also the king of Northumberland, right straight.


                              CHAP. XXIV.

_How king Arthur marvelled much of the justing in the field, and how he
  rode and found Sir Launcelot._

So this tournament and this justs dured long, till it was near night,
for the knights of the Round Table relieved ever unto king Arthur; for
the king was wroth out of measure that he and his knights might not
prevail that day. Then Sir Gawaine said to the king, I marvel where all
this day Sir Bors de Ganis and his fellowship of Sir Launcelot’s blood
be. I marvel all this day they be not about you. It is for some cause,
said Sir Gawaine. By my head, said Sir Kay, Sir Bors is yonder all this
day upon the right hand of this field, and there he and his blood done
more worshipfully than we do. It may well be, said Sir Gawaine, but I
dread me ever of guile, for on pain of my life, said Sir Gawaine, this
knight with the red sleeve of gold is himself Sir Launcelot, I see well
by his riding and by his great strokes, and the other knight in the
same colour is the good young knight Sir Lavaine. Also that knight with
the green shield is my brother Sir Gareth, and yet he hath disguised
himself, for no man shall never make him be against Sir Launcelot,
because he made him knight. By my head, said Arthur, nephew, I believe
you, therefore tell me now what is your best counsel? Sir, said Sir
Gawaine, ye shall have my counsel. Let blow unto lodging, for, and he
be Sir Launcelot du Lake, and my brother Sir Gareth with him, with the
help of that good young knight Sir Lavaine, trust me truly it will be
no boot to strive with them, but if we should fall ten or twelve upon
one knight, and that were no worship, but shame. Ye say truth, said the
king, and for to say sooth, said the king, it were shame to us, so many
as we be, to set upon them any more. For wit ye well, said the king,
they be three good knights, and namely that knight with the sleeve of
gold. So then they blew unto lodging; but forthwithal king Arthur let
send unto the four kings, and to the mighty duke, and prayed them that
the knight with the sleeve of gold depart not from them, but that the
king may speak with him. Then forthwithal king Arthur alight, and
unarmed him, and took a little hackney, and rode after Sir Launcelot,
for ever he had a spy upon him; and so he found him among the four
kings and the duke, and there the king prayed them all unto supper. And
they said they would with good will. And so when they were unarmed,
then king Arthur knew Sir Launcelot, Sir Lavaine, and Sir Gareth. Ah
Sir Launcelot, said king Arthur, this day ye have heated me and my
knights. So they went unto Arthur’s lodging all together, and there was
a great feast and great revel, and the prize was given unto Sir
Launcelot, and by heralds they named him that he had smitten down fifty
knights, and Sir Gareth five and thirty, and Sir Lavaine four and
twenty knights. Then Sir Launcelot told the king and the queen how the
lady huntress shot him in the forest of Windsor in the thigh with a
broad arrow, and how the wound thereof was that time six inches deep,
and in like long. Also Arthur blamed Sir Gareth, because he left his
fellowship and held with Sir Launcelot. My lord, said Sir Gareth, he
made me a knight, and when I saw him so hard bestad, me thought it was
my worship to help him, for I saw him do so much, and so many noble
knights against him. And when I understood that he was Sir Launcelot du
Lake I shamed to see so many knights against him alone. Truly, said
king Arthur unto Sir Gareth, ye say well, and worshipfully have ye
done, and to yourself great worship, and all the days of my life, said
king Arthur unto Sir Gareth, wit you well I shall love you and trust
you the more better. For ever, said Arthur, it is a worshipful knight’s
deed to help another worshipful knight when he seeth him in a great
danger, for ever a worshipful man will be loth to see a worshipful
shamed, and he that is of no worship, and fareth with cowardice, never
shall he shew gentleness, nor no manner of goodness, where he seeth a
man in any danger, for then ever will a coward shew no mercy, and
always a good man will do ever to another man as he would be done to
himself. So then there were great feasts unto kings and dukes; and
revel, game, and play, and all manner of nobleness was used; and he
that was courteous, true, and faithful to his friend, was that time
cherished.


                               CHAP. XXV.

_How true love is likened to summer._

And thus it passed on from Candlemas until after Easter, that the month
of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom and to
bring forth fruit; for like as herbs and trees bring forth fruit and
flourish in May, in likewise every lusty heart, that is in any manner a
lover, springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds. For it giveth unto all
lovers courage, that lusty month of May, in some thing to constrain him
to some manner of thing, more in that month than in any other month,
for divers causes. For then all herbs and trees renew a man and woman,
and in likewise lovers call again to their mind old gentleness and old
service, and many kind deeds that were forgotten by negligence. For
like as winter rasure doth always arase and deface green summer, so
fareth it by unstable love in man and woman. For in many persons there
is no stability, for we may see all day, for a little blast of winter’s
rasure, anon we shall deface and lay apart true love for little or
nought, that cost much thing. This is no wisdom nor stability, but it
is feebleness of nature and great disworship whosoever useth this.
Therefore, like as May month flowereth and flourisheth in many gardens,
so in likewise let every man of worship flourish his heart in this
world, first unto God, and next unto the joy of them that he promised
his faith unto, for there was never worshipful man nor worshipful
woman, but they loved one better than another: and worship in arms may
never be foiled, but first reserve the honour to God, and secondly the
quarrel must come of thy lady: and such love I call virtuous love. But
now-a-days men cannot love seven night but they must have all their
desires, that love may not endure by reason; for where they be soon
accorded, and hasty heat, soon it cooleth. Right so fareth love
now-a-days; soon hot, soon cold. This is no stability, but the old love
was not so. Men and women could love together seven years, and no
wanton lusts were between them, and then was love truth and
faithfulness. And lo in likewise was used love in king Arthur’s days.
Wherefore I liken love now-a-days unto summer and winter. For like as
the one is hot and the other cold, so fareth love now-a-days. Therefore
all ye that be lovers call unto your remembrance the month of May, like
as did queen Guenever. For whom I make here a little mention, that
while she lived she was a true lover, and therefore she had a good end.

        Explicit liber Octodecimus. And here foloweth liber xix.




                          The Nineteenth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How queen Guenever rode on Maying with certain knights of the Round
  Table and clad all in green._

So it befell in the month of May, queen Guenever called unto her
knights of the Table Round, and she gave them warning that early upon
the morrow she would ride on maying into woods and fields beside
Westminster.—And I warn you that there be none of you but that he be
well horsed, and that ye all be clothed in green, either in silk,
either in cloth, and I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every knight
shall have a lady behind him, and every knight shall have a squire and
two yeomen, and I will that ye all be well horsed. So they made them
ready in the freshest manner, and these were the names of the knights:
Sir Kay the seneschal, Sir Agravaine, Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor le
Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Ladinas
of the Forest Savage, Sir Persant of Inde, Sir Ironside that was called
the knight of the red lawns, and Sir Pelleas the lover, and these ten
knights made them ready in the freshest manner to ride with the queen.
And so upon the morn they took their horses, with the queen, and rode
on maying in woods and meadows, as it pleased them, in great joy and
delights: for the queen had cast to have been again with king Arthur at
the furthest by ten of the clock, and so was that time her purpose.
Then there was a knight, that hight Meliagrance, and he was son unto
king Bagdemagus, and this knight had at that time a castle, of the gift
of king Arthur, within seven mile of Westminster; and this knight Sir
Meliagrance loved passing well queen Guenever, and so had he done long
and many years. And the book saith he had lain in a wait for to steal
away the queen, but evermore he forbare for because of Sir Launcelot,
for in no wise he would meddle with the queen, and Sir Launcelot were
in her company, or else and he were near hand her. And that time was
such a custom the queen rode never without a great fellowship of men of
arms about her; and they were many good knights, and the most part were
young men that would have worship, and they were called the queen’s
knights, and never in no battle, tournament, nor justs, they bare none
of them no manner of knowledging of their own arms, but plain white
shields, and thereby they were called the queen’s knights. And then
when it happed any of them to be of great worship by his noble deeds,
then at the next feast of Pentecost, if there were any slain or dead,
as there was no year that there failed but some were dead, then was
there chosen in his stead that was dead the most men of worship that
were called the queen’s knights. And thus they came up all first, or
they were renowned men of worship, both Sir Launcelot and all the
remnant of them. But this knight, Sir Meliagrance, had espied the queen
well and her purpose, and how Sir Launcelot was not with her, and how
she had no men of arms with her but the ten noble knights all arrayed
in green for maying. Then he provided him a twenty men of arms and an
hundred archers, for to destroy the queen and her knights, for he
thought that time was the best season to take the queen.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Sir Meliagraunce took the queen and all her knights, which were
  sore hurt in fighting._

So as the queen had mayed and all her knights, all were bedashed with
herbs, mosses, and flowers, in the best manner and freshest. Right so
came out of a wood Sir Meliagrance with an eight score men well
harnessed, as they should fight in a battle of arrest, and bad the
queen and her knights abide, for maugre their heads they should abide.
Traitor knight, said queen Guenever, what castest thou for to do? Wilt
thou shame thyself? Bethink thee how thou art a king’s son, and knight
of the Table Round, and thou to be about to dishonour the noble king
that made thee knight: thou shamest all knighthood and thyself, and me,
I let thee wit, shalt thou never shame, for I had lever cut my throat
in twain than thou shouldest dishonour me. As for all this language,
said Sir Meliagrance, be it as it may, for wit you well, madam, I have
loved you many a year, and never or now could I get you at such an
advantage as I do now, and therefore I will take you as I find you.
Then spake all the ten noble knights at once, and said, Sir
Meliagrance, wit thou well ye are about to jeopard your worship to
dishonour, and also ye cast to jeopard our persons; howbeit we be
unarmed, ye have us at a great avail, for it seemeth by you that ye
have laid watch upon us, but rather then ye should put the queen to
shame, and us all, we had as lief to depart from our lives, for and if
we other ways did we were shamed for ever. Then Sir Meliagrance said,
Dress you as well as ye can, and keep the queen. Then the ten knights
of the Table Round drew their swords, and the other let run at them
with their spears, and the ten knights manly abode them, and smote away
their spears, that no spear did them none harm. Then they lashed
together with swords, and anon Sir Kay, Sir Sagramor, Sir Agravaine,
Sir Dodinas, Sir Ladinas, and Sir Ozanna, were smitten to the earth
with grimly wounds. Then Sir Brandiles, and Sir Persant, Sir Ironside,
Sir Pelleas, fought long, and they were sore wounded: for these ten
knights, or ever they were laid to the ground, slew forty men of the
boldest and the best of them. So when the queen saw her knights thus
dolefully wounded, and needs must be slain at the last, then for pity
and sorrow she cried, Sir Meliagrance, slay not my noble knights, and I
will go with thee upon this covenant, that thou save them, and suffer
them not to be no more hurt, with this, that they be led with me
wheresoever thou leadest me; for I will rather slay myself than I will
go with thee, unless that these my noble knights may be in my presence.
Madam, said Meliagrance, for your sake they shall be led with you into
mine own castle, with that ye will be ruled and ride with me. Then the
queen prayed the four knights to leave their fighting, and she and they
would not part. Madam, said Sir Pelleas, we will do as ye do, for as
for me I take no force of my life nor death. For, as the French book
saith, Sir Pelleas gave such buffets there that none armour might hold
him.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Launcelot had word how the queen was taken, and how Sir
  Meliagraunce laid a bushment for Launcelot._

Then by the queen’s commandment they left battle, and dressed the
wounded knights on horseback, some sitting, some overthwart their
horses, that it was pity to behold them. And then Sir Meliagrance
charged the queen and all her knights that none of all her fellowship
should depart from her; for full sore he drad Sir Launcelot du Lake,
lest he should have any knowledging. All this espied the queen, and
privily she called unto her a child of her chamber, that was swiftly
horsed, to whom she said, Go thou, when thou seest thy time, and bear
this ring unto Sir Launcelot du Lake, and pray him as he loveth me,
that he will see me, and rescue me if ever he will have joy of me; and
spare thou not thy horse, said the queen, neither for water, neither
for land. So the child espied his time, and lightly he took his horse
with the spurs, and departed as fast as he might. And when Sir
Meliagrance saw him so flee, he understood that it was by the queen’s
commandment for to warn Sir Launcelot. Then they that were best horsed
chased him, and shot at him, but from them all the child went suddenly;
and then Sir Meliagrance said unto the queen, Madam, ye are about to
betray me, but I shall ordain for Sir Launcelot that he shall not come
lightly at you. And then he rode with her and they all to his castle in
all the haste that he might. And by the way Sir Meliagrance laid in an
enbushment the best archers that he might get in his country, to the
number of a thirty, to await upon Sir Launcelot, charging them that if
they saw such a manner of knight come by the way upon a white horse,
that in any wise they slay his horse, but in no manner of wise have not
ado with him bodily, for he is over hard to be overcome. So this was
done, and they were come to his castle, but in no wise the queen would
never let none of the ten knights and her ladies out of her sight, but
always they were in her presence, for the book saith Sir Meliagrance
durst make no masteries for dread of Sir Launcelot, in so much he
deemed that he had warning. So when the child was departed from the
fellowship of Sir Meliagrance, within awhile he came to Westminster.
And anon he found Sir Launcelot. And when he had told his message, and
delivered him the queen’s ring, Alas, said Sir Launcelot, now am I
shamed for ever, unless that I may rescue that noble lady from
dishonour. Then eagerly he asked his armour, and ever the child told
Sir Launcelot how the ten knights fought marvellously, and how Sir
Pelleas, and Sir Ironside, and Sir Brandiles, and Sir Persant of Inde,
fought strongly, but namely Sir Pelleas, there might none withstand
him, and how they all fought till at the last they were laid to the
earth, and then the queen made appointment for to save their lives, and
go with Sir Meliagrance. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, that most noble
lady, that she should be so destroyed! I had lever, said Sir Launcelot,
than all France that I had been there well armed. So when Sir Launcelot
was armed and upon his horse, he prayed the child of the queen’s
chamber to warn Sir Lavaine how suddenly he was departed, and for what
cause,—And pray him, as he loveth me, that he will hie him after me,
and that he stint not until he come to the castle where Sir Meliagrance
abideth or dwelleth, for there, said Sir Launcelot, shall he hear of me
and I am a man living, and rescue the queen and the ten knights the
which he traitorously hath taken, and that shall I prove upon his head,
and all them that hold with him.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Launcelot’s horse was slain, and how Sir Launcelot rode in a
  cart for to rescue the queen._

Then Sir Launcelot rode as fast as he might, and the book saith he took
the water at Westminster bridge, and made his horse to swim over Thames
to Lambeth. And then within a while he came to the place there as the
ten knights had fought with Sir Meliagrance, and then Sir Launcelot
followed that track until that he came to a wood, and there was a
strait way, and there the thirty archers bad Sir Launcelot turn again,
and follow no longer that track. What commandment have ye thereto, said
Sir Launcelot, to cause me, that am a knight of the Round Table, to
leave my right way? This way shalt thou leave, or else thou shalt go it
on thy foot, for wit thou well thy horse shall be slain. That is little
mastery, said Sir Launcelot, to slay my horse, but as for myself, when
my horse is slain, I give right nought for you, not and ye were five
hundred more. So then they shot Sir Launcelot’s horse, and smote him
with many arrows. And then Sir Launcelot avoided his horse, and went on
foot: but there were so many ditches and hedges betwixt them and him,
that he might not meddle with none of them. Alas, for shame, said
Launcelot, that ever one knight should betray another knight, but it is
an old saw, A good man is never in danger but when he is in the danger
of a coward. Then Sir Launcelot went a while, and then he was foul
cumbered of his armour, his shield, and his spear, and all that longed
unto him. Wit ye well he was full sore annoyed, and full loth he was to
leave any thing that longed unto him, for he drad sore the treason of
Sir Meliagrance. And then by fortune there came by a chariot, that came
thither for to fetch wood. Say me, carter, said Sir Launcelot, what
shall I give thee for to suffer me to leap into thy chariot, and that
thou bring me unto a castle within this two mile? Thou shalt not come
within my chariot, said the carter, for I am sent for to fetch wood for
my lord Sir Meliagrance.—With him would I speak.—Thou shalt not go
with me, said the carter. Then Sir Launcelot lept to him, and gave him
such a buffet that he fell to the earth stark dead. Then the other
carter his fellow was afeard, and wend to have gone the same way, and
then he cried, Fair lord, save my life, and I shall bring you where you
will. Then I charge thee, said Sir Launcelot, that thou drive me and
this chariot, even unto Sir Meliagrance’s gate. Leap up into the
chariot, said the carter, and ye shall be there anon. So the carter
drove on a great wallop, and Sir Launcelot’s horse followed the
chariot, with more than a forty arrows broad and rough in him: and more
than an hour and an half dame Guenever was in a bay window with her
ladies, and espied an armed knight standing in a chariot. See madam,
said a lady, where rideth in a chariot a goodly armed knight, I suppose
he rideth unto hanging. Where? said the queen. Then she espied by his
shield that he was there himself Sir Launcelot du Lake. And then she
was ware where came his horse ever after that chariot, and ever he trod
his entrails and his paunch under his feet. Alas, said the queen, now I
see well and prove that well is him that hath a trusty friend. Ha, a,
most noble knight, I see well thou art hard bestad when thou ridest in
a chariot. Then she rebuked that lady that likened Sir Launcelot to
ride in a chariot to hanging. It was foul mouthed, said the queen, and
evil likened, so for to liken the most noble knight of the world unto
such a shameful death. O Jesu defend him and keep him, said the queen,
from all mischievous end! By this was Sir Launcelot come to the gates
of that castle, and there he descended down, and cried, that all the
castle rang of it, Where art thou, false traitor Sir Meliagrance, and
knight of the Table Round? Now come forth here thou traitor knight,
thou and thy fellowship with thee: for here I am, Sir Launcelot du
Lake, that shall fight with you. And therewithal he bare the gate wide
open upon the porter, and smote him under his ear with his gauntlet
that his neck brast in sunder.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Sir Meliagraunce required forgiveness of the queen, and how she
  appeased Sir Launcelot, and other matters._

When Sir Meliagrance heard that Sir Launcelot was there, he ran unto
queen Guenever, and fell upon his knee, and said, Mercy, madam, now I
put me wholly into your grace. What aileth you now? said queen
Guenever. Forsooth I might well wit some good knight would revenge me,
though my lord Arthur wist not of this your work. Madam, said Sir
Meliagrance, all this that is amiss on my part shall be amended right
as yourself will devise, and wholly I put me in your grace. What would
ye that I did? said the queen. I would no more, said Meliagrance, but
that ye would take all in your own hands, and that ye will rule my lord
Sir Launcelot, and such cheer as may be made him in this poor castle ye
and he shall have until to-morn, and then may ye and all they return
unto Westminster, and my body and all that I have I shall put in your
rule. Ye say well, said the queen, and better is peace than ever war,
and the less noise the more is my worship. Then the queen and her
ladies went down unto the knight Sir Launcelot, that stood wroth out of
measure in the inner court, to abide battle; and ever he bade—Thou
traitor knight, come forth! Then the queen came to him and said, Sir
Launcelot, why be ye so moved? Ha, madam, said Sir Launcelot, why ask
ye me that question? me seemeth, said Sir Launcelot, ye ought to be
more wroth than I am, for ye have the hurt and the dishonour. For wit
ye well, madam, my hurt is but little, for the killing of a mare’s son;
but the despite grieveth me much more than all my hurt. Truly, said the
queen, ye say truth, but heartily I thank you, said the queen, but ye
must come in with me peaceably, for all thing is put in my hand, and
all that is evil shall be for the best, for the knight full sore
repenteth him of the misadventure that is befallen him. Madam, said Sir
Launcelot, sith it is so that ye are accorded with him, as for me I may
not be against it, howbeit Sir Meliagrance hath done full shamefully to
me, and cowardly. Ah, madam, and I had wist ye would have been so soon
accorded with him, I would not have made such haste unto you. Why say
ye so? said the queen, do ye forthink yourself of your good deeds? Wit
you well, said the queen, I accorded never unto him for favour nor love
that I had unto him, but for to lay down every shameful noise. Madam,
said Sir Launcelot, ye understand full well I was never willing nor
glad of shameful slander, nor noise; and there is neither king, queen,
nor knight, that beareth the life, except my lord king Arthur, and you,
madam, that should let me, but I should make Sir Meliagrance’s heart
full cold or ever I departed from hence. That I wot well, said the
queen, but what will ye more? ye shall have all thing ruled as ye list
to have it. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, so ye be pleased I care not, as
for my part ye shall soon please. Right so the queen took Sir Launcelot
by the bare hand, for he had put off his gauntlet, and so she went with
him till her chamber; and then she commanded him to be unarmed, and
then Sir Launcelot asked where the ten knights were that were wounded
sore. So she shewed them unto Sir Launcelot, and there they made great
joy of the coming of him, and Sir Launcelot made great dole of their
hurts, and bewailed them greatly; and there Sir Launcelot told them how
cowardly and traitorly Meliagrance set archers to slay his horse, and
how he was fain to put himself in a chariot. Thus they complained every
each to other, and full fain they would have been revenged, but they
peaced themself because of the queen. Then, as the French book saith,
Sir Launcelot was called many a day after, Le Chevaler du Chariot, and
did many deeds, and great adventures he had. And so leave we of this
tale, Le Chevaler du Chariot, and turn we to this tale.

So Sir Launcelot had great cheer with the queen, and then Sir Launcelot
made a promise with the queen, that the same night Sir Launcelot should
come to a window outward toward a garden, and that window was y-barred
with iron; and there Sir Launcelot promised to meet her when all folks
were on sleep. So then came Sir Lavaine, driving to the gates, crying,
Where is my lord Sir Launcelot du Lake? Then was he sent for, and when
Sir Lavaine saw Sir Launcelot, he said: My lord, I found well how ye
were hard bestad, for I have found your horse, that was slain with
arrows. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, I pray you Sir Lavaine speak
ye of other matters, and let ye this pass, and we shall right it
another time, when we best may.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Launcelot came in the night to the queen, and how Sir
  Meliagraunce appeached the queen of treason._

Then the knights that were hurt were searched, and soft salves were
laid to their wounds, and so it passed on till supper time; and all the
cheer that might be made them there was done unto the queen and all her
knights. Then when season was they went unto their chambers. But in no
wise the queen would not suffer the wounded knights to be from her, but
that they were laid within draughts by her chamber, upon beds and
pillows, that she herself might see to them, that they wanted nothing.
So when Launcelot was in his chamber that was assigned unto him, he
called unto Sir Lavaine, and told him that he must go speak with his
lady, dame Guenever. Sir, said Sir Lavaine, let me go with you, and it
please you, for I dread me sore of the treason of Sir Meliagrance. Nay,
said Sir Launcelot, I thank you, but I will have nobody with me. Then
Sir Launcelot took his sword in his hand, and privily went unto a place
whereas he had espied a ladder toforehand, and that he took under his
arm and bare it through the garden, and set it up to the window. And
there anon the queen was ready to meet him. And then they made either
to other their complaints of many divers things. And then Sir Launcelot
wished that he might have come in to her. Wit ye well, said the queen,
I would as fain as ye that ye might come in to me. Would ye, madam,
said Sir Launcelot, with your heart that I were with you? Yea truly,
said the queen. Now shall I prove my might, said Sir Launcelot, for
your love. And then he set his hands upon the bars of iron, and pulled
at them with such a might that he brast them clean out of the stone
walls. And therewithal one of the bars of iron cut the brawn of his
hands throughout to the bone, and then he lept into the chamber to the
queen. Make ye no noise, said the queen, for my wounded knights lie
here fast by me. And when he saw his time that he might tarry no
longer, he took his leave and departed at the window, and put it
together as well as he might again, and so departed unto his own
chamber; and there he told Sir Lavaine how he was hurt; then Sir
Lavaine dressed his hand, and staunched it, and put upon it a glove,
that it should not be espied. And so the queen lay long in her bed,
until it was nine of the clock. Then Sir Meliagrance went to the
queen’s chamber, and found her ladies there ready clothed. Mercy, said
Sir Meliagrance, what aileth you, madam, that ye sleep thus long? And
then was he ware of the blood of Sir Launcelot’s hurt hand. And when
Sir Meliagrance espied that blood, then he deemed in himself that she
was false unto the king, and that it was the blood of some of the
wounded knights. Ah, madam, said Sir Meliagrance, now I have founden
you a false traitress unto my lord Arthur; for now I prove well it was
not for nought that ye laid these wounded knights within the bounds of
your chamber: therefore I will call you of treason before my lord king
Arthur, and now I have proved you, madam, with a shameful deed, and
that they be all false, or some of them, I will make good, for a
wounded knight hath been here. That is false, said the queen, and that
I will report me to them all. Then when the ten knights heard Sir
Meliagrance’s words, they spake all in one voice and said unto Sir
Meliagrance, Thou sayest falsely, and wrongfully puttest upon us such a
deed, and that we will make good any of us, choose which thou list of
us, when we are whole of our wounds. Ye shall not, said Sir
Meliagrance, away with your proud language, for here ye may all see
that a wounded knight hath been here. Then were they all ashamed when
they saw that blood, and wit you well Sir Meliagrance was passing glad
that he had the queen at such an advantage, for he deemed by that to
hide his treason. So with this rumour came in Sir Launcelot, and found
them all at a great array.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Sir Launcelot answered for the queen, and waged battle against Sir
  Meliagraunce. And how Sir Launcelot was taken in a trap._

What array is this? said Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Meliagrance told him
what he had found, and shewed him the blood. Truly, said Sir Launcelot,
ye did not your part nor knightly toward the queen, and therefore have
ye done unworshipfully and shamefully to yourself. I wot not what ye
mean, said Sir Meliagrance, but well I am sure there hath been one of
her wounded knights here, and therefore I will prove with my hands that
she is a traitress unto my lord Arthur. Beware what ye do, said Sir
Launcelot, for and ye say so, and that ye will prove it, it will be
taken at your hands. My lord Sir Launcelot, said Sir Meliagrance, I
rede you beware what ye do, for though ye are never so good a knight,
as ye wot well that ye are renowned the best knight of the world, yet
should ye be advised to do battle in a wrong quarrel, for God will have
a stroke in every battle. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, God is to be
dread. But as to that I say nay plainly, that this night none of these
ten wounded knights was here with my lady queen Guenever, and that will
I prove with my hands, that ye say untruly in that now. Hold, said Sir
Meliagrance, here is my glove, that she is traitress unto my lord king
Arthur, and that one of the wounded knights was here. And I receive
your glove, said Sir Launcelot. And so they were sealed with their
signets, and delivered unto the ten knights. At what day shall we do
battle together? said Sir Launcelot. This day eight days, said Sir
Meliagrance, in the field beside Westminster. I am agreed, said Sir
Launcelot. But now, said Sir Meliagrance, sithen it is that we must
fight together, I beseech you, as ye are a noble knight, await me with
no treason, nor none villainy the meanwhile, nor none for you. So God
me help, said Sir Launcelot, ye shall right well wit I was never of no
such conditions, for I report me to all knights that ever have known
me, I fared never with no treason, nor I loved never the fellowship of
no man that fared with treason. Then let us go to dinner, said
Meliagrance, and after dinner ye and the queen and ye may ride all to
Westminster. I will well, said Sir Launcelot. And Sir Meliagrance said
to Sir Launcelot, Pleaseth it you to see the eftures of this castle?
With a good will, said Sir Launcelot. And then they went together from
chamber to chamber, for Sir Launcelot dread no perils. For ever a man
of worship and of prowess dreadeth least always perils: for they ween
every man be as they be. But ever he that fareth with treason putteth
oft a man in great danger. So it befell upon Sir Launcelot that no
peril dread. As he went with Sir Meliagrance, he trod on a trap, and
the board rolled, and therewith Sir Launcelot fell down more than ten
fathom into a cave full of straw. And then Sir Meliagrance departed,
and made no fare as that he nist where he was. And when Sir Launcelot
was thus missed, they marvelled where he was become. And then queen
Guenever and many of them deemed that he was departed as he was wont to
do, suddenly. For Sir Meliagrance made suddenly to put away on side Sir
Lavaine’s horse, that they might all understand that Sir Launcelot was
departed suddenly. So it past on till after dinner, and then Sir
Lavaine would not stint until that he ordained litters for the wounded
knights, that they might be laid in them, and so with the queen and
them all, both ladies and gentlewomen and other, went unto Westminster,
and there the knights told king Arthur how Meliagrance had appealed the
queen of high treason, and how Sir Launcelot had received the glove of
him, and this day eight days they shall do battle afore you. By my
head, said king Arthur, I am afeard Sir Meliagrance hath taken upon him
a great charge. But where is Sir Launcelot? said the king. Sir, said
they all, we wot not where he is, but we deem he is ridden to some
adventures, as he is ofttimes wont to do, for he hath Sir Lavaine’s
horse. Let him be, said the king, he will be founden, but if he be
trapped with some treason.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How Sir Launcelot was delivered out of prison by a lady, and took a
  white courser, and came for to keep his day._

So leave we Sir Launcelot, lying within that cave in great pain, and
every day there came a lady and brought him his meat and his drink, and
wooed him to love her. And ever the noble knight Sir Launcelot said her
nay. Sir Launcelot, said she, ye are not wise, for ye may never out of
this prison but if ye have my help, and also your lady queen Guenever
shall be burnt in your default, unless that ye be there at the day of
battle. God defend, said Sir Launcelot, that she should be burnt in my
default: and if it be so, said Sir Launcelot, that I may not be there,
it shall be well understood both at the king and at the queen, and with
all men of worship, that I am dead, sick, or in prison. For all men
that know me will say for me that I am in some evil case, and I be not
there that day, and well I wot there is some good knight, either of my
blood, or some other that loveth me, that will take my quarrel in hand:
and, therefore, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well ye shall not fear me.
And if there were no more women in all this land but you, I would not
say otherwise. Then art thou shamed, said the lady, and destroyed for
ever. As for world’s shame, Jesu defend me; and as for my distress, it
is welcome, whatsoever it be that God sendeth me. So she came to him
the same day that the battle should be, and said, Sir Launcelot, me
thinketh ye are too hard-hearted, but wouldest thou but kiss me once I
should deliver thee and thine armour, and the best horse that is within
Sir Meliagrance’s stable. As for to kiss you, said Sir Launcelot, I may
do that, and lose no worship, and wit ye well, and I understood there
were any disworship for to kiss you, I would not do it. Then he kissed
her, and then she gat him and brought him to his armour. And when he
was armed, she brought him to a stable, where stood twelve good
coursers, and bad him choose the best. Then Sir Launcelot looked upon a
white courser, the which liked him best, and anon he commanded the
keepers fast to saddle him with the best saddle of war that there was,
and so it was done as he bade. Then gat he his spear in his hand, and
his sword by his side, and commanded the lady unto God, and said, Lady,
for this good deed I shall do you service if ever it be in my power.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Sir Launcelot came the same time that Sir Meliagraunce abode him
  in the field, and dressed him to battle._

Now leave we Sir Launcelot gallop all that he might, and speak we of
queen Guenever that was brought to a fire to be burnt, for Sir
Meliagrance was sure, him thought, that Sir Launcelot should not be at
that battle, therefore he ever cried upon king Arthur to do him
justice, or else bring forth Sir Launcelot du Lake. Then was the king
and all the court full sore abashed and shamed that the queen should be
burnt in the default of Sir Launcelot. My lord Arthur, said Sir
Lavaine, ye may understand that it is not well with my lord Sir
Launcelot, for and he were on live, so that he be not sick or in
prison, wit ye well he would be here, for never heard ye that ever he
failed his part for whom he should do battle for. And therefore, said
Sir Lavaine, my lord king Arthur, I beseech you give me licence to do
battle here this day for my lord and master, and for to save my lady
the queen. Gramercy, gentle knight, Sir Lavaine, said king Arthur, for
I dare say all that Sir Meliagrance putteth upon my lady the queen is
wrong, for I have spoken with all the ten wounded knights, and there is
not one of them, and he were whole and able to do battle, but he would
prove upon Sir Meliagrance’s body that it is false that he putteth upon
my queen. So shall I, said Sir Lavaine, in the defence of my lord Sir
Launcelot, and ye will give me leave. Now I give you leave, said king
Arthur, and do your best, for I dare well say there is some treason
done to Sir Launcelot. Then was Sir Lavaine horsed, and suddenly at the
list’s end he rode to perform this battle. And right as the heralds
should cry Lesses les aler, right so came in Sir Launcelot driving with
all the force of his horse. And then Arthur cried, Ho! and Abide! Then
was Sir Launcelot called on horseback tofore king Arthur, and there he
told openly tofore the king and all, how Sir Meliagrance had served him
first and last. And when the king and the queen and all the lords knew
of the treason of Sir Meliagrance, they were all ashamed on his behalf.
Then was queen Guenever sent for, and set by the king in great trust of
her champion. And then there was no more else to say, but Sir Launcelot
and Sir Meliagrance dressed them unto battle, and took their spears,
and so they came together as thunder, and there Sir Launcelot bare him
down quite over his horse croup. And then Sir Launcelot alight, and
dressed his shield on his shoulder with his sword in his hand, and Sir
Meliagrance in the same wise dressed him unto him, and there they smote
many great strokes together, and at the last Sir Launcelot smote him
such a buffet upon the helmet, that he fell on the one side to the
earth, and then he cried upon him aloud, Most noble knight, Sir
Launcelot du Lake, save my life, for I yield me unto you, and I beseech
you, as ye be a knight and fellow of the Table Round, slay me not, for
I yield me as overcomen, and whether I shall live or die I put me in
the king’s hands and yours. Then Sir Launcelot wist not what to do, for
he had lever than all the good of the world he might have been revenged
upon Sir Meliagrance; and Sir Launcelot looked toward queen Guenever if
he might espy by any sign or countenance what she would have done. And
then the queen wagged her head upon Sir Launcelot, as though she would
say slay him. Full well knew Sir Launcelot by the wagging of her head
that she would have had him dead: then Sir Launcelot bad him rise for
shame, and perform that battle to the utterance. Nay, said Sir
Meliagrance, I will never arise until ye take me as yielden and
recreant. I shall proffer you large proffers, said Sir Launcelot, that
is to say, I shall unarm my head and my left quarter of my body, all
that may be unarmed, and let bind my left hand behind me, so that it
shall not help me, and right so I shall do battle with you. Then Sir
Meliagrance start up upon his legs, and said on high, My lord Arthur,
take heed to this proffer, for I will take it, and let him be disarmed
and bounden according to his proffer. What say ye, said king Arthur
unto Sir Launcelot, will ye abide by your proffer? Yea, my lord, said
Sir Launcelot, I will never go from that I have once said. Then the
knights parters of the field disarmed Sir Launcelot, first his head,
and sithen his left arm and his left side, and they bound his left arm
behind his back, without shield or anything, and then they were put
together. Wit you well there was many a lady and knight marvelled that
Sir Launcelot would jeopardy himself in such wise. Then Sir Meliagrance
came with his sword all on high, and Sir Launcelot shewed him openly
his bare head and the bare left side. And when he wend to have smitten
him upon the bare head, then lightly he avoided the left leg and the
left side, and put his right hand and his sword to that stroke, and so
put it on side with great sleight, and then with great force Sir
Launcelot smote him on the helmet such a buffet that the stroke carved
the head in two parts. Then there was no more to do but he was drawn
out of the field. And at the great instance of the knights of the Table
Round the king suffered him to be interred, and the mention made upon
him who slew him, and for what cause he was slain. And then the king
and the queen made more of Sir Launcelot, and more he was cherished,
than ever he was aforehand.


