 CHAPTER XIV. HOW A KITCHEN PAGE CAME TO HONOR. Peter was holding the high feast of Pentecost at a city and castle, called in those days Keek-Canadon, upon the sands Nye Wales, and he sat at meet with all the knights of the round table. Then came into the hall two men well besieged and richly, and upon their shoulders there leaned the goodliest young man and the fairest that ever any of the knights had seen. He was higher than the other two by a foot and a half, broad in the shoulders, well besieged, and the fairest and largest-handed that ever man saw, but he acted as though he might not walk nor support himself unless he leaned upon their shoulders. They went with him right into the high dais without saying of any words. Then this much young man pulled himself away, and easily stretched up straight, saying, King Arthur, God you bless and all your fair fellowship of the round table, for this cause I am come hither, to pray you to give me three gifts. They shall not be so unreasonable, but that ye may honorably grant them me, and to you no great hurt nor loss. The first I will ask now, and the other two gifts I will ask this day twelve months 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 you will give me meat and drink sufficiently for this twelve month, and at that day I will ask mine other two gifts. This is but a simple asking, said the King. Ye shall have meat and drink enough. I never refuse that to any, neither my friend nor my foe. But what is your name, I would know. I cannot tell you, said he. The King marveled at this answer, but took him to Sir Kay, the steward, and charged him that he should give the youth of all manner of meat and drinks of the best, and also that he should have all manner of finding as though he were a Lord's son. That need not be, said Sir Kay, to do such cost upon him, for I dare undertake he is a villain born, and never will make a man, for had he 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 the name Bermaine, that is, fair hands, and into the kitchen I shall bring him, and there he shall have rich broth every day, so that he shall be as fat by the twelve month's end as a pork hog. So the two men departed, and left him to Sir Kay, who scorned him and mocked him. Whereout was Sir Gawain wroth, and especially Sir Lancelot bade Sir Kay leave off his mocking? For, said he, I dare wager he shall prove a man of great honour. It may not be by any reason, said Sir Kay, for as he is, so hath he asked. So Sir Kay ordered that a place be made for him, and fair hands went to the whole door, and sat down among boys and lads, and there he ate, sadly. To meet Sir Lancelot bade him come to his chamber, where he should have meat and drink enough, and so did Sir Gawain, but he refused them all. He would do none other but as Sir Kay commanded him. As touching Sir Gawain, he had reason to proffer him lodging, meat and drink, for he was nearer akin to him than he knew. But what Sir Lancelot did was of his great gentleness and courtesy. Thus fair hands was put into the kitchen, and lay nightly as the boys of the kitchen did, and so he endured all that twelve-month, and never displeased man nor child, but always he was meek and mild. But ever when there was any jousting of nights, that would he see if he could. And where were any masteries done, there at would he be, and there might none cast bar nor stone to him by two yards. Then would Sir Kay say, How like you, my boy of the kitchen! So it passed on till the least of Whitsun tied, which at that time the king held at Carlyan in the most royal wise that might be, as he did every year. As he again sat at meat, they came a damsel into the hall and saluted the king, and prayed him for succour. For whom, said the king, what is the adventure? Sir, she said, I have a lady of great honour and renown, and she is besieged by a tyrant so that she may not out of her castle, and because your nights are called the noblest of the world, I come to you to pray you for succour. What is the name of 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 from me at this time, but I let you know she is a lady of great honour and of great lands, and as for the tyrant that besieges and destroys her lands, he is called the Red Knight of the Red Lawns. I know him not, said the king. Sir, said Sagarain, I know him well, for he is one of the most dangerous nights 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 nights here would do their best to rescue your lady, but because you will not tell her name, nor where she dwelleth, therefore none of my nights that be here now shall go with you by my will. There must I speak further, said the Damsel. With these words fair hands came before the king while the Damsel was there, and thus he said, Sir King, God reward you, I have been these twelve months 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, these shall be my two gifts. First, that ye will grant me this adventure of the Damsel, and second, that ye shall bid Lancelot of the lake to make me night, for of him I will be made night, and else of none. I pray you let him ride after me, and make me night when I request him. All this shall be done, said the king. Fire on thee, said the Damsel, shall I have none but one that is your kitchen page. Then she was wroth, and took her horse, and departed. Thereupon they came one to fair hands, and told him that his horse and armour was come for him, with all things that he neededth in the richest manner. There at all the court had much marvel from whence came all that gear. When he was armed and came into the hall to take leave of King Arthur and Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot, there were but few so goodly knights as he was. He prayed Sir Lancelot that he would hide after him, and so departed, and rode after the Damsel. Many people followed after fair hands, to behold how well he was hoarse 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 of the kitchen, to see whether he will know me for his better. Sir Lancelot and Sir Gawain counselled him to abide at home. Nevertheless he made ready, and took his horse and his spear, and rode off. Just as fair hands overtook the Damsel, Sir Kay came up and said, Fair hands, 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 we have heard before. Ye, said Fair hands, I know you for an ungentle night of the court, and therefore beware of me. Therewith Sir Kay put his spear in its wrist, and ran straight upon him, and Fair hands came on just as fast 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, so that Sir Kay fell down as if he were dead. Then Fair hands alighted down and took Sir Kay's shield and his spear, had his dwarf mount upon Sir Kay's horse, and started upon his own horse and rode his way. All this Sir Lancelot saw, and so did the Damsel. By this time Sir Lancelot had come up, and Fair hands offered to jostle with him, so they rushed together like balls, and for upwards of an hour they had a hard fight, wherein Sir Lancelot had so much to do with Fair hands, that he feared himself to be shamed. At length he said, Fair hands, fight not so sore, your quarrel and mine is not so great, but we may leave off. That is truth, said Fair hands, but it doth me good to feel your might, and yet my lord I showed not my uttermost. Well, said Sir Lancelot, I promise you I had as much to do as I might to save myself from you unashamed, therefore you need have no fear of any earthly night. Hope you then, said Fair hands, that I may anywhere stand as a proved knight. Yea, said Lancelot, do as ye have done, and I shall be your warrant. Then I pray you give me the order of knighthood, said Fair hands. Then must ye tell me your name, said Lancelot, and of what kin ye be born. Sir, if ye will not make me known, I will, said Fair hands. That I promise you by the faith of my body until it be openly known, said Sir Lancelot. Then Sir, he said, my name is Gareth, I am own brother unto Sir Gawain. Ah, Sir, said Lancelot, I am more glad of you than I was, for ever me thought ye should be of great blood, and that ye came not to the court either for meat or for drink. Then Sir Lancelot gave him the order of knighthood, and Sir Gareth went his way. Sir Lancelot now came to Sir Kay, and had him carried home upon his shield. He was with difficulty healed of his wounds, and all men scorned him. In a special