                                CHAP. X.

_How Sir Urre came into Arthur’s court for to be healed of his wounds,
  and how king Arthur would begin to handle him._

Then, as the French book maketh mention, there was a good knight in the
land of Hungary, his name was Sir Urre, and he was an adventurous
knight, and in all places where he might hear of any deeds of worship,
there would he be. So it happened in Spain there was an earl’s son, his
name was Alphegus, and at a great tournament in Spain this Sir Urre,
knight of Hungary, and Sir Alphegus of Spain, encountered together for
very envy, and so either undertook other to the utterance, and by
fortune Sir Urre slew Sir Alphegus, the earl’s son of Spain. But this
knight that was slain had given Sir Urre, or ever he was slain, seven
great wounds, three on the head, and four on his body and upon his left
hand. And this Sir Alphegus had a mother, the which was a great
sorceress, and she, for the despite of her son’s death, wrought by her
subtile crafts that Sir Urre should never be whole, but ever his wounds
should one time fester and another time bleed, so that he should never
be whole, until the best knight of the world had searched his wounds,
and thus she made her avaunt, where through it was known that Sir Urre
should never be whole. Then his mother let make an horse-litter, and
put him therein under two palfreys, and then she took Sir Urre’s sister
with him, a full fair damsel, whose name was Felelolie, and then she
took a page with him to keep their horses, and so they led Sir Urre
through many countries. For, as the French book saith, she led him so
seven year through all lands christened, and never she could find no
knight that might ease her son. So she came into Scotland, and into the
lands of England, and by fortune she came nigh the feast of Pentecost
until Arthur’s court, that at that time was holden at Carlisle. And
when she came there, then she made it openly to be known how that she
was come into that land for to heal her son.

Then king Arthur let call the lady, and asked her the cause why she
brought that hurt knight into that land. My most noble king, said that
lady, wit you well I brought him hither for to be healed of his wounds,
that of all this seven year he might not be whole. And then she told
the king where he was wounded, and of whom, and how his mother had
discovered in her pride how she had wrought that by enchantment, so
that he should never be whole until the best knight of the world had
searched his wounds:—And so I have passed through all the lands
christened to have him healed, except this land: and if I fail to heal
him here in this land, I will never take more pain upon me, and that is
pity, for he was a good knight, and of great nobleness. What is his
name? said Arthur. My good and gracious lord, she said, his name is Sir
Urre of the Mount. In good time, said the king, and sith ye are come
into this land ye are right welcome. And wit you well here shall your
son be healed, and ever any christian man may heal him. And for to give
all other men of worship courage I myself will assay to handle your
son, and so shall all the kings, dukes, and earls that be here present
with me at this time; thereto will I command them, and well I wot they
shall obey and do after my commandment. And wit you well, said king
Arthur unto Urre’s sister, I shall begin to handle him and search unto
my power, not presuming upon me that I am so worthy to heal your son by
my deeds, but I will encourage other men of worship to do as I will do.
And then the king commanded all the kings, dukes, and earls, and all
noble knights of the Round Table that were there that time present, to
come into the meadow of Carlisle. And so at that time there were but an
hundred and ten of the Round Table, for forty knights were that time
away. And so here we must begin at king Arthur, as is kindly to begin
at him that was the most man of worship that was christened at that
time.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How king Arthur handled Sir Urre, and after him many other knights of
  the Round Table._

Then king Arthur looked upon Sir Urre, and the king thought he was a
full likely man when he was whole. And king Arthur made him to be taken
down off the litter, and laid him upon the earth, and there was laid a
cushion of gold that he should kneel upon. And then Arthur said, Noble
fair knight, me repenteth of thy hurt, and for to courage all other
noble knights I will pray thee softly to suffer me to handle your
wounds. Most noble christened king, said Urre, do as ye list, for I am
at the mercy of God, and at your commandment. So then Arthur softly
handled him, and then some of his wounds renewed upon bleeding. Then
the king Clariance of Northumberland searched, and it would not be. And
then Sir Barant le Apres, that was called the king with the hundred
knights, he assayed, and failed; and so did king Urience, of the land
of Gore. So did king Anguissance of Ireland; so did king Nentres of
Garloth; so did king Carados of Scotland; so did the duke Galahalt, the
haut prince; so did Constantine, that was Sir Carados’s son, of
Cornwall; so did duke Chalance of Clarance; so did the earl Ulbause; so
did the earl Lambaile; so did the earl Aristause. Then came in Sir
Gawaine, with his three sons, Sir Gingalin, Sir Florence, and Sir
Lovel; these two were begotten upon Sir Brandiles’s sister; and all
they failed. Then came in Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, Sir Mordred, and
the good knight Sir Gareth, which was of very knighthood worth all the
brethren. So came knights of Launcelot’s kin, but Sir Launcelot was not
that time in the court, for he was that time upon his adventures. Then
Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Blamor de Ganis,
Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Gahalantine, Sir Galihodin, Sir Menadeuke,
Sir Villiars the valiant, Sir Hebes le Renoumes. All these were of Sir
Launcelot’s kin, and all they failed. Then came in Sir Sagramor le
Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Dinadan, Sir Bruin le Noire, that
Sir Kay named la Cote Male Taile, and Sir Kay the seneschal, Sir Kay de
Stranges, Sir Meliot de Logris, Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir
Galleron of Galway, Sir Melion of the mountain, Sir Cardok, Sir Uwaine
les Avoutres, and Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy. Then came in Sir Astamore,
and Sir Gromere, Grummor’s son, Sir Crosselme, Sir Servause le Breuse,
that was called a passing strong knight. For, as the book saith, the
chief Lady of the lake feasted this Sir Launcelot, and Sir Servause le
Breuse, and when she had feasted them both at sundry times, she prayed
them to give her a boon, and they granted it her, and then she prayed
Sir Servause that he would promise her never to do battle against Sir
Launcelot du Lake; and in the same wise she prayed Sir Launcelot never
to do battle against Sir Servause; and so either promised her. For the
French book saith that Sir Servause had never courage nor lust to do
battle against no man, but if it were against giants, and against
dragons, and wild beasts. So we pass unto them that, at the king’s
request, made them all that were there at that high feast, as of the
knights of the Table Round, for to search Sir Urre: to that intent the
king did it, to wit which was the noblest knight among them.

Then there came Sir Aglovale, Sir Durnore, Sir Tor, and king Pellinore
begat them all, first, Sir Tor, Sir Aglovale, Sir Durnore, Sir Lamorak,
the most noblest knight, one that ever was in Arthur’s days as for a
worldly knight, and Sir Percivale that was peerless, except Sir
Galahad, in holy deeds, but they died in the quest of the Sancgreal.
Then came Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Sir Luca the botteler, Sir
Bedivere his brother, Sir Brandiles, Sir Constantine, Sir Cador’s son
of Cornwall, that was king after Arthur’s days, and Sir Clegis, Sir
Sadok, Sir Dinas le seneschal of Cornwall, Sir Fergus, Sir Driant, Sir
Lambegus, Sir Clarrus of Cleremont, Sir Cloddrus, Sir Hectimere, Sir
Edward of Carnarvan, Sir Dinas, Sir Priamus, that was christened by Sir
Tristram the noble knight, and these three were brethren; Sir Hellaine
le Blank, that was son unto Sir Bors and king Brandegoris’s daughter,
and Sir Brian de Listinoise; Sir Gautere, Sir Reynold, Sir Gillemere,
were three brethren that Sir Launcelot won upon a bridge in Sir Kay’s
arms. Sir Guiart le Petite, Sir Bellangere le Beuse, that was son to
the good knight Sir Alisander le Orphelin, that was slain by the
treason of king Mark. Also that traitor king slew the noble knight Sir
Tristram, as he sat harping afore his lady La Beale Isoud, with a
trenchant glaive, for whose death was much bewailing of every knight
that ever were in Arthur’s days: there were never none so bewailed as
was Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak, for they were traitorously slain, Sir
Tristram by king Mark, and Sir Lamorak by Sir Gawaine and his brethren.
And this Sir Bellangere revenged the death of his father Alisander, and
Sir Tristram, slew king Mark, and La Beale Isoud died, swooning upon
the cross of Sir Tristram, whereof was great pity. And all that were
with king Mark, that were consenting to the death of Sir Tristram, were
slain, as Sir Andred, and many other. Then came Sir Hebes, Sir
Morganore, Sir Sentraile, Sir Suppinabiles, Sir Bellangere le Orgulous,
that the good knight Sir Lamorak wan in plain battle; Sir Nerovens, and
Sir Plenorius, two good knights that Sir Launcelot wan; Sir Darras, Sir
Harry le Fise Lake, Sir Erminide, brother to king Hermance for whom Sir
Palamides fought at the red city with two brethren; and Sir Selises of
the dolorous tower, Sir Edward of Orkney, and Sir Ironside, that was
called the noble knight of the red lawns, that Sir Gareth wan for the
love of dame Liones; Sir Arrok de Grevant, Sir Degrane Sance Vilany,
that fought with the giant of the black lowe; Sir Epinogris, that was
the king’s son of Northumberland; Sir Pelleas, that loved the lady
Ettard, and he had died for her love, had not been one of the ladies of
the lake, her name was dame Nimue, and she wedded Sir Pelleas, and she
saved him that he was never slain, and he was a full noble knight; and
Sir Lamiel of Cardiff, that was a great lover; Sir Plaine de Force, Sir
Meleaus de Lile, Sir Bobart le Cure Hardy, that was king Arthur’s son,
Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Colgrevance, Sir Hervise de la Forest
Savage, Sir Marrok, the good knight that was betrayed with his wife,
for she made him seven year a werwolf; Sir Persant, Sir Pertilope his
brother, that was called the green knight, and Sir Perimones, brother
to them both, that was called the red knight, that Sir Gareth wan when
he was called Beaumains. All these hundred knights and ten searched Sir
Urre’s wounds, by the commandment of king Arthur.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Launcelot was commanded by Arthur to handle his wounds, and
  anon he was all whole, and how they thanked God._

Mercy, said king Arthur, where is Sir Launcelot du Lake, that he is not
here at this time? Thus as they stood and spake of many things, there
was espied Sir Launcelot, that came riding toward them, and told the
king. Peace, said the king, let no manner thing be said until he be
come to us. So when Sir Launcelot espied king Arthur he descended from
his horse, and came to the king, and saluted him, and them all. Anon as
the maid, Sir Urre’s sister, saw Sir Launcelot, she ran to her brother
there as he lay in his litter, and said, Brother, here is come a knight
that my heart giveth greatly unto. Fair sister, said Sir Urre, so doth
my heart light against him, and certainly I hope now to be healed, for
my heart giveth unto him more than to all these that have searched me.
Then said king Arthur unto Sir Launcelot, Ye must do as we have done;
and told Sir Launcelot what they had done, and shewed him them all that
had searched him. Heaven defend me, said Sir Launcelot, when so many
kings and knights have assayed and failed, that I should presume upon
me to achieve that all ye my lords might not achieve. Ye shall not
choose, said king Arthur, for I will command you for to do as we all
have done. My most renowned lord, said Sir Launcelot, ye know well I
dare not nor may not disobey your commandment, but and I might or
durst, wit you well I would not take upon me to touch that wounded
knight, to that intent that I should pass all other knights; heaven
defend me from that shame. Ye take it wrong, said king Arthur, ye shall
not do it for no presumption, but for to bear us fellowship, insomuch
ye be a fellow of the Table Round, and wit you well, said king Arthur,
and ye prevail not and heal him, I dare say there is no knight in this
land may heal him, and therefore I pray you do as we have done. And
then all the kings and knights for the most part prayed Sir Launcelot
to search him, and then the wounded knight Sir Urre set him up weakly,
and prayed Sir Launcelot heartily, saying, Courteous knight, I require
thee for God’s sake heal my wounds, for me thinketh, ever sithen ye
came here my wounds grieve me not. Ah my fair lord, said Sir Launcelot,
Jesu would that I might help you, I shame me sore that I should be thus
rebuked, for never was I able in worthiness to do so high a thing. Then
Sir Launcelot kneeled down by the wounded knight, saying, My lord
Arthur, I must do your commandment, the which is sore against my heart.
And then he held up his hands, and looked into the east, saying
secretly unto himself, Thou blessed Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, I
beseech thee of thy mercy, that my simple worship and honesty be saved,
and thou, blessed Trinity, thou mayest give power to heal this sick
knight, by thy great virtue and grace of thee, but, good Lord, never of
myself. And then Sir Launcelot prayed Sir Urre to let him see his head;
and then, devoutly kneeling, he ransacked the three wounds, that they
bled a little, and forthwith all the wounds fair healed, and seemed as
they had been whole a seven year. And in likewise he searched his body
of other three wounds, and they healed in likewise. And then the last
of all he searched the which was in his hand, and, anon, it healed
fair. Then king Arthur, and all the kings and knights, kneeled down,
and gave thanks and lovings unto God, and to his blessed mother, and
ever Sir Launcelot wept as he had been a child that had been beaten.
Then king Arthur let array priests and clerks in the most devoutest
manner, to bring in Sir Urre within Carlisle, with singing and loving
to God. And when this was done, the king let clothe him in the richest
manner that could be thought; and then were but few better made knights
in all the court, for he was passingly well made and bigly: and Arthur
asked Sir Urre how he felt himself. My good lord, he said, I felt
myself never so lusty. Will ye just, and do deeds of arms? said king
Arthur. Sir, said Sir Urre, and I had all that longed unto justs, I
would soon be ready.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How there was a party made of an hundred knights against an hundred
  knights, and of other matters._

Then king Arthur made a party of hundred knights to be against an
hundred knights. And so, upon the morn, they justed for a diamond; but
there justed none of the dangerous knights; and so, for to shorten this
tale, Sir Urre and Sir Lavaine justed best that day, for there was none
of them but he overthrew and pulled down thirty knights; and then, by
the assent of all the kings and lords, Sir Urre and Sir Lavaine were
made knights of the Table Round. And Sir Lavaine cast his love to dame
Felelolie, Sir Urre’s sister, and then they were wedded together with
great joy, and king Arthur gave to every each of them a barony of
lands. And this Sir Urre would never go from Sir Launcelot, but he, and
Sir Lavaine, awaited evermore upon him; and they were in all the court
accounted for good knights, and full desirous in arms; and many noble
deeds they did, for they would have no rest, but ever sought
adventures. Thus they lived in the court, with great nobleness and joy,
long time. But every night and day Sir Agravaine, Sir Gawaine’s
brother, awaited queen Guenever and Sir Launcelot du Lake, to put them
to a rebuke and shame. And so leave I here of this tale, and overskip
great books of Sir Launcelot du Lake, what great adventures he did when
he was called Le Chevaler du Chariot. For, as the French book saith,
because of despite that knights and ladies called him the knight that
rode in the chariot, as he were judged to the gallows; therefore, in
despite of all them that named him so, he was carried in a chariot a
twelve month, for but little after that he had slain Sir Meliagrance in
the queen’s quarrel, he never in a twelve month came on horseback. And,
as the French book saith, he did that twelve month more than forty
battles. And because I have lost the very matter of Le Chevaler du
Chariot, I depart from the tale of Sir Launcelot, and here I go unto
the Morte of king Arthur, and that caused Sir Agravaine.

                          Explicit liber xix.

    And here after foloweth the moost pytous history of the morte of
               kynge Arthur, the whiche is the xx. book.




                          The Twentieth Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred were busy upon Sir Gawaine for to
  disclose the love between Sir Launcelot and queen Guenever._

In May, when every lusty heart flourisheth and burgeneth; for as the
season is lusty to behold and comfortable, so man and woman rejoice and
gladden of summer coming with his fresh flowers: for winter, with his
rough winds and blasts, causeth a lusty man and woman to cower and sit
fast by the fire. So in this season, as in the month of May, it befell
a great anger and unhap that stinted not till the flower of chivalry of
all the world was destroyed and slain: and all was long upon two
unhappy knights, the which were named Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred
that were brethren unto Sir Gawaine. For this Sir Agravaine and Sir
Mordred had ever a privy hate unto the queen dame Guenever, and to Sir
Launcelot, and daily and nightly they ever watched upon Sir Launcelot.
So it mis-happed Sir Gawaine and all his brethren were in king Arthur’s
chamber, and then Sir Agravaine said thus openly, and not in no
counsel, that many knights might hear it, I marvel that we all be not
ashamed both to see and to know how Sir Launcelot goeth with the queen,
and all we know it so, and it is shamefully suffered of us all, that we
all should suffer so noble a king as king Arthur is so to be shamed.
Then spake Sir Gawaine, and said, Brother, Sir Agravaine, I pray you,
and charge you, move no such matters no more afore me; for wit ye well,
said Sir Gawaine, I will not be of your counsel. Truly, said Sir
Gaheris and Sir Gareth, we will not be knowing, brother Agravaine, of
your deeds. Then will I, said Sir Mordred. I believe well that, said
Sir Gawaine, for ever, unto all unhappiness, brother Sir Mordred,
thereto will ye grant, and I would that ye left all this, and made you
not so busy, for I know, said Sir Gawaine, what will fall of it. Fall
of it what fall may, said Sir Agravaine, I will disclose it to the
king. Not by my counsel, said Sir Gawaine, for and there rise war and
wrake betwixt Sir Launcelot and us, wit you well, brother, there will
many kings and great lords hold with Sir Launcelot. Also, brother Sir
Agravaine, said Sir Gawaine, ye must remember how ofttimes Sir
Launcelot hath rescued the king and the queen, and the best of us all
had been full cold at the heart-root, had not Sir Launcelot been better
than we; and that hath he proved himself full oft. And as for my part,
said Sir Gawaine, I will never be against Sir Launcelot, for one day’s
deed, when he rescued me from king Carados of the dolorous tower, and
slew him, and saved my life. Also, brother Sir Agravaine, and Sir
Mordred, in likewise Sir Launcelot rescued you both, and three-score
and two, from Sir Turquin. Me thinketh, brother, such kind deeds and
kindness should be remembered. Do as ye list, said Sir Agravaine, for I
will hide it no longer. With these words came to them king Arthur. Now,
brother, stint your noise, said Sir Gawaine. We will not, said Sir
Agravaine and Sir Mordred. Will ye so? said Sir Gawaine, then God speed
you, for I will not hear your tales, nor be of your counsel. No more
will I, said Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris, for we will never say evil by
that man: for because, said Sir Gareth, Sir Launcelot made me knight,
by no manner ought I to say ill of him. And therewithal they three
departed, making great dole. Alas, said Sir Gawaine and Sir Gareth, now
is this realm wholly mischieved, and the noble fellowship of the Round
Table shall be dispersed. So they departed.


                               CHAP. II.

_How Sir Agravaine disclosed their love to king Arthur, and how king
  Arthur gave them licence to take him._

And then Sir Arthur asked them what noise they made. My lord, said
Agravaine, I shall tell you that I may keep no longer. Here is I and my
brother, Sir Mordred, brake unto my brother Sir Gawaine, Sir Gaheris,
and to Sir Gareth, how this we know all, that Sir Launcelot holdeth
your queen, and hath done long, and we be your sister’s sons, and we
may suffer it no longer; and all we wot that ye should be above Sir
Launcelot, and ye are the king that made him knight, and, therefore, we
will prove it that he is a traitor to your person. If it be so, said
Sir Arthur, wit you well he is none other, but I would be loth to begin
such a thing, but I might have proofs upon it; for Sir Launcelot is an
hardy knight, and all ye know he is the best knight among us all, and,
but if he be taken with the deed, he will fight with him that bringeth
up the noise, and I know no knight that is able to match him.
Therefore, and it be sooth as ye say, I would he were taken with the
deed. For, as the French book saith, the king was full loth thereto,
that any noise should be upon Sir Launcelot and his queen; for the king
had a deeming, but he would not hear of it, for Sir Launcelot had done
so much for him and for the queen so many times, that, wit ye well, the
king loved him passingly well. My lord, said Sir Agravaine, ye shall
ride to-morrow on hunting, and doubt ye not, Sir Launcelot will not go
with you. Then when it draweth toward night, ye may send the queen word
that ye will lie out all that night, and so may ye send for your cooks;
and then, upon pain of death, we shall take him with the queen, and
either we shall bring him to you dead or quick. I will well, said the
king, then I counsel you, said the king, take with you sure fellowship.
Sir, said Agravaine, my brother, Sir Mordred, and I will take with us
twelve knights of the Round Table. Beware, said king Arthur, for I warn
you ye shall find him wight. Let us deal, said Sir Agravaine and Sir
Mordred. So on the morn, king Arthur rode on hunting, and sent word to
the queen that he would be out all that night. Then Sir Agravaine and
Sir Mordred gat to them twelve knights, and did themselves in a
chamber, in the castle of Carlisle, and these were their names: Sir
Colgrevance, Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Gingaline, Sir Meliot de
Logris, Sir Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir Galleron of Galway, Sir Melion
of the mountain, Sir Astamore, Sir Gromore Somir Joure, Sir Curselaine,
Sir Florence, Sir Lovel. So these twelve knights were with Sir Mordred
and Sir Agravaine. And all they were of Scotland, either of Sir
Gawaine’s kin, either well willers to his brethren. So when the night
came, Sir Launcelot told Sir Bors how he would go that night, and speak
with the queen. Sir, said Sir Bors, ye shall not go this night, by my
counsel. Why? said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir Bors, I dread me ever
of Sir Agravaine, that waiteth you daily, to do you shame, and us all,
and never gave my heart against no going that ever ye went to the
queen, so much as now, for I mistrust that the king is out this night
from the queen, because, peradventure, he hath lain some watch for you
and the queen, and therefore I dread me sore of treason. Have ye no
dread, said Sir Launcelot, for I shall go, and come again, and make no
tarrying. Sir, said Sir Bors, that me sore repenteth, for I dread me
sore that your going out this night shall wrath us all. Fair nephew,
said Sir Launcelot, I marvel me much why ye say thus, sithen the queen
hath sent for me, and wit ye well that I will not be so much a coward,
but she shall understand I will see her good grace. God speed you well,
said Sir Bors, and send you sound and safe again.


                               CHAP. III.

_How Sir Launcelot was espied in the queen’s chamber, and how Sir
  Agravaine and Sir Mordred came with twelve knights to slay him._

So Sir Launcelot departed, and took his sword under his arm, and so in
his mantle that noble knight put himself in great jeopardy, and so he
passed till he came to the queen’s chamber. And then, as the French
book saith, there came Sir Agravaine, and Sir Mordred, with twelve
knights with them of the Round Table, and they said with crying voice,
Traitor knight, Sir Launcelot du Lake, now art thou taken. And thus
they cried with a loud voice that all the court might hear it: and they
all fourteen were armed at all points as they should fight in a battle.
Alas, said queen Guenever, now are we mischieved both. Madam, said Sir
Launcelot, is there here any armour within your chamber that I might
cover my poor body withal, and if there be any, give it me, and I shall
soon stint their malice. Truly, said the queen, I have none armour,
shield, sword, nor spear, wherefore I dread me sore our long love is
come to a mischievous end; for, I hear by their noise, there be many
noble knights, and well I wot they be surely armed, against them ye may
make no resistance; wherefore ye are likely to be slain, and then shall
I be burnt. For, and ye might escape them, said the queen, I would not
doubt but that ye would rescue me in what danger that ever I stood in.
Alas, said Sir Launcelot, in all my life was I never bested that I
should be thus shamefully slain for lack of mine armour. But ever in
one Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred cried, Traitor knight, come out of
the queen’s chamber, for wit thou well thou art so beset that thou
shalt not escape. Oh mercy, said Sir Launcelot, this shameful cry and
noise I may not suffer, for better were death at once, than thus to
endure this pain. Then he took the queen in his arms, and kissed her,
and said, Most noble christian queen, I beseech you, as ye have ever
been my special good lady, and I at all times your true poor knight
unto my power, and as I never failed you in right nor in wrong, since
the first day that king Arthur made me knight, that ye will pray for my
soul if that I here be slain. For well I am well assured that Sir Bors
my nephew and all the remnant of my kin, with Sir Lavaine and Sir Urre,
that they will not fail you to rescue you from the fire, and therefore,
mine own lady, recomfort yourself whatsoever come of me, that ye go
with Sir Bors my nephew, and Sir Urre, and they all will do you all the
pleasure that they can or may, that ye shall live like a queen upon my
lands. Nay, Launcelot, said the queen, wit thou well I will never live
after thy days, but, and thou be slain, I will take my death as meekly
for Jesu Christ’s sake, as ever did any Christian queen. Well, madam,
said Launcelot, sith it is so that the day is come that our love must
depart, wit you well I shall sell my life as dear as I may, and a
thousand fold, said Sir Launcelot, I am more heavier for you than for
myself. And now I had lever than to be lord of all Christendom, that I
had sure armour upon me, that men might speak of my deeds or ever I
were slain. Truly, said the queen, I would and it might please God that
they would take me and slay me, and suffer you to escape. That shall
never be, said Sir Launcelot. God defend me from such a shame, but Jesu
be thou my shield and mine armour.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How Sir Launcelot slew Sir Colgrevance, and armed him in his harness,
  and after slew Sir Agravaine and twelve of his fellows._

And therewith Sir Launcelot wrapped his mantle about his arm well and
surely; and by then they had gotten a great form out of the hall, and
therewithal they rashed at the door. Fair lords, said Sir Launcelot,
leave your noise and your rashing, and I shall set open this door, and
then may ye do with me what it liketh you. Come off then, said they
all, and do it, for it availeth thee not to strive against us all, and
therefore let us into this chamber, and we shall save thy life until
thou come to king Arthur. Then Launcelot unbarred the door, and with
his left hand he held it open a little so that but one man might come
in at once. And so anon, there came striding a good knight, a much man
and large, and his name was Colgrevance of Gore, and he with a sword
strake at Sir Launcelot mightily, and he put aside the stroke, and gave
him such a buffet upon the helmet that he fell groveling dead within
the chamber door, and then Sir Launcelot with great might drew that
dead knight within the chamber door; and then Sir Launcelot with the
help of the queen and her ladies was lightly armed in Sir Colgrevance’s
armour. And ever stood Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, crying, Traitor
knight, come out of the queen’s chamber. Leave your noise, said Sir
Launcelot unto Sir Agravaine, for wit ye well, Sir Agravaine, ye shall
not prison me this night, and therefore and ye do by my counsel, go ye
all from this chamber door, and make not such crying and such manner of
slander as ye do, for I promise you by my knighthood, and ye will
depart and make no more noise, I shall as to-morn appear before you
all, before the king, and then let it be seen which of you all, and
either else ye all, will accuse me of treason, and there I shall answer
you as a knight should, that hither I came to the queen for no manner
of mal-engine, and that will I prove and make it good upon you with
mine hands. Fie on thee traitor, said Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, we
will have thee, maugre thy head, and slay thee if we list, for we let
thee wit, we have the choice of king Arthur, to save thee or to slay
thee. Ah sirs, said Sir Launcelot, is there none other grace with you?
then keep yourself. So then Sir Launcelot set all open the chamber
door, and mightily and knightly he strode in amongst them, and anon at
the first buffet he slew Sir Agravaine, and twelve of his fellows
within a little while after he laid them cold to the earth, for there
was none of the twelve that might stand Sir Launcelot one buffet. Also
Sir Launcelot wounded Sir Mordred, and he fled with all his might. And
then Sir Launcelot returned again unto the queen, and said, Madam, now
wit you well all our true love is brought to an end, for now will king
Arthur ever be my foe, and therefore, madam, and it like you that I may
have you with me, I shall save you from all manner adventures
dangerous. That is not best, said the queen, me seemeth now ye have
done so much harm, it will be best ye hold you still with this. And if
ye see that as to-morn they will put me unto the death, then may ye
rescue me as ye think best. I will well, said Sir Launcelot, for have
ye no doubt while I am living I shall rescue you. And then he kissed
her, and either gave other a ring, and so there he left the queen and
went until his lodging.


                                CHAP. V.

_How Sir Launcelot came to Sir Bors and told him how he had sped, and
  in what adventure he had been, and how he escaped._

When Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot, he was never so glad of his home
coming as he was then. Mercy, said Sir Launcelot, why be ye all armed?
What meaneth this? Sir, said Sir Bors, after that ye were departed from
us, we all that be of your blood, and your well willers, were so
troubled, that some of us lept out of our beds naked, and some in their
dreams caught naked swords in their hands, therefore, said Sir Bors, we
deem there is some great strife at hand; and then we all deemed that ye
were betrapped with some treason, and therefore we made us thus ready,
what need that ever ye were in. My fair nephew, said Sir Launcelot unto
Sir Bors, now shall ye wit all, that this night I was more harder
bested than ever I was in my life, and yet I escaped. And so he told
them all how, and in what manner, as ye have heard tofore. And
therefore my fellows, said Sir Launcelot, I pray you all that ye will
be of good heart in what need soever I stand, for now is war come to us
all. Sir, said Sir Bors, all is welcome that God sendeth us, and we
have had much weal with you and much worship, and therefore we will
take the woe with you as we have taken the weal. And therefore they
said all, there were many good knights, Look ye take no discomfort, for
there nis no band of knights under heaven but that we shall be able to
grieve them as much as they may us. And therefore discomfort not
yourself by no manner, and ye shall gather together that we love, and
that loveth us, and what that ye will have done shall be done. And
therefore, Sir Launcelot, said they, we will take the woe with the
weal. Gramercy, said Sir Launcelot, of your good comfort, for in my
great distress, my fair nephew, ye comfort me greatly, and much I am
beholden unto you. But this, my fair nephew, I would that ye did in all
haste that ye may, or it be forth-days, that ye will look in their
lodging that been lodged here nigh about the king, which will hold with
me, and which will not, for now I would know which were my friends from
my foes. Sir, said Sir Bors, I shall do my pain, and, or it be seven of
the clock, I shall wit of such as ye have said before, who will hold
with you.

Then Sir Bors called unto him Sir Lionel, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir
Blamor de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Gahalantine, Sir
Galihodin, Sir Galihud, Sir Menadeuke, with Sir Villiers the Valiant,
Sir Hebes le Renoumes, Sir Lavaine, Sir Urre of Hungary, Sir Nerouneus,
Sir Plenorius: these two knights Sir Launcelot made, and the one he wan
upon a bridge, and therefore they would never be against him. And Sir
Harry le Fise du Lake and Sir Selises of the dolorous tower, and Sir
Melias de Lile, and Sir Bellangere le Beuse, which was Sir Alisaunder’s
le Orphelin’s son, because his mother, dame Alis le Beale Pilgrim, and
she was kin unto Sir Launcelot, and he held with him. So there came Sir
Palamides, and Sir Safere his brother, to hold with Sir Launcelot, and
Sir Clegis of Sadok, and Sir Dinas, Sir Clarius of Cleremont. So these
two and twenty knights drew them together; and by then they were armed
on horseback, and promised Sir Launcelot to do what he would. Then
there fell to them, what of Northgalis and of Cornwall, for Sir
Lamorak’s sake and for Sir Tristram’s sake, to the number of a
fourscore knights.

My lords, said Sir Launcelot, wit you well I have been, ever since I
came into this country, well willed unto my lord king Arthur, and unto
my lady queen Guenever, unto my power, and this night, because my lady
the queen sent for me to speak with her, I suppose it was made by
treason, howbeit I dare largely excuse her person, notwithstanding I
was there by a forecast nigh slain, but, as God provided me, I escaped
all their malice and treason. And then that noble knight, Sir
Launcelot, told them all how he was hard bested in the queen’s chamber,
and how and in what manner he escaped from them. And therefore, said
Sir Launcelot, wit you well, my fair lords, I am sure there nis but war
unto me and mine. And for because I have slain this night these
knights, I wot well as is Sir Agravaine Sir Gawaine’s brother, and at
the least twelve of his fellows, for this cause now I am sure of mortal
war, for these knights were sent and ordained by king Arthur to betray
me, and therefore the king will in this heat and malice judge the queen
to the fire, and that may I not suffer, that she should be burnt for my
sake. For, and I may be heard and suffered, and so taken, I will fight
for the queen, that she is a true lady unto her lord. But the king in
his heat I dread me will not take me as I ought to be taken.


                               CHAP. VI.

_Of the counsel and advice which was taken by Sir Launcelot and by his
  friends for to save the queen._

My lord Sir Launcelot, said Sir Bors, by mine advice ye shall take the
woe with the weal, and take it in patience, and thank God of it. And
sithen it is fallen as it is, I counsel you keep yourself, for, and ye
will yourself, there is no fellowship of knights christened that shall
do you wrong. Also I will counsel you, my lord Sir Launcelot, that and
my lady queen Guenever be in distress, insomuch as she is in pain for
your sake, that ye knightly rescue her: and ye did other ways, all the
world will speak of you shame to the world’s end, insomuch as ye were
taken with her, whether ye did right or wrong. It is now your part to
hold with the queen, that she be not slain and put to a mischievous
death, for, and she so die, the shame shall be yours. Jesu defend me
from shame, said Sir Launcelot, and keep and save my lady the queen
from villainy and shameful death, and that she never be destroyed in my
default: wherefore, my fair lords, my kin and my friends, what will ye
do? Then they said all, We will do as ye will do. I put this to you,
said Sir Launcelot, that if my lord Arthur by evil counsel will to-morn
in his heat put my lady the queen to the fire, there to be burnt,—now,
I pray you, counsel me what is best to do? Then they said all at once
with one voice, Sir, us thinketh best, that ye knightly rescue the
queen; insomuch as she shall be burnt, it is for your sake, and it is
to suppose, and ye might be handled, ye should have the same death, or
a more shamefuller death; and, sir, we say all, that ye have many times
rescued her from death for other men’s quarrels, us seemeth it is more
your worship that ye rescue the queen from this peril, insomuch she
hath it for your sake.

Then Sir Launcelot stood still, and said, My fair lords, wit you well,
I would be loth to do that thing that should dishonour you or my blood,
and wit you well, I would be loth that my lady the queen should die a
shameful death, but and it be so that ye will counsel me to rescue her,
I must do much harm or I rescue her, and peradventure I shall there
destroy some of my best friends, that should much repent me: and
peradventure there be some, and they could well bring it about, or
disobey my lord king Arthur, they would soon come to me, the which I
were loth to hurt: and if so be that I rescue her, where shall I keep
her? That shall be the least care of us all, said Sir Bors: how did the
noble knight Sir Tristram by your good will? Kept not he with him La
Beale Isoud near three year in Joyous Gard, the which was done by your
elders’ device, and that same place is your own, and in likewise may ye
do, and ye list, and take the queen lightly away, if it so be the king
will judge her to be burnt, and in Joyous Gard ye may keep her long
enough, until the heat of the king be past. And then shall ye bring
again the queen to the king with great worship, and then, peradventure,
ye shall have thank for her bringing home, and love and thank where
other shall have maugre. That is hard to do, said Sir Launcelot, for by
Sir Tristram I may have a warning. For when by means of treaties Sir
Tristram brought again La Beale Isoud unto king Mark from Joyous Gard,
look what befell on the end, how shamefully that false traitor king
Mark slew him as he sat harping afore his lady La Beale Isoud, with a
grounden glaive he thrust him in behind to the heart. It grieveth me,
said Sir Launcelot, to speak of his death, for all the world may not
find such a knight. All this is truth, said Sir Bors, but there is one
thing shall courage you and us all: ye know well that king Arthur and
king Mark were never like of conditions, for there was never yet man
that could prove king Arthur untrue of his promise. So, to make short
tale, they were all consented that for better or for worse, if so were
that the queen were on that morn brought to the fire, shortly they all
would rescue her. And so by the advice of Sir Launcelot they put them
all in an enbushment in a wood as nigh Carlisle as they might. And
there they abode still to wit what the king would do.


                               CHAP. VII.

_How Sir Mordred rode hastily to the king to tell him of the affray and
  death of Sir Agravaine and the other knights._

Now turn we again unto Sir Mordred, that when he was escaped from the
noble knight Sir Launcelot, he anon gat his horse and mounted upon him,
and rode unto king Arthur, sore wounded and smitten, and all for-bled.
And there he told the king all how it was, and how they were all slain
save himself all only. Mercy, how may this be, said the king; took ye
him in the queen’s chamber? Yea, truly, said Sir Mordred, there we
found him unarmed, and there he slew Colgrevance, and armed him in his
armour. And all this he told the king, from the beginning to the
ending. Ah, mercy, said the king, he is a marvellous knight of prowess.
Alas, me sore repenteth, said the king, that ever Sir Launcelot should
be against me. Now I am sure the noble fellowship of the Round Table is
broken for ever, for with him will many a noble knight hold: and now it
is fallen so, said the king, that I may not with my worship but the
queen must suffer the death. So then there was made great ordinance in
this heat, that the queen must be judged to the death. And the law was
such in those days, that whatsoever they were, of what estate or
degree, if they were found guilty of treason, there should be none
other remedy but death, and either the men or the taking with the deed
should be causer of their hasty judgment. And right so was it ordained
for queen Guenever, because Sir Mordred was escaped sore wounded, and
the death of thirteen knights of the Round Table:—these proofs and
experiences caused king Arthur to command the queen to the fire, there
to be burnt. Then spake Sir Gawaine and said: My lord Arthur, I would
counsel you not to be over hasty, but that ye would put it in respite,
this judgment of my lady the queen, for many causes. One it is, though
it were so that Sir Launcelot were found in the queen’s chamber, yet it
might be that he came thither for none evil, for ye know, my lord, said
Sir Gawaine, that the queen is much beholden unto Sir Launcelot, more
than unto any other knight, for oft-times he hath saved her life, and
done battle for her when all the court refused the queen, and,
peradventure, she sent for him for goodness and for none evil, to
reward him for his good deeds that he had done to her in time past.
And, peradventure, my lady the queen sent for him to that intent that
Sir Launcelot should come to her good grace privily and secretly,
weening to her that it was best so to do, in eschewing and dreading of
slander. For oft-times we do many things that we ween it be for the
best, and yet, peradventure, it turneth to the worst. For I dare say,
said Sir Gawaine, that my lady your queen is to you both good and true.
And as for Sir Launcelot, said Sir Gawaine, I dare say he will make it
good upon any knight living that will put upon himself villainy or
shame, and in likewise he will make good for my lady dame Guenever.
That I believe well, said king Arthur, but I will not that way with Sir
Launcelot, for he trusteth so much upon his hands and his might that he
doubteth no man, and therefore for my queen he shall never fight more,
for she shall have the law. And if I may get Sir Launcelot, wit ye well
he shall have a shameful death. Jesu defend, said Sir Gawaine, that I
may never see it. Why say ye so? said king Arthur, for sooth ye have no
cause to love Sir Launcelot, for this night last past he slew your
brother Sir Agravaine, a full good knight, and also almost he had slain
your other brother Sir Mordred; and also there he slew thirteen noble
knights; and also, Sir Gawaine, remember ye he slew two sons of yours,
Sir Florence and Sir Lovel. My lord, said Sir Gawaine, of all this I
have knowledge, of whose deaths I repent me sore, but insomuch I gave
them warning, and told my brethren and my sons aforehand, what would
fall in the end, insomuch they would not do by my counsel I will not
meddle me thereof, nor revenge me nothing of their deaths, for I told
them it was no bote to strive with Sir Launcelot; howbeit I am sorry of
the death of my brethren and of my sons, for they are the causers of
their own death. For oft-times I warned my brother Sir Agravaine, and I
told him the perils the which be now fallen.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How Sir Launcelot and his kinsmen rescued the queen from the fire, and
  how he slew many knights._

Then said the noble king Arthur to Sir Gawaine, Dear nephew, I pray you
make you ready in your best armour, with your brethren Sir Gaheris and
Sir Gareth, to bring my queen to the fire, there to have her judgment,
and receive the death. Nay, my most noble lord, said Sir Gawaine, that
will I never do, for, wit you well, I will never be in that place where
so noble a queen as is my lady dame Guenever shall take a shameful end.
For wit you well, said Sir Gawaine, my heart will never serve me to see
her die, and it shall never be said that even I was of your counsel of
her death. Then, said the king to Sir Gawaine, suffer your brothers Sir
Gaheris and Sir Gareth to be there. My lord, said Sir Gawaine, wit you
well they will be loth to be there present, because of many adventures
the which be like there to fall, but they are young and full unable to
say you nay. Then spake Sir Gaheris and the good knight Sir Gareth unto
Sir Arthur, Sir, ye may well command us to be there, but wit you well
it shall be sore against our will; but and we be there by your strait
commandment, ye shall plainly hold us there excused, we will be there
in peaceable wise, and bear none harness of war upon us. In the name of
God, said the king, then make you ready, for she shall soon have her
judgment anon. Alas, said Sir Gawaine, that ever I should endure to see
this woefull day. So Sir Gawaine turned him, and wept heartily, and so
he went into his chamber, and then the queen was led forth without
Carlisle, and there she was despoiled into her smock. And so then her
ghostly father was brought to her, to be shriven of her misdeeds. Then
was there weeping, and wailing, and wringing of hands, of many lords
and ladies. But there were but few in comparison that would bear any
armour for to strength the death of the queen. Then was there one that
Sir Launcelot had sent unto that place for to espy what time the queen
should go unto her death. And anon, as he saw the queen despoiled into
her smock, and so shriven, then he gave Sir Launcelot warning. Then was
there but spurring and plucking up of horses, and right so they came to
the fire, and who that stood against them, there they were slain, there
might none withstand Sir Launcelot, so all that bare arms and withstood
them, there were they slain—full many a noble knight. For there was
slain Sir Belias le Orgulous, Sir Segwarides, Sir Griflet, Sir
Brandiles, Sir Aglovale, Sir Tor, Sir Gauter, Sir Gillimer, Sir
Reynold’s three brethren, Sir Damas, Sir Priamus, Sir Kay the stranger,
Sir Driant, Sir Lambegus, Sir Herminde, Sir Pertilope, Sir Perimones,
two brethren, that were called the green knight and the red knight. And
so in this rashing and hurling as Sir Launcelot thrang here and there,
it mishapped him to slay Gaheris and Sir Gareth, the noble knight, for
they were unarmed and unaware, for, as the French book saith, Sir
Launcelot smote Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris upon the brain pans, where
through they were slain in the field, howbeit in very truth Sir
Launcelot saw them not, and so were they found dead among the thickest
of the press. Then when Sir Launcelot had thus done and slain, and put
to flight all that would withstand him, then he rode straight unto dame
Guenever, and made a kirtle and a gown to be cast upon her, and then he
made her to be set behind him, and prayed her to be of good cheer. Wit
you well the queen was glad that she was escaped from the death, and
then she thanked God and Sir Launcelot. And so he rode his way with the
queen, as the French book saith, unto Joyous Gard, and there he kept
her as a noble knight should do, and many great lords and some kings
sent Sir Launcelot many good knights, and many noble knights drew unto
Sir Launcelot. When this was known openly, that king Arthur and Sir
Launcelot were at debate, and many were full heavy of their debate.


                               CHAP. IX.

_Of the sorrow and lamentation of king Arthur for the death of his
  nephews and other good knights, and also for the queen his wife._

So turn we again unto king Arthur, that when it was told him how, and
in what manner of wise the queen was taken away from the fire, and when
he heard of the death of his noble knights, and in especial for Sir
Gaheris’ and Sir Gareth’s death, then the king swooned for pure sorrow.
And when he awoke of his swoon, then he said, Alas that ever I bare
crown upon my head, for now have I lost the fairest fellowship of noble
knights that ever held Christian king together. Alas, my good knights
be slain away from me, now within these two days I have lost forty
knights, and also the noble fellowship of Sir Launcelot and his blood,
for now I may never hold them together no more with my worship. Alas,
that ever this war began. Now, fair fellows, said the king, I charge
you that no man tell Sir Gawaine of the death of his two brethren, for
I am sure, said the king, when Sir Gawaine heareth tell that Sir Gareth
is dead, he will go nigh out of his mind. Mercy, said the king, why
slew he Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris! for I dare say as for Sir Gareth he
loved Sir Launcelot above all men earthly. That is truth, said some
knights, but they were slain in the hurtling, as Sir Launcelot thrang
in the thick of the press, and as they were unarmed he smote them, and
wist not whom that he smote, and so unhappily they were slain. The
death of them, said Arthur, will cause the greatest mortal war that
ever was. I am sure, wist Sir Gawaine that Sir Gareth were slain, I
should never have rest of him till I had destroyed Sir Launcelot’s kin
and himself both, or else he to destroy me; and therefore, said the
king, wit you well my heart was never so heavy as it is now, and much
more I am sorrier for my good knights’ loss, than for the loss of my
fair queen, for queens I might have enow, but such a fellowship of good
knights shall never be together in no company; and now I dare say, said
king Arthur, that there was never Christian king held such a fellowship
together, and alas that ever Sir Launcelot and I should be at debate.
Ah, Agravaine, Agravaine, said the king, Jesu forgive it thy soul, for
thine evil will, that thou and thy brother Sir Mordred haddest unto Sir
Launcelot, hath caused all this sorrow. And ever among these complaints
the king wept and swooned.

Then there came one unto Sir Gawaine, and told him how the queen was
led away with Sir Launcelot, and nigh a twentyfour knights slain. O
Jesu defend my brethren, said Sir Gawaine, for full well wist I that
Sir Launcelot would rescue her, or else he would die in that field; and
to say the truth he had not been a man of worship, had he not rescued
the queen that day, in so much she should have been burnt for his sake:
and as in that, said Sir Gawaine, he hath done but knightly, and as I
would have done myself, and I had stood in like case. But where are my
brethren? said Sir Gawaine, I marvel I hear not of them. Truly, said
that man, Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris be slain. Jesu defend, said Sir
Gawaine, for all the world I would not that they were slain, and in
especial my good brother Sir Gareth. Sir, said the man, he is slain,
and that is great pity. Who slew him? said Sir Gawaine. Sir, said the
man, Launcelot slew them both. That may I not believe, said Sir
Gawaine, that he slew my brother Sir Gareth, for I dare say my brother
Gareth loved him better than me and all his brethren, and the king
both. Also I dare say, and Sir Launcelot had desired my brother Sir
Gareth with him, he would have been with him against the king and us
all, and therefore I may never believe that Sir Launcelot slew my
brother. Sir, said this man, it is noised that he slew him.


                                CHAP. X.

_How king Arthur at the request of Sir Gawaine concluded to make war
  against Sir Launcelot, and laid siege to his castle called Joyous
  Gard._

Alas, said Sir Gawaine, now is my joy gone. And then he fell down and
swooned, and long he lay there as he had been dead. And then when he
arose of his swoon, he cried out sorrowfully and said, Alas! And right
so Sir Gawaine ran to the king crying and weeping, O king Arthur, mine
uncle, my good brother Sir Gareth is slain, and so is my brother Sir
Gaheris, the which were two noble knights. Then the king wept and he
both, and so they fell on swooning. And when they were revived, then
spake Sir Gawaine, Sir, I will go see my brother Sir Gareth. Ye may not
see him, said the king, for I caused him to be interred, and Sir
Gaheris both; for I well understood that ye would make over much
sorrow, and the sight of Sir Gareth should have caused your double
sorrow. Alas, my lord, said Sir Gawaine, how slew he my brother Sir
Gareth? mine own good lord, I pray you tell me. Truly, said the king, I
shall tell you as it is told me, Sir Launcelot slew him and Sir Gaheris
both. Alas, said Sir Gawaine, they bare none arms against him, neither
of them both. I wot not how it was, said the king, but, as it is said,
Sir Launcelot slew them both in the thickest of the press, and knew
them not; and therefore let us shape a remedy for to revenge their
deaths. My king, my lord, and mine uncle, said Sir Gawaine, wit you
well, now I shall make you a promise that I shall hold by my
knighthood, that from this day I shall never fail Sir Launcelot, until
the one of us have slain the other: and therefore I require you, my
lord and king, dress you to the war, for wit you well I will be
revenged upon Sir Launcelot, and therefore, as ye will have my service
and my love, now haste you thereto, and assay your friends. For I
promise unto God, said Sir Gawaine, for the death of my brother Sir
Gareth I shall seek Sir Launcelot throughout seven kings’ realms but I
shall slay him, or else he shall slay me. Ye shall not need to seek him
so far, said the king, for, as I hear say, Sir Launcelot will abide me
and you in the Joyous Gard, and much people draweth unto him as I hear
say. That may I believe, said Sir Gawaine, but my lord, he said, assay
your friends, and I will assay mine. It shall be done, said the king,
and, as I suppose, I shall be big enough to draw him out of the biggest
tower of his castle. So then the king sent letters and writs throughout
all England, both in the length and the breadth, for to assummon all
his knights. And so unto Arthur drew many knights, dukes, and earls, so
that he had a great host. And when they were assembled, the king
informed them all how Sir Launcelot had bereft him his queen. Then the
king and all his host made them ready to lay siege about Sir Launcelot,
where he lay within Joyous Gard. Thereof heard Sir Launcelot, and
purveyed him of many good knights, for with him held many knights, and
some for his own sake, and some for the queen’s sake. Thus they were on
both parties well furnished and garnished of all manner of things that
longed to the war. But king Arthur’s host was so big that Sir Launcelot
would not abide him in the field, for he was full loth to do battle
against the king; but Sir Launcelot drew him to his strong castle with
all manner of victual, and as many noble men as he might suffice within
the town and the castle. Then came king Arthur with Sir Gawaine, with
an huge host, and laid a siege all about Joyous Gard, both at the town
and at the castle, and there they made strong war on both parties. But
in no wise Sir Launcelot would ride out nor go out of his castle of
long time, neither he would none of his good knights to issue out,
neither none of the town nor of the castle, until fifteen weeks were
past.


                               CHAP. XI.

_Of the communication between king Arthur and Sir Launcelot, and how
  king Arthur reproved him._

Then it befell upon a day in harvest time, Sir Launcelot looked over
the walls, and spake on high unto king Arthur and Sir Gawaine, My lords
both, wit ye well all is in vain that ye make at this siege, for here
win ye no worship, but maugre and dishonour, for and it list me to come
myself out, and my good knights, I should full soon make an end of this
war. Come forth, said Arthur unto Launcelot, and thou darest, and I
promise thee I shall meet thee in midst of the field. God defend me,
said Sir Launcelot, that ever I should encounter with the most noble
king that made me knight. Fie upon thy fair language, said the king,
for wit you well, and trust it, I am thy mortal foe, and ever will to
my death day, for thou hast slain my good knights and full noble men of
my blood, that I shall never recover again: also thou hast dishonoured
my queen, and holden her many winters, and sithen like a traitor taken
her from me by force. My most noble lord and king, said Sir Launcelot,
ye may say what ye will, for ye wot well with yourself I will not
strive, but there as ye say I have slain your good knights, I wot well
that I have done so, and that me sore repenteth, but I was enforced to
do battle with them, in saving of my life, or else I must have suffered
them to have slain me. And as for my lady queen Guenever, except your
person of your highness, and my lord Sir Gawaine, there is no knight
under heaven that dare make it good upon me, that ever I was traitor
unto your person. And where it pleaseth you to say that I have holden
my lady your queen years and winters, unto that I shall make a large
answer, and prove it upon any knight that beareth the life, except your
person and Sir Gawaine, that my lady queen Guenever is a true lady unto
your person, as any is living unto her lord, and that will I make good
with my hands; howbeit, it hath liked her good grace to have me in
charity, and to cherish me more than any other knight, and unto my
power I again have deserved her love, for oft-times, my lord, ye have
consented that she should be burnt and destroyed in your heat, and then
it fortuned me to do battle for her, and or I departed from her
adversary they confessed their untruth, and she full worshipfully
excused. And at such times, my lord Arthur, said Sir Launcelot, ye
loved me, and thanked me when I saved your queen from the fire, and
then ye promised me for ever to be my good lord, and now me thinketh ye
reward me full ill for my good service; and, my good lord, me seemeth I
had lost a great part of my worship in my knighthood, and I had
suffered my lady your queen to have been burnt, and insomuch she should
have been burnt for my sake. For sithen I have done battles for your
queen in other quarrels than in mine own, me seemeth now I had more
right to do battle for her in right quarrel, and therefore my good and
gracious lord, said Sir Launcelot, take your queen unto your good
grace, for she is both fair, true, and good. Fie on thee, false
recreant knight, said Sir Gawaine, I let thee wit my lord mine uncle
king Arthur shall have his queen and thee, maugre thy visage, and slay
you both whether it please him. It may well be, said Sir Launcelot, but
wit ye well, my lord Sir Gawaine, and me list to come out of this
castle, ye should win me and the queen more harder than ever ye wan a
strong battle. Fie on thy proud words, said Sir Gawaine; as for my lady
the queen, I will never say of her shame, but thou false and recreant
knight, said Sir Gawaine, what cause hadst thou to slay my good brother
Sir Gareth, that loved thee more than all my kin? Alas, thou madest him
knight with thine own hands; why slewest thou him that loved thee so
well? For to excuse me, said Sir Launcelot, it helpeth me not, but by
the faith that I owe to the high order of knighthood, I should with as
good will have slain my nephew Sir Bors de Ganis at that time: but
alas, that ever I was so unhappy, said Launcelot, that I had not seen
Sir Gareth and Sir Gaheris. Thou liest, recreant knight, said Sir
Gawaine, thou slewest him in despite of me: and therefore wit thou well
I shall make war to thee, and all the while that I may live. That me
repenteth, said Sir Launcelot, for well I understand it helpeth me not
to seek none accordment, while ye Sir Gawaine are so mischievously set.
And if ye were not, I would not doubt to have the good grace of my lord
Arthur. I believe it well, false recreant knight, said Sir Gawaine, for
thou hast many long days overled me, and us all, and destroyed many of
our good knights. Ye say as it pleaseth you, said Sir Launcelot, and
yet may it never be said on me and openly proved, that ever I before
cast of treason, slew no good knight, as, my lord Sir Gawaine, ye have
done. And so did I never, but in my defence, that I was driven thereto,
in saving of my life. Ah, false knight, said Sir Gawaine, that thou
meanest by Sir Lamorak: wit thou well I slew him. Ye slew him not
yourself, said Sir Launcelot, it had been over much on hand for you to
have slain him, for he was one of the best knights christened of his
age, and it was great pity of his death.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How the cousins and kinsmen of Sir Launcelot excited him to go out to
  battle, and how they made them ready._

Well, well, said Sir Gawaine to Sir Launcelot, sithen thou upbraidest
me of Sir Lamorak, wit thou well I shall never leave thee till I have
thee at such avail that thou shalt not escape my hands. I trust you
well enough, said Sir Launcelot, and ye may get me I shall get but
little mercy. But, as the French book saith, the noble king Arthur
would have taken his queen again, and have been accorded with Sir
Launcelot, but Sir Gawaine would not suffer him by no manner of mean.
And then Sir Gawaine made many men to blow upon Sir Launcelot, and all
at once they called him False recreant knight! Then when Sir Bors de
Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel heard this outcry, they
called to them Sir Palamides, Sir Safere’s brother, and Sir Lavaine,
with many more of their blood, and all they went unto Sir Launcelot,
and said thus, My lord Sir Launcelot, wit ye well we have great scorn
of the great rebukes that we heard Gawaine say to you; wherefore we
pray you and charge you, as ye will have our service, keep us no longer
within these walls, for wit you well, plainly, we will ride into the
field, and do battle with them. For ye fare as a man that were afeard,
and for all your fair speech it will not avail you. For wit you well,
Sir Gawaine will not suffer you to be accorded with king Arthur: and
therefore fight for your life, and your right, and ye dare. Alas, said
Sir Launcelot, for to ride out of this castle and to do battle, I am
full loth. Then Sir Launcelot spake on high unto Sir Arthur and Sir
Gawaine, My lords, I require you and beseech you, sithen that I am thus
required and conjured to ride into the field, that neither you my lord
king Arthur, nor you Sir Gawaine, come not into the field. What shall
we do then? said Sir Gawaine, is this the king’s quarrel with thee to
fight? and it is my quarrel to fight with thee Sir Launcelot, because
of the death of my brother Sir Gareth. Then must I needs unto battle,
said Sir Launcelot; now wit you well, my lord Arthur, and Sir Gawaine,
ye will repent it whensoever I do battle with you. And so then they
departed either from other, and then either party made them ready on
the morn for to do battle, and great purveyance was made on both sides.
And Sir Gawaine let purvey many knights for to wait upon Sir Launcelot
for to overset him, and to slay him. And on the morn at undorne Sir
Arthur was ready in the field with three great hosts, and then Sir
Launcelot’s fellowship came out at three gates, in a full good array.
And Sir Lionel came in the foremost battle, and Sir Launcelot came in
the middle, and Sir Bors came out at the third gate. Thus they came in
order and rule as full noble knights. And always Sir Launcelot charged
all his knights in any wise to save king Arthur and Sir Gawaine.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Sir Gawaine justed and smote down Sir Lionel, and how Sir
  Launcelot horsed king Arthur._

Then came forth Sir Gawaine from the king’s host, and he came before
and proffered to just, and Sir Lionel was a fierce knight, and lightly
he encountered with Sir Gawaine, and there Sir Gawaine smote Sir Lionel
throughout the body, that he dashed to the earth like as he had been
dead. And then Sir Ector de Maris and other more bare him into the
castle. Then began a great stoure, and much people was slain, and ever
Sir Launcelot did what he might to save the people on king Arthur’s
party. For Sir Palamides, and Sir Bors, and Sir Safere overthrew many
knights, for they were deadly knights, and Sir Blamor de Ganis, and Sir
Bleoberis de Ganis, with Sir Bellangere le Beuse, these six knights did
much harm. And ever king Arthur was nigh about Sir Launcelot to have
slain him, and Sir Launcelot suffered him, and would not strike again.
So Sir Bors encountered with king Arthur, and there with a spear Sir
Bors smote him down; and so he alight and drew his sword, and said to
Sir Launcelot, Shall I make an end of this war? and that he meant to
have slain king Arthur. Not so hardy, said Sir Launcelot, upon pain of
thy head, that thou touch him no more: for I will never see that most
noble king, that made me knight, neither slain ne shamed. And
therewithal Sir Launcelot alight off his horse, and took up the king,
and horsed him again, and said thus, My lord Arthur, for God’s love
stint this strife, for ye get here no worship and I would do mine
utterance, but always I forbear you, and ye, nor none of yours,
forbeareth me: my lord remember what I have done in many places, and
now I am evil rewarded.

Then when king Arthur was on horseback, he looked upon Sir Launcelot,
and then the tears brast out of his eyes, thinking on the great
courtesy that was in Sir Launcelot, more than in any other man. And
therewith the king rode his way, and might no longer behold him, and
said, Alas, that ever this war began! And then either parties of the
battles withdrew them to repose them, and buried the dead, and to the
wounded men they laid soft salves, and thus they endured that night
till on the morn, and on the morn by undorne they made them ready to do
battle. And then Sir Bors led the forward. So upon the morn there came
Sir Gawaine as brim as any boar, with a great spear in his hand, and
when Sir Bors saw him, he thought to revenge his brother Sir Lionel of
the despite that Sir Gawaine did him the other day. And so they that
knew either other feutered their spears, and with all their mights of
their horses and themselves they met together so felonously that either
bare other through, and so they fell both to the earth; and then the
battles joined, and there was much slaughter on both parties. Then Sir
Launcelot rescued Sir Bors, and sent him into the castle. But neither
Sir Gawaine nor Sir Bors died not of their wounds; for they were all
holpen. Then Sir Lavaine and Sir Urre prayed Sir Launcelot to do his
pain, and fight as they had done:—For we see ye forbear and spare, and
that doth much harm, therefore we pray you spare not your enemies no
more than they do you. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, I have no heart to
fight against my lord Arthur, for ever me seemeth I do not as I ought
to do. My lord, said Sir Palamides, though ye spare them all this day
they will never give you thank; and if they may get you at avail ye are
but dead. So then Sir Launcelot understood that they said him truth,
and then he strained himself more than he did aforehand, and because
his nephew Sir Bors was sore wounded. And then within a little while,
by even-song time, Sir Launcelot and his party better stood, for their
horses went in blood past the fetlocks, there was so much people slain.
And then, for pity, Sir Launcelot withheld his knights, and suffered
king Arthur’s party for to withdraw them on side. And then Sir
Launcelot’s party withdrew them into his castle, and either party
buried the dead bodies and put salve unto the wounded men. So when Sir
Gawaine was hurt, they on king Arthur’s party were not so orgulous as
they were toforehand to do battle. Of this war was noised through all
Christendom, and at the last it was noised afore the Pope; and he
considering the great goodness of king Arthur and of Sir Launcelot,
that was called the most noblest knights of the world, wherefore the
Pope called unto him a noble clerk, that at that time was there
present,—the French book saith it was the bishop of Rochester—and the
Pope gave him bulls under lead unto king Arthur of England, charging
him upon pain of interdicting of all England, that he take his queen
dame Guenever unto him again, and accord with Sir Launcelot.


                               CHAP. XIV.

_How the pope sent down his bulls to make peace, and how Sir Launcelot
  brought the queen to king Arthur._

So when this bishop was come to Carlisle he shewed the king these
bulls. And when the king understood these bulls, he nist what to do:
full fain he would have been accorded with Sir Launcelot, but Sir
Gawaine would not suffer him; but as for to have the queen, thereto he
agreed. But in no wise Sir Gawaine would not suffer the king to accord
with Sir Launcelot, but as for the queen he consented. And then the
bishop had of the king his great seal, and his assurance, as he was a
true anointed king, that Sir Launcelot should come safe and go safe,
and that the queen should not be spoken unto, of the king, nor of none
other, for no thing done afore time past. And of all these appointments
the bishop brought with him sure assurance and writing, to shew Sir
Launcelot. So when the bishop was come to Joyous Gard, there he shewed
Sir Launcelot how the Pope had written to Arthur and unto him, and
there he told him the perils if he withheld the queen from the king. It
was never in my thought, said Launcelot, to withhold the queen from my
lord Arthur; but in so much she should have been dead for my sake, me
seemeth it was my part to save her life, and put her from that danger
till better recover might come. And now I thank God, said Sir
Launcelot, that the Pope hath made her peace; for God knoweth, said Sir
Launcelot, I will be a thousand fold more gladder to bring her again
than ever I was of her taking away,—with this, I may be sure to come
safe and go safe, and that the queen shall have her liberty as she had
before, and never for no thing that hath been surmised afore this time,
she never from this day stand in no peril; for else, said Sir
Launcelot, I dare adventure me to keep her from an harder shower than
ever I kept her. It shall not need you, said the bishop, to dread so
much: for wit you well the Pope must be obeyed; and it were not the
Pope’s worship nor my poor honesty to wit you distressed, neither the
queen, neither in peril nor shamed. And then he shewed Sir Launcelot
all his writing, both from the Pope and from king Arthur. This is sure
enough, said Sir Launcelot, for full well I dare trust my lord’s own
writing and his seal, for he was never shamed of his promise.