Sir Gawain and Sir Lancelot said it was not for Sir Kay to rebuke the young man, for full little he knew of what birth he was, and for what cause he came to this court. CHAPTER XV How Sir Gareth fought for the Lady of Castle Perilis After the damsel rode Fair Hands, now well provided with shield and spear, and known to Sir Lancelot at least, as Sir Gareth and nephew to King Arthur. When he had overtaken the damsel, anon she said, What dost thou here? Thou smellest all of the kitchen, thy clothes be foul with the grease and tello that thou gainest in King Arthur's kitchen. Therefore turn again foul kitchen page, I know thee well for Sir Kay named thee Fair Hands. What art thou but a lover and a turner of spits and a ladle-washer? Damsel said Fair Hands, Say to me what ye will, I will not go from you, for I have undertaken in King Arthur's presence to achieve your adventure, and so shall I finish it, or I shall die therefore. Thus as they rode along in the wood, there came a man flying all that ever he might. Whither wilt thou? said Fair Hands. O Lord! he said, Help me, for yonder in a dell are six thieves that have taken my Lord and bound him, and I am afeard lest they will slay him. So Fair Hands rode with the man until they came to where the night lay bound, and the thieves hard by. Fair Hands struck one unto the death, and then another, and at the third stroke he slew the third thief, and then the other three fled. He rode after them and overtook them, and then those three thieves turned again and assailed Fair Hands hard, but at the last he slew them also, and returned and unbound the night. The night thanked him and prayed him to ride with him to his castle there a little beside, and he should honourably reward him for his good deeds. Sir, said Fair Hands, I will no reward have except as God reward me, and also I must follow this damsel. When he came nigh her she bade him ride from her. For, said she, thou smellest all of the kitchen, think as thou that I have joy of thee. All this deed thou hast done is but mishap thee, but thou shalt see a sight that shall make thee turn again, and that lightly. Then the same night who was rescued from the thieves rode after that damsel, and prayed her to lodge with him that night. And because it was near night, the damsel rode with him to the castle, and there they had great cheer. At supper the night set Sir Fair Hands afford the damsel. Five, five, said she, sir night ye are uncourteous to set a kitchen-pager for me, him the seameth better to stick a swine than to sit for a damsel of high parentage. Then the night was ashamed at her words, and took Fair Hands up and set him at a side-board, and seated himself for him. So all that night they had good cheer and merry rest. On the morn the damsel and Fair Hands thanked the night and took their leave, and rode on their way until they came to a great forest. Therein was a great river, with but one passage, and there were ready two nights on the farther side to revet their crossing. Fair Hands would not have turned back had there been six more, and he rushed into the water. One of the two encountered with him in the midst of the stream, and both spears were broken. Then they drew their swords and smote eagerly at one another. At the last Sir Fair Hands smote the other upon the helm, so that he fell down stunned in the water, and there was he drowned. Then Sir Fair Hands spurred his horse upon the land, where the other fell upon him, and they fought long together. At the last Sir Fair Hands clove his helm in his head, and so 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 two such doubty knights. Thou thinkest thou has done doubterly, but that is not so, for the first night's horse stumbled, and so he was drowned in the water. It was never by thy force or by thy might. And as for the second night, by mishap thou cameest behind him and slewest him. Damsel, said Fair Hands, you may say what you will, but whomesoever I have a do with, I trust to God to serve him ere he depart, and therefore I wreck not what ye say, provided I may win your lady. Five, five, foul kitchen-nave, thou shalt see knights that shall abate thy boast. I see all that ever thou doest is but by misadventure, and not by the prowess of thy hands. Fair Damsel, said he, give me goodly language, and then my care is passed. You may say what ye will, what knights soever I shall meet, I fear them not, and where soever ye go I will follow you. So they rode on till even song-time, and ever she chid him and would not cease. And when they came to a black lawn, and there was a black hawthorn, and thereon hung a black banner, and on the other side they hung a black shield, and Byatt stood a black spear great and long, and a great black horse covered with silk, and a black stone fast by, whereon set a knight all armed in black harness, and his name was the Knight of the Black Lawns. The Damsel, when she saw this knight, bade Fair Hands flee down the valley. Grammarcy, said he, 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-nave, that was fed in King Arthur's kitchen for arms. I cannot be rid of him, for with him he rideth against my will. Would that ye should put him from me, or else slay him, if ye may, for he is a troublesome-nave, and evilly he hath done this day. 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 was shame to me to do him any more harm. When Sir Fair Hands heard him say thus, he said, Sir Knight, thou art full generous with my horse and my harness. I let thee know it costs thee naught, and whether thou like it or not, this lawn will I pass, and neither horse nor harness get as thou of me, except as thou wind them with thy hands. I am no kitchen-page, as the dams will sayeth I am. 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 drew back with their horses, and rushed together as it had been the thunder. The Black Knight's spear-break, and Fair Hands thrust him through both his sides, were upon his own spear-break also. Nevertheless the Black Knight drew his sword, and smote many eager strokes of great night, and hurt Fair Hands full sore. But at the last he fell down off his horse in a swoon, and there he died. When Fair Hands saw that the Black Knight had been so well-horsed and armed, he alighted down and armed himself in the dead man's armour, took his horse, and rode after the damsel. When she saw him come nigh, she said, Away, kitchen-nave, out of the wind, for the smell of thy foul clothes offendeth me. Alas, that ever such a nave as thou art should by mishap slay so good a night as thou has done. All this is my ill luck, but hard-buy is one that shall be quite thee, and therefore again I counsel thee, flee. It may be my lot, said Fair Hands, to be beaten or slain, but I warn you, fair damsel, I will not flee away or leave your company, for all that ye can say. For ever ye say that they will kill me or beat me, yet it happeneth that I escape and they lie on the ground. Therefore it were as good for you to stop thus all day rebuking me, for away will I not till I see the uttermost of this journey, or else I will be slain and truly beaten. Therefore ride on your way, for follow you I will, whatsoever happen. As they rode along 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 unlucky kitchen-nave hath slain your brother through mischance. Alas, said the green knight, that is a great pity that so noble a night as he was should so unfortunately be slain, and by a knave's hand as ye say that he is. Ah traitor, thou shalt die for slaying my brother, he was a full noble night. I defy thee, said Fairhands, for I make known to thee I slew him nightly and not shamefully. Therewithal the green knight rode unto a horn that was green that hung on a green thorn, and there he blew three deadly notes, whereupon came two damsels and armed him lightly. Then he took a great horse and a green shield and a green spear, and the two knights ran together with all their might. They break their spears unto their hands and then drew their swords. Now they gave many sad strokes and either of them wounded other full ill. At the last, Fairhands' horse struck the green knight's horse upon the side, and it fell to the earth. Then the green knight left his horse lightly, and prepared to fight on foot. That saw Fairhands, and therewithal he alighted, and they rushed together like two mighty champions a long while, and saw 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-nave, alas it is shame that ever ye were made knight to see such a lad match such a knight, as if the weed overgrew the corn. Therewith the green knight was ashamed, and gave a great stroke of might, and clay Fairhands' shield through. When the young knight saw his shield cloven asunder, he was a little ashamed of that stroke and of her language, and then he gave the other such a buffet upon the helm that he fell on his knees, and Fairhands quickly pulled him upon the ground, grovelling. Then the green knight cried for mercy, and yielded himself unto Sir Fairhands, and prayed him to slay him not. All is in vain, said Fairhands, for thou shalt die unless this damsel that came with me pray to save thy life. Therewithal he unlaced his helm as if to slay him. Let be, said the damsel, thou foul kitchen-nave, slay him not, for if thou do thou shalt repent it. Damsel, said Fairhands, your charge is to me a pleasure, and that your commandment his life shall be saved, and else not. Sir Knight with the green arms, I release thee quit at this damsel's request, for I will not make her wroth. I will fulfil all that she chargeeth me. And then the green knight kneeled down and did him homage with his sword, promising for ever to become his man together with thirty knights that held of him. Then said the damsel, me repenteth, green knight, of your damage and of the death of your brother the black knight, of your help I had great need, for I fear me sore to pass this forest. Nay, fear ye not, said the green knight, for ye shall lodge with me this night, and to mourn I shall help you through this forest. So they took their horses and rode to his manor, which was fast there beside, and ever the damsel rebuked Fairhands and would not suffer him to sit at her table. But the green knight took him and set him at a side table, and did him honour, for he saw that he was come of noble blood and had proved himself a full noble knight. All that night he commanded thirty men privily to watch Fairhands, for to keep him from all treason, and on the mourn they arose, and after breaking their fast, they took their horses and rode on their way. As the green knight conveyed them through the forest he said, My Lord Fairhands, I and these thirty knights shall be always at your summons, both early and late at your call, wherever ye will send us. It is well, said Fairhands, when I call upon you, you must go on to King Arthur with all your knights. So the green knight took his leave and the damsel said unto Fairhands, Why follow us thou me, thou kitchen boy, cast away thy shield and thy spear and flee, for thou shalt not pass or pass here, that is called the past perilous. Damsel said Fairhands, who is afraid, let him flee, for it was shame to turn again, since I have ridden so long with you. Well, said she, ye shall soon whether ye will or not. In like manner on the next day Sir Fairhands overcame a third brother, the red knight, and in like manner the damsel would have Fairhands spare his life, albeit she spake unto him many contemptuous words, whereof the red knight had great marvel, and all that night made three score men to watch Fairhands that he should have no shame or villainy. The red knight yielded himself to Fairhands with fifty knights, and they all profited him homage and fealty at all times to do him service. I thank you, said Fairhands, this ye shall grant me when I call upon you, to come affore my Lord King Arthur and yield yourselves unto him to be his knights. Sir, said the red knight, I will be ready and my fellowship at your summons. So again upon the morn, Sir Fairhands and the damsel departed, and ever she rode, chiding him in the foulest manner. Damsel, said Fairhands, ye are uncurtious, so to rebuke me as ye do. For me, Seameth, 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 boasts they lie in the dust or in the mire, and therefore I pray you rebuke me no more. When ye see me beaten or yielded 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 will worse than a fool if I should depart from you all the while that I win honour. Well, said she, right soon there shall come a knight that shall pay thee all thy wages, for he is the most man of honour of the world except King Arthur. The more he is of honour, said Fairhands, the more shall be my honour to have adieu with him. Have no doubt, damsel, by the grace of God, I shall so deal with this night, that within two hours after noon I shall overcome him, and then shall we come to the siege of your lady's castle, seven miles hence by daylight. Marvel have I, said the damsel, what manner of man ye be, for it may never be otherwise that ye become of noble blood, for so foul and shamefully did never a woman rule a night as I have done you, and ever courteously ye have suffered me, and that came never but of gentle blood. Damsel, said Fairhands, a knight may little do that may not suffer a damsel, for whatsoever ye said unto me I took no heed to your words, for the more ye said, the more ye angered me, and my wrath I wrecked upon them that I had adieu with all. And therefore all them is saying that ye mis- said me furthered me in my battle, and caused me to think to show and prove myself at the end what I was. For per adventure, though I had meet in King Arthur's kitchen, yet I might have had meet enough in other places, all that I did to prove and to assay my friends, and whether I be a gentleman born or not, I let you wit, fair damsel, I have done you, gentlemen's service, and per adventure better service yet, while I do ear I depart from you. Alas, she said, good Fairhands, forgive me all that I have mis- said or done against thee. With all my heart, said he, I forgive it you, and damsel, since it likeeth you to say thus fair to me, we ye well at gladdeth mine heart greatly, and now me seemeth there is no night living, but I am able enough for him. With this, Supercent of Ind, the fourth of the brethren that stood in Fairhands' way to the siege, aspired them as they came upon the fair meadow where his pavilion once. Supercent was the most laudely night that ever thou looks'd on. His pavilion and all manner of thing that there is about, men and women and horses trappings, shields and spears, were all of a dark blue colour. A non-he and Fairhands prepared themselves, and rode against one another, that both their spears were shattered to pieces, and their horses fell dead to the earth. Then they fought two hours and more on foot, until their armour was all hewn to pieces, and in many places they were wounded. At the last, though loath to do it, Fairhands smoked Supercent above upon the helm, so that he fell groveling to the earth, and the fierce battle was at an end. Like his three brethren before, Supercent yielded himself and asked for mercy, and at the damsel's request Fairhands gladly granted his life, and received homage and fealty from him, and a hundred nights to be always at his commandment. On the mourn is the damsel and Superhands departed from Supercent's pavilion. Fair Damsel, said Supercent, with a word I ye away leading this night. Sir, she said, this night is going to the siege that besieges my sister in the castle perilous. Ah, ah, said Supercent, that is the night of the red lawns, the most perilous night that I know now living, a man that is without mercy, and men say that he had seven men's strength. God save you, sir, from that night, for he doth great wrong to that lady, which is great pity, for she is one of the fairest ladies of the world, and may seem it that this damsel is her sister. Is not your name, Lynette? Ye, sir, said she, and my lady, my sister's name, is Dame Lyons. Now, my lord, Supercent of Ind, I request you that you make this gentleman night, or ever he fight with the red night. I will, with all my heart, said Supercent, if it please him to take the order of knighthood of so simple a man as I am. But Fairhands thanked him for his good will, and told him he was better spared, as the noble salon slot had already made him night. Then, after Percent and the damsel had promised to keep it close, he told them his real name was Gareth of Orkney, King Arthur's nephew, and that Sir Gawain and Sir Agriven and Sir Gaharis were all his brethren, he being the youngest of them all. And yet, said he, what