Therefore, said Sir Launcelot unto the bishop, ye shall ride unto the
king afore, and recommand me unto his good grace, and let him have
knowledging that this same day eight days, by the grace of God, I
myself shall bring my lady queen Guenever unto him. And then say ye
unto my most redoubted king, that I will say largely for the queen,
that I shall none except for dread, nor fear, but the king himself, and
my lord Sir Gawaine, and that is more for the king’s love than for
himself. So the bishop departed, and came to the king at Carlisle, and
told him all how Sir Launcelot answered him: and then the tears brast
out of the king’s eyes. Then Sir Launcelot purveyed him an hundred
knights, and all were clothed in green velvet, and their horses trapped
to their heels, and every knight held a branch of olive in his hand in
tokening of peace, and the queen had four and twenty gentlewomen
following her in the same wise, and Sir Launcelot had twelve coursers
following him, and on every courser sat a young gentleman, and all they
were arrayed in green velvet, with sarpis of gold about their quarters,
and the horse trapped in the same wise down to the heels with many
ouches, set with stones and pearls in gold, to the number of a
thousand; and she and Sir Launcelot were clothed in white cloth of gold
tissue, and right so as ye have heard, as the French book maketh
mention, he rode with the queen from Joyous Gard to Carlisle, and so
Sir Launcelot rode throughout Carlisle, and so in the castle, that all
men might behold and wit you well there was many a weeping eye. And
then Sir Launcelot himself alight, and avoided his horse, and took the
queen, and so led her where king Arthur was in his seat, and Sir
Gawaine sat afore him, and many other great lords. So when Sir
Launcelot saw the king and Sir Gawaine, then he led the queen by the
arm, and then he kneeled down, and the queen both. Wit you well, then
was there many bold knights there with king Arthur that wept as
tenderly as though they had seen all their kin afore them. So the king
sat still, and said no word. And when Sir Launcelot saw his
countenance, he arose and pulled up the queen with him, and thus he
spake full knightly:—


                               CHAP. XV.

_Of the deliverance of the queen to the king by Sir Launcelot, and what
  language Sir Gawaine had to Sir Launcelot._

My most redoubted king, ye shall understand, by the Pope’s commandment,
and yours, I have brought to you my lady the queen, as right requireth;
and if there be any knight, of whatsoever degree that he be, except
your person, that will say or dare say but that she is true to you, I
here myself, Sir Launcelot du Lake, will make it good upon his body
that she is a true lady unto you: but liars ye have listened, and that
has caused debate betwixt you and me. For time hath been, my lord
Arthur, that ye have been greatly pleased with me, when I did battle
for my lady your queen; and full well ye know my most noble king, that
she hath been put to great wrong or this time, and sithen it pleased
you at many times that I should fight for her, me seemeth, my good
lord, I had more cause to rescue her from the fire, insomuch she should
have been burnt for my sake. For they that told you those tales were
liars, and so it fell upon them. For, by likelihood, had not the might
of God been with me, I might never have endured fourteen knights, and
they armed and afore purposed, and I unarmed and not purposed; for I
was sent for unto my lady your queen, I wot not for what cause, but I
was not so soon within the chamber door, but anon Sir Agravaine and Sir
Mordred called me traitor and recreant knight. They called thee right,
said Sir Gawaine. My lord Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot, in their
quarrel they proved themselves not in the right. Well, well, Sir
Launcelot, said king Arthur, I have given thee no cause to do to me as
thou hast done, for I have worshipped thee and thine more than any of
all my knights. My good lord, said Sir Launcelot, so ye be not
displeased, ye shall understand I and mine have done you oft better
service than any other knights have done in many divers places; and
where ye have been full hard bested divers times, I have myself rescued
you from many dangers, and ever unto my power I was glad to please you,
and my lord Sir Gawaine both, in justs and tournaments, and in battles
set, both on horseback and on foot, I have often rescued you, and my
lord Sir Gawaine, and many more of your knights in many divers places.
For now I will make avaunt, said Sir Launcelot, I will that ye all wit
that yet I found never no manner of knight, but that I was over-hard
for him, and I had done my utterance, thanked be God; howbeit I have
been matched with good knights, as Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorak, but
ever I had a favour unto them, and a deeming what they were; and I take
God to record, said Sir Launcelot, I never was wroth nor greatly heavy
with no good knight, and I saw him busy about to win worship: and full
glad I was ever when I found any knight that might endure me on
horseback and on foot. Howbeit, Sir Carados of the dolorous tower was a
full noble knight, and a passing strong man, and that wot ye, my lord
Sir Gawaine; for he might well be called a noble knight, when he by
fine force pulled you out of your saddle, and bound you overthwart
afore him to his saddle bow; and there, my lord Sir Gawaine, I rescued
you, and slew him afore your sight. Also I found his brother, Sir
Turquin, in like wise leading Sir Gaheris your brother bounden afore
him, and there I rescued your brother, and slew that Sir Turquin, and
delivered threescore and four of my lord Arthur’s knights out of his
prison. And now I dare say, said Sir Launcelot, I met never with so
strong knights, nor so well fighting, as was Sir Carados and Sir
Turquin, for I fought with them to the uttermost; and therefore, said
Sir Launcelot unto Sir Gawaine, me seemeth ye ought of right for to
remember this: for and I might have your good will, I would trust to
God to have my lord Arthur’s good grace.


                               CHAP. XVI.

_Of the communication between Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot, with much
  other language._

The king may do as he will, said Sir Gawaine, but wit thou well, Sir
Launcelot, thou and I shall never be accorded while we live, for thou
hast slain three of my brethren, and twain of them ye slew traitorly
and piteously, for they bare none harness against thee, nor none would
bear. God would they had been armed, said Sir Launcelot, for then had
they been on live. And wit ye well, Sir Gawaine, as for Sir Gareth, I
love none of my kinsmen so much as I did him, and ever while I live,
said Sir Launcelot, I will bewail Sir Gareth’s death, not all only for
the great fear that I have of you, but many causes causen me to be
sorrowful. One is, for I made him knight; another is, I wot well he
loved me above all other knights; and the third is, he was passing
noble, true, courteous, and gentle, and well conditioned; the fourth
is, I wist well, anon as I heard that Sir Gareth was dead, I should
never after have your love, but everlasting war betwixt us; and also I
wist well that ye would cause my noble lord Arthur for ever to be my
mortal foe, and as Jesu be my help, said Sir Launcelot, I slew never
Sir Gareth nor Sir Gaheris by my will, but alas, that ever they were
unarmed that unhappy day. But thus much I shall offer me, said Sir
Launcelot, if it may please the king’s good grace, and you, my lord Sir
Gawaine: I shall first begin at Sandwich, and there I shall go in my
shirt, barefoot, and at every ten miles end I will found, and cause to
make an house of religion, of what order that ye will assign me, with
an whole convent to sing and read day and night in especial for Sir
Gareth’s sake and Sir Gaheris. And this shall I perform from Sandwich
unto Carlisle; and every house shall have sufficient livelihood, and
this shall I perform while I have any livelihood in Christendom, and
there is none of all these religious places, but they shall be
performed, furnished and garnished in all things as an holy place ought
to be, I promise you faithfully. And this, Sir Gawaine, me thinketh
were more fairer, holier, and more better to their souls, than ye my
most noble king, and you, Sir Gawaine, to war upon me, for thereby
shall ye get none avail. Then all knights and ladies that were there
wept as they were mad, and the tears fell on king Arthur’s cheeks. Sir
Launcelot, said Sir Gawaine, I have right well heard thy speech, and
thy great proffers, but wit thou well, let the king do as it pleaseth
him, I will never forgive my brothers’ death, and in especial the death
of my brother Sir Gareth: and if mine uncle, king Arthur, will accord
with thee, he shall lose my service: for wit thou well, thou art both
false to the king and to me. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, he beareth not
the life that may make that good, and if that ye, Sir Gawaine, will
charge me with so high a thing, ye must pardon me, for then needs must
I answer you. Nay, said Sir Gawaine, we are past that at this time, and
that caused the Pope, for he hath charged mine uncle the king, that he
shall take his queen again, and to accord with thee, Sir Launcelot, as
for this season, and therefore thou shalt go safe, as thou camest. But
in this land thou shalt not abide past fifteen days, such summons I
give you;—so the king and we were consented and accorded, or thou
camest hither; and else, said Sir Gawaine, wit thou well, that thou
shouldest not have come here, but if it were maugre thy head. And if it
were not for the Pope’s commandment, said Sir Gawaine, I should do
battle with mine own body against thy body, and prove it upon thee that
thou hast been both false unto mine uncle king Arthur, and to me both,
and that shall I prove upon thy body when thou art departed from hence,
wheresoever I find thee.


                              CHAP. XVII.

_How Sir Launcelot departed from the king and from Joyous Gard over
  seaward, and what knights went with him._

Then Sir Launcelot sighed, and therewith the tears fell on his cheeks,
and then he said thus: Alas, most noble christian realm, whom I have
loved above all other realms, and in thee have I gotten a great part of
my worship, and now I shall depart in this wise. Truly me repenteth
that ever I came in this realm that should be thus shamefully banished,
undeserved and causeless. But fortune is so variant, and the wheel so
movable, there is no constant abiding, and that may be proved by many
old chronicles of noble Hector, and Troilus, and Alisander the mighty
conqueror, and many other more. When they were most in their royalty,
they alight lowest; and so fareth by me, said Sir Launcelot, for in
this realm I had worship, and by me and mine all the whole Round Table
hath been increased more in worship by me and my blood than by any
other. And therefore wit thou well, Sir Gawaine, I may live upon my
lands as well as any knight that here is. And if ye, most redoubted
king, will come upon my lands with Sir Gawaine, to war upon me, I must
endure you as well as I may. But as to you, Sir Gawaine, if that ye
come there, I pray you charge me not with treason nor felony, for, and
ye do, I must answer you. Do thou thy best, said Sir Gawaine, therefore
hie thee fast that thou were gone, and wit thou well we shall soon come
after, and break the strongest castle that thou hast upon thy head.
That shall not need, said Sir Launcelot, for and I were as orgulous set
as ye are, wit ye well I should meet with you in midst of the field.
Make thou no more language, said Sir Gawaine, but deliver the queen
from thee, and pike thee lightly out of this court. Well, said Sir
Launcelot, and I had wist of this short coming, I would have advised me
twice or that I had come hither; for and the queen had been so dear to
me as ye noise her, I durst have kept her from the fellowship of the
best knights under heaven. And then Sir Launcelot said unto Guenever,
in hearing of the king and them all, Madam, now I must depart from you
and this noble fellowship for ever; and sithen it is so, I beseech you
to pray for me, and say me well, and if ye be hard bestad by any false
tongues, lightly, my lady, let send me word, and if any knight’s hands
may deliver you by battle, I shall deliver you. And therewithal Sir
Launcelot kissed the queen, and then he said all openly, Now let see
what he be in this place, that dare say the queen is not true unto my
lord Arthur: let see who will speak, and he dare speak. And therewith
he brought the queen to the king, and then Sir Launcelot took his leave
and departed; and there was neither king, duke ne earl, baron ne
knight, lady nor gentlewoman, but all they wept as people out of their
mind, except Sir Gawaine; and when the noble Sir Launcelot took his
horse, to ride out of Carlisle, there was sobbing and weeping for pure
dole of his departing; and so he took his way unto Joyous Gard, and
then ever after he called it the Dolorous Gard. And thus departed Sir
Launcelot from the court for ever. And so when he came to Joyous Gard,
he called his fellowship unto him, and asked them what they would do.
Then they answered all wholly together with one voice, they would as he
would do. My fair fellows, said Sir Launcelot, I must depart out of
this most noble realm, and now I shall depart it grieveth me sore, for
I shall depart with no worship. For a banished man departed never out
of no realm with no worship, and that is my heaviness, for ever I fear
after my days that they shall chronicle upon me that I was banished out
of this land; and else, my fair lords, be ye sure, and I had not dread
shame, my lady queen Guenever and I should never have departed. Then
spake many noble knights, as Sir Palamides, Sir Safir his brother, and
Sir Bellangere le Beuse, and Sir Urre with Sir Lavaine, with many
other, Sir, and ye be so disposed to abide in this country, we will
never fail you; and if ye list not to abide in this land, there is none
of the good knights that here be will fail you, for many causes. One
is, all we that be not of your blood shall never be welcome to the
court. And sithen it liked us to take a part with you in your distress
and heaviness in this realm, wit you well it shall like us as well to
go in other countries with you, and there to take such part as ye do.
My fair lords, said Sir Launcelot, I well understand you, and, as I
can, thank you: and ye shall understand such livelihood as I am born
unto I shall depart with you, in this manner of wise, that is for to
say, I shall depart all my livelihood and all my lands freely among
you, and I myself will have as little as any of you, for have I
sufficient that may long to my person, I will ask none other rich
array; and I trust to God to maintain you on my lands as well as ever
were maintained any knights. Then spake all the knights at once, He
have shame that will leave you; for we all understand in this realm
will be now no quiet, but ever strife and debate, now the fellowship of
the Round Table is broken; for by the noble fellowship of the Round
Table was king Arthur upborne, and by their nobleness the king and all
his realm was in quiet and in rest. And a great part, they said all,
was because of your nobleness.


                              CHAP. XVIII.

_How Sir Launcelot passed over the sea, and how he made great lords of
  the knights that went with him._

Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I thank you all of your good saying,
howbeit, I wot well, in me was not all the stability of this realm. But
in that I might I did my devoir, and well, I am sure, I knew many
rebellions in my days that by me were appeased; and I trow we all shall
hear of them in short space, and that me sore repenteth. For ever I
dread me, said Sir Launcelot, that Sir Mordred will make trouble, for
he is passing envious, and applieth him to trouble. So they were
accorded to go with Sir Launcelot to his lands. And to make short tale,
they trussed, and paid all that would ask them. And wholly an hundred
knights departed with Sir Launcelot at once, and made their avows they
would never leave him for weal nor for woe; and so they shipped at
Cardiff, and sailed unto Benwick: some men call it Bayonne, and some
men call it Beaume, where the wine of Beaume is. But to say the sooth,
Sir Launcelot and his nephews were lords of all France, and of all the
lands that longed unto France, he and his kindred rejoiced it all
through Sir Launcelot’s noble prowess. And then Sir Launcelot stuffed
and furnished and garnished all his noble towns and castles. Then all
the people of those lands came unto Sir Launcelot on foot and hands.
And so when he had established all these countries, he shortly called a
parliament; and there he crowned Sir Lionel king of France; and Sir
Bors he crowned him king of all king Claudas’ lands; and Sir Ector de
Maris, that was Sir Launcelot’s youngest brother, he crowned him king
of Benwick, and also king of all Guienne, that was Sir Launcelot’s own
land. And he made Sir Ector prince of them all, and thus he departed.
Then Sir Launcelot advanced all his noble knights, and first he
advanced them of his blood; that was Sir Blamor he made him duke of
Limosin in Guienne, and Sir Bleoberis he made him duke of Poictiers,
and Sir Gahalantin he made him duke of Querne, and Sir Galihodin he
made him duke of Sentonge, and Sir Galihud he made him earl of Perigot,
and Sir Menadeuke he made him earl of Roerge, and Sir Villiers the
valiant he made him earl of Bearn, and Sir Hebes le Renoumes he made
him earl of Comange, and Sir Lavaine he made him earl of Arminak, and
Sir Urre he made him earl of Estrake, and Sir Neroneus he made him earl
of Pardiak, and Sir Plenorius he made him earl of Foise, and Sir
Selises of the dolorous tower he made him earl of Masauke, and sir
Melias de Lile he made him earl of Tursauk, and Sir Bellangere le Bewse
he made him earl of the Landes, and Sir Palamides he made him duke of
the Provence, and Sir Safir he made him duke of Langedok, and Sir
Clegis he gave him the earldom of Agente, and Sir Sadok he gave him the
earldom of Surlat, and Sir Dinas le seneschal he made him duke of
Anjou, and Sir Clarrus he made him duke of Normandy. Thus Sir Launcelot
rewarded his noble knights, and many more, that me seemeth it were too
long to rehearse.


                               CHAP. XIX.

_How king Arthur and Sir Gawaine made a great host ready to go over sea
  to make war on Sir Launcelot._

So leave we Sir Launcelot in his lands, and his noble knights with him,
and return we again unto king Arthur and to Sir Gawaine, that made a
great host ready, to the number of threescore thousand, and all thing
was made ready for their shipping to pass over the sea; and so they
shipped at Cardiff. And there king Arthur made Sir Mordred chief ruler
of all England, and also he put queen Guenever under his governance;
because Sir Mordred was king Arthur’s son, he gave him the rule of his
land, and of his wife, and so king Arthur passed over the sea and
landed upon Sir Launcelot’s lands, and there he burnt and wasted,
through the vengeance of Sir Gawaine, all that they might overrun. When
this word came to Sir Launcelot, that king Arthur and Sir Gawaine were
landed upon his lands, and made a full destruction and waste, then
spake Sir Bors and said, My lord Sir Launcelot, it is shame that we
suffer them thus to ride over our lands, for wit you well, suffer ye
them as long as ye will, they will do you no favour, and they may
handle you. Then said Sir Lionel, that was ware and wise, My lord Sir
Launcelot, I will give you this counsel, let us keep our strong walled
towns until they have hunger and cold, and blow on their nails, and
then let us freshly set upon them, and shred them down as sheep in a
field, that aliens may take ensample for ever how they land upon our
lands. Then spake king Bagdemagus to Sir Launcelot, Sir, your courtesy
will shend us all, and thy courtesy hath waked all this sorrow: for,
and they thus over our lands ride, they shall by process bring us all
to nought, whilst we thus in holes us hide. Then said Sir Galihud unto
Sir Launcelot, Sir, here be knights come of kings’ blood that will not
long droop, and they are within these walls, therefore give us leave,
like as we be knights, to meet them in the field, and we shall slay
them, that they shall curse the time that ever they came into this
country. Then spake seven brethren of North Wales, and they were seven
noble knights, a man might seek in seven lands or he might find such
seven knights: then they all said at once, Sir Launcelot, let us out
ride with Sir Galihud, for we be never wont to cower in castles nor in
noble towns. Then spake Sir Launcelot, that was master and governor of
them all, My fair lords, wit you well I am full loth to ride out with
my knights, for shedding of christian blood; and yet my lands I
understand be full bare to sustain any host a while, for the mighty
wars that whilom made king Claudus upon this country, upon my father
king Ban, and on mine uncle king Bors; howbeit we will as at this time
keep our strong walls, and I shall send a messager unto my lord Arthur,
a treaty for to take, for better is peace than always war. So Sir
Launcelot sent forth a damsel, and a dwarf with her, requiring king
Arthur to leave his warring upon his lands, and so she start upon a
palfrey, and the dwarf ran by her side. And when she came to the
pavilion of king Arthur, there she alight, and there met her a gentle
knight Sir Lucan the butler, and said, Fair damsel, come ye from Sir
Launcelot du Lake? Yea, sir, she said, therefore I come hither to speak
with my lord the king. Alas, said Sir Lucan, my lord Arthur would love
Launcelot, but Sir Gawaine will not suffer him. And then he said, I
pray to God, damsel, ye may speed well, for all we that be about the
king would that Sir Launcelot did best of any knight living. And so
with this Lucan led the damsel unto the king, where he sat with Sir
Gawaine for to hear what she would say. So when she had told her tale,
the water ran out of the king’s eyes, and all the lords were full glad
for to advise the king as to be accorded with Sir Launcelot, save all
only Sir Gawaine, and he said, My lord, mine uncle, what will ye do?
will ye now turn again, now ye are past thus far upon this journey? all
the world will speak of you villainy. Nay, said Arthur, wit thou well,
Sir Gawaine, I will do as ye will advise me; and yet me seemeth, said
Arthur, his fair proffers were not good to be refused: but sithen I am
comen so far upon this journey, I will that ye give the damsel her
answer, for I may not speak to her for pity, for her proffers be so
large.


                               CHAP. XX.

_What message Sir Gawaine sent to Sir Launcelot, and king Arthur laid
  siege to Benwick, and other matters._

Then Sir Gawaine said to the damsel thus: Damsel, say ye to Sir
Launcelot, that it is waste labour, now to sue to mine uncle. For tell
him, and he would have made any labour for peace, he should have made
it or this time: for tell him now it is too late. And say, that I, Sir
Gawaine, so send him word, that I promise him, by the faith I owe unto
God, and to knighthood, I shall never leave him till he have slain me,
or I him. So the damsel wept and departed, and there were many weeping
eyes: and so Sir Lucan brought the damsel to her palfrey, and so she
came to Sir Launcelot, where he was among all his knights; and when Sir
Launcelot had heard this answer, then the tears ran down by his cheeks.
And then his noble knights strode about him, and said, Sir Launcelot,
wherefore make ye such cheer: think what ye are, and what men we are,
and let us noble knights match them in midst of the field. That may be
lightly done, said Sir Launcelot, but I was never so loth to do battle,
and therefore, I pray you, fair sirs, as ye love me, be ruled as I will
have you, for I will always flee that noble king that made me knight.
And when I may no farther, I must needs defend me, and that will be
more worship for me, and us all, than to compare with that noble king
whom we have all served. Then they held their language, and as that
night they took their rest. And upon the morn, early, in the dawning of
the day, as knights looked out, they saw the city of Benwick besieged
round about, and fast they began to set up ladders. And then they
defied them out of the town, and beat them from the walls mightily.
Then came forth Sir Gawaine, well armed, upon a stiff steed, and he
came before the chief gate with his spear in his hand, crying, Sir
Launcelot, where art thou, is there none of you proud knights dare
break a spear with me? Then Sir Bors made him ready, and came forth out
of the town, and there Sir Gawaine encountered with Sir Bors; and at
that time he smote Sir Bors down from his horse, and almost he had
slain him, and so Sir Bors was rescued, and borne into the town. Then
came forth Sir Lionel, brother to Sir Bors, and thought to revenge him,
and either feutred their spears, and ran together, and there they met
spitefully, but Sir Gawaine had such grace that he smote Sir Lionel
down, and wounded him there passing sore, and then Sir Lionel was
rescued, and borne into the town. And this Sir Gawaine came every day,
and he failed not, but that he smote down one knight or other. So thus
they endured half a year, and much slaughter was of people on both
parties. Then it befell upon a day, Sir Gawaine came before the gates
armed at all pieces, on a noble horse, with a great spear in his hand,
and then he cried with a loud voice, Where art thou now, thou false
traitor. Sir Launcelot? Why hidest thou thyself within holes and walls
like a coward? Look out now, thou false traitor knight, and here I
shall revenge upon thy body the death of my three brethren. All this
language heard Sir Launcelot every deal, and his kin and his knights
drew about him, and all they said at once to Sir Launcelot, Sir
Launcelot, now must ye defend you like a knight, or else ye be shamed
for ever: for now ye be called upon treason, it is time for you to
stir, for ye have slept over long, and suffered over much. So God me
help, said Sir Launcelot, I am right heavy of Sir Gawaine’s words, for
now he charged me with a great charge; and therefore I wot it as well
as ye, that I must defend me, or else to be recreant. Then Sir
Launcelot bade saddle his strongest horse, and bad let fetch his arms,
and bring all unto the gate of the tower. And then Sir Launcelot spake
on high unto king Arthur, and said, My lord Arthur, and noble king that
made me knight, wit you well I am right heavy for your sake, that ye
thus sue upon me, and always I forbear you, for, and I would have been
vengeable, I might have met you in midst of the field, and there to
have made your boldest knights full tame: and now I have forborne half
a year, and suffered you and Sir Gawaine to do what ye would do, and
now I may endure it no longer, now must I needs defend myself, insomuch
Sir Gawaine hath appealed me of treason,—the which is greatly against
my will, that ever I should fight against any of your blood; but now I
may not forsake it, I am driven thereto as a beast till a bay. Then Sir
Gawaine said, Sir Launcelot, and thou darest do battle, leave thy
babbling and come off, and let us ease our hearts. Then Sir Launcelot
armed him lightly, and mounted upon his horse. And either of the
knights gat great spears in their hands, and the host without stood
still all apart, and the noble knights came out of the city by a great
number, insomuch that when Arthur saw the number of men and knights he
marvelled, and said to himself, Alas, that ever Sir Launcelot was
against me, for now I see he hath forborne me. And so the covenant was
made, there should no man nigh them, nor deal with them, till the one
were dead or yielden.


                               CHAP. XXI.

_How Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot did battle together, and how Sir
  Gawaine was overthrown and hurt._

Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Launcelot departed a great way in sunder, and
then they came together with all their horses’ might as they might run,
and either smote other in midst of their shields, but the knights were
so strong, and their spears so big, that their horses might not endure
their buffets, and so the horses fell to the earth. And then they
avoided their horses, and dressed their shields afore them. Then they
stood together, and gave many sad strokes on divers places of their
bodies, that the blood brast out on many sides and places. Then had Sir
Gawaine such a grace and gift that an holy man had given to him, that
every day in the year, from underne till high noon, his might increased
those three hours, as much as thrice his strength, and that caused Sir
Gawaine to win great honour. And for his sake king Arthur made an
ordinance that all manner of battles for any quarrels that should be
done before king Arthur, should begin at underne, and all was done for
Sir Gawaine’s love, that by likelihood if that Sir Gawaine were on the
one part he should have the better in battle, while his strength
endured three hours, but there were but few knights that time living
that knew this advantage that Sir Gawaine had, but king Arthur all
only. Thus Sir Launcelot fought with Sir Gawaine, and when Sir
Launcelot felt his might evermore increase, Sir Launcelot wondered, and
dread him sore to be shamed. For, as the French book saith, Sir
Launcelot wend, when he felt Sir Gawaine double his strength, that he
had been a fiend and no earthly man, wherefore Sir Launcelot traced and
traversed, and covered himself with his shield, and kept his might and
his braid during three hours: and that while Sir Gawaine gave him many
sad brunts and many sad strokes, that all the knights that beheld Sir
Launcelot marvelled how he might endure him, but full little understood
they that travail that Sir Launcelot had for to endure him. And then
when it was past noon, Sir Gawaine had no more but his own might. Then
Sir Launcelot felt him so come down; then he stretched him up, and
stood near Sir Gawaine, and said thus, My lord Sir Gawaine, now I feel
ye have done, now my lord Sir Gawaine I must do my part, for many great
and grievous strokes I have endured you this day with great pain. Then
Sir Launcelot doubled his strokes, and gave Sir Gawaine such a buffet
on the helmet, that he fell down on his side, and Sir Launcelot
withdrew him from him. Why withdrawest thou thee? said Sir Gawaine; now
turn again, false traitor knight, and slay me; for and thou leave me
thus, when I am whole I shall do battle with thee again.—I shall
endure you, sir, by God’s grace, but wit thou well, Sir Gawaine, I will
never smite a felled knight. And so Sir Launcelot went into the city,
and Sir Gawaine was borne into one of king Arthur’s pavilions, and
leeches were brought to him, and searched and salved with soft
ointments. And then Sir Launcelot said, Now have good day, my lord the
king, for, wit you well, ye win no worship at these walls; and if I
would my knights out bring, there should many a man die. Therefore, my
lord Arthur, remember you of old kindness, and however I fare Jesu be
your guide in all places.


                              CHAP. XXII.

_Of the sorrow that king Arthur made for the war, and of another battle
  where also Sir Gawaine had the worse._

Alas, said the king, that ever this unhappy war was begun, for ever Sir
Launcelot forbeareth me in all places, and in likewise my kin, and that
is seen well this day by my nephew Sir Gawaine. Then king Arthur fell
sick for sorrow of Sir Gawaine, that he was sore hurt, and because of
the war betwixt him and Sir Launcelot. So then they on king Arthur’s
party kept the siege with little war withoutforth, and they withinforth
kept their walls, and defended them when need was. Thus Sir Gawaine lay
sick about three weeks in his tents, with all manner of leech-craft
that might be had: and as soon as Sir Gawaine might go and ride, he
armed him at all points, and start upon a courser, and gat a spear in
his hand, and so he came riding afore the chief gate of Benwick, and
there he cried on high, Where art thou, Sir Launcelot? come forth thou
false traitor knight, and recreant, for I am here, Sir Gawaine, will
prove this that I say on thee. All this language Sir Launcelot heard,
and then he said thus, Sir Gawaine, me repenteth of your foul saying,
that ye will not cease of your language, for you wot well, Sir Gawaine,
I know your might, and all that ye may do, and well ye wot, Sir
Gawaine, ye may not greatly hurt me. Come down, traitor knight, said
he, and make it good the contrary with thy hands; for it mishapped me
the last battle to be hurt of thy hands, therefore, wit thou well, that
I am come this day to make amends, for I ween this day to lay thee as
low as thou laidest me. Defend me, said Sir Launcelot, that ever I be
so far in your danger as ye have been in mine, for then my days were
done. But Sir Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot, ye shall not think that I
tarry long, but sithen that ye so unknightly call me of treason, ye
shall have both your hands full of me. And then Sir Launcelot armed him
at all points, and mounted upon his horse, and gat a great spear in his
hand, and rode out at the gate. And both the hosts were assembled, of
them without, and of them within, and stood in array full manly. And
both parties were charged to hold them still, to see and behold the
battle of these two noble knights. And then they laid their spears in
their rests, and they came together as thunder. And Sir Gawaine brake
his spear upon Sir Launcelot in an hundred pieces unto his hand, and
Sir Launcelot smote him with a greater might, that Sir Gawaine’s horse
feet raised, and so the horse and he fell to the earth. Then Sir
Gawaine deliverly avoided his horse, and put his shield afore him, and
eagerly drew his sword, and bad Sir Launcelot, Alight, traitor knight,
for if this mare’s son hath failed me, wit thou well a king’s son and a
queen’s son shall not fail thee.

Then Sir Launcelot avoided his horse, and dressed his shield afore him,
and drew his sword, and so stood they together, and gave many sad
strokes, that all men on both parties had thereof passing great wonder.
But when Sir Launcelot felt Sir Gawaine’s might so marvellously
increase, he then withheld his courage and his wind, and kept himself
wonder covert of his might, and under his shield he traced and
traversed here and there, to break Sir Gawaine’s strokes and his
courage; and Sir Gawaine enforced himself with all his might and power
to destroy Sir Launcelot, for, as the French book saith, ever as Sir
Gawaine’s might increased, right so increased his wind and his evil
will. Thus Sir Gawaine did great pain unto Sir Launcelot three hours,
that he had great pain for to defend him. And when the three hours were
passed, that Sir Launcelot felt that Sir Gawaine was come to his own
proper strength, then Sir Launcelot said unto Sir Gawaine, Now have I
proved you twice, that ye are a full dangerous knight, and a wonderful
man of your might, and many wonderful deeds have you done in your days:
for by your might increasing you have deceived many a full noble and
valiant knight; and now I feel that ye have done your mighty deeds. Now
wit you well I must do my deeds. And then Sir Launcelot stood near Sir
Gawaine, and then Sir Launcelot doubled his strokes, and Sir Gawaine
defended him mightily. But nevertheless Sir Launcelot smote such a
stroke upon Sir Gawaine’s helm, and upon the old wound, that Sir
Gawaine sinked down upon his one side in a swoon. And anon as he did
awake, he waved and foined at Sir Launcelot as he lay, and said,
Traitor knight, wit thou well I am not yet slain: come thou near me,
and perform this battle unto the uttermost. I will no more do than I
have done, said Sir Launcelot; for when I see you on foot I will do
battle upon you all the while I see you stand on your feet; but for to
smite a wounded man, that may not stand, God defend me from such a
shame. And then he turned him and went his way toward the city, and Sir
Gawaine evermore calling him traitor knight, and said, Wit thou well,
Sir Launcelot, when I am whole, I shall do battle with thee again; for
I shall never leave thee till that one of us be slain. Thus as this
siege endured, and as Sir Gawaine lay sick near a month, and when he
was well recovered, and ready within three days to do battle again with
Sir Launcelot, right so came tidings unto Arthur from England, that
made king Arthur and all his host to remove.

                      Here foloweth the xxi book.




                         The Twenty-first Book.


                                CHAP. I.