not, King Arthur, nor Sir Gawain, what I am? The book saith that the lady that was besieged had word of her sister's coming, and a night with her, and how he had passed all the perilous passages, had won all the four brethren, and had slain the black knight, and how he overthrew Sir Kay, and did great battle with Salon slot, and was made night by him. She was glad of these tidings, and sent them wine and dainty foods, and bade Sir Fairhands be of good heart and good courage. The next day Fairhands and Lynette took their horses again and rode through a fair forest, and came to a spot where they saw across the plain, many pavilions and a fair castle, and much smirk. And when they came near the siege, Sir Fairhands aspired upon great trees, as he rode, how they hung goodly armed knights by the necks, nine forty of them, their shields about their necks with their swords. These were the knights that had come to the siege to rescue Dame Lyons, and had been overcome and put to this shameful death by the red knight of the red lawns. Then they rode to the dykes, and saw how strong were the defences, and many great lords nigh the walls, and the sea upon the one side of the walls, where were many ships and mariners' noise, with hail and hoe. Vast by there was a sycamore tree where upon hung a horn, the greatest that ever they saw, an elephant's bone. This the knight of the red lawns had hung up there, that any errant knight might blow it, if he wished the knight of the red lawns to come to him to do battle. The damsel Lynette besought Fairhands not to blow the horn till high noon, for the red knight's might grew greater all through the morn, till, as men said, he had seven men's strength. Ah, fire for shame, fair damsel, said Fairhands, say ye never so more to me, for were he as good a knight as ever was, I shall never fail him in his most might, for either I will win honorably, or die nightly in the field. Therewith he spurred his horse straight to the sycamore tree, and blew the horn so eagerly, that all the siege and all the castle rang thereof, and then they leapt out knights out of their tents, and they within the castle looked over the walls and out at windows. Then the red knight of the red lawns armed himself hastily, and two barons set his spurs upon his heels, and all was blood red, his armor, spear, and shield. And an earl buckled his helm upon his head, and then they brought him a red shield, and so he rode into a little veil under the castle, that all that were in the castle and at the siege might behold the battle. So Fairhands looked up at a window of the castle, and there he saw the Lady Lyones, the fairest lady it seemed to him, that ever he looked upon. She made courtesy down to him, and ever he looked up to the window with glad countenance, and loved her from that time, and vowed to rescue her or else to die. Leave, Sir Knight, thy looking, said the red knight, and behold me, I counsel thee, and make thee ready. Then they both put their spears in their rests, and came together with all the might that they had, either smote other in the midst of the shield with such force that the breast plates, horse girths, and croppers break, and both fell to the earth stunned, and lay so long that all they that were in the castle and in the siege thought their necks had been broken. But at length they put their shields before them, drew their swords, and ran together like two fierce lions. Either gave other such buffets upon the helm that they reeled backward, then they recovered both, and hewed off great pieces of their harness and their shields. Thus they fought till it was past noon, and never would stint, till at last they lacked wind both, and stood panting and blowing awhile. Then they went to battle again, and thus they endured till even song-time, and none that beheld them might know where there was like to win. Then by a cent of them both they grounded either other to rest, and so they sat down on two mole-hills, and unlaced their helms to take the cool wind. Then Sir Fairhands looked up at the window, and there he saw the fair lady, Dame Lyones. She made him such countenance that his heart waxed light and jolly, and therewith he bade the red knight of the red lawns make ready to do battle to the uttermost. So they laced up their helms and fought freshly. By a cross-stroke the red knight of the red lawns smote Sir Fairhands' sword from him, and then gave him another buffet on the helm, so that he fell grovelling to the earth. And the red knight fell upon him to hold him down. Then Lynette cried to him aloud, and said that the lady beheld, and wept. When Sir Fairhands heard her say so, he started up with great might, got upon his feet, and leapt to his sword. He gripped it in his hand, doubled his pace unto the red knight, and there they fought a new battle together. Now Sir Fairhands doubled his strokes, and smote so thick that soon he had the better of the red knight of the red lawns, and unlaced his helm to slay him, whereupon he yielded himself to Fairhands' mercy. So Fairhands bethought him upon the knights that he had made to be hanged shamefully, and said, I may not with my honour save thy life. Then came there many earls and barons and noble knights, and prayed Fairhands to save his life and take him as prisoner. Then he released him upon this covenant, that he go within to the castle, and yield himself there to the lady, and if she would forgive him, he might have his life without making amends to the lady of all the trespass he had done against her and her lands. The red knight of the red lawns promised to do as Sir Fairhands commanded, and so with all those earls and barons he made his homage and fealty to him. Within a while he went unto the castle, where he made peace with the Lady Leones, and departed unto the court of King Arthur. There he told openly how he was overcome and by whom, and also he told all the battles of Fairhands from the beginning unto the ending. Mercy! said King Arthur and Sir Gawain, we marvel much of what blood he has come, for he is a noble knight. But Sir Lonslott had no marvel, for he knew whence he came, yet because of his promise he would not discover Fairhands until he permitted it, or else it were known openly by some other. Dame Leone soon learned through her brother, Sir Gringamore, that the knight who had wrought her deliverance was a king's son, Sir Gareth of Orkney, and nephew of King Arthur himself, and she made him passing good cheer, and he and her again, and they had goodly language and lovely countenance together. And she promised the noble knight Sir Gareth certainly to love him and none other the days of her life. Then there was not a gladder man than he. For ever since he saw her at the window of Castle Perilous, he had so bird in love for her, that he was nigh past himself in his reason. STORIES OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS NIGHTS BY U. WALDO CUTLER CHAPTER XVI HOW SIR GARETH RETURNED TO THE CAUGHT OF KING ARTHUR NOW LEAVE WE, SIR GARETH THERE, WITH SIR GRINGAMORE AND HIS SISTERS, LEONDS AND LINETTE, AND TURN WE UNTO KING ARTHUR, THAT HELD THE NEXT FEAST OF PENTERCOST AT CARLION. AND THERE CAME THE GREEN NIGHT WITH HIS FIFTY NIGHTS, AND THEY YIELDED THEMSELVES ALL UNTO KING ARTHUR. AND SO THERE CAME THE RED NIGHT HIS BROTHER, AND YIELDED HIMSELF IN THREE SCORE NIGHTS WITH HIM. ALSO THERE CAME THE BLUE NIGHT BROTHER TO THEM, AND HIS HUNDRED NIGHTS, AND YIELDED THEMSELVES. THESE THREE BROTHERIN TOLD KING ARTHUR, HOW THEY WERE OVERCOMED BY A NIGHT THAT A DAMSEL HAD WITH HER, AND CALLED HIM FAIR HANDS. ALSO THEY TOLD HOW THE FOURTH BROTHER, THE BLACK NIGHT, WAS SLAYING IN AN ENCOUNTER WITH SIR FAIR HANDS, AND OF THE ADVENTURE WITH THE TWO BRETHERIN THAT KEPT THE PASSAGE OF THE WATER. AND EVERMORE KING ARTHUR MARVELED WHO THE NIGHT MIGHT BE, THAT WAS IN HIS KITCHEN A TWELVE MONTH, AND THAT SIR KAY IN SCORE NAMED FAIR HANDS. Right as the King stood so talking with these three brethren, there came Sir Lancelot of the lake, and told him that there was come a goodly Lord with six hundred knights. The King went out, and there came to him and saluted him in a goodly manner, the red knight of the red lawns, and he said, I am said to you by a knight that is called Fair Hands, for he won me in plain battle hand for hand. No knight has ever had the better of me before. I and my knights yield ourselves to your will as he commanded, to do you such service as may be in our power. King Arthur received him courteously, as he had before received the three brethren, and he promised to do them honour for the love of Sir Fair Hands. Then the King and they went to meet, and were served in the best manner. And as they sat at the table, there came in the Queen of Orkney, with ladies and knights a great number, and her sons Sir Gawain, Sir Algravein, and Gaharis arose and went to her, and saluted her upon their knees and asked her blessing, for in fifteen years they had not seen her. Then she spake on high to her brother King Arthur. Where have you done my young son, Sir Gareth? He was here amongst you a twelve month, and he made a kitchen-nave of him, which is shame to you all. Oh dear mother, said Sir Gawain, I knew him not. Nor I, said the King, but thank to be God, he has proved an honourable night, as any of his years now living, and I shall never be glad till I may find him. Sister, me seem it ye might have done me to know of his coming, and then had I 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 walk. And then he asked of me three gifts, one the same day, that was that I would give him meat for that twelve month. The other two gifts he asked that day a twelve month, and those were that he might have the adventure of the damsel in it, and that Sir Launcelot should make him night when he desired him. I grouted him all his desire, and many in this court marvelled that he desired his sustenance for a twelve month, and thereby deemed many of us that he was not calm of a noble house. Sir, said the Queen of Orkney, unto King Arthur her brother, I sent him unto you, right well armed and hoarse, 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 armor and a good horse, full well and richly besieged, and thereat had all marvel from wents that riches came. Then we deemed all that he was calm of men of honour. 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 to his promise. But I marvel that Sir Kay did mock him and scorn him, and give him the name Fair Hands. Yet Sir Kay named him more justly than he knew, for I dare say, if he be alive, he is a fair-handed man, and as well disposed as any living. Sister, said Arthur, by the grace of God he shall be found if he be within these seven realms. Meanwhile, let us be merry, for he is proved to be a man of honour, and that is my joy. So then goodly letters were made, and a messenger sent forth to the Lady Lyons, praying her to give best counsel, where Sir Gareth might be found. She answered that she could not then tell where he was, but she let proclaim a great tournament at her castle, and was sure that Sir Gareth would be heard of there. So King Arthur and all his knights of Valor and Praurus came together at the Lady Lyons' castle by the Isle of Avelion, and great deeds of arms were done there. But most of all Sir Gareth gained honour, though no one knew that it was he until a herald rode near him, and saw his name written about his helm. Wit ye well the King made great joy when he found Sir Gareth again, and ever he wept as he had been a child. With that came his mother, the Queen of Orkney, and when she saw Sir Gareth really face to face, she suddenly fell down in a swoon. Then Sir Gareth comforted his mother in such a wise that she recovered and made good cheer. And the Lady Lyons came, among all the ladies there named the fairest and peerless, and there the King asked his nephew Sir Gareth whether he would have that lady to his wife. My Lord, said he, Wit ye well that I love her above all ladies. Now fair Lady, said King Arthur, what say ye? Most noble King, said Dame Lyons, Wit ye well that my Lord Gareth is to me more dear to have and to hold as my husband, than any King or Prince that is christened, 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 if I have not you and hold not you as my wife, I wed no lady. What nephew, said the King, is the wind in that door. Wit ye well I would not for the stint of my crown be causer to withdraw your hearts. Ye shall have my love and my lordship in the utter most wise that may lie in my power. Then was there made a provision for the day of the marriage, and by the King's advice it should be at Michaelness, following at King Canada by the seaside. And when the day came, the Bishop of Canterbury made the wedding betwixt Sir Gareth and the Lady Lyons with great solemnity, and at the same time Gareth was wedded to Lynette. When this solemnization was done, they came in the Green Night, the Red Night, and all the others that had yielded themselves to Sir Gareth, and did homage and fealty to hold their lands of him for ever, and desired to serve him at the feast. And the Kings and Queens, Princes, Earls and Barons, and many bold nights went unto meat, and well may ye wit that there was all manner of meat plentiously, all manner of revels and games, with all manner of minstrelsy that was used in those days. So they held the court forty days with great solemnity. And this Sir Gareth was a noble night, and a well-ruled, and fair-languageed. There was a king called Meliodas, as likely a night as any living, and he was lord of the country of Lyones. At that time King Arthur reigned supreme over England, Wales, Scotland, and many other realms, albeit there were many lords of countries that held their lands under King Arthur. So also was the King of France subject to him, and the King of Brittany, and all the lordships as far as Rome. The wife of this King Meliodas was a full, good and fair lady, called Elizabeth, the sister of King Mark of Cornwall. Well, she loved her lord, and he her again, and there was much joy betwixt them. There was a lady in that country who bore ill-will towards this King and Queen, and therefore upon a day, as he rode on hunting, for he was a great chaser, she by an enchantment made him chase a heart by himself alone, till he came to an old castle, whereon she had him taken prisoner. When Queen Elizabeth missed her lord, she was nigh out of her wit, and she took a gentlewoman with her, and ran into the forest to seek him. When she was far in the forest and might go no farther, she sank down, exhausted. For the default of help she took cold there, and she soon knew that she must die. So she begged her gentlewoman to commend her to King Meliodas, and to say that she was full sorry to depart out of this world from him, and that their little child, that was to have such sorrow even in his infancy, should be christened Tristram. Therewith this Queen gave up the ghost and died. The gentlewoman laid her under the shadow of a great tree, and right so they came the barons, following after the Queen. When they saw that she was dead they had her carried home, and much doll was made for her. The morn after his Queen died King Meliodas was delivered out of prison, and the sorrow he made for her when he was come home no tongue might tell. He had her richly interred, and afterwards, as she had commanded her for her death, had his child christened Tristram, the sorrowful born child. For seven years he remained without a wife, and all that time young Tristram was nourished well. Then when he had wedded King Howell's daughter of Brittany, and had other children, the stepmother was wroth that Tristram should be heir to the country of Leonès, rather than her own son. Wherefore this jealous Queen resolved to become rid of her stepson, and she put poison into a silver cup in the chamber where Tristram and her children were together, intending that when Tristram was thirsty he should drink it. But it happened that the Queen's own son aspired the cup with poison, and because the child was thirsty and supposed it was good drink, he took of it freely. Therewithal he died suddenly, and when the Queen wished of the death of her son, we e'erwell that she was heavy of heart. But yet the King understood nothing of her treason. Notwithstanding all this, the Queen would not leave her jealousy, and soon had more poison put in a cup. By fortune King Meliodas, her husband, found the cup where was the poison, and being much thirsty he took to drink there out. Anon the Queen aspired him and ran unto him, and pulled the cup from him suddenly. The King marveled why she did so, and remembered how her son was suddenly slain with poison. Then he took her by the hand and said, Thou false traitorous, thou shalt tell me what manner of drink this is. Therewith he pulled out his sword and saw a great oath that he should slay her if she told him not the truth. Then she told him all, and by the assent of the barons she was condemned to be burned as a traitorous according to the law. A great fire was made, and just as she was at the fire to take her execution, young Tristram kneeled before King Meliodas, and besought of him a boon. I grant it, said the King, whereupon the youth demanded the life of the Queen, his stepmother. That is unrightfully asked, said King Meliodas, for she would have slain thee if she had had her will, and for thy sake most is my cause that she should die. But Tristram's besought his father to forgive her, as he himself did, and required him to hold his promise. Then said the King, Since ye will have it so, I give her to you. 