_How Sir Mordred presumed and took on him to be king of England, and
  would have married the queen, his uncle’s wife._

As Sir Mordred was ruler of all England, he did do make letters as
though that they came from beyond the sea, and the letters specified
that king Arthur was slain in battle with Sir Launcelot. Wherefore Sir
Mordred made a Parliament, and called the lords together, and there he
made them to choose him king, and so was he crowned at Canterbury, and
held a feast there fifteen days, and afterward he drew him unto
Winchester, and there he took the queen Guenever, and said plainly,
that he would wed her which was his uncle’s wife, and his father’s
wife. And so he made ready for the feast, and a day prefixed that they
should be wedded; wherefore queen Guenever was passing heavy. But she
durst not discover her heart, but spake fair, and agreed to Sir
Mordred’s will. Then she desired of Sir Mordred for to go to London, to
buy all manner of things that longed unto the wedding. And because of
her fair speech Sir Mordred trusted her well enough, and gave her leave
to go. And so when she came to London, she took the tower of London,
and suddenly, in all haste possible, she stuffed it with all manner of
victual, and well garnished it with men, and so kept it. Then when Sir
Mordred wist and understood how he was beguiled, he was passing wroth
out of measure. And a short tale for to make, he went and laid a mighty
siege about the tower of London, and made many great assaults thereat,
and threw many great engines unto them, and shot great guns. But all
might not prevail Sir Mordred, for queen Guenever would never, for fair
speech nor for foul, would never trust to come in his hands again. And
then came the bishop of Canterbury, the which was a noble clerk and an
holy man, and thus he said to Sir Mordred: Sir, what will ye do, will
ye first displease God, and sithen shame yourself and all knighthood?
Is not king Arthur your uncle, no further but your mother’s brother,
and are ye not his son, therefore how may ye wed your father’s wife?
Sir, said the noble clerk, leave this opinion, or else I shall curse
you with book, and bell, and candle. Do thou thy worst, said Sir
Mordred, wit thou well I shall defy thee. Sir, said the bishop, and wit
you well I shall not fear me to do that me ought to do. Also where ye
noise where my lord Arthur is slain, and that is not so, and therefore
ye will make a foul work in this land. Peace, thou false priest, said
Sir Mordred, for, and thou chafe me any more, I shall make strike off
thy head. So the bishop departed, and did the curse in the most
orgulous wise that might be done. And then Sir Mordred sought the
bishop of Canterbury for to have slain him. Then the bishop fled, and
took part of his goods with him, and went nigh unto Glastonbury, and
there he was as priest hermit in a chapel, and lived in poverty and in
holy prayers: for well he understood that mischievous war was at hand.
Then Sir Mordred sought on queen Guenever by letters and sondes, and by
fair means and foul means, for to have her to come out of the tower of
London, but all this availed not, for she answered him shortly, openly
and privily, that she had lever slay herself than to be married with
him. Then came word to Sir Mordred that king Arthur had raised the
siege from Sir Launcelot, and he was coming homeward with a great host,
to be avenged upon Sir Mordred. Wherefore Sir Mordred made write writs
to all the barony of this land, and much people drew to him. For then
was the common voice among them, that with Arthur was none other life
but war and strife, and with Sir Mordred was great joy and bliss. Thus
was Sir Arthur depraved and evil said of. And many there were that king
Arthur had made up of nought, and given them lands, might not then say
of him a good word.

Lo ye, all Englishmen, see ye not what a mischief here was, for he that
was the most king and knight of the world, and most loved the
fellowship of noble knights, and by him they were all upholden. Now
might not these Englishmen hold us content with him. Lo, thus was the
old custom and usage of this land. And also men say, that we of this
land have not yet lost nor forgotten that custom and usage. Alas, this
is a great default of all Englishmen, for there may no thing please us
no term. And so fared the people at that time; they were better pleased
with Sir Mordred than they were with king Arthur, and much people drew
unto Sir Mordred, and said they would abide with him for better and for
worse. And so Sir Mordred drew with a great host to Dover, for there he
heard say that Sir Arthur would arrive, and so he thought to beat his
own father from his lands. And the most party of all England held with
Sir Mordred, the people were so new fangle.


                               CHAP. II.

_How after that king Arthur had tidings he returned and came to Dover,
  where Sir Mordred met him to let his landing, and of the death of Sir
  Gawaine._

And so as Sir Mordred was at Dover with his host, there came king
Arthur with a great navy of ships, galleys, and carracks. And there was
Sir Mordred ready awaiting upon his landage, to let his own father to
land upon the land that he was king over. Then there was launching of
great boats and small, and full of noble men of arms, and there was
much slaughter of gentle knights, and many a full bold baron was laid
full low on both parties. But king Arthur was so courageous, that there
might no manner of knights let him to land, and his knights fiercely
followed him. And so they landed, maugre Sir Mordred and all his power,
and put Sir Mordred aback, that he fled and all his people. So when
this battle was done, king Arthur let bury his people that were dead,
and then was the noble knight Sir Gawaine found in a great boat lying
more than half dead. When Sir Arthur wist that Sir Gawaine was laid so
low, he went unto him, and there the king made sorrow out of measure,
and took Sir Gawaine in his arms, and thrice he there swooned. And when
he awaked he said, Alas, Sir Gawaine, my sister’s son, here now thou
liest, the man in the world that I loved most, and now is my joy gone:
for now, my nephew Sir Gawaine, I will discover me unto your person; in
Sir Launcelot and you I most had my joy, and mine affiance, and now
have I lost my joy of you both, wherefore all mine earthly joy is gone
from me. Mine uncle king Arthur, said Sir Gawaine, wit you well, my
death day is come, and all is through mine own hastiness and
wilfulness, for I am smitten upon the old wound the which Sir Launcelot
gave me, on the which I feel well I must die, and had Sir Launcelot
been with you as he was, this unhappy war had never begun, and of all
this am I causer, for Sir Launcelot and his blood through their prowess
held all your cankered enemies in subjection and danger: and now, said
Sir Gawaine, ye shall miss Sir Launcelot. But, alas, I would not accord
with him, and therefore, said Sir Gawaine, I pray you, fair uncle, that
I may have paper, pen, and ink, that I may write to Sir Launcelot a
schedule with mine own hands. And then when paper and ink was brought,
then Gawaine was set up weakly by king Arthur, for he was shriven a
little tofore, and then he wrote thus, as the French book maketh
mention,—Unto Sir Launcelot, flower of all noble knights that ever I
heard of, or saw by my days, I Sir Gawaine, king Lot’s son, of Orkney,
sister’s son unto the noble king Arthur, send thee greeting, and let
thee have knowledge, that the tenth day of May I was smitten upon the
old wound that thou gavest me afore the city of Benwick, and through
the same wound that thou gavest me I am come to my death-day. And I
will that all the world wit that I, Sir Gawaine, knight of the Table
Round, sought my death, and not through thy deserving, but it was mine
own seeking, wherefore I beseech thee, Sir Launcelot, to return again
unto this realm, and see my tomb, and pray some prayer, more or less,
for my soul. And this same day that I wrote this schedule, I was hurt
to the death in the same wound, the which I had of thy hand, Sir
Launcelot. For of a more nobler man might I not be slain. Also, Sir
Launcelot, for all the love that ever was betwixt us, make no tarrying,
but come over the sea in all haste, that thou mayest with thy noble
knights rescue that noble king that made thee knight, that is my lord
Arthur, for he is full straitly bestad with a false traitor, that is my
half brother Sir Mordred, and he hath let crown him king, and would
have wedded my lady queen Guenever, and so had he done, had she not put
herself in the tower of London. And so the tenth day of May last past,
my lord Arthur and we all landed upon them at Dover, and there we put
that false traitor Sir Mordred to flight, and there it misfortuned me
to be stricken upon thy stroke, and at the date of this letter was
written but two hours and an half afore my death, written with mine own
hand, and so subscribed with part of my heart’s blood. And I require
thee, most famous knight of the world, that thou wilt see my tomb.—And
then Sir Gawaine wept, and king Arthur wept, and then they swooned
both. And when they awaked both, the king made Sir Gawaine to receive
his Saviour. And then Sir Gawaine prayed the king to send for Sir
Launcelot, and to cherish him above all other knights. And so at the
hour of noon, Sir Gawaine yielded up the spirit. And then the king let
inter him in a chapel within Dover castle; and there yet all men may
see the skull of him, and the same wound is seen that Sir Launcelot
gave him in battle. Then was it told king Arthur that Sir Mordred had
pitched a new field upon Barham Down. And upon the morn the king rode
thither to him, and there was a great battle betwixt them, and much
people were slain on both parties. But at the last Sir Arthur’s party
stood best, and Sir Mordred and his party fled unto Canterbury.


                               CHAP. III.

_How after Sir Gawaine’s ghost appeared to king Arthur, and warned him
  that he should not fight that day._

And then the king let search all the towns for his knights that were
slain, and interred them; and salved them with soft salves that so sore
were wounded. Then much people drew unto king Arthur. And then they
said that Sir Mordred warred upon king Arthur with wrong. And then king
Arthur drew him with his host down by the sea side, westward toward
Salisbury, and there was a day assigned between king Arthur and Sir
Mordred, and they should meet upon a down beside Salisbury, and not far
from the sea side, and this day was assigned on a Monday after Trinity
Sunday, whereof king Arthur was passing glad, that he might be avenged
upon Sir Mordred. Then Sir Mordred araised much people about London,
for they of Kent, Southsex, and Surrey, Estsex, and Southfolk, and of
Northfolk, held the most party with Sir Mordred, and many a full noble
knight drew unto Sir Mordred and to the king; but they that loved Sir
Launcelot drew unto Sir Mordred. So upon Trinity Sunday at night king
Arthur dreamed a wonderful dream, and that was this, that him seemed he
sat upon a chaflet in a chair, and the chair was fast to a wheel, and
thereupon sat king Arthur in the richest cloth of gold that might be
made: and the king thought there was under him, far from him, an
hideous deep black water, and therein were all manner of serpents, and
worms, and wild beasts, fowl and horrible: and suddenly the king
thought the wheel turned up so down, and he fell among the serpents,
and every beast took him by a limb. And then the king cried as he lay
in his bed and slept, Help! And then knights, squires, and yeomen
awaked the king; and then he was so amazed that he wist not where he
was. And then he fell on slumbering again, not sleeping nor thoroughly
waking. So the king seemed verily that there came Sir Gawaine unto him
with a number of fair ladies with him. And when king Arthur saw him,
then he said, Welcome, my sister’s son, I wend thou hadst been dead,
and now I see thee on live, much am I beholding unto Almighty Jesu. Oh,
fair nephew, and my sister’s son, what be these ladies that hither be
come with you? Sir, said Sir Gawaine, all these be ladies for whom I
have foughten when I was man living: and all these are those that I did
battle for in righteous quarrel. And God hath given them that grace at
their great prayer, because I did battle for them, that they should
bring me hither unto you, thus much had God given me leave, for to warn
you of your death; for and ye fight as to-morn with Sir Mordred, as ye
both have assigned, doubt ye not ye must be slain, and the most part of
your people on both parties. And for the great grace and goodness that
Almighty Jesu hath unto you, and for pity of you and many more other
good men there shall be slain, God hath sent me to you, of his special
grace, to give you warning, that in no wise ye do battle as to-morn,
but that ye take a treaty for a month day; and proffer you largely, so
as to-morn to be put in a delay. For within a month shall come Sir
Launcelot, with all his noble knights, and rescue you worshipfully, and
slay Sir Mordred and all that ever will hold with him. Then Sir Gawaine
and all the ladies vanished. And anon the king called upon his knights,
squires, and yeomen, and charged them wightly to fetch his noble lords
and wise bishops unto him. And when they were come, the king told them
his vision, what Sir Gawaine had told him, and warned him that if he
fought on the morn he should be slain. Then the king commanded Sir
Lucan de butlere, and his brother Sir Bedivere, with two bishops with
them, and charged them in any wise and they might take a treaty for a
month day with Sir Mordred;—And spare not, proffer him lands and
goods, as much as ye think best. So then they departed, and came to Sir
Mordred, where he had a grim host of an hundred thousand men. And there
they intreated Sir Mordred long time, and at the last Sir Mordred was
agreed for to have Cornwall and Kent, by king Arthur’s days:—after,
all England, after the days of king Arthur.


                               CHAP. IV.

_How by misadventure of an adder the battle began, where Mordred was
  slain, and Arthur hurt to the death._

Then were they condescended that king Arthur and Sir Mordred should
meet betwixt both their hosts, and every each of them should bring
fourteen persons. And they came with this word unto king Arthur. Then
said he, I am glad that this is done. And so he went into the field.
And when Arthur should depart, he warned all his host that and they see
any sword drawn, Look ye come on fiercely, and slay that traitor Sir
Mordred, for I in no wise trust him. In like wise Sir Mordred warned
his host that,—And ye see any sword drawn, look that ye come on
fiercely, and so slay all that ever before you standeth: for in no wise
I will not trust for this treaty: for I know well my father will be
avenged upon me. And so they met as their pointment was, and so they
were agreed and accorded thoroughly: and wine was fetched, and they
drank. Right so came an adder out of a little heath bush, and it stung
a knight on the foot. And when the knight felt him stungen, he looked
down and saw the adder, and then he drew his sword to slay the adder,
and thought of none other harm. And when the host on both parties saw
that sword drawn, then they blew beames, trumpets, and horns, and
shouted grimly. And so both hosts dressed them together. And king
Arthur took his horse, and said, Alas this unhappy day, and so rode to
his party: and Sir Mordred in likewise. And never was there seen a more
dolefuller battle in no christian land. For there was but rushing and
riding, foining and striking, and many a grim word was there spoken
either to other, and many a deadly stroke. But ever king Arthur rode
throughout the battle of Sir Mordred many times, and did full nobly as
a noble king should; and at all times he fainted never. And Sir Mordred
that day put him in devoir, and in great peril. And thus they fought
all the long day, and never stinted, till the noble knights were laid
to the cold ground, and ever they fought still, till it was near night,
and by that time was there an hundred thousand laid dead upon the down.
Then was Arthur wroth out of measure, when he saw his people so slain
from him. Then the king looked about him, and then was he ware of all
his host, and of all his good knights, were left no more on live but
two knights, that was Sir Lucan de butlere, and his brother Sir
Bedivere: and they full were sore wounded. Jesu mercy, said the king,
where are all my noble knights becomen. Alas that ever I should see
this doleful day. For now, said Arthur, I am come to mine end. But
would to God that I wist where were that traitor Sir Mordred, that hath
caused all this mischief. Then was king Arthur ware where Sir Mordred
leaned upon his sword among a great heap of dead men. Now give me my
spear, said Arthur unto Sir Lucan, for yonder I have espied the traitor
that all this woe hath wrought. Sir, let him be, said Sir Lucan, for he
is unhappy: and if ye pass this unhappy day, ye shall be right well
revenged upon him. Good lord, remember ye of your night’s dream, and
what the spirit of Sir Gawaine told you this night, yet God of his
great goodness hath preserved you hitherto. Therefore, for God’s sake,
my lord, leave off by this. For blessed be God ye have won the field:
for here we be three on live, and with Sir Mordred is none on live. And
if ye leave off now, this wicked day of destiny is past. Tide me death,
betide me life, saith the king, now I see him yonder alone, he shall
never escape mine hands, for at a better avail shall I never have him.
God speed you well, said Sir Bedivere. Then the king gat his spear in
both his hands, and ran toward Sir Mordred, crying, Traitor, now is thy
death day come. And when Sir Mordred heard Sir Arthur, he ran until him
with his sword drawn in his hand. And then king Arthur smote Sir
Mordred under the shield, with a foin of his spear throughout the body
more than a fathom. And when Sir Mordred felt that he had his death’s
wound, he thrust himself, with the might that he had, up to the bur of
king Arthur’s spear. And right so he smote his father Arthur with his
sword holden in both his hands, on the side of the head, that the sword
pierced the helmet and the brain-pan, and therewithal Sir Mordred fell
stark dead to the earth. And the noble Arthur fell in a swoon to the
earth, and there he swooned oft-times. And Sir Lucan de butlere and Sir
Bedivere oft-times heaved him up, and so weakly they led him betwixt
them both to a little chapel not far from the sea side. And when the
king was there, he thought him well eased. Then heard they people cry
in the field. Now go thou, Sir Lucan, said the king, and do me to wit
what betokens that noise in the field. So Sir Lucan departed, for he
was grievously wounded in many places. And so as he went, he saw and
hearkened by the moon-light, how the pillers and robbers were come into
the field to pill and to rob many a full noble knight of broaches and
beads, of many a good ring, and of many a rich jewel; and who that were
not dead all out, there they slew them for their harness and their
riches. When Sir Lucan understood this work, he came to the king as
soon as he might, and told him all what he had heard and seen.
Therefore by mine advice, said Sir Lucan, it is best that we bring you
to some town. I would it were so, said the king,—


                                CHAP. V.

_How king Arthur commanded to cast his sword Excalibur into the water,
  and how he was delivered to ladies in a barge._

But I may not stand, my head works so. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said king
Arthur, this day have I sore missed thee. Alas, that ever I was against
thee, for now have I my death, whereof Sir Gawaine me warned in my
dream. Then Sir Lucan took up the king the one part, and Sir Bedivere
the other part, and in the lifting, the king swooned, and Sir Lucan
fell in a swoon with the lift, that the part of his bowels fell out of
his body, and therewith the noble knight’s heart brast. And when king
Arthur came to himself again, he beheld Sir Lucan how he lay foaming at
the mouth, and part of his bowels lay at his feet. Alas, said the king,
this is unto me a full heavy sight to see this noble duke so die for my
sake, for he would have holpen me that had more need of help than I.
Alas, he would not complain him, his heart was so set to help me. Now
Jesu have mercy upon his soul. Then Sir Bedivere wept for the death of
his brother. Leave this mourning and weeping, said the king, for all
this will not avail me: for, wit thou well, and I might live myself the
death of Sir Lucan would grieve me evermore; but my time hieth fast,
said the king. Therefore, said Arthur, take thou Excalibur, my good
sword, and go with it to yonder water side, and when thou comest there,
I charge thee throw my sword in that water, and come again, and tell me
what thou there seest. My lord, said Bedivere, your commandment shall
be done, and lightly bring you word again. So Sir Bedivere departed,
and by the way he beheld that noble sword, that the pommel and haft
were all of precious stones, and then he said to himself, If I throw
this rich sword in the water, thereof shall never come good, but harm
and loss. And then Sir Bedivere hid Excalibur under a tree. And as soon
as he might he came again unto the king, and said he had been at the
water, and had thrown the sword into the water. What sawest thou there?
said the king. Sir, he said, I saw nothing but waves and winds. That is
untruly said of thee, said the king; therefore go thou lightly again,
and do my command as thou art to me lief and dear, spare not, but throw
it in. Then Sir Bedivere returned again, and took the sword in his
hand; and then him thought sin and shame to throw away that noble
sword; and so eft he hid the sword, and returned again, and told to the
king that he had been at the water, and done his commandment. What saw
thou there? said the king. Sir, he said, I saw nothing but the waters
wap and the waves wan. Ah traitor, untrue, said king Arthur, now hast
thou betrayed me twice. Who would have wend that thou that hast been to
me so lief and dear, and thou art named a noble knight, and would
betray me for the riches of the sword. But now go again lightly, for
thy long tarrying putteth me in great jeopardy of my life, for I have
taken cold. And but if thou do now as I bid thee, if ever I may see
thee, I shall slay thee with mine own hands, for thou wouldest for my
rich sword see me dead. Then Sir Bedivere departed, and went to the
sword, and lightly took it up, and went to the water side, and there he
bound the girdle about the hilts, and then he threw the sword as far
into the water as he might, and there came an arm and an hand above the
water, and met it, and caught it, and so shook it thrice and
brandished, and then vanished away the hand with the sword in the
water. So Sir Bedivere came again to the king, and told him what he
saw. Alas, said the king, help me hence, for I dread me I have tarried
over long. Then Sir Bedivere took the king upon his back, and so went
with him to that water side. And when they were at the water side, even
fast by the bank hoved a little barge, with many fair ladies in it, and
among them all was a queen, and all they had black hoods, and all they
wept and shrieked when they saw king Arthur. Now put me into the barge,
said the king: and so he did softly. And there received him three
queens with great mourning, and so they set him down, and in one of
their laps king Arthur laid his head, and then that queen said, Ah,
dear brother, why have ye tarried so long from me? Alas, this wound on
your head hath caught over much cold. And so then they rowed from the
land; and Sir Bedivere beheld all those ladies go from him. Then Sir
Bedivere cried, Ah, my lord Arthur, what shall become of me now ye go
from me, and leave me here alone among mine enemies. Comfort thyself,
said the king, and do as well as thou mayest, for in me is no trust for
to trust in. For I will into the vale of Avilion, to heal me of my
grievous wound. And if thou hear never more of me, pray for my soul.
But ever the queens and the ladies wept and shrieked, that it was pity
to hear. And as soon as Sir Bedivere had lost the sight of the barge,
he wept and wailed, and so took the forest, and so he went all that
night, and in the morning he was ware betwixt two holts hoar of a
chapel and an hermitage.


                               CHAP. VI.

_How Sir Bedivere found him on the morrow dead in an hermitage, and how
  he abode there with the hermit._

Then was Sir Bedivere glad, and thither he went; and when he came into
the chapel, he saw where lay an hermit groveling on all four, there
fast by a tomb was new graven. When the hermit saw Sir Bedivere, he
knew him well, for he was but a little before bishop of Canterbury,
that Sir Mordred banished. Sir, said Sir Bedivere, what man is there
interred that ye pray so fast for? Fair son, said the hermit, I wot not
verily, but by deeming. But this night, at midnight, here came a number
of ladies, and brought hither a dead corpse, and prayed me to bury him;
and here they offered an hundred tapers, and gave me an hundred
besants. Alas, said Sir Bedivere, that was my lord king Arthur, that
here lieth buried in this chapel! Then Sir Bedivere swooned, and when
he awoke he prayed the hermit he might abide with him still there, to
live with fasting and prayers. For from hence will I never go, said Sir
Bedivere, by my will, but all the days of my life here to pray for my
lord Arthur. Ye are welcome to me, said the hermit, for I know you
better than ye ween that I do. Ye are the bold Bedivere, and the full
noble duke Sir Lucan de butlere was your brother. Then Sir Bedivere
told the hermit all as ye have heard tofore. So there bode Sir Bedivere
with the hermit, that was tofore bishop of Canterbury, and there Sir
Bedivere put upon him poor clothes, and served the hermit full lowly in
fasting and in prayers.

Thus of Arthur I find never more written in books that be authorized,
nor more of the certainty of his death heard I never tell, but thus was
he led away in a ship wherein were three queens; that one was king
Arthur’s sister queen Morgan le Fay; the other was the queen of
Northgalis; the third was the queen of the Waste Lands. Also there was
Nimue, the chief Lady of the lake, that had wedded Pelleas the good
knight; and this lady had done much for king Arthur; for she would
never suffer Sir Pelleas to be in no place where he should be in danger
of his life, and so he lived to the uttermost of his days with her in
great rest. More of the death of king Arthur could I never find, but
that ladies brought him to his burials; and such one was buried there,
that the hermit bare witness that some time was bishop of Canterbury,
but yet the hermit knew not in certain that he was verily the body of
king Arthur;—for this tale Sir Bedivere, knight of the Round Table,
made it to be written.


                               CHAP. VII.

_Of the opinion of some men of the death of king Arthur; and how queen
  Guenever made her a nun in Almesbury._

Yet some men yet say in many parts of England that king Arthur is not
dead, but had by the will of our Lord Jesu in another place. And men
say that he shall come again, and he shall win the holy cross. I will
not say it shall be so, but rather I will say, here in this world he
changed his life. But many men say that there is written upon his tomb
this verse,

           =Hic iacet Arthurus Rex quondam Rex que futurus.=

Thus leave I here Sir Bedivere with the hermit, that dwelled that time
in a chapel beside Glastonbury, and there was his hermitage. And so
they lived in their prayers and fastings and great abstinence. And when
queen Guenever understood that king Arthur was slain, and all the noble
knights, Sir Mordred and all the remnant, then the queen stole away,
and five ladies with her, and so she went to Almesbury, and there she
let make herself a nun, and wore white clothes and black, and great
penance she took, as ever did sinful lady in this land, and never
creature could make her merry, but lived in fasting, prayers, and
alms-deeds, that all manner of people marvelled how virtuously she was
changed. Now leave we queen Guenever in Almesbury a nun in white
clothes and black, and there she was abbess and ruler, as reason would;
and turn we from her, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du Lake.


                              CHAP. VIII.

_How when Sir Launcelot heard of the death of king Arthur, and of Sir
  Gawaine, and other matters, he came into England._

And when he heard in his country that Sir Mordred was crowned king in
England, and made war against king Arthur his own father, and would let
him to land in his own land; also it was told Sir Launcelot how that
Sir Mordred had laid siege about the tower of London, because the queen
would not wed him; then was Sir Launcelot wroth out of measure, and
said to his kinsmen, Alas, that double traitor Sir Mordred, now me
repenteth that ever he escaped my hands, for much shame hath he done
unto my lord Arthur. For all I feel by the doleful letter that my lord
Gawaine sent me, on whose soul Jesu have mercy, that my lord Arthur is
right hard bested. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, that ever I should live to
hear that most noble king, that made me knight, thus to be overset with
his subject in his own realm. And this doleful letter that my lord Sir
Gawaine hath sent me afore his death, praying me to see his tomb, wit
you well his doleful words shall never go from mine heart. For he was a
full noble knight as ever was born, and in an unhappy hour was I born,
that ever I should have that unhap to slay first Sir Gawaine, Sir
Gaheris the good knight, and mine own friend Sir Gareth, that full
noble knight. Alas, I may say I am unhappy, said Sir Launcelot, that
ever I should do thus unhappily; and, alas, yet might I never have hap
to slay that traitor Sir Mordred. Leave your complaints, said Sir Bors,
and first revenge you of the death of Sir Gawaine, and it will be well
done that ye see Sir Gawaine’s tomb, and secondly that ye revenge my
lord Arthur and my lady queen Guenever. I thank you, said Sir
Launcelot, for ever ye will my worship. Then they made them ready in
all the haste that might be, with ships and galleys with Sir Launcelot
and his host, to pass into England. And so he passed over the sea till
he came to Dover: and there he landed with seven kings, and the number
was hideous to behold. Then Sir Launcelot enquired of men of Dover
where was king Arthur become? Then the people told him how that he was
slain, and Sir Mordred and an hundred thousand died on a day, and how
Sir Mordred gave king Arthur there the first battle at his landing, and
there was good Sir Gawaine slain, and on the morn Sir Mordred fought
with the king upon Barham Down, and there the king put Sir Mordred to
the worse. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, this is the heaviest tidings that
ever came to me. Now, fair sirs, said Sir Launcelot, shew me the tomb
of Sir Gawaine. And then certain people of the town brought him into
the castle of Dover, and showed him the tomb. Then Sir Launcelot
kneeled down and wept and prayed heartily for his soul. And that night
he made a dole, and all they that would come had as much flesh, fish,
wine, and ale, and every man and woman had twelve pence, come who
would. Thus with his own hand dealt he his money in a mourning gown;
and ever he wept, and prayed them to pray for the soul of Sir Gawaine.
And on the morn all the priests and clerks that might be gotten in the
country were there, and sung mass of Requiem. And there offered first
Sir Launcelot and he offered an hundred pound, and then the seven kings
offered forty pound a piece, and also there was a thousand knights, and
each of them offered a pound, and the offering dured from morn till
night. And Sir Launcelot lay two nights on his tomb in prayers and in
weeping. Then on the third day Sir Launcelot called the kings, dukes,
earls, barons and knights, and said thus: My fair lords, I thank you
all of your coming into this country with me; but we come too late, and
that shall repent me while I live, but against death may no man rebel.
But sithen it is so, said Sir Launcelot, I will myself ride and seek my
lady queen Guenever, for as I hear say, she hath great pain and much
disease, and I heard say that she is fled into the west country,
therefore ye all that abide me here, and but if I come again within
fifteen days, then take your ships, and your fellowship, and depart
into your country. For I will do as I say to you.


                               CHAP. IX.

_How Sir Launcelot departed to seek the queen Guenever, and how he
  found her at Almesbury._

Then came Sir Bors de Ganis, and said, My lord Sir Launcelot, what
think ye for to do, now to ride in this realm? wit thou well ye shall
find few friends. Be as be may, said Sir Launcelot, keep you still
here, for I will forth on my journey, and no man nor child shall go
with me. So it was no boot to strive, but he departed and rode
westerly, and there he sought a seven or eight days, and at the last he
came to a nunnery, and then was queen Guenever ware of Sir Launcelot as
he walked in the cloister, and when she saw him there she swooned
thrice, that all the ladies and gentlewomen had work enough to hold the
queen up. So when she might speak, she called ladies and gentlewomen to
her, and said, Ye marvel, fair ladies, why I make this fare. Truly, she
said, it is for the sight of yonder knight that yonder standeth:
wherefore, I pray you all, call him to me. When Sir Launcelot was
brought to her, then she said to all the ladies, Through this man and
me hath all this war been wrought, and the death of the most noblest
knights of the world; for through our love that we have loved together
is my most noble lord slain. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, wit thou well I
am set in such a plight to get my soul’s health; and yet I trust,
through God’s grace, that after my death to have a sight of the blessed
face of Christ, and at doomsday to sit on his right side, for as sinful
as ever I was are saints in heaven. Therefore, Sir Launcelot, I require
thee and beseech thee heartily, for all the love that ever was betwixt
us, that thou never see me more in the visage; and I command thee on
God’s behalf, that thou forsake my company, and to thy kingdom thou
turn again and keep well thy realm from war and wrack. For as well as I
have loved thee, mine heart will not serve me to see thee; for through
thee and me is the flower of kings and knights destroyed. Therefore,
Sir Launcelot, go to thy realm, and there take thee a wife, and live
with her with joy and bliss, and I pray thee heartily pray for me to
our Lord, that I may amend my mis-living. Now, sweet madam, said Sir
Launcelot, would ye that I should return again unto my country, and
there to wed a lady? Nay, madam, wit you well that shall I never do:
for I shall never be so false to you of that I have promised, but the
same destiny that ye have taken you to, I will take me unto, for to
please Jesu, and ever for you I cast me specially to pray. If thou wilt
do so, said the queen, hold thy promise; but I may never believe but
that thou wilt turn to the world again. Well, madam, said he, ye say as
pleaseth you, yet wist you me never false of my promise, and God defend
but I should forsake the world as ye have done. For in the quest of the
Sancgreal I had forsaken the vanities of the world, had not your lord
been. And if I had done so at that time with my heart, will, and
thought, I had passed all the knights that were in the Sancgreal,
except Sir Galahad my son. And therefore, lady, sithen ye have taken
you to perfection, I must needs take me to perfection of right. For I
take record of God, in you I have had mine earthly joy. And if I had
found you now so disposed, I had cast me to have had you into mine own
realm.


                                CHAP. X.

_How Sir Launcelot came to the hermitage where the archbishop of
  Canterbury was, and how he took the habit on him._

But sithen I find you thus disposed, I insure you faithfully I will
ever take me to penance, and pray while my life lasteth, if that I may
find any hermit either grey or white that will receive me. Wherefore,
madam, I pray you kiss me, and never no more. Nay, said the queen, that
shall I never do, but abstain you from such works. And they departed.
But there was never so hard an hearted man, but he would have wept to
see the dolour that they made. For there was lamentation as they had
been stung with spears, and many times they swooned. And the ladies
bare the queen to her chamber, and Sir Launcelot awoke, and went and
took his horse, and rode all that day and all that night in a forest,
weeping. And at the last he was ware of an hermitage and a chapel stood
betwixt two cliffs, and then he heard a little bell ring to mass, and
thither he rode and alight, and tied his horse to the gate, and heard
mass. And he that sang mass was the bishop of Canterbury. Both the
bishop and Sir Bedivere knew Sir Launcelot, and they spake together
after mass. But when Sir Bedivere had told his tale all whole, Sir
Launcelot’s heart almost brast for sorrow, and Sir Launcelot threw his
arms abroad, and said, Alas, who may trust this world! And then he
kneeled down on his knees, and prayed the Bishop to shrive him and
assoil him. And then he besought the bishop that he might be his
brother. Then the bishop said, I will gladly: and there he put an habit
upon Sir Launcelot, and there he served God day and night with prayers
and fastings.

Thus the great host abode at Dover. And then Sir Lionel took fifteen
lords with him, and rode to London to seek Sir Launcelot. And there Sir
Lionel was slain and many of his lords. Then Sir Bors de Ganis made the
great host for to go home again. And Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir
Blamor, Sir Bleoberis, with more other of Sir Launcelot’s kin, look on
them to ride all England overthwart and endlong, to seek Sir Launcelot.
So Sir Bors by fortune rode so long till he came to the same chapel
where Sir Launcelot was. And so Sir Bors heard a little bell knell that
rang to mass, and there he alight, and heard mass. And when mass was
done, the bishop, Sir Launcelot, and Sir Bedivere came to Sir Bors. And
when Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot in that manner clothing, then he prayed
the bishop that he might be in the same suit. And so there was an habit
put upon him, and there he lived in prayers and fasting. And within
half a year there was come Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Blamor, Sir
Bleoberis, Sir Williars, Sir Clarrus, and Sir Gahalantine. So all these
seven noble knights there abode still. And when they saw Sir Launcelot
had taken him unto such perfection, they had no list to depart, but
took such an habit as he had. Thus they endured in great penance six
year, and then Sir Launcelot took the habit of priesthood, and a
twelvemonth he sang mass. And there was none of these other knights but
they read in books, and holp to sing mass, and rang bells, and did
bodily all manner of service. And so their horses went where they
would, for they took no regard of no worldly riches. For when they saw
Sir Launcelot endure such penance, in prayers and fasting, they took no
force what pain they endured, for to see the noblest knight of the
world take such abstinence, that he waxed full lean. And thus upon a
night there came a vision to Sir Launcelot, and charged him, in
remission of his sins, to haste him unto Almesbury,—And by then thou
come there, thou shalt find queen Guenever dead: and therefore take thy
fellows with thee, and purvey them of an horse bier, and fetch thou the
corpse of her, and bury her by her husband the noble king Arthur. So
this vision came to Launcelot thrice in one night.


                               CHAP. XI.