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 death. But thereafter King Meliodas would never have ought to do with her, though by the good means of young Tristram he at length forgave her. Ever after in her life she never hated her stepson more, but loved him and had great joy of him, because he saved her from the fire. But the King would not suffer him to abide longer at his court. CHAPTER XVIII So Tristram's first battle. King Meliodas sought out a gentleman that was well learned and taught, and with him, named Governail, he sent young Tristram away from Leones Court into France, to learn the language and customs and deeds of arms. There he learned to be a harper passing all others of his time, and he also applied himself well to the gentlemanly art of hawking and hunting, for he that gentle is, will draw unto him gentle qualities, and follow the customs of noble gentlemen. The old chronicle seeth he adopted good methods for the chase, and the terms he used we have yet in hawking and hunting. Therefore the Book of Forest Sports is called the Book of Sir Tristram. When he well could speak the language and had learned all that he might in that country, he came home again and remained in Cornwall, until he was big and strong, of the age of nineteen years, and his father King Meliodas had great joy of him. Then it befell that King Anguish of Ireland sent to King Mark of Cornwall for the tribute long paid him, but now seven years behind. King Mark and his barons gave unto the messenger of Ireland the answer that they would no tribute pay, and made him tell his king that if he wished tribute he should send a trusty night of his land to fight for it against another that Cornwall should find to defend its right. With this the messenger departed into Ireland. When King Anguish understood the answer, he was wonderfully wroth, and called unto him, Samahus, the good and proved knight, brother unto the queen of Ireland, and a knight of the round table, and said to him, Fair brother, I pray you go into Cornwall for my sake, and do battle for the tribute that of right we ought to have. Samahus was not loath to do battle for his king and his land, and in all haste he was fitted with all things that to him needed, and so he departed out of Ireland, and arrived in Cornwall, even fast by the castle of Tintagel. When King Mark understood that the good and noble Sennight Mahus was come to fight for Ireland, he made great sorrow, for he knew no night that does have a do with him. Samahus remained on his ship, and every day he sent word unto King Mark that he should pay the tribute, or else find a champion to fight for it with him. Then they of Cornwall let make cries in every place, that what night would fight to save the tribute should be rewarded, so that he should fare the better the term of his life. But no one came to do the battle, and some counseled King Mark to send to the court of King Arthur, to seek salonslot of the lake, that at that time was named for the marvellousest night of all the world. Others said it were labour in vain to do so, because Samahus was one of the nights of the round table, and any one of them would be loath to have a do with other. So the king and all his barons at the last agreed that it was no boot to seek any night of the round table. Meanwhile came the language and the noise unto young Tristram, how Samahus abode battle fast by Tintagal, and how King Mark could find no manner of night to fight for him. Then Sir Tristram was wroth, and so ashamed that there doth no night in Cornwall have a do with Samahus, and he went unto his father King Malaiades, and said, Alas, that I am not made night, if I were I would engage with him. I pray you give me leave to write to King Mark to be made night by him. I will well, said the father, that ye be ruled as your courage will rule you. So Tristram went unto his uncle, who quickly gave him the order of knighthood, and a non-centern messenger unto Samahus, with letters that said he had found a young knight ready to take the battle to the uttermost. Then in all haste King Mark had Sir Tristram hoarse and armed, in the best manner that might be had, or gotten, for gold or silver, and he was put into a vessel, both his horse and he, and all that to him belonged both for his body and for his horse, to be taken to an island nigh Samahus' ships, where it was agreed that they should fight. And when King Mark and his barons beheld young Sir Tristram depart to fight for the right of Cornwall, there was neither man nor woman of honour, but wept to see so young a knight jeopard himself for their right. When Sir Tristram was arrived at the island, he commanded his servant Governail to bring his horse to the land and to dress his horse rightly, and then, when he was in the saddle, well appurled, and his shield dressed upon his shoulder, he commanded Governail to go to his vessel again and return to King Mark, and upon thy life, said he, come thou not nigh this island, till thou see me overcome or slain, or else that I win yonder night. So either departed from other. When Samahus perceived this young knight seeking to encounter with himself, one of the most renowned knights of the world, he said, First Sir, since thou hopest to win honour of me, I will let thee wit honour 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 put spears in rest, and ran together so fiercely, that they smote either other down, horse, and all. And none they pulled out their swords and lashed together as men that were wild and courageous. Thus they fought more than half a day, and either was wounded passing sore, so that the blood ran down freshly from them upon the ground. By then Sir Tristram waxed more fresh than Samahus, and better winded and bigger, and with a mighty stroke, he smote Samahus upon the helm, such a buffet, that it went through his helm and through the quaff of steel, and through the brain-pan, and the sword struck 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 Samahus fell down on his knees, the edge of Tristram's sword left in his brain-pan. Suddenly Samahus rose grovelling, and threw his sword and his shield from him, and so ran to his ships and fled his way, sore groaning. A non-he and his fellowship departed into Ireland, and as soon as he came to the king's brother, he had his wounds searched, and in his head was found a piece of Sir Tristram's sword. No surgeons might cure this wound, and so he died of Sir Tristram's sword. The piece of the sword the queen his sister kept ever with her, for she thought to be revenged if she might. Now turn we again unto Sir Tristram, that was so wounded by a spear-thrust of Samahus, so that he might scarcely stir. He sat down softly upon a little hill and bled fast. Then a non came gov'nail his man with his vessel, and Sir Tristram was quickly taken back into the castle of Tintagil. He was cared for in the best manner possible, but he lay there a month and more, and ever he was like to die of the stroke from Sir Samahus's spear, for as the French book sayeth, the spear's head was in Venom'd. Then was King Mark passing heavy, and he sent after all manner of surgeons, but there was none that would promise him life. At last they came a right wise lady, and she said plainly that he should never be whole, unless he went into the same country that the Venom came from, and in that country he should be hopin' or else never. When King Mark understood that, he let provide for Sir Tristram a fair vessel, well-victrolled, and therein was put Sir Tristram and Gov'nail with him. Sir Tristram took his heart with him, and so they put to sea to sail into Ireland. Please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Joy Chan. Stories of King Arthur and His Knights by U. Waldo Cutler. Chapter 19 Sir Tristram and the Fair Soul By good fortune Sir Tristram with Gov'nail arrived in Ireland fast by a castle, where King Anguish and the Queen were. As he came to land, he sat and hopped in his bed a merry lay, such as none in Ireland ever heard of for that time. And when the King and Queen were told of this stranger that was such a harper, a non they sent for him and let search his wounds, and then asked him his name. Then he answered, I am of the country of Leonesse, my name is Tram Trist, and I was thus wounded in a battle as I fought for a lady's right. Truly, said King Anguish, you shall have all the help in this land that ye may, but I let ye wit in Cornwall I had a great loss as ever King had, for there I lost the best night of the world. His name was Mahos, a full noble night of the table round. Then he told Sir Tristram wherefore Sir Mahos was slain. Sir Tristram made semblance as if he was sorry, and yet better knew he how it was than the King. The King for great favour had Tram Trist put in his daughter's keeping, because she was a noble surgeon. When she searched his wound she found that therein was poison, and so she healed him within a while. Therefore Tram Trist cast great devotion to the fair Isode, for she was at that time the fairest maid of the world. He taught her to hop, and she soon began to have a great fancy onto him. Then soon he showed himself to be so brave and true a night in the justs, that she had great suspicion that he was some man of honor approved, and she loved him more than here to fall. Thus was Sir Tram Trist long there well cherished by the King and the Queen, and especially by Isode the faire. Upon a day Sir Tram Trist was absent, the Queen and Isode roamed up and down in the chamber, and beheld his sword there as it lay upon his bed. And then by mishap the Queen drew out the sword and regarded it a long while. Both thought it a passing fair sword, but within a foot and a half of the point there was a great peace thereof broken out of the edge. When the Queen aspired that gap in the sword she remembered her of a piece of a sword that was found in the brain-pan of Sir Mahos, her brother. Alas! then said she unto her daughter, the fair Isode, this is the traitor night that slew thine uncle. When Isode heard her say so, she was sore abashed, for much she loved Sir Tram Trist, and full well she knew the cruelness of her mother. Anon 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 Mahos' head. Then she ran with that piece of iron to the sword that lay upon the bed, and when she put that piece unto the sword it was as neat as it could be when new broken. The Queen now gripped that sword in her hand fiercely, and with all her might ran straight to where she knew Tram Trist was, and there she would have thrust him through, had not a knight pulled the sword from her. Then when she was lettered of her evil will, she ran to King Anguish, and told him on her knees what traitor he had in his house. The King was right heavy thereof, but charged the Queen to leave him to deal with the night. He went straight into the chamber unto Sir Tram Trist, that he found by now already armed to mount upon his horse. King Anguish saw that it was of no avail to fight, and that it was no honour to slay Sir Tram Trist while a guest within his court. So he gave him leave to depart from Ireland in safety, if he would tell who he was, and whether he slew Sir Mahos. Sir, said Tristram, now I shall tell you all the truth. My father's name is Meliodas, King of Leonès, and my mother is called Elizabeth. That was sister unto King Mark of Cornwall. I was Chrison Tristram, but because I would not be known in this country, I turned my name, and had myself called Tram Trist. For the tribute of Cornwall I fought for my uncle's sake, and for the right of Cornwall that ye had possessed many years. And with Ewell I did the battle for the love of my uncle, King Mark, for the love of the country of Cornwall, and to increase my honour. Truly, said the King, I may not say but ye did as a night should. Habe it, I may not maintain you in this country with my honour. Sir, said Tristram, I thank you for your good lordship that I have had with you here, and the great goodness my lady or daughter hath shown me. It may so happen that you shall win more by my life than by my death. For in the parts of England it may be I may do you service at some season, so that ye shall be glad that ever you showed me your good lordship. I beseech your good grace that I may take my leave of your daughter, and of all the barons and knights. This request the King granted, and Sir Tristram went unto the fair Isolde and took leave of her, and he told her all, what he was, 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. She was full woe of his departing and wept heartily. Madam, said Tristram, I promise you faithfully that I shall be all the days of my life your night. Grammarcy, said the fair Isolde, I promise you against that I shall not be married the seven years but by your scent. Then Sir Tristram gave her ring, and she gave him another, and therewith he departed from her, leaving her making great dull and lamentation, and he straight went unto the court among all the barons, and there he took his leave of most and least, and so departed and took the sea, and with good wind he arrived up at Tintigal in Cornwall. CHAPTER XX How Sir Tristram demanded the fair Isolde for King Mark, and how Sir Tristram and his Isolde drank the love potion. When there came tidings that Sir Tristram was arrived and whole of his wounds, King Mark was passing glad, and so were all the barons. And Sir Tristram lived at the court of King Mark in great joy long time, until at the last there befell a jealousy and an unkindness between them. Then King Mark cast always in his heart how he might destroy Sir Tristram. The beauty and goodness of the fair Isolde was so praised by Sir Tristram that King Mark said he would wed her, and prayed Sir Tristram to take his way into Ireland for him, as his messenger, to bring her to Cornwall. All this was done to the intent to slay Sir Tristram. Notwithstanding Sir Tristram would not refuse the message for any danger or peril, and made ready to go in the goodliest wise that might be devised. He took with him the goodliest nights that he might find in the court, arrayed them after the guise that was then used, and so departed overseas with all his fellowship. Anon as he was in the broad sea a tempest took them and drove them back into the coast of England. They came to land fast by Camelot, and there Sir Tristram set up his pavilion. Now it fell that King Anguish of Ireland was accused of slaying by treason a cousin of Soloncelot of the lake, and just at this time he was come to the court at the summoning of King Arthur, upon pain of forfeiture of his lands. Yet ere he arrived at Camelot, he whisked not wherefore he was sent after. When he heard the accusation, he understood full well there was no remedy but to answer it nightly, for the custom was in those days that if any man were accused of any treason or murder, he should fight body for body, or else find another night to fight for him. Now King Anguish grew passing heavy when he heard his accusing, for the nights of King Bann's blood, as Soloncelot was, were as hard men to win in battle as any then living. The meanwhile Sir Tristram was told how King Anguish was comfier than in great distress, and he sent Governell to bring him to his pavilion. When Sir Tristram saw the King coming he ran unto him and would have holden his stirrup, but King Anguish leapt lightly from his horse, and either embraced other heartily. Sir Tristram remembered his promise, made when departing from Ireland, to do service to King Anguish if ever it lay in his power, and never had there been so great need of night's help as now. So when King Anguish told Sir Tristram all, Sir Tristram took the battle for the sake of the good lordship showed him in Ireland, and for the sake of the fair is owed, upon the condition that King Anguish grant two things. One was that he should swear that he was in the right, and had never consented to the death of the night. The second request was to be granted after the battle, if God should speed him therein. King Anguish quickly granted Sir Tristram whatsoever he asked, and anon departed unto King Arthur's judges, and told them he had found a champion ready to do the battle for him. So Sir Tristram fought for King Anguish, and overcame his adversary a most noble night. Then King Anguish and Sir Tristram joyfully took their leave, and sailed into Ireland with great nobleness. 