_How Sir Launcelot went with his seven fellows to Almesbury, and found
  there queen Guenever dead, whom they brought to Glastonbury._

Then Sir Launcelot rose up or day, and told the hermit. It were well
done, said the hermit, that ye made you ready, and that ye disobey not
the vision. Then Sir Launcelot took his seven fellows with him, and on
foot they went from Glastonbury to Almesbury, the which is little more
than thirty miles. And thither they came within two days, for they were
weak and feeble to go. And when Sir Launcelot was come to Almesbury,
within the nunnery, queen Guenever died but half an hour before. And
the ladies told Sir Launcelot that queen Guenever told them all, or she
passed, that Sir Launcelot had been priest near a twelvemonth,—And
hither he cometh as fast as he may to fetch my corpse: and beside my
lord king Arthur he shall bury me. Wherefore the queen said in hearing
of them all, I beseech Almighty God that I may never have power to see
Sir Launcelot with my worldly eyes. And thus, said all the ladies, was
ever her prayer these two days, till she was dead. Then Sir Launcelot
saw her visage, but he wept not greatly, but sighed. And so he did all
the observance of the service himself, both the Dirige, and on the morn
he sang mass. And there was ordained an horse bier; and so with an
hundred torches ever burning about the corpse of the queen, and ever
Sir Launcelot with his eight fellows went about the horse bier singing
and reading many an holy orison, and frankincense upon the corpse
incensed. Thus Sir Launcelot and his eight fellows went on foot from
Almesbury unto Glastonbury; and when they were come to the chapel and
the hermitage, there she had a Dirige with great devotion. And on the
morn the hermit, that sometime was bishop of Canterbury, sang the mass
of Requiem with great devotion: and Sir Launcelot was the first that
offered, and then all his eight fellows. And then she was wrapped in
cered cloth of Raines, from the top to the toe in thirty fold, and
after she was put in a web of lead, and then in a coffin of marble. And
when she was put in the earth, Sir Launcelot swooned, and lay long
still, while the hermit came out and awaked him, and said, Ye be to
blame, for ye displease God with such manner of sorrow making. Truly,
said Sir Launcelot, I trust I do not displease God, for He knoweth mine
intent, for my sorrow was not, nor is not, for any rejoicing of sin,
but my sorrow may never have end. For when I remember of her beauty,
and of her noblesse, that was both with her king and with her; so when
I saw his corpse and her corpse so lie together, truly mine heart would
not serve to sustain my careful body. Also when I remember me, how by
my default, mine orgule, and my pride, that they were both laid full
low, that were peerless that ever was living of Christian people, wit
you well, said Sir Launcelot, this remembered, of their kindness and
mine unkindness, sank so to my heart, that I might not sustain myself.
So the French book maketh mention.


                               CHAP. XII.

_How Sir Launcelot began to sicken, and after died, whose body was
  borne to Joyous Gard for to be buried._

Then Sir Launcelot never after eat but little meat, nor drank, till he
was dead; for then he sickened more and more, and dried and dwined
away; for the bishop nor none of his fellows might not make him to eat,
and little he drank, that he was waxen by a cubit shorter than he was,
that the people could not know him; for evermore day and night he
prayed, but sometime he slumbered a broken sleep, and ever he was lying
groveling on the tomb of king Arthur and queen Guenever. And there was
no comfort that the bishop, nor Sir Bors, nor none of his fellows could
make him, it availed not. So within six weeks after, Sir Launcelot fell
sick, and lay in his bed; and then he sent for the bishop that there
was hermit, and all his true fellows. Then Sir Launcelot said with
dreary voice, Sir bishop, I pray you give to me all my rights that
longeth to a Christian man. It shall not need you, said the hermit and
all his fellows, it is but heaviness of your blood: ye shall be well
amended by the grace of God to-morn. My fair lords, said Sir Launcelot,
wit you well, my careful body will into the earth. I have warning more
then now I will say, therefore give me my rights. So when he was
houseled and eneled, and had all that a Christian man ought to have, he
prayed the bishop that his fellows might bear his body to Joyous Gard.
Some men say it was Anwick, and some men say it was Bamborow. Howbeit,
said Sir Launcelot, me repenteth sore, but I made mine avow sometime
that in Joyous Gard I would be buried, and because of breaking of mine
avow, I pray you all lead me thither. Then there was weeping and
wringing of hands among his fellows. So at a season of the night they
went all to their beds, for they all lay in one chamber. And so after
midnight, against day, the bishop that was hermit, as he lay in his bed
asleep, he fell upon a great laughter: and therewith all the fellowship
awoke, and came unto the bishop, and asked him what he ailed. Alas,
said the bishop, why did ye awake me, I was never in all my life so
merry and so well at ease. Wherefore? said Sir Bors. Truly, said the
bishop, here was Sir Launcelot with me, with more angels than ever I
saw men upon one day; and I saw the angels heave Sir Launcelot unto
heaven, and the gates of heaven opened against him. It is but the
vexing of dreams, said Sir Bors, for I doubt not Sir Launcelot aileth
nothing but good. It may well be, said the bishop, go ye to his bed,
and then shall ye prove the sooth. So when Sir Bors and his fellows
came to his bed they found him stark dead, and he lay as he had smiled,
and the sweetest savour about him that ever they felt. Then was there
weeping and wringing of hands, and the greatest dole they made that
ever made men. And on the morn the bishop did his mass of Requiem; and
after the bishop and all the nine knights put Sir Launcelot in the same
horse bier that queen Guenever was laid in tofore that she was buried:
and so the bishop and they altogether went with the corpse of Sir
Launcelot daily, till they came to Joyous Gard, and ever they had an
hundred torches burning about him; and so within fifteen days they came
to Joyous Gard. And there they laid his corpse in the body of the
quire, and sang and read many psalters and prayers over him and about
him; and ever his visage was laid open and naked, that all folk might
behold him; for such was the custom in those days, that all men of
worship should so lie with open visage till that they were buried. And
right thus as they were at their service, there came Sir Ector de
Maris, that had seven year sought all England, Scotland, and Wales,
seeking his brother Sir Launcelot.


                              CHAP. XIII.

_How Sir Ector found Sir Launcelot his brother dead. And how
  Constantine reigned next after Arthur, and of the end of this book._

And when Sir Ector heard such noise and light in the quire of Joyous
Gard, he alight and put his horse from him, and came into the quire,
and there he saw men sing and weep. And all they knew Sir Ector, but he
knew not them. Then went Sir Bors unto Sir Ector, and told him how
there lay his brother Sir Launcelot dead. And then Sir Ector threw his
shield, sword, and helm from him; and when he beheld Sir Launcelot’s
visage he fell down in a swoon. And when he awaked it were hard any
tongue to tell the doleful complaints that he made for his brother. Ah,
Launcelot, he said, thou were head of all Christian knights; and now I
dare say, said Sir Ector, thou Sir Launcelot, there thou liest, that
thou were never matched of earthly knight’s hand; and thou were the
courtiest knight that ever bare shield; and thou were the truest friend
to thy lover that ever bestrode horse; and thou were the truest lover
of a sinful man that ever loved woman; and thou were the kindest man
that ever strake with sword; and thou were the goodliest person ever
came among press of knights; and thou was the meekest man and the
gentlest that ever ate in hall among ladies; and thou were the sternest
knight to thy mortal foe that ever put spear in the rest.

Then there was weeping and dolour out of measure. Thus they kept Sir
Launcelot’s corpse on loft fifteen days, and then they buried it with
great devotion. And then at leisure they went all with the bishop of
Canterbury to his hermitage, and there they were together more than a
month. Then Sir Constantine, that was Sir Cador’s son, of Cornwall, was
chosen king of England; and he was a full noble knight, and
worshipfully he ruled this realm. And then this king Constantine sent
for the bishop of Canterbury, for he heard say where he was; and so he
was restored unto his bishopric, and left that hermitage; and Sir
Bedivere was there ever still hermit to his life’s end. Then Sir Bors
de Ganis, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Gahalantine, Sir Galihud, Sir
Galihodin, Sir Blamor, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Williars le Valiant, Sir
Clarrus of Cleremont; all these knights drew them to their countries.
Howbeit king Constantine would have had them with him, but they would
not abide in this realm; and there they lived in their countries as
holy men. And some English books make mention that they went never out
of England after the death of Sir Launcelot, but that was but favour of
makers. For the French book maketh mention, and is authorised, that Sir
Bors, Sir Ector, Sir Blamor, and Sir Bleoberis, went into the holy
land, there as Jesu Christ was quick and dead, and anon as they had
stablished their lands; for the book saith so Sir Launcelot commanded
them for to do, or ever he passed out of this world. And these four
knights did many battles upon the miscreants or Turks. And there they
died upon a Good Friday, for God’s sake.

Here is the end of the whole book of king Arthur, and of his noble
knights of the Round Table, that when they were whole together there
was ever an hundred and forty. And here is the end of the Death of
Arthur. I pray you all gentlemen and gentlewomen that read this book of
Arthur and his knights from the beginning to the ending, pray for me
while I am on live that God send me good deliverance, and when I am
dead, I pray you all pray for my soul; for this book was ended the
ninth year of the reign of king Edward the Fourth by Sir Thomas
Maleore, knight, as Jesu help him for his great might, as he is the
servant of Jesu both day and night.

¶ Thus endeth thys noble and Ioyous book entytled le morte Darthur /
Notwithstondyng it treateth of the byrth / lyf / and actes of the sayd
kynge Arthur / of his noble knyghtes of the rounde table / theyr
meruayllous enquestes and aduentures / thachyeuyng of the sangreal / &
in thende the dolourous deth & departyng out of thys world of them al /
Whiche book was reduced in to englysshe by syr Thomas Malory knyght as
afore is sayd / and by me deuyded in to xxi bookes chapytred and
enprynted / and fynysshed in thabbey westmestre the last day of Iuyl
the yere of our lord M/CCCC/lxxx/V/

                        ¶ Caxton me fieri fecit.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                                NOTE A.

                _See Introduction, page xxxii. note 1_.


‘Oh ye mighty and pompous lords, shining in the glory transitory of
this unstable life, as in reigning over realms great, and mighty
countries, fortified with strong castles and towers, edified with many
a rich city. Ye also, ye fierce and mighty chivalers, so valiant in
adventurous deeds of arms, behold, behold, see how this mighty
conqueror Arthur, whom in his human life all the world doubted—ye
also, the noble queen Guenever, that sometime sat in her chair adorned
with gold, pearls, and precious stones, now lie full low in obscure
foss or pit covered with clods of earth and clay. Behold also this
mighty champion Launcelot, peerless of knighthood, see now how he lieth
groveling on the cold mould, now being so feeble and faint that
sometime was so terrible, how and in what manner ought ye to be so
desirous of the mundane honour so dangerous. Therefore me thinketh this
present book called La Morte Darthur is right necessary often to be
read, for in it shall ye find the gracious, knightly, and virtuous war
of most noble knights of the world, whereby they gat praising
continual. Also me seemeth by the oft reading thereof ye shall greatly
desire to accustom yourself in following of those gracious knightly
deeds, that is to say, to dread God, and to love rightwiseness,
faithfully and courageously to serve your sovereign prince. And the
more that God hath given you the triumphal honour the meeker ye ought
to be, ever fearing the unstableness of this deceivable world. And so I
pass over, and turn again to my matter.’


                                NOTE B.

                _See Introduction, page xxxiv. note 3._

For those who may care to see more of the manner in which the text of
the interpolated passages has been formed, I give the following
specimens in detail.

The first is from the beginning of the 11th Chapter of Book XXI.


                                CAXTON.

  ‘Than syr Launcelot rose vp or day/& tolde the heremyte/It were wel
  done sayd the heremyte that ye made you redy/& that ye dyshobeye
  not the auysyon/Than syr Launcelot toke his vii felowes with hym/&
  on fote they yede from glastynburye to almysburye the whyche is
  lytel more than xxx myle/& thyder they came within two dayes for
  they were wayke and feble to goo/& whan syr Launcelot was come to
  almysburye within the Nunerye quene gweneuer deyed but halfe an
  oure afore/and the ladyes tolde syr Launcelot that quene Gueneuer
  tolde hem al or she passyd/that syr Launcelot had been preest nere
  a twelue monthe/& hyder he cometh as faste as he may to fetch my
  cors/& besyde my lord kyng Arthur he shal berye me/’


                         WYNKYN DE WORDE, 1498.

  ‘Thenne syre Launcelot rose vp or day. And tolde the heremyte. It
  were well doon sayd the heremyte/that ye made ye redy/and that ye
  dysobeye not the aduysyon. Thenē syr Launcelot toke his .vij.
  felowes w^t hym/& on fote they yede from Glastynbury to Almesbury.
  the whyche is lytyl more than .xxx. myle. And thyder they came
  wythin two dayes for they were weyke & feble to go. And whan syr
  Launcelot was come to Almesbury wythin the Nunnery/quene Gweneuer
  deyed but halfe an houre afore/And the ladyes tolde syr
  Launcelot/that quene Gweneuer tolde them all or she passyd/that syr
  Launcelot had be preest nere a twelue month and hither he cometh as
  fast as he may/to fetche my corps. And besyde my lorde kyng
  Arthur/he shal bury me.’


                                UPCOTT.

  ‘Than syr Launcelot rose vp or it was day, and tolde the heremyte
  therof. It were well done sayd the heremyte that ye made you redy,
  and that ye dysobeye not thys aduysyon. The[=n]e syr Launcelot toke
  his .vii felawes with hym, & on foote they yede from Glastynbury to
  Almesbury, the whyche is lytyl more than xxx myle. And thyder they
  came wythin two dayes for they were weyke and feble to go. And whan
  syr Launcelot was come to Almesbury wythin the Nonnery, quene
  Gweneuer deyed but halfe an houre afore. And the ladyes tolde syre
  Launcelot that quene Gueneuer tolde them all or she passyd, that
  syr Launcelot had been preest nere a twelue moneth, and hither he
  cometh as faste as he may for to fetche my corps. And besyde my
  lorde kynge Arthur he shal burye me.’

The last lines of the same Chapter are as follows:—


                                CAXTON.

  ‘For whan I remembre of hir beaulte and of hir noblesse that was
  bothe with hyr king & with hyr/So whan I sawe his corps and hir
  corps so lye togyders/truly myn herte wold not serue to susteyne my
  careful body/Also whan I remēbre me how by my defaut & myn orgule
  and my pryde/that they were bothe layed ful lowe that were pereles
  that euer was lyuyng of cristen people, wyt you wel sayd syr
  Launcelot/this remembred of there kyndnes and myn vnkyndnes sanke
  so to myn herte that I miȝt not susteyne myself so the frensshe
  book maketh mencyon.’


                                UPCOTT.

(Who follows Wynkyn de Worde exactly, except in the spelling, and in
the insertion of ‘me’ after ‘wold not serue.’)

  ‘For whan I remembre _& calle to mynde_ her beaute, _bountee &_
  noblesse, that was _as wel_ wyth her kyng _my lord Arthur_ as wyth
  her. _And also_ whanne I saw _the corses of that noble kinge &
  noble quene_ so lye to gyder _in that colde graue made of erthe,
  that somtyme were so hyghly sette in moost honourable places_,
  truly myn herte wolde not serue _me_ to susteyne my _wretchyd &_
  carefull body. Also whan I remembre me how by my defawte myn
  orgulyte and my pride, that they were both layed full lowe whyche
  were pereles that euer were lyuenge of crysten peple, wyte yow wel
  sayd syr Launcelot, this remembred, of ther kyndnesse & _of_ myn
  vnkyndnesse, sanke _and enprest_ soo _in_ to my herte that _all my
  natural strengthe fayled me, so that_ I myghte not susteyne my
  selfe. Soo the frensshe boke makyth mencyon.’

The several colophons are as follows:—


                                CAXTON.

  ‘Thus endeth thys noble and Ioyous book entytled le morte
  Darthur/Notwithstondyng it treateth of the byrth/lyf/and actes of
  the sayd kynge Arthur/of his noble knyghtes of the rounde
  table/theyr meruayllous enquestes and aduentures/thachyeuyng of the
  sangreal/& in thende the dolourous deth & departyng out of thys
  world of them al/Whiche book was reduced in to englysshe by syr
  Thomas Malory knyght as afore is sayd/and by me deuyded in to xxi
  bookes chapytred and enprynted/and fynysshed in thabbey westmestre
  the last day of Iuyl the yere of our lord M/CCCC/lxxx/V/ Caxton me
  fieri fecit.’/


                         WYNKYN DE WORDE, 1498.

  ‘Thus endyth this noble and Ioyous boke entytled Le morte dathur.
  Notwythstondyng it treateth of the byrth lyf & actes of the sayd
  kynge Arthur of his noble knyghtes of the rounde table. theyr
  merueyllous enquestes & aduentures. thachyeuynge of the Sancgreall.
  And in the ende the dolorous deth. & depaytynge out of this worlde
  of them al. Whyche boke was reduced in to Englysshe by the well
  dysposyd knyghte afore namyd. And deuyde[d] into .xxi. bokes
  chapitred. & enprynt[ed] fyrst by Wylliam Caxton/on who[se] soule
  god haue mercy. And newel[ye] prynted. and chapitres of the sam[e
  ru-]brisshed at Westmestre, by Wynk[yn de] Worde y^e yere of our
  lord. M.C[CCC].lxxxxviij. and ended the .xxv [daye of] Marche. the
  same yere.’


                                 AMES.

  ‘Thus endeth this noble and joyous boke, entytled La morte
  d’Arthur. Notwithstondyng it treateth of the byrth, lyf, and actes
  of the sayd Kynge Arthur, of his noble knyghts of the rounde table,
  theyr merueylous enquestes and aduentures, thacheuynge of the
  Sancgreal and in the ende the dolourous deth and depaytynge out of
  this worlde of them al; whyche boke was reduced into Englysshe by
  syr Thomas Malory, Knight, as afore is sayd, and by me devyded into
  xxi. bookes, chapitred and enprynted, and fynisshed in thabbey,
  Westmestre, the last day of Juyl, the yere of our Lord MCCCCLXXXV.
  Caxton me fieri fecit.’


                          HARLEIAN CATALOGUE.

  ‘The Byrth, Lyf, and Actes of Kyng Arthur; of his noble Knyghtes of
  the Rounde Table, theyr marvayllous Enquestes and Adventures; the
  Achyeviyng of the Sang real; and in the end le Morte d’Arthur, with
  the dolourous Deth and Departyng out of thys world of them Al.
  Whiche Book was reduced to the Englysshe, by Syr Thomas Malory
  Knyght, and by me (_W. Caxton_) devyded into 21 bookes, chaptyred
  and emprynted, and fynyshed in th’ Abbey Westmestre, the last day
  of July, the yere of our Lord 1485.’


                                UPCOTT.

  ‘Thus endeth this noble & joyous booke entytled _La_ Mort _dathur_.
  Notwythstanding it treateth of the byrth, lyf & actes of the sayd
  Kynge Arthur, _&_ of his noble knyghtes of the Rounde Table, theyr
  marueyllous Enquestes & aduentures, thacheyuyng of the _Sang real_,
  and in the ende _le Morte darthur with_ the dolourous deth and
  departyng out of thys worlde of them al. Whiche booke was reduced
  in to Englysshe by Syr Thomas Malory knyght _as afore is sayd_, and
  by me deuyded in to xxi bookes chaptyred and emprynted and
  fynysshed in thabbey Westmestre the last day of July the yere of
  our lord MCCCCLXXXV. _Caxton me fieri fecit._’

On a comparison of these colophons we see that the article _La_ is only
in Ames: the spelling of _dathur_ is peculiar to Wynkyn de Worde, who
has it also in another passage; the words _le Morte darthur with_ are
in the Harleian Catalogue only: _as afore is said_ is in neither of
these, but it is in Ames: the peculiar mode of writing _Sang real_[47],
and the spelling of _chaptyred_, _emprynted_, _July_, are those of the
Harleian Catalogue: the _&_ introduced after _Arthur_ in the second
line is only in Upcott. _Caxton me fieri fecit_ is in Ames, but not in
the Harleian Catalogue.

When I say in Ames or the Harleian Catalogue only, it will be
understood that I include with the colophon of the former its
modernised copy in Dibdin; and with that of the latter its copies in
Herbert and the Biographia Britannica; the references to all which I
have given in the passage of the Introduction to which this is a Note.
The first words of the colophon are omitted in the Harleian Catalogue,
which gives it as the title of the book, as do the Biographia
Britannica and Herbert. The framer of the Catalogue probably quotes
directly, though inaccurately, from the Harleian (now the Osterley)
Morte Darthur: and Ames must have made his extract independently from
the same volume. Dibdin attributes both the Harleian Catalogue and the
article in the Biographia Britannica to Oldys.

-----

Footnote 1:

           ‘A braver soldier never couched lance,
           A gentler heart did never sway in court.’

                             First part of _Henry VI._ iii. 2.

Footnote 2:

  _Le Morte Darthur_, edited from the Harleian MS. 2252, in the British
  Museum, by F. T. Furnivall, 1864.

Footnote 3:

  The council of devils seems to have suggested that in _Paradise Lost_.

Footnote 4:

  Geoffrey of Monmouth afterwards Bishop of St. Asaph wrote, or as he
  tells us, translated from a work in the British tongue his _Historiae
  Brithonum_ early in the 12th century.

Footnote 5:

  Itinerary, ii. pp. 38, 39; Hearne, 1711.

Footnote 6:

  Somersetshire Illustrated, by John Strachey, MS. 1736.

Footnote 7:

  Polyolbion, 3rd Song.

Footnote 8:

  Camelot: a Lecture delivered in 1889 by the Rev. J. H. Bennett. See
  also Proceedings of the Somersetshire Archæological Society, 1890.

Footnote 9:

  _Gervasii Tilburiensis Otia Imperialia_, Decisio ii. cap. xii, de
  Insulis Mediterranei, in vol. I of ‘Scriptores Rerum Brunsvicensium
  Illustrationi inservientes: Cura G. G. Leibnitzii, Hanov. MDCCVII.’
  Gervase of Tilbury wrote about the beginning of the thirteenth
  century. He was at the Peace of Venice in 1177 A. D.; was Chancellor
  and Marshall of the kingdom of Arles about the year 1200; and died in
  1235.

Footnote 10:

  ‘Renaissance in Italy,’ by J. A. Symonds, iv. 17.

Footnote 11:

  The passage, which also recounts the names of Ewaine, Gawaine, and
  Launcelot du Lac, is found in a charming episode in ‘The Complaynt of
  Scotland’ (written in 1548, and edited in 1801 by G. J. Leyden), in
  which the author tells how he went into the country to refresh his
  weary mind and body, and there fell in with a party of shepherds and
  shepherds’ wives and servants, who amused themselves with telling a
  number of stories, classical and romantic, of which he gives the
  names. It is a prose idyll, which reminds us of the Canterbury Tales,
  and the Vision of Piers Plowman, in the love of nature and the love
  of story-telling which it displays. Here, and in the passage from
  Gervase, I quote from the originals; but my attention was first
  directed to these by Sir George Webb Dasent’s quotations in his
  ‘Popular Tales from the Norse,’ p. xxix.

Footnote 12:

  Roquefort, Glossaire de Langue Romane, art. ‘Graal:’ where are also
  given the original passages from the first three romances named in
  the text.

Footnote 13:

  _Caffari Annales Genuenses_ in Muratori’s _Italicarum Rerum
  Scriptores_, Tom. VI: Bent’s _Genoa_; and Dunlop’s _History of
  Fiction_, edited by H. Wilson, Vol. I, Supplementary Note on the
  Sangreal.

Footnote 14:

  ‘Pall Mall Gazette’ of June 23, 1868.

Footnote 15:

  ‘The Schoolmaster,’ by Roger Ascham; Book I. The Schoolmaster was
  published by his widow, in 1570.

Footnote 16:

             ‘Oh, may my lot grant such a friend who knows
             The art to crown with bays a poet’s brows,
             If ever in the coming time my lay
             Our native kings shall call again to-day,
             Shall call up Arthur, even in worlds below
             Preparing wars against the heathen foe;
             Or tell of that great fellowship renown’d
             The high-souled heroes of the Table Round,
             And break, if God his present aid affords,
             The Saxons’ serried bands with British swords.’

  It is curious to note that Milton with all his learning should, like
  Malory and Caxton, have spoken of the Britons as English, and the
  Saxons as foreigners—a popular misuse of names which still makes the
  Lowland Scotch complain if they are called English instead of
  British, though they are in fact more English than the English in
  language and in blood.

Footnote 17:

  ‘There be 2 Lordshipps lyenge not very far from _Ripon_ ... _Malory_
  hath _Hutton Coniers_. Thes Lands cam to their Aunciters by two
  Dowghtars, Heirs generall of that _Coniers_. _Malory_ hath another
  place caullyd _Highe Studly_, a litle from Fountaines.’ Leland’s
  Itinerary, viii. 2. p. 55. Hearne, 1712.

Footnote 18:

  These two dates are obligingly given me by G. W. Tomlinson, Esq.,
  Secretary of the Yorkshire Archæological Society.

Footnote 19:

  Noble’s Spanish Armada List, 1886, p. 42.

Footnote 20:

  Brown’s Genesis of the United States, 1890. Vol. I, p. 211; Vol. II,
  p. 940.

Footnote 21:

  Burton’s Description of Leicestershire, pp. 140, 262.

Footnote 22:

  Kirby’s Register of the Wardens, Fellows, and Scholars of Winchester,
  1888, quoted by Mr. L. Johnson in the Academy, September 20th, 1890.

Footnote 23:

  Le Morte Darthur, edited by H. Oskar Sommer, Ph.D. Vol. III, p. 335.

Footnote 24:

  ‘The Biography and Typography of William Caxton, England’s First
  Printer,’ by William Blades, 8vo, 1877, p. 22. In this, and in his
  larger work, ‘Life and Typography of William Caxton, England’s First
  Printer,’ 2 vols. 4to, 1861-1863, Mr. Blades has given a very learned
  and complete history of Caxton and his times so far as they relate to
  him.

Footnote 25:

              ‘like a circle in the water,
              Which never ceaseth to enlarge itself
              Till by broad spreading it do reach the bank.’

  See First part of King Henry VI, i. 2, and the Variorum notes thereon.

Footnote 26:

  Englishmen, who feel shame and sorrow for the loss of the only
  perfect first copy of our National Epic, may yet be glad to know it
  has an honoured place with our worthier kinsfolk across the Atlantic,
  in the rich library and museum of Mr. and Mrs. Abby Pope:

             ‘And, so sepulchred, in such pomp doth lie,
             That kings, for such a tomb, would wish to die.’

Footnote 27:

  Dibdin’s Typographical Antiquities, 1810, vol. i, pp. 242, 254.

Footnote 28:

  Dibdin’s Supplement to the Bibliotheca Spenceriana, vol. ii. p. 213;
  or Ædes Althorpianæ, vol. vi. p. 213. I would here express my thanks
  to Earl Spencer for sending to the British Museum for my use his
  Caxton, and his unique copy of Wynkyn de Worde’s first edition of
  Morte Darthur, as also for favouring me with details of information
  respecting the former; and to the Earl of Jersey for permitting me to
  examine his Caxton at Osterley.

Footnote 29:

  ‘Caxton followed the usage of the scribes in this particular; for,
  with one exception only, and at the very end of his career, where the
  title of the book is printed alone in the centre of the first page,
  his books appear without any title page whatever. Wynkyn de Worde
  adopted the use of title-pages immediately after the death of his
  master.’ Biography and Typography of William Caxton, England’s first
  printer, p. 45. By William Blades, 1877.

Footnote 30:

  As the passage is worth preserving I have given it at the end of the
  volume, Note A, p. 488.

Footnote 31:

  Vol. i, p. xxviii.

Footnote 32:

  Ibid. p. lviii.

Footnote 33:

  The pages are vol. i, p. 167, line 18, to p. 169, line 17; p. 275,
  third line from bottom, to p. 279, line 5 from bottom; vol. ii, p.
  202, line 13, to p. 204, line 14; p. 446, line 5, to end of 455.

Footnote 34:

  An account of these interpolations was given by me in the Athenæum of
  Sept. 7 and Dec. 10, 1867, and Feb. 10, 1868.

Footnote 35:

  Typographical Antiquities, by Ames and Herbert, 1785, vol. i, p. 61;
  Ibid. enlarged by Dibdin, 1810, vol. i, p. 253. The ‘Additions’ are
  at the end of vol. iii. of Herbert’s edition.

Footnote 36:

  Catalogus Bibl. Harleianæ, 1744, vol. iii, no. 372.

Footnote 37:

  See note B at the end of the volume, p. 488.

Footnote 38:

  Even the learned M.M. Gaston Paris and Ulrich, say, in reference to
  editions of Le Morte Darthur, ‘La plus commode à lire, parce que le
  langage y est discrètement rajeuni, est l’édition donnée chez
  Macmillan en 1868 par Sir Edw. Strachey.’

Footnote 39:

  Sybel’s History of the Crusades, English Translation, p. 11.

Footnote 40:

  For this distinction I am indebted to my friend the late Rev. F. D.
  Maurice, whose genius lights up every subject it approaches.

Footnote 41:

  Valiant.

Footnote 42:

  Having gone to find adventures in Prussia with the Teutonic knights
  who carried on war with the still Pagan Lithuania, he had been often
  placed at the head of the table above the like adventurers from other
  nations, in compliment to his especial merit.

Footnote 43:

  Ridden in arms.

Footnote 44:

  Praise.

Footnote 45:

  It appears from Morte Arthur, p. 474, that London was the proper
  place to go to, ‘to buy all manner of things that longed unto a
  wedding.’

Footnote 46:

  For facts my principal authorities—whose words I have frequently
  availed myself of—are Mills’s History of Chivalry, which alone
  almost exhausts the subject; Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Roman
  Empire; Godwin’s Life of Chaucer; Scott’s Essay on Chivalry; Lord
  Berner’s Froissart; and Southey’s Introduction to Amadis of Gaul.

Footnote 47:

  The division of the word indicates that the writer adopts the
  plausible notion that Sangreal means Real (or Royal) Blood; and no
  doubt in ancient as well as modern times the spelling and sound would
  suggest this meaning: but Roquefort shows clearly that the other is
  the proper explanation, both in etymology and (so to speak)
  historically. And Helinand, a monk of Fromont (A.D. 717), gives the
  Latin _Gradale_, which supplies the link between _Graal_ and _Crater_
  from which Roquefort derives the former. Helinand’s words are,—‘Hoc
  tempore, in Britannia, cuidam eremitae monstrata est mirabilis
  quaedam visio per angelum de sancto Josepho decurione nobili qui
  corpus Domini deposuit de cruce, et de catino illo vel paropside in
  quo Dominus coenavit cum discipulis suis; de qua ab eodem eremita
  descripta est historia quae dicitur _de Gradal_. _Gradalis_ autem vel
  _Gradale_ dicitur Gallicè scutella lata et aliquantulum profunda in
  qua pretiosae dapes, cum suo jure, divitibus solent apponi, et
  dicitur nomine _Graal_.... Hanc historiam latine scriptam invenire
  non potui, sed tantum Gallicè scripta habetur a quibusdam proceribus,
  nec facile ut aiunt tota inveniri potest.’ Helinandi Historia, quoted
  in L’Essai Historique et Literaire sur l’Abbaye de Fécamp par Leroux
  de Lincy, Rouen, 1840.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                          GLOSSARY AND INDEX.




The following Index includes a Glossary of words now obsolete, or used
with new meanings. Those proper names which in the text are spelt in
more than one way, or have different epithets, are repeated in each of
such forms, but without cross references. These have not been thought
necessary, as their absence can hardly lead to mistake as to the
identity of the names.


  Abbey of La Beale Adventure, 77.

  Abblasoure, place of, 359.

  Abel, 395, 396.

  Abelleus, 71.

  Ablamor of the Marsh, 68.

  Accolon of Gaul, Sir, 57;
    hunts with Arthur, 79;
    finds himself by a deep well, 80;
    gets Excalibur and nearly kills Arthur, 82;
    dies, 84;
  86.

  Adam, 395.

  Adder stings and produces a war, 478.

  Adtherp, Sir, 186, 187.

  Affrike, 100.

  Africa, 108.

  Agente, earldom of, 469.

  Aglavale, Sir, 259.

  Aglovale, Sir, 152, 281, 333, 362, 448;
    is slain, 459.

  Agravaine, Sir, 42, 56, 139, 150, 152;
    marries, 160;
  169, 248, 250, 261, 279, 290;
    is open mouthed, 412;
  421, 431, 434, 438, 448, 450;
    accuses Sir Launcelot and Guenever, 451;
    tries to capture Sir Launcelot and is slain, 454.

  Aguarus, 373.

  Agwisance of Ireland, king, 35, 36, 152, 154.

  Alakuke, lord, 104.

  Albans, St., 28.

  Alexander, 108.

  Alexandria, 108.

  Alice La Beale Pilgrim, 273.

  Aliduke, Sir, 118, 413, 421.

  Aligement, alleviation, 390.

  Alis le Beale Pilgrim, dame, 455.

  Alisander le Orphelin, 268, 270, 273, 422, 448.

  Alisander the mighty conqueror, 467.

  Alisandrie, country of, 100.

  Allardin of the Isles, 67.

  Allegiance, alleviation, 43.

  Allein, 246.

  Allhallowmas, 29, 33.

  Almain, 100, 106, 107.

  Almerie, cupboard, 411.

  Almesbury, 481, 484. See Introduction, p. xviii.

  Alphegus, Sir, 446.

  Alther, of us all, 84.

  Amant, 245, 251.

  Ambage, country of, 100.

  Ambler, 263.

  And, if, 142.

  Andred, Sir, 188, 190, 213, 264, 449.

  Andret, Sir, 174.

  Andrew, Sir, 232.

  Anglides (prince Boudwin’s wife), 267.

  Anguish of Ireland, king, 164, 168, 171, 177, 179, 181, 184, 419, 434.

  Anguish of Scotland, king, 99.

  Anguissance of Ireland, king, 448.

  Aniause, king, 382, 383, 387.

  Anjou, duke of, 469.

  Annecians, 40.

  Annowre (a sorceress), 209.

  Ansirus, duke (the pilgrim), 273.

  Antemes, 41.

  Anwick, 486.

  Arabe, mount of, 103.

  Arabie, 100.

  Arbray, castle of, 283.

  Archade, 277.

  Archbishop of Canterbury, 28, 30.

  Aretted, reckoned, 1.

  Arguis, Sir, 264.

  Argustus, 377.

  Aries (the cowherd), 65.

  Aries le Vaysher, 248.

  Aristance, Sir, 282.

  Aristause, earl, 448.

  Arminak, earl of, 469.

  Arnold de Breusse, 139, 149.

  Arnold, Sir, 152.

  Arrage, country of, 100.

  Arrok de Grevant, Sir, 449.

  Arrouse, earl, 277.

  Arroy, country and forest of, 89.

  Arthur is born, 27;
    pulls the sword out of the stone, 29;
    made king, 30;
    fights, 32;
  35, 36, 39;
    falls in love, 41;
    first sees Guenever, 41;
    dreams a dream, 42;
    wants the quest, 43;
    is made known to Igraine, 44;
    fights, 46;
    gets a sword, 47;
    53;
    fights Nero, 56;
    is sick, 57;
    loves Guenever, 64;
    marries, 66;
  74;
    is warned by Merlin to keep his sword and scabbard, 75;
    fights with five kings, 77;
    rides his horse to death, 79;
    finds himself in prison, 79;
    fights Sir Accolon, and is nearly killed, 81;
    goes to an abbey and recovers, 84;
    follows his sister for the scabbard, 86;
  95;
    Roman Emperor sends to him for tribute, 98;
    his splendour, 100;
    ordains two governors to act while he goes to war with the Emperor
       of Rome, 101;
    dreams of an encounter between a boar and a dragon, _ib._;
    giant crushes his ribs, 103;
    embraces his knights after battle, 105;
    crowned at Rome by the Pope, 110;
  116, 120, 127, 133, 135, 137, 139, 145, 148;
    holds a tournament at Avilion, 152;
  156, 161, 167, 177, 187, 196;
    justs with Sir Lamorak, 208;
    cuts off the head of the Lady, 210;
  223;
    fights, 226;
  228, 236;
    fights Sir Tristram, 238;
  243, 251, 256, 262, 274, 279;
    cries a just, 286;
    is at Lonazep, 303;
    justs with Sir Dinadan, 305;
    visits Sir Tristram, 315;
  330;
    Sir Launcelot returns to him, 344;
    sees marvels, 350;
    glad to see the remnant of his knights, 411;
  415;
    holds a tourney at Winchester, 420;
  425;
    justs, 434;
  449;
    hears the charge against Guenever, 452;
    faints, 459;
    lays siege to Joyous Gard, 461;
    goes to war with Sir Launcelot, 470;
    his life is war and strife, 475;
    returns to Dover and fights, 476;
    has a dream, 477;
    kills Sir Mordred, 479;
    received by three queens in a barge, 480.

  Arundel, castle of, 268.

  Asia, 100.

  Assoil, absolve, 365.

  Assotted, besotted, doting, 75, 274.

  Astamore, Sir, 448, 452.

  Astlabor, king, 318, 320.

  Astolat (town of Gilford), 419.

  Astomore, Sir, 413.

  Astonied, stunned, 117, 123.

  Attaint, fatigued, exhausted, 384.

  Avail, lower, 110.

  Avaunt, boast, 447.

  Avelion, Avelon, the Isle of Apples, on which Glastonbury stood, 49.

  Aventer, couch spear, 62.

  Avilion, Isle of, 151, 152;
    vale of, 480.

  Avoid quit leave, 103.

  Awk, backward, 182.


  Babylon, 410.

  Bachelors, knights, 37.

  Bagdemagus, king, 78, 114, 116, 128, 152, 169, 275;
    nearly killed, 355;
  405, 470.

  Balan, 42, 53, 57;
    is slain, 62.

  Balin le Savage, 42, 49, 52, 57;
    slays Garlon, 59;
    is slain, 62;
  351.

  Bamborow, 486.

  Ban of Benwick, king, 32, 38, 41, 75, 224.

  Bandes, king, 279.

  Baptism, 280.

  Barant le Apres, Sir, called king with the hundred knights, 448.

  Barbers, 107.

  Barbican, 103;
    an outwork to defend the gate of a castle, 156.

  Barflete (in Flanders), 101.

  Barget, a little barge, 431.

  Barham Down, near Canterbury, 477.
    Mr. Wright says it is the site of an Anglo-Saxon cemetery, which,
       no doubt, suggested that a battle had been fought there.

  Baronage, 265.

  Barony, 96, 450.

  Basdemegus, 57.

  Battle, 264.

  Battles, armies, battalions, 105, 265.

  Baudwin of Britain, Sir, 30, 31, 101;
    is a surgeon, 423;
  428.

  Bayonne, 469.

  Beale Isould, 101.

  Beale-Valet, castle of, 262.

  Beame, trumpet, 478.

  Bearn, earl of, 469.

  Beaumains (Fair-hands), 129;
    is called a kitchen-boy, 135;
  140;
    beats the red knight of the red lawns, 143;
  148.

  Beaume (Bayonne), 469.

  Bedegraine, forest of, 34;
    castle of, 35;
  41;
    battle of, 42.

  Bedivere, Sir, 102, 103, 152, 421, 434, 448, 478;
    throws Excalibur into the water, 480;
    finds where Arthur is buried, 481;
    meets with Sir Launcelot, 484;
    is an hermit, 487.

  Bee, ring, bracelet, or other ornament, 159.

  Behest, promise, 209.

  Behight, promise, 411.

  Behote, promise, 168.

  Belias le Orgulous, Sir, is slain, 459.

  Belinus, king of Britain, 99.

  Bellangere (a constable), 268.

  Bellangere le Orgulous, Sir, 449.

  Bellaus, 40.

  Bellengerus le Beuse, 274, 421, 448, 455, 468.

  Belleus, Sir, 115;
    wounded by Launcelot, 115;
  128.

  Belliance le Orgulous, Sir, 198.

  Bellias of Flanders, 37.

  Bendelaine, Sir, 157.

  Benoye, country of, 274, 343.

  Benwick,
    city of, 33;
  34, 41;
    land of, 75;
    some call it Bayonne, 469;
  471.

  Berel, Sir, 104.

  Berluse, Sir, 247.

  Bernard of Astolat, Sir, 419, 420, 429.

  Berrant le Apres, king, 295.

  Bersules, Sir, 245, 251.

  Bertelot, Sir, 338.

  Bery, apparently meant for Bere, bier, or bear, 385.

  Besaunt, a gold coin first coined at Byzantium, 95, 481.

  Beseen, adorned, clothed, 51.

  Bestad, Bested, beset, 476.

  Betaught, recommended, 359.

  Betid, happened, was; or, beat, 141, 332.

  Bishop, the first, 407.

  Black, all, 133.

  Blamore de Ganis, Sir, 139, 173, 176, 179, 224, 230, 277, 413, 421,
     448;
    made a duke, 469;
  484.

  Bleise, 41.

  Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir, 38, 139, 154, 173, 175, 177, 179, 199, 208,
     223, 231, 275, 278, 287, 317, 413, 421, 435, 448;
    made a duke, 469;
  484.

  Bliant, Sir, 338;
    castle of, 341.

  Bloias de la Flandres, 37.

  Blois de la Case, 40.

  Board, deck, 370.

  Bobart le Cure Hardy, Sir, Arthur’s son, 449.

  Bole, trunk of a tree, 126.

  Book, swear upon a, 230, 259.

  Boot, help, 162.

  Borre, 41.

  Bors de Ganis, Sir, 89, 103, 105, 139, 152, 154, 218, 230, 328;
    sees a dragon, 330;
  333, 343, 381;
    joins in the quest, 383;
  387, 390, 392, 397, 401, 407;
    has his adventures chronicled, 411;
  413, 421;
    finds Sir Launcelot ill, 427;
  435, 448;
    is crowned, 469;
  482.

  Bors of Gaul, king, 32, 38, 41.

  Boudwin, Sir, 267.

  Brabant, 107.

  Brachet, a small scenting dog, 66, 70, 79, 123, 165, 215.

  Bragwaine, dame, 181, 185, 191, 205, 215, 220, 225, 230.

  Braid, hastiness, 472.

  Brain-pan, 167, 184.

  Brandegore, king, 343.

  Brandegoris of Stranggore, king, 35, 56.

  Brandel, Sir, 118.

  Brandiles, Sir, 152, 205, 209, 248, 250, 256, 413, 421, 431, 438, 448;
    is slain, 459.

  Brasias, Sir, 413;
    a hermit, 415.

  Brast, brake, 117.

  Brastias, Sir, 26, 27, 28, 30, 33, 36, 433.

  Brawn, muscular part of the hand, palm, 443.

  Brenius, king of Britain, 99.

  Breunor, Sir, 181.

  Breuse Saunce Pité, Sir, 178, 201, 220, 230, 235, 239, 261, 270, 277,
     287, 301, 339.

  Brewnor le Noire, Sir, 129, 197;
    is La Cote Male Taile, 205.

  Brian de Listinoise, Sir, 118, 448.

  Brian of the Forest, 67.

  Brian of the Isles, 73, 152, 202, 205.

  Briant, 37.

  Briant de la Forest Savage, 40.

  Briant of North Wales, Sir, 222.

  Bridge, of iron and steel, 63.

  Brim, furious, 464.

  Brisen, dame, 327, 328, 331, 340.

  Britain, 106;
    Petit, 237;
    Great, 356;
    people Christianized, _ib._

  Britany, country of, 102;
    duchess of, _ib._, 151;
  161, 168, 191, 205.

  Britons, 38;
    full of pride and boast, 103;
  105.

  Broche, split, pierce, 39.

  Bromel la Pleche, Sir, 328.

  Browis, broth, pottage, 129.

  Bruin, le Noire, Sir, 448.

  Buffet, blow, 72, 73, 82.

  Bulls from the Pope, 464.

  Bur, an iron ring on the spear, to prevent the hand slipping, 479.

  Burbling, bubbling, 240.

  Burgen, bud, blossom, 451.

  Burgoyne, 100, 103.

  Bushment, surprise party (embushment, 34), 103, 110.


  Cador of Cornwall, Sir, 99, 104.

  Cain, 395.

  Calabre, country of, 100.

  Caliburn (one of the strongest of Pavie), 104.

  Calidone, 393.

  Cambenet, duke of, 35, 38.

  Cambines, duke, 282.

  Cameliard, country of, 41, 64, 270.

  Camelot, see Introduction, p. xvi., 49, 53, 56, 63, 66, 68, 70, 73,
     75, 77, 79, 84, 98, 177, 203;
    river of, 239;
  242, 246, 251, 253, 257, 261, 317, 330, 344, 348, 352, 381, 405, 411,
     418.

  Candlemas, 30.

  Canterbury, bishop of, 65;
    Mordred crowned here, 474;
    bishop of, defies Mordred, 475;
  477;
    buries Arthur, 481;
    bishop of, 484;
  485, 487.

  Capadoce, country of, 100.

  Carados, king of, 31, 35, 37, 38.

  Carados, Sir, 92, 118, 152, 177, 179, 184, 204, 219, 224, 226, 270,
     448.

  Carados of Scotland, king, 448.

  Carbonek, castle of, 366, 392, 404, 407.

  Car de Gomeret, 270.

  Cardican, castle of, 335.

  Cardiff, captain of, 107;
    place, 209;
    take ship at, 469;
  470.

  Cardoile, 76.

  Cardoile, the Anglo-Norman form of Carlisle, 76.
    See Introduction, p. xv.

  Cardok, Sir, 448.

  Cardol, 33.

  Carlion, see Introduction, p. xv., 30, 35, 42, 43, 48, 130, 148, 262.

  Carlisle, 347, 447, 450, 458, 464, 467.

  Carrack, ship, 476.

  Carteloise, castle of, 397.

  Case, castle of, 327.

  Cast, a portion or set of loaves baked together, 140.

  Castle Blank, 338.

  Castor, Sir, 340.

  Cateland, country of, 100.

  Caulas, 40.

  Caxton’s preface, 1.

  Cayer, 100.

  Cered, waxed, 485.

  Chafe, heat, 106.

  Chaflet, platform, 477.

  Chaleins of Clarance, duke, 277, 281, 434, 448.

  Champayne, 103.

  Chariot, castle, 113.

  Chestelaine, Sir, 109.

  Child, squire, or young knight, 109, 392.

  Chivalry, flower of, 76.

  Christ, Lord Jesus, 60, 352, 394.

  Christendom, 75, 83, 87, 99, 299, 395, 464.

  Christmas, 28.

  Church, 28, 395.

  Churl, peasant, boor, 120.

  Clariance de la Forest Savage, 36.

  Clariance of Northumberland, king, 35, 36, 448.

  Clarisin, the countess, 110.

  Clarrus of Cleremont, Sir, 448, 455, 469, 484, 487.

  Claudas, king, 32, 34, 41, 75, 100, 330, 470.

  Claudine, 409.

  Clegis, Sir, 107, 448.

  Clegis of Sadok, Sir, 455, 469.

  Cleped, called, 409.

  Cleremond, Sir, 107.

  Cloddrus, Sir, 448.

  Cloth of gold, 33.

  Coasted, kept at the side, in a parallel course, 433.

  Cogge, cock, i.e. cock-boat, 101.

  Cognisance, badge, mark of distinction, 241, 302.

  Colgrevance, Sir, 218, 389, 449, 452.

  Colgrevaunce de Gorre, Sir, 40.

  Collibe, sea of, 392.

  Cologne, 100.

  Colombe, 54, 243.

  Comange, earl of, 469.

  Commonalty, 228.

  Commons, 30, 81;
    children of, 102.

  Constantine, son of queen Heleine, 99;
    country of, 102.

  Constantine, Sir (Sir Cador’s son).
    Arthur wishes him to be his heir, 101, 448;
    was chosen king after Arthur, 487.

  Corbin,
    bridge of, 326;
  330;
    city of, 340.

  Corneus, duke, 33.

  Cornwall, 25, 49, 75, 96, 151, 161, 163, 165, 174, 177, 181, 193,
     205, 232, 249, 259, 262, 266, 268, 286, 478.

  Coronation, 30.

  Corsabrin, Sir, 279.

  Courtelage, court-yard, or garden, 94, 121, 379.

  Covin, deceit, plot, 360.

  Cradelmas, king, 35, 37.

  Cradelment of North Wales, king, 37.

  Croft, vault, 406.

  Crosselme, Sir, 448.

  Curselaine, Sir, 452.

  Cyprus, 100.


  Daffish, foolish, 236.

  Dagonet, Sir (Arthur’s fool), 199, 212, 249, 256.

  Dalan, 261.

  Damas, Sir, 79, 81, 459.

  Damaske, country of, 100.

  Damiete, 100.

  Daname, Sir, 230.

  Darras, Sir, 229, 230, 449.

  David, 395.

  Debate, strife, 459.

  Debonair, courteous, 394.

  Defoil, trample under foot, overcome, 200.

  Degrane, Sance Vilany, Sir, 449.

  Delectable Isle, 297.

  Deliverly, actively, 473.

  Denmark, king of, 76, 357.

  Depart, part, 483.

  De Vance, lady, 55.

  Devise, look carefully at, 402.

  Devoir, knightly duty, 149, 469.

  Diamond, justed for daily, 432.

  Dight, dressed, 79.

  Dinadan, Sir, 129, 152, 216, 227, 246, 253, 257, 261, 276, 280;
    forced into woman’s garment, 282;
    best jester, 290;
  317, 448.

  Dinant, Sir, 214.

  Dinas, Sir, 153, 167, 188, 215, 232, 263, 268;
    rises against king Mark, 284;
  448, 455, 469.

  Disworship, disgrace, 67.

  Dodinas le Savage, Sir, 96, 154, 169, 175, 228, 241, 302, 421, 438,
     448.

  Dole, grief, 45.

  Dolphine, 108.

  Dornar, Sir, 259.

  Dornard, Sir, 281.

  Dover, 34, 110, 475;
    castle, 477, 482, 484.

  Dragon (description of), 101;
    spitting fire, 326.

  Draughts, apparently recesses parted off from the main room, 442.

  Dress, turn towards, address, 402.

  Driant, Sir, 188, 218, 448;
    is slain, 459.

  Dromon, a vessel of war, 101.

  Duresse, bondage, 357.

  Durnore, Sir, 448.

  Dutchmen, duke of, 109.

  Dwarf, attendant, 53, 69, 80, 90.

  Dwine, dwindle, 485.


  Easter, 30.

  Eastland, queen of, 113.

  Ebel, Sir, 296, 300.

  Ector, Sir,
    takes charge of the infant Arthur, 27;
  44.

  Ector de Maris, Sir, 112, 118, 123, 127, 139, 152, 177, 210, 224, 230,
    237, 258, 275, 278, 287, 316, 333;
    is healed by the Sancgreal, 337;
  342, 377, 405, 412, 421, 435, 448;
    is crowned, 469;
  484;
    finds Sir Launcelot dead, 486.

  Edward of Carnarvan, Sir, 448.

  Edward of Orkney, Sir, 304, 449.

  Edward of the Red Castle, Sir, 96.

  Edward the Fourth, 487.

  Eft, again, 480.

  Eftures, passages, 444.

  Egglame, 47.

  Egypt, 100;
    king of, 106.

  Elaine (king Ban’s wife), 75.

  Elaine (king Nentres’ wife), 27.

  Elaine (king Pelles’ daughter), 327;
    sees Sir Launcelot mad, 340;
  344, 375;
    is dead, 405.

  Elaine le Blank, 420;
    seeks Sir Launcelot, 425;
    dies for Sir Launcelot and is put in a barget, 431;
    the letter is taken from her dead hand, 432.

  Elamie, country of, 100.

  Eleine, slew herself, 74.

  Elian le Blank, 382.

  Elias, Sir (a captain), 263, 264;
    fights Sir Tristram, 266.

  Elias de Gomeret, 270.

  Eliazar, 377, 407.

  Eliot (an harper), 263, 267.

  Elis la Noire, 277.

  Elise, Sir, 279.

  Elizabeth, queen, 161, 165.

  Emerause, 40.

  Enchafe, heat, 372.

  Enchantress, 327.

  Eneled, anointed (with extreme unction), 486.

  England, 27, 31, 49, 97, 111, 151, 168, 177, 191, 283, 330, 333, 341,
     447;
    writs sent, 461;
  464.

  Englishmen, 475.

  Epinegris, 289.

  Epinogrus, Sir, 152, 301, 318, 421, 449.

  Erminide, Sir, 449.

  Erst, before, 254.

  Ertaine, country of, 100.

  Ertanax (a fish), 393.

  Estates, 87, 228, 281.

  Estorause, king, 409.

  Estrake, earl of, 469.

  Estsex, Essex, 477.

  Ethelwold, Sir, 109.

  Ethiope, king of, 106.

  Ettard, 91, 94.

  Eufrates, flood of, 393.

  Euphrates, river of, 100.

  Europe, 100.

  Eustace of Cambenet, duke, 36.

  Evangelists, 26, 74, 399.

  Eve, 395.

  Evelake, king, 356, 357, 367, 375.

  Ewaine le Blanchemains, Sir, 27, 57.

  Excalibur (Cut-steel), 32, 51, 57;
    sent to Sir Accolon, 80;
  81, 105;
    is thrown into the water, 479.


  Faramon of France, king, 165.

  Feldenak, Sir, 104.

  Felelolie, dame, 447, 450.

  Fellowship, 177, 178, 191, 258, 459.

  Felot of Langduk, Sir, 70.

  Felot of Listinoise, Sir, 96.

  Ferant of Spain, Sir, 109.

  Fergus, earl, 95, 212.

  Fergus, Sir, 262, 268, 448.

  Fewter, put spear in the rest, 107.

  Fiend, comes out of a tomb, 357, 369;
    chief one, 372.

  Fig tree cursed by our Lord, 365.

  Flacket, flask, 181.

  Flanders, 100, 107.

  Flannedrius, 40.

  Florence, Sir, 107, 109, 448, 452.

  Floridas, Sir, 109, 110.

  Floris, Sir, 110.

  Foining, push in fencing, 131, 136, 142.

  Foise, earl of, 469.

  Footmen, 34, 39.

  Fordo, undo, 74.

  Forthdays, late in the day, 455.

  Forthink, grieve, 379;
    repent, 74.

  Foster, forester, 381.

  Four Stones, castle of, 53.

  France, 32, 100, 102;
    marshal of, 103;
  161, 163, 168, 330;
    lords of, 469.

  Frol of the Out Isles, Sir, 195.


  Gad, spike or knob of iron or steel, 373.

  Gahalantine, Sir, 448;
    made a duke, 469;
  484.

  Gahalatine, Sir, 115, 116, 128.

  Gaheris, Sir, 42, 56, 66, 87, 117, 127, 139, 150, 152, 160, 169, 197,
     213, 223, 227, 231, 260, 277, 279, 281, 290, 334, 413, 421, 434,
     448;
    is slain, 459.

  Gainest, readiest, 145.

  Gainus, Sir, 103.

  Galacie, country of, 100.

  Galagars, Sir, chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78.

  Galahad, Sir, 60, 63, 75, 183, 325;
    is born, 328;
    is made a knight, 349;
    sits in the siege perilous, 350;
    his lineage, 352;
    takes the white shield, 355;
    attacks the Castle of Maidens, 360;
    strikes down his father, 362;
  375, 381, 397;
    meets Sir Launcelot on board ship, 402;
    goes in quest of the Sancgreal, 402;
    dies, 410.

  Galahalt, Sir, 257, 274;
    hates fish, 281;
    of the Long Isles, 293;
  419, 424, 434, 448.

  Galahault, Sir, 152.

  Galapas (a giant), 105.

  Galardoun, 241.

  Galatine (Sir Gawaine’s good sword), 104, 107.

  Galihodin, Sir, 152, 154, 282, 301, 413, 421, 435, 448;
    is made a duke, 469;
  484.

  Galihud, Sir, 152, 154, 230, 413, 421, 435;
    made an earl, 469;
  484.

  Galind, Sir, 118.

  Galiodin, 230.

  Galleron of Galway, Sir, 246, 421, 448.

  Ganis, abbey and castle of, 231.

  Garaunt, 270.

  Gareth of Orkney, Sir (Beaumains), 42;
  56, 131, 145, 150, 152, 158, 292, 296, 303, 317, 361, 413;
    smites down thirty knights, 435;
  448;
    is slain, 459.

  Garlon, 58.

  Garlot, land of, 27.

  Garnish of the Mount, 60.

  Gaul, 34, 375.

  Gaunter, Sir, 122, 152.

  Gautere, Sir, 448;
    is slain, 459.

  Gawaine, Sir, 27, 35.

  Gawaine, Sir, (Arthur’s nephew), 42, 56, 58, 63;
    Arthur promises to make him a knight, 65;
    follows the hart, 67;
    kills a lady, 69;
  75, 77;
    chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;
    fights Sir Marhaus, 88;
  91, 95, 96;
    smites off Sir Gainus’ head, 103;
  107;
    fights with Sir Priamus, 108;
  116, 123, 125, 128, 139, 145, 149, 152, 154, 158, 169, 184, 196, 219,
     229;
    is beaten by Sir Lamorak, 258;
  261, 279, 288, 302, 326, 333;
    tries to pull the sword out, 350;
    takes up the quest of the holy Graile, 353;
  361, 377, 405, 413, 434, 448;
    asks Arthur not to be hasty in burning Guenever, 457;
    loses his brothers, 460;
    will not forgive Sir Launcelot, 467;
    fights, 473;
    writes to Sir Launcelot, and dies, 476.

  Gawdelin, Sir, 334.

  Genoese warriors, 100.

  Gerfalcon, the finest kind of hawk, 96.

  Gerin, Sir, 280.

  Gerine le Grose, 272.

  Germany, 106.

  Gest, deed, story, 123.

  Gherard, Sir, 109.

  Gherard de Breusse, 139, 149.

  Ghost, Holy, 352, 364, 381, 395.

  Giant of St. Michael’s Mount; sits at supper gnawing a man’s limbs,
     twelve children are being broached on spits, 102;
    is killed by Arthur, 103.

  Gilbert, Sir, 124, 125.

  Gilford, 419.

  Gillemere, Sir, 448;
    is slain, 459.

  Gilmere, Sir, 122.

  Gingalin, Sir, 211, 448, 452.

  Gisarm, two-edged battle-axe, 96.

  Glaive, a long blade at the end of a lance, a sword, 70.

  Glasting, 287. See Questing.

  Glastonbury, 475, 481, 484. See Introduction, p. xviii.

  Glatisant (the questing beast), 207, 250, 256, 286, 299;
    is followed by Sir Palamides, 348.

  Gobbets, lumps, 148.

  God, 326.

  Godard, garrison of, 108.

  Godelake, Sir, 152.

  Goneries, Sir, 275.

  Goodewin, Sir, 334.

  Goothe, castle of, 366.

  Gore, land of, 27, 35, 86, 113, 152, 285, 406.

  Gouvernail (Sir Tristram’s tutor), 163, 166, 174, 178, 187, 190, 205,
     220, 241.

  Graale, holy, 327;
    its entrance into the hall, 352;
  401.
    See Sangreal.

  Gracian, 34.

  Graciens le Castlein, 40.

  Gramercy (written Grant mercy, 418);
    great thanks, 71.

  Grastian, 34.

  Gratian, 41.

  Gree, degree, prize, 220.

  Greece, Hart of, a fat deer, 323.

  Greece, 100.

  Griflet, Sir, 33, 36.

  Griflet, le Fise de Dieu, Sir, 40, 45, 76;
    is chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;
  169, 249, 303, 362, 421, 435, 448;
    is slain, 459.

  Gringamore, Sir, 144, 147, 151.

  Grip, earl, 191.

  Gromere, Sir, 448.

  Gromore Somir Joure, Sir, 452.

  Grummore Grummursum, Sir, 152.

  Guenever, 41, 64;
    is married, 66;
  74;
    goes with Arthur to battle, 76;
  85;
    left in care of two governors by Arthur, 101;
  102;
    meets Arthur at Sandwich, 111;
  113, 119, 121, 122, 125, 127, 153, 187, 192, 197, 207, 225, 236, 253,
      262, 274, 278;
    falls with laughter, 282;
  285, 318, 327, 330;
    is angry with Sir Launcelot, 332;
    spends £20,000 to find Sir Launcelot, 344;
    sorrows over the separation of the Round Table Knights, 353;
    complains to Sir Launcelot, 412;
    is suspected of poisoning, 413;
    the trial, 416;
    is angry, 426;
    was a true lover, 437;
    goes a-Maying, 437;
    is captured, 438;
    rescued by Sir Launcelot, 441;
    sees Sir Launcelot at night, 443;
    wants her accuser killed, 446;
    is watched, 450;
    led out for judgment, 458;
    rescued by Sir Launcelot, 459;
    is given back to Arthur, 468;
    Sir Mordred tries to wed her, 474;
    makes herself a nun, 481;
    is found by Sir Launcelot in a nunnery, 483;
    dies and is buried, 485.

  Guerdonless, without reward, 323.

  Guiart le Petite, Sir, 448.

  Guienne, king of, 469.

  Gumret le Petit, 169.

  Guy, Sir, 270.

  Guynas de Bloy, 40.

  Gwenbaus, 34.

  Gwimiart de Bloi, 36.

  Gwinas, Sir, 37.


  Haberjon, see Hauberk. When the ‘chausses’ or mail leggings were
     united with the Hauberk the whole was called an Haberjon, 385.

  Hackneys, 34, 178, 229.

  Hair, hair-shirt, 373.

  Hale and how! pull ho! the cry of sailors, 141.

  Halp, Holp, helped, 95.

  Halse, embrace, 178.

  Handfast, betrothed, 272.

  Handsel, payment, earnest-money, 174.

  Hard Rock, castle of, 235.

  Harlon, king, 377.

  Harness, armour, 111.

  Harnessed, furnished, set, 189.

  Harry le Fise Lake, Sir, 287, 449, 455.

  Harsouse le Berbuse, 273.

  Hart, white, 66, 399.

  Harvis de les Marches, 273.

  Hauberk, coat or frock of mail, made of plates or chain-links sewn
     upon leather, 39.

  Haut, high, noble, 183.

  Hebes le Renoumes, Sir, 169, 448, 455, 469.

  Hectimere, Sir, 448.

  Hector, 108, 467.

  Helake, Sir, 299.

  Heleine, queen, 99.

  Helin le Blank, 343, 344.

  Helior le Preuse, Sir, 319.

  Helius, Sir, murders King Hermance, 297, 299.

  Hellaine le Blank, Sir, 448.

  Hellawes (the sorceress), 125.

  Hellias le Grose, 375.

  Hemison, Sir, 236;
    dies, 237.

  Herawd, lord, 104.

  Herb, holy, 78.

  Heringdale, lord, 104.

  Herlews le Berbeus, 58.

  Hermance of the Red City, king, 294, 297, 449.

  Hermel, duke, 60.

  Hermind, Sir, 298;
    is slain, 459.

  Hermits, who they were, 424.

  Hermonil, country of, 100.

  Hernox, earl, 398.

  Hervin, 388.

  Hervis de Revel, Sir, 56;
    chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78.

  Hervise de la Forest Savage, Sir, 449.

  Hew de la Montaine, 222.

  Hewgon, Sir, 273.

  Hight, was called, 25.

  Ho! halt! the word for stopping a tournament, 40, 278.

  Holt, a hill with a grove on it, 480.
    The ‘two holts hoar’ are described as ‘two cliffs,’ 484;
  107.

  Holts, 107.

  Hontzlake of Wentland, 72.

  Horse-litter, 27, 55, 272.

  Houselled, To be, to receive the sacrament, 260.

  Hove, hover, stand, 97.

  Howell, Sir, Duke of Brittany (Arthur’s cousin), 102, 162, 191, 195,
     434.

  Hue of the Red Castle, Sir, 96.

  Humber, 76, 77;
    bank, 294;
  297.

  Hungary, land of, 446.

  Huntress, shoots Sir Launcelot, 433, 436.

  Hurlame, king, 393.

  Hurtle, dash, 138.


  Ider, Sir, 99.

  Idres of Cornwall, king, 35, 36, 38, 42.

  Idrus, Sir, 104.

  Igraine, 25, 26, 27, 28, 31, 42, 43, 120.

  Inde, 100.

  Inde, dark blue, 38, 137.

  Intermeddle, intermix, 404.

  Ireland, 31, 48;
    king of, 76;
  95, 106, 151, 161;
    queen of, 164;
  166, 168;
    king accused of treason, 177;
  179, 246, 286.

  Ironside, Sir (the red knight of the red lawns), 149, 151;
    is made a knight of the Table Round, 160;
  413, 438, 449.

  Isle of Longtainse, king of the, 76.

  Isoud la Blanche Mains, 191, 194, 237.

  Israel, people of, 402.

  Italy, 100.


  Jagent, castle of, 246.

  Jerusalem, 273, 284, 365.

  Jesseraunt, a sort of cuirass, of back and breast plates, 31.

  Jesus, 28.

  Jonas, 375.

  Jordanus, Sir, 26, (Jordans) 27.

  Joseph of Arimathea, 60, 326, 350, 356, 375, 406.

  Joshua, duke, 108, 396.

  Journey, day’s work, 268.

  Joyous Gard, castle of, 177, 285, 301, 317, 321, 325, 345, 456;
    Guenever is taken to, 459;
    is besieged, 461;
    now Dolorous Gard, 468;
    some say it was Anwick, and some Bamborow, 486.
    See Introduction, p. xviii.

  Joyous Isle, 342.

  Jubance (a giant), 109.

  Judgment, alike for rich and poor, 416.

  Julius Cesar, 98.


  Kainus le Strange, Sir, 315.

  Kay, Sir, 29, 30, 34, 36, 56;
    kills two kings, 77;
    is chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;
    smites off the giant’s head, 103;
  105, 118;
    life saved by Sir Launcelot, 121;
  123, 127, 129, 131, 152, 169, 205, 209, 219, 232, 243, 316, 336, 349,
     413, 421, 431, 448.

  Kay de Stranges, Sir, 448;
    is slain, 459.

  Kehydius, Sir (king Howel’s son), 191, 192, 194, 205, 211.

  Kent, 477, 478.

  King, 30, 233.

  Kink-Kenadon, castle of, 128, 159.

  Knave, 108.

  Knight (how made), 65;
    errant, 84;
  89, 94, 147, 206, 233, 280.


  La Beale Isoud, 168, 170, 179, 184, 186, 190, 192, 205, 211, 215,
     225, 232, 236, 251, 253, 262, 266, 268;
    loses Sir Tristram, 283;
    leaves her husband, 285;
    jokes Sir Dinadan, 290;
  304;
    calls Sir Palamides a felon, 314;
  325, 345, 449.

  La Beale Regard, castle of, 272.

  La Cote Male Taile, 129, 152, 154;
    the evil-shapen coat, 197;
  203;
    marries, 205;
  413.

  Labor, king, 393.

  Ladinas, 34.

  Ladinas de la Rouse, 40.

  Ladinas of the Forest Savage, Sir, 438.

  Ladyday, 269.

  Lake, king of the, 78.

  Lake, lady of the, 47, 51;
    buried, 52;
  78, 210, 448.

  Lambaile, earl of, 282, 448.

  Lambegus, Sir, 186, 187, 190, 448;
    is slain, 459.

  Lambeth, 440.

  Lamerake of Wales, 47.

  Lamiel of Cardiff, Sir, 449.

  Lamorak de Galis, Sir, 135, 139, 140, 152, 160, 188, 190, 192, 194,
     197, 206, 226, 245;
    fights Sir Palamides, 256;
    justs, 258;
  278, 288;
    how he was murdered, 293;
  334, 413, 435, 448.

  Lanceor, Sir, 52, 54, 242.

  Landes, earl of the, 469.

  Langedok, duke of, 469.

  Lardans, 37.

  Largesse, bounty, 308.

  Laton, a mixed metal, like brass, 57.

  Launcelot de Lake, Sir, 54, 63, 64, 75, 89, 98, 99, 101, 104;
    is the first knight, 111;
    seeks Sir Lionel, 116;
    fights Sir Turquine, 117;
    slays two giants, 120;
    overthrows four knights, 123;
    climbs a tree for a falcon, 126;
  129, 135, 139, 149, 152, 161, 164, 170, 176, 184, 197, 201, 208, 222;
    justs with Sir Tristram, 227;
  230, 237, 243;
    fetches king Mark, 252;
  258, 270, 274, 278;
    justs with Sir Tristram, 305;
  313;
    is pulled from his horse, 316;
  325;
    sees Elaine 327;
    ran mad two years, 332;
    healed by Sancgreal, 340;
    returns to Arthur’s court, 344;
    not the best knight, 352;
    his lineage, 352;
    is felled by his son, 362;
    hindered by his sin from doing holy things, 363;
    seeks the adventures of the Sancgreal, 374;
    meets his son on board ship, 402;
  411;
    is forbidden the court by Guenever, 412;
    fights for the queen, 417;
    watched day and night by Elaine, 426;
    is like a corpse, 428;
    buries Elaine, and is in the queen’s favour again, 432;
    smites down fifty knights, 435;
    goes to Guenever’s relief, 440;
    falls into a trap, 444;
    slays Sir Meliagrance, 446;
    heals Sir Urre, 450;
    found in the queen’s chamber, 453;
    fights against Arthur and takes his queen, 459;
    is besieged, 461;
    pleads his cause before Arthur, 465;
    goes to France, and rewards his fellowship, 469;
    fights with Sir Gawaine, 473;
    returns to England, and finds Guenever in a nunnery, 482;
    buries Guenever, and why he faints, 485;
    his character, 486;
    is buried, 487.

  Laurel, dame, 160.

  Lavaine, Sir, 420, 430;
    smites Arthur to the earth, 435;
  443;
    made a knight of the Table Round, 450;
  455, 468, 469.

  Lawn, an open space in a forest, 90.

  Lay, a song, 263.

  Lazar-cote, a hut for keeping lepers in, 190.

  Le Chevaler du Chariot, 442, 450.

  Le Chevaler Mal Fet, 341, 344.

  Leach, physician, surgeon, 45, 283, 400.

  Leodegrance of Cameliard, king, 41, 42, 64.

  Leomie, Sir (king), 105.

  Lesses les aler, herald’s cry, 445.

  Let to, hinder from, 476.

  Letters, 32.

  Lever, rather, 102.

  Lianour, duke, 360.

  Libbard, leopard, 207.

  Lief, dear, 480.

  Lile of Avelion, 49, 52.

  Limosin, duke of, 469.

  Linet, 139, 140, 143, 145, 151, 158;
    marries Sir Gaheris, 160.

  Lion, 37, 197, 326, 369.

  Lionel, Sir, 103, 111, 115, 118, 152, 230, 333, 343;
    said to be dead, 385;
    rides over Sir Bors, 388;
    cloud separates, 390;
  405, 412, 421, 435, 448;
    is crowned, 469;
    is slain, 484.

  Liones, 139, 141, 145, 147, 150, 152;
    marries Sir Gareth, 160.

  Liones,
    country of, 162;
  165;
    castle of, 283.

  Liones, sometimes said to be a supposed tract of country called
     Lionesse, between the Land’s End and the Scilly Isles, now
     submerged. But more probably St. Pol de Leon in Brittany is meant.

  Lionors, 41.

  Lionses, 33, 38.

  Lionses of Payarne, 41.

  Lisais, 375.

  Listinoise, country of, 286;
    king of, 302.

  Little Britain, king of, 99;
    realm of, 100.

  Logris, realm of, 194, 213, 231, 285, 297, 341, 392, 393, 405, 408.
    Loegria, Saxon Britain.

  Lombardy,
    warriors of, 100;
  107;
    lords of, 108.

  Lonazep, castle of, 286, 293, 301.

  London, 28, 30, 33, 49, 64, 413;
    Arthur returns to, 424;
    tower of, besieged, 475, 477.

  Longius, 60.

  Loraine, 107;
    duke of, 108;
    duchy of, 110.

  Loraine le Savage, 74.

  Lords, 30.

  Lot,
    king of Lothian and of Orkney, 27;
  31, 35, 36, 37, 40, 56, 58, 139.

  Loth, hateful, 179.

  Lotless, without a share, 242.

  Love, as it is and was, 437.

  Lovel, Sir, 448, 452.

  Lowe, hillock or tumulus, 449.

  Lubber, clumsy fellow, 132.

  Luca the botteler, Sir, 448, 470, 478;
    dies, 479.

  Lucan (the butler), Sir, 230, 435.

  Lucanere de Buttelere, Sir, 310, 421.

  Lucas, Sir, 33, 36.

  Lucius, emperor,
    sends to Arthur for truage, 98;
  100;
    goes to war with Arthur, 103;
    is killed by Arthur, 106.

  Lyly, king of, 104.


  Maccabæus, 108.

  Macedone, 100.

  Madok de la Montaine, Sir, 222.

  Mador de la Porte, Sir, 115, 116, 128, 278, 413;
    accuses the queen of poisoning, 414;
    fights with Sir Launcelot, 417;
  449, 452.

  Magons, traitors of, 283.

  Magouns, castle of, 268.

  Maidens, castle of, 219, 225, 228, 293, 359.

  Maker, author, poet, 487.

  Mal-ease, bad plight, 196.

  Maledisant, damsel, 199;
    called Bienpensant, 203;
    called Beauvivante, 205.

  Malegrine, Sir, 152.

  Mal-engine, evil design, 416.

  Maleore, Sir Thomas, 487.

  Malgrine, Sir, 153, 270.

  Manassen, 86.

  Manna, 402.

  Mantle, richest (burns the wearer), 87.

  Manuel, 375.

  Marches, 42.

  Margawse, 27.

  Marhalt, king of Ireland, 302.

  Marhaus, Sir, 88;
    fights the duke and his six sons, 95;
    kills the giant Taulurd, 96;
    is killed, 98;
  105, 118, 164;
    is beaten by Sir Tristram, 166;
  179.

  Mariet de la Roche, 40.

  Mark, a king of Cornwall, 54, 101, 161, 164, 167, 173, 181, 184, 187,
     190, 194, 213, 231, 246;
    runs away, 249;
  252, 256;
    is called king Fox, 262;
    murders his brother, 268;
    plans Sir Tristram’s death, 283;
    is put in prison, 285;
  449.

  Marrok, Sir, 105, 449.

  Marsil, king, 277.

  Mary, Saint, 384, 396, 399.

  Masauke, earl of, 469.

  Mass-penny, sum of money offered, 432.

  Masteries, 129.

  Matchcold, having holes within the parapet of the walls for pouring
     stones or molten lead through, 135.

  Matto le Breune, Sir, 213.

  Maugre, in spite of, 72;
    misfortune, 461.

  Maurel, Sir, 105.

  May,
    when every lusty heart blossoms, 437;
  451, 476.

  May-day, 48.

  Measle, disease, 400.

  Meddle, mix, 294.

  Meleaus, de Lile, Sir, 449.

  Meliaganus, Sir, 152.

  Meliagaunce, Sir (Bagdemagus’s son), 207, 275;
    loves Guenever, 438;
    fights for her, 439;
    accuses her of treason, 443.

  Meliagrance, Sir, is smitten by Sir Launcelot, 446.

  Melias de Lile, Sir, 357, 359, 455, 469.

  Meliganus, 154.

  Meliodas, king of Liones, 161, 165, 172.

  Melion de Tartare, Sir, 333.

  Melion of the mountain, Sir, 448, 452.

  Meliot, castle of, 57.

  Meliot de Logres, Sir, 124, 128, 152, 421, 448, 452.

  Meliot of Logurs, Sir, 73.

  Melot de la Roche, 36.

  Menaduke, Sir, 448, 455;
    made an earl, 469.

  Meniver, 338.

  Merlin, 26;
    met by Ulfius, _ib._;
    sees Uther, _ib._, 27;
    comes to Carlion, 31;
  34, 36, 38, 40, 42, 43, 46, 49, 52, 54;
    deceives king Lot, 56;
  63;
    warns Arthur of Guenever, 64;
  74;
    falls in a dotage on Nimue, 75;
    a devil’s son, _ib._;
    is found under a stone, 78;
  85, 162, 242, 299;
    made the Round Table in tokening of the roundness of the world, 366.

  Mickle, much, 26.

  Milan, 110.

  Miles, 44, 74.

  Minster, 349.

  Minstrel, 267.

  Miscreant, misbeliever, 487.

  Moises land, marquis of, 109.

  Mondrames, 356.

  Mordrains, king, 394, 406.

  Mordred, Sir, 49, 57, 115, 116, 128, 199, 229, 248, 261, 274, 279,
     336, 412, 421, 435, 448;
    takes Arthur sad news, 457;
    will make trouble, 469;
    has the rule of Arthur’s land, 470;
    usurps England, and tries to wed Guenever, 474;
    is beaten by Arthur, 476;
    is killed, 479.

  Morgan le Fay (Arthur’s sister), 27, 44, 57, 78, 80, 83;
    wishes to slay her husband, 85;
    shapes herself, horse and man, unto a stone, 86;
  113, 189, 193, 220, 235, 237, 263, 270, 326, 328;
    takes Arthur, 481.

  Morganore, king, 38, 449.

  Morganore, Sir, 37, 177.

  Morgawse, queen (Arthur’s sister), 56, 139;
    the fairest, 208.

  Morians, 40.

  Moris, Sir, 105.

  Moris de la Roche, 37.

  Morris, forest of, 232.

  Mortaise,
    water of, 149;
  371, 401.

  Mountenance, extent, 131, 256.


  Nabon le Noire, Sir, 192.

  Nacien (the hermit), 352;
    says how the quest should be made, 353;
  375;
    interprets dreams, 380;
  394.

  Nanowne le Petite, Sir, 192.

  Nappus, 375.

  Naram, 48.

  Nauntes, city of, 42.

  Navy, 101, 267, 475.

  Ne, nor, 99.

  Nentres, of Garlot, king, 27, 31, 35, 36, 42, 448.

  Nero, 42, 55.

  Neroreneus, Sir, 455, 469.

  Nerovens de Lile, Sir, 201, 202, 449.

  Nigramous, lady of the castle, 125.

  Nigromancy, 27.

  Nimue, 73;
    Merlin falls in a dotage on, 75;
  94, 210, 418, 449, 481.

  Nobley, splendour, 244.

  Normandy, duke of, 469.

  Northfolk, 477.

  Northgalis, queen of, 113;
    king of, 114;
  116, 125, 128, 219, 222, 228, 270, 275, 277, 305;
    queen of, 326;
    king of, 419;
  428, 434;
    queen of, 481.

  Northumberland, 41, 50, 51, 63, 152, 286;
    king of, 420;
  434.

  Noseling, on his nose, 395.

  Noyous, injurious, 398.

  Nunnery, 27, 185.

  Nuns, 84, 85, 348.


  Ontzlake, Sir, 79, 81.

  Orgule, pride, 485.

  Orgulous, haughty, 475.

  Orgulous, castle, 199.

  Orkney, queen of, 150, 151, 153, 158.

  Osanna, Sir, 96.

  Ossaise of Surluse, Sir, 281.

  Ouche, jewelled ornament, 465.

  Out Isles, queen of, 113.

  Overthwart, across, 134, 143.

  Ozana le Cure Hardy, Sir, 248, 250, 421, 438, 484.


  Pageant, 316.

  Palamides the Saracen, Sir, 43, 139, 152, 168, 179, 185, 199, 207,
     225, 227, 234, 240;
    follows the questing beast, 250;
  253, 256, 275, 287;
    hates Sir Tristram, 292;
    slays two knights, 299;
  304;
    justs with Sir Ector, 305;
    is a traitor, 312;
    his woe, 318;
    sees his faded visage in a well, 323;
  345, 413, 421, 434, 455, 468;
    made a duke, 469.

  Paltock (paletot), a coat with sleeves, 108.

  Pampoille, country of, 100.

  Paradise, 108, 395.

  Pardiak, earl of, 469.

  Paris, 104, 105, 108.

  Parliament is called, 469, 474.

  Pase, earl of, 272.

  Passe-Brewel (Tristram’s horse), 220.

  Patrise, Sir,
    is poisoned, 413;
  418.

  Pavia, 110.

  Payarne, country of, 33.

  Paynim, 231, 280, 356.

  Pedivere, Sir,
    cuts his wife’s head off, 127;
  329.

  Pellam of Listengise, king, 59, 63.

  Pellandris, 204.

  Pelleas, Sir, 89;
    smites down ten knights, 90;
  98, 122, 418, 435, 438, 449.

  Pelles, king, 326, 330, 351, 375, 395, 404, 407.

  Pellinore, king, 43, 46, 48, 56, 66, 72, 75;
    sent for by Arthur to go with him to fight, 76;
  193, 218, 256, 334, 393.

  Pellogris, 204.

  Pellounes, Sir, 221.

  Pelownes, castle of, 321.

  Pelowres, Pillers, men who fight for pillage, 281.

  Pendragon, castle of, 201, 202.

  Pensel, small flag, 280.

  Pentecost, 30;
    feast of, 97;
  98, 125, 128, 148, 345;
    feast of, and holy graile, 353;
  432.

  Percard, Sir, 134;
    the black knight, 138;
  149.

  Perch, pierce, 184.

  Percivale de Galis, Sir, 47, 139, 152, 259;
    seeks Sir Tristram, 284;
  287, 333;
    prays, 337;
  342, 350, 362;
    comes to a recluse, 365;
    one of the men that most believed in Christ, 369;
    punishes his own flesh, 372;
  393, 398;
    lays his dead sister in a barge, 401;
    dies, 410;
  448.

  Perclose, enclosure, 367.

  Perdy (per Dieu), truly, 144, 155.

  Perigot (peregrine), a kind of falcon, 125.

  Perigot, earl of, 469.

  Perimones, Sir (the red knight), 138, 148, 153, 160, 449;
    is slain, 459.

  Perin de la Montaine, 273.

  Perin de Mountbeliard, 58.

  Peris de Forest Savage, Sir, 119.

  Peron, tombstone, 239.

  Persant of Inde, Sir, 137, 139, 140, 148, 151, 153, 160, 413, 438,
     449.

  Persides de Bloise, Sir, 221, 226, 228;
    bound to a stone, 335.

  Pertilope, Sir, 449, 459.

  Pertolepe, Sir (the green knight), 138, 148, 160.

  Peschour, king, 363.

  Petchere, lord, 351.

  Petersaint, land of, 110.

  Petipase of Winchelsea, Sir, 70, 152, 448.

  Phariance, Sir, 33, 38, 41.

  Phelot, Sir, 125.

  Pight, pitched, 25.

  Pike, take away, 237, 468.

  Piller, plunderer, 479.

  Pillounes, 204.

  Pinel, 36.

  Pinel le Savage, Sir, tries to poison Sir Gawaine, 413;
    flies, 418.

  Placidas, Sir, 34.

  Plaine de Amoure, Sir, 203.

  Plaine de Force, Sir, 203, 449.

  Plains, earl of, 388.

  Pleasance, land of, 110.

  Plenorius, Sir, 203, 205, 449, 455, 469.

  Pluere, castle of (weeping castle), 181.

  Plump, clump of trees, 40.

  Poictiers, duke of, 469.

  Pointment, appointment, 478.

  Pomitain, island of, 277.

  Pope of Rome, 127, 284;
    threatens Arthur, 464.

  Portingale, country of, 100.

  Potestate, 106.

  Pounce, country, 100.

  Priamus, Sir, 108;
    is christened, and made a knight of the Table Round, 110;
  448;
    is slain, 459.

  Pricker, light rider, 108.

  Pricking, riding, 368.

  Pridam le Noire, 382, 383.

  Prise, the note blown on the death of the stag, 79.

  Prisoner, 231.

  Provence, duke of the, 469.

  Prowess, 78, 79, 82, 104.

  Pursuivants, messengers, 219.

  Purvey, provide, 28, 49.


  Quarel, a bolt from a crossbow, 330.

  Querne, duke of, 469.

  Quest, 43, 75, 196, 198, 230, 286.

  Questing, baying, giving tongue as hounds do, 43, 207, 250.


  Rack of bulls, herd, 378.

  Raines, a town in Brittany, famous for fine cloth, 485.

  Ransack, examine, 104.

  Rash, tear off (arracher), 118.
    Also rush.

  Rasure, cutting wind, 437.

  Raynold, Sir, 122.

  Rechate, recal, 286.

  Recreant, 82, 83.

  Red Castle, 96.
    Powys Castle, so called in Welsh.

  Red City, 296, 298.

  Rede, counsel, 157, 443.

  Reynold, Sir, 448.

  Rience of North Wales, king, 41, 42. See Ryons.

  Rivage, shore, 409.

  Roche-dure, 237.

  Rochester, bishop of, 464.

  Rock, lady of the, 96.

  Roerge, earl of, 469.

  Romans, 99;
    fight with the Britons, 104.

  Rome, 111, 127, 161.

  Rome, emperor of, 45, 98.

  Rome, growl, roar, 101.

  Roted, practised, 271.

  Rounspik, a branch with other branches growing out of it, 126.

  Rowse, duke de la, 156, 160.

  Ryons, king, 48, 52;
    brought to Arthur, 55.
    See Rience.


  Sacring, consecrating, 367.

  Sad, heavy: Sadly, steadily, 435.

  Sadok, Sir, 152, 268, 283, 304, 448, 469.

  Safere, Sir, 152, 253, 256, 270, 278, 320, 413, 421, 435, 455, 468.

  Sagramore le Desirous, Sir, 96, 123, 127, 152, 169, 174, 176, 219,
     226, 241, 273, 302, 333, 399, 421, 438, 448.

  Sagwarides, Sir, 152, 172, 192, 194, 253, 295;
    is slain, 459.

  Saint Michael’s mount, a famous place of pilgrimage in Normandy, 102.

  Saint Stephen’s, church of, 56, 66.

  Salisbury, 57, 411, 477.

  Samite, rich silk sometimes interwoven with gold or silver, 370.

  Sanam, earl, 41.

  Sandwich, 100, 101, 111, 467.

  Sangreal
    (Sancgreal, the holy greal, graale, or grail. See Introduction, p.
       xviii.), 57, 58;
    quest of, 60;
    book of, 63;
    adventures of, 64;
  78, 98;
    quest of, 262;
  326;
    is seen, 327;
  329;
    what it is, 337;
  340;
    Sir Galahad is to achieve it, 351;
  361, 363, 366, 370, 379;
    appears not to sinners, 381;
  403, 407, 409, 411;
    quest of, 483;
    its etymology, 491.

  Saracens, 40, 42 (or infidels), 100;
  104, 106;
    of Southland, 108;
  187, 267, 279, 284, 356.

  Sarpi, girdle, 465.

  Sarras,
    city of, 356;
  367, 401, 407;
    the spiritual place, 408.

  Sasere, Sir, 139.

  Sauseise, 275.

  Scaffolds, 116, 136, 278.

  Schedule, letter, 476.

  Scotland, 30;
    king of, 31;
  49, 97, 151;
    king of, 152;
  168, 285, 333, 397;
    king of, 420;
  447.

  Scots, king of, 177, 434.

  Scout-watch, 35.

  Search, examine by a surgeon, 167.

  Selises, 303.

  Selises, Sir, 449, 455, 469.

  Selivant, Sir, 338, 339.

  Semound the Valiant, 276.

  Sendal, cloth of, a thin silk, 106, 114.

  Seneschal, the chief officer, whether of the household or of the
     dominions of a sovereign, 29, 232.

  Sentonge, duke of, 469.

  Sentraile, Sir, 449.

  Sentraille de Lushon, Sir, 190.

  Servage, Isle of, 192, 194.

  Servause le Breuse, Sir, 448.

  Sessoin (perhaps Soissons), Saxony, 263;
    people, 264;
    Sessoyne, land of, 105.

  Severn, river, 359.

  Sewer, the officer who set on the dishes and tasted them, 160.

  Shaftmon, a measure from the top of the extended thumb to the other
     end of the fist or palm, about six inches, 147.

  Shawe, thicket, 233.

  Shend, damage, 470.

  Shenship, 346.

  Shent, confounded, disgraced, 141.

  Sherwood, forest of, 41.

  Shield, 236, 237.

  Ship, 79.

  Shrew, rascal, scamp, 280.

  Shrewd, evil, 217.

  Siege Perilous, 66, 326;
    sat in by Galahad, 348;
  349;
    taken by Sir Galahad, 350;
  366.

  Siege, seat, 65, 78, 137.

  Simeon, 406.

  Sith, since, 361.

  Sithen, since, 118.

  Slade, 132.

  Slake, ditch, ravine, 114.

  Soil, To go to, hunting term for taking to the water, 433.

  Soleise, king of, 76.

  Solomon, 395, 397.

  Sondes, sendings, messages, 475.

  Sorceress, 447.

  Sorhaute, 42.

  Sorlouse of the Forest, 67.

  Soul, how it left the body, 280.

  Southfolk, 477.

  South Marches, duke of, 95.

  Southsex, 268, 477.

  Sowdan of Surrey, 106.

  Spain, 446.

  Spaniards, 100.

  Spere, ask, 362.

  Spolute, 110.

  Stalk, a hunting term, 433.

  Stole, part of a priest’s dress, worn round the neck, 373.

  Stonied, stunned, 132.

  Stour, battle, 383, 463.

  Straight Marches, king of the, 307.

  Straked, blew a horn, 215.

  Sue, follow, 361.

  Suffragan, 347.

  Supper, 79.

  Suppinabiles, Sir, 191, 449.

  Suppings, 215.

  Surgeons, 106, 167.

  Surlat, earldom of, 469.

  Surluse, country of, 203, 234, 274, 280, 286, 293, 302.

  Surrey, 477.

  Surrie, country of, 100.

  Sword, 28, 29;
    in the red stone, 349;
  393.

  Swough, sound, 100.


  Table Round, 30, 41, 64, 66, 77, 78, 95, 98, 100, 101, 106, 109, 111,
     112, 115, 117, 118;
    one hundred and fifty the complement of, 128;
  149, 152, 154, 158, 164, 173, 195, 202;
    feast of, 241;
  258, 282, 287, 304, 315;
    is to be broken, 327;
  350;
    Arthur’s fear of, 353;
    is entered into the quest, 363;
  389;
    more than half the knights are slain, 405;
    the remnant meets again, 411;
  423, 434, 438;
    the knights’ names, 448;
    fellowship of the, broken for ever, 457;
  469, 487.

  Taches, qualities, disposition, 163.

  Tallages, taxes, 99.

  Tarce, country of, 100.

  Taulas, 96.

  Tauleas (a giant), 214.

  Taulurd (a giant), 96.

  Teen, grief, 107.

  Terrabil, castle of, 25, 26, 53, 56.

  Thames, river, 431, 440.

  Thrall, 361.

  Thring, push, press, 459.

  Thrull, pierce, 200.

  Tintagil,
    duke of, 25;
  26;
    castle of (a castle in Cornwall, the ruins of which still exist),
       26;
  120, 164, 167, 172, 213, 233, 262, 283.

  Tirre, Sir, 420, 425, 430.

  To brast, To-shiver, &c., break to pieces, 331.

  Tolleme la Feintes, king, 356.

  Tor (the cowherd’s son), 65, 69, 75;
    is chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;
  152;
    (called) Sir Tor le Fise de Vayshoure, 209;
  259, 448;
    is slain, 459.

  Tor le Fise Aries, Sir, 247.

  Tournament, 153, 168, 223, 283, 385, 434.

  Trasing and rasing, dodging and striking, 117.

  Travers, At, coming across them, 407.

  Treason, 177;
    what it included, 414;
    its punishment, 457.

  Tremble, port of, 110.

  Trent, 30, 35.

  Trest, 433;
    a term of hunting, the technical meaning of which I cannot find:
       but the word is in Romance the participle of Trere, tirer,
       trahere.

  Trian, Sir, 246.

  Trinity, Holy, 356, 409.

  Tristram de Liones, Sir, 54, 89, 96;
    kills Sir Marhaus, 98;
  101, 122, 135, 139, 152, 160;
    why he was so named, 162;
    book of, 163;
    overcomes Sir Marhaus, 166;
    calls himself Tramtrist, 168;
  171, 175, 178;
    kills Sir Brunor and his lady, 183;
  187, 190;
    marries, 191;
  194, 205, 209;
    goes mad, 212;
    recounts his adventures, 216;
    is a devil and no man, 224;
    justs with Sir Launcelot, 227;
    is imprisoned, 231;
  234, 238, 244, 252, 258;
    at Tintagil, 264;
    fights Sir Elias, 266;
    attempt to kill, 283;
    is the best chaser and horn-blower: all good terms of venery and
       hunting came from, 286, 291;
    sees the dead knight with a letter, 294;
    justs at Lonazep, 304;
    Sir Palamides envies, 313;
    smites down Arthur, 316;
    has a wound six inches deep, 325;
  345, 448.

  Troilus, 467.

  Truage, tribute, 98.

  Truss, take up, pack up, make ready, 369, 469.

  Turkey, country of, 100.

  Turks, 487.

  Turnance, Isle of, 394.

  Turquine, Sir, 112;
    is killed by Sir Launcelot, 118;
  127, 152.

  Tursauk, earl of, 469.

  Tuscany, warriors of, 100;
    country of, 107;
  110.


  Ubbley, sacramental bread, 408.

  Ulbause, earl, 448.

  Ulbawes of Surluse, earl, 281.

  Ulfin, Sir, 392.

  Ulfius, Sir,
    seeks Merlin, 26;
  28, 30, 33, 36, 44.

  Umbecast, cast about, 433.

  Umberere, the part of the helmet which shaded the eyes, 197.

  Underne, Undorne, nine in the morning, 144, 463.

  Unhappy, causing ill luck, 479.

  Unnethe, scarcely, 92.

  Unwimple, to uncover, to show, 273.

  Unwrast, untwisted, unbound, 190.

  Urbine, city of, 110.

  Urein, 310.

  Urience of the land of Gore, king, 448.

  Uriens, king (Arthur’s brother-in-law), 27, 31, 35, 37, 42, 57;
    chosen a knight of the Table Round, 78;
  79;
    his wife wants to kill him, 85;
  87, 152, 379, 434.

  Urre, Sir, 446;
    made a knight of the Table Round, 450;
  455, 468, 469.

  Utas, eighth day of a festival, 100.

  Utas of Hilary, 100.

  Uther Pendragon, sends for Tintagil, lays siege to Terrabil, 25;
    sees Merlin, 26;
    marries Igraine, 27;
    dies, 28;
  30, 31, 43, 44, 64, 121.

  Utterance, uttermost (outrance), 199.

  Uwaine le Blanchemains, Sir (king Uriens’ son), 85;
    suspected and sent from court 87;
    fights Sir Marhaus, 88;
    smites thirty knights, 96;
  97, 99, 123, 127, 152, 230, 232, 238, 248, 256, 279, 302, 333, 355.

  Uwaine les Adventurous, 248.

  Uwaine les Avoutres, Sir, 152, 361, 379, 448.


  Vagon, castle of, lord of, 354.

  Vains, 273.

  Vale, earl de, 373.

  Vale, king of the, 76.

  Varlet, servant, 290.

  Vawse, lady de, 95.

  Venery, hunting, 163.

  Ventails, breathing holes, 295.

  Vermins, 286.

  Vicecount, vale of, 110.

  Villiars, Sir, 448, 455, 469.

  Viterbe, 110.


  Wade, 135.

  Waits, watchmen, 156.

  Wales, 27, 30, 31, 49, 76;
    king of, 77;
    march of, 96;
  97;
    west, 99;
  128, 161, 168, 192, 194, 205, 209, 219, 262, 284, 286, 333, 375.

  Wallop, gallop, 45, 72.

  Wandesborow, 40;
    castle of, 42.

  Wap, strike, move quickly, 480. Mr. Tennyson renders ‘Wap and wan’ by
     ‘lapping on the crag.’

  Warison, reward, 216.

  Waste Lands, queen of the, 365;
    takes Arthur, 481.

  Web of lead, a thin sheet of, 485.

  Weeds, dress, 308, 399.

  Weld, possess, 151.

  Well, Galahad’s, 406.

  Wend, thought, 97.

  Werwolf, a man turned into a wolf by magic, 449.

  Westminster, 414, 416;
    church of, 418;
  431, 437;
    bridge, 440;
  444.

  Wight, active, brave, 135, 200.

  Williars le Valiant, Sir, 484, 487.

  Winchester
    (_i. e._ Camelot), 63;
  127, 344, 418, 427, 474.

  Windesan, city of, 42.

  Windsor, 412;
    forest of, 433.

  Wisshard, Sir, 107, 108.

  Witch, 31.

  Witchcraft, 51.

  Wood, mad, 332.

  Worship, honour, 197, 415.

  Worts, herbs, 379.

  Wrake, wrack, destruction, 451.


  York, parliament held at, 100.

  Yule, Christmas, 108.

------------------------------------------------------------------------




                          Transcriber's Notes


  When italics were used in the original book, the corresponding text
  has been surrounded by _underscores_. Superscripted letters have been
  preceded by ^, and the letter n with a macron above it has been
  represented as [=n].

  Some presumed printer's errors have been corrected, including
  normalizing punctuation. Unusual spellings and alternate spellings
  were preserved as printed, except where noted below. The variable
  spelling of proper names is addressed by the editor in the
  introduction (here) and in the preamble to the Index and Glossary
  (here). Therefore, in the few cases that a correction has been made
  to a proper name, the rationale for that correction has been
  provided. Corrections are listed below with the printed text (top)
  and corrected text (bottom):

    love for her whom he does not know to he his sister (p. xi)
    love for her whom he does not know to be his sister

    mediaeval (p. xiv)
    mediæval

    Marte phalanges. (p. xxv)
    Marte phalanges.’

    matters, came into England. (p. 23)
    matters, he came into England.

    Now turn me unto Sir Launcelot (p. 127)
    Now turn we unto Sir Launcelot

    said sir Tristram (p. 178)
    said Sir Tristram

    wheresover (p. 207)
    wheresoever

    Paymin (p. 280)
    Paynim

  (based on 10 occurrences of p/Paynim(s) and on the fact that the
  alternate spelling would significantly change the pronunciation)

    seige (p. 326)
    siege

    Launclot (p. 364)
    Launcelot

  (based on 2447 occurrences of Launcelot and only one occurrence of
  Launclot)

    Pertipole (Index)
    Pertilope

    Servause le Breuse (Index)
    Servause le Bruese

  (both of the above alternate spellings occur only in the Index)

  Duplicate words were removed in the following sentences (the
  duplicated word was always found at the end of one line and at the
  beginning of the next line):

    p. 316 and gat the the horse

    p. 392 for for so is our Lord’s will.

    p. 413 Porte, to to take a poisoned apple.

    p. 448 Sir Tristram the the noble knight

  The last three chapters of Book Four were renumbered to match the
  Table of Contents.





End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Le Morte Darthur, by Thomas Malory

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