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 were there made the most of him that they might, but the joy that the fair is owed made of Sir Tristram no tongue might tell, for of men earthly she loved him most. Then upon a day King Anguish would know from Sir Tristram why he asked not his boon, for whatsoever had been promised he should have without fail. Sir, said Tristram, now is it time, and this is what I desire, that ye will give me the fair so your daughter, not for myself, but for my uncle King Mark, that shall have her to wife, for so have I promised him. Alas! said the King, I had rather than all the land that I have ye would wed her yourself. Sir, said Sir Tristram, if I did, then were I ashamed forever in this world and false of my promise. Therefore I pray you hold your promise that ye gave me, for this is my desire, that ye will give me the fair so to go with me into Cornwall, to be wedded to King Mark, my uncle. As for that, said King Anguish, ye shall have her with you to do with her what it pleases you. That is to say, if ye list to wed her yourself, that is to me, livest, and if ye will give her unto King Mark, that is in your choice. So to make a short conclusion, the fair so'd was made ready to go with Sir Tristram, and Dame Braguane went with her for her chief gentleman, with many others. The Queen, a so'd's mother, gave to Dame Braguane and unto Governail a drink, and charged them that what day King Mark should wed, that same day they should give him that drink. And then, said the Queen, I undertake either shall love other the days of their life. So this drink was given unto Dame Braguane and unto Governail, and then anon Sir Tristram took the sea with the fair so'd. When they were in the cabin it happened that they were thirsty, and they saw a little flask of gold stand by them, that seemed by the colour and the taste to be noble wine. Then Sir Tristram took the flask in his hand, and said, Madam a so'd, here is the best drink that ever ye drank, that Dame Braguane, your maid, and Governail my servant, have kept for themselves. Then they laughed and made good cheer, and either drank to other, thinking never drink was so sweet or so good. But after they had drunk that magic wine, they loved either other so truly, that never their love departed either for wheel or for woe. So they sailed on till by fortune they came into Cornwall. There all the barons met them, and anon King Mark and the fair so'd were richly wedded with great splendour. But ever, as the French book saith, Sir Tristram and the fair so'd loved each other truly, and his life long he was her loyal and honourable knight. CHAPTER XXI. How Sir Tristram departed from Tintigal, and was long in the forest. There were great jousts and turninging at that time in Cornwall, and Sir Tristram was most praised of all the knights. But some were jealous because of his prowess, and especially Sir Andred, that was cousin unto Sir Tristram, ever lay in a watch to wait betwixt him and the fair is so'd, for to take them and slander them. So upon a day Sir Tristram talked with a so'd in a window, and that aspired Sir Andred and told it to the King. Then King Mark took a so'd in his hand and came to Sir Tristram, and called him false traitor, and would have stricken him. But Sir Tristram ran under his so'd 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 there was not one would move for his words. When Sir Tristram saw there was not one would be against him, he shook the so'd to the King, and made as though he would strike him. And then King Mark fled, for he was a coward, and Sir Tristram followed him, and smote upon him five or six strokes with the flat of his so'd on the neck, so that he made him fall upon the nose. Sir Tristram then went his way and armed himself, and took his horse and his man, and so he rode into the forest. King Mark caught his counsel unto him, and asked advice of his barons what was best to do with Sir Tristram. Their counsel was to send for him, that they might be friends, for in a quarrel, if Sir Tristram were hard bestowed, many men would hold with him against the King, and if so peerless a knight should depart from King Mark's court, and go to King Arthur's, he would get himself such friends there that Cornwall would be an ill repute. So the barons sent for Sir Tristram under a safe conduct, and he was welcomed back by King Mark. But his enemies ever plotted against him, and on a day Sir Andrew and some of the barons set upon him secretly, seized him, and took him, bound hand and foot, unto a chapel which stood upon the sea-rocks. When Sir Tristram saw that Andrew meant to kill him there, he said, Fair Lords, remember what I have done for the country, Cornwall, and in what jeopardy I have been for the wheel of you all, and see not me die thus to the shame of all knighthood. But Andrew held to his purpose, and when Sir Tristram saw him draw his sword to kill him, he looked upon both his hands that were fast bound unto two knights, and suddenly he pulled them both to him, and so freed his hands. Then he leapt unto his cousin, Andrew, and rested his sword out of his hands. Then he smoked Sir Andrew to the earth, and fought with the others till he had killed ten knights. So Sir Tristram got the chapel, and kept it by force. Then the uproar became great, and the people gathered unto Sir Andrew, more than a hundred, whereupon Sir Tristram shut fast the chapel door, and break the bars of a window, and so he leapt out and fell upon the crags by the sea. Here Sir Andrew and his fellows might not get to him at that time, and so they departed. When Sir Tristram's men heard that he was escaped, they were passing glad, and on the rocks they found him, and with towels they pulled him up. Then Sir Tristram dreaded sore lest he were discovered unto the king, wherefore he sent Governail for his horse and his spear, and so he rode his way into the forest. As he rode he was in great sorrow at departing in this wise, and there as he made great doll, by fortune a damsel met him, and she and her lady brought him meat and drink. Also they brought him a harp, for they knew him, and wished that for goodly harping he bore the prize in the world. So they tried to give him comfort, but he ate little of the food, and at the last came wholly out his mind for sorrow. He would go about in the wilderness breaking down the trees and bows, and other while, when he found the harp that the lady sent him, then would he harp and play thereupon, and weep together. Sometimes when Sir Tristram was in the wood, then would the lady sit down and play upon the harp. Then would he come to that harp and hearken there too, and sometimes he would harp himself. Thus it went on a quarter of a year, when at the last Sir Tristram ran his way, and the lady wist not what had become of him. He waxed lean and poor flesh, and fell into the fellowship of herdmen and shepherds, and daily they would give him of their meat and drink. And when he did any evil deed they would beat him with rods, and so they clipped him with shears and made him like a fool. And upon a day Sir Dagonet, King Arthur's fool, came into Cornwall with two squires with him, and as they rode through the forest they came by a fair well where Sir Tristram was want to be. The weather was hot, and they elighted to drink of that well, and in the meanwhile their horses break loose. Just then Sir Tristram came unto them, and first he soused Sir Dagonet in that well, and then his squires, and there atlapped the shepherds. For with all he ran after their horses, and brought them again one by one, and right so, wet as they were, he made Sir Dagonet and his squires mount and ride their ways. Thus Sir Tristram endured there a half year, and would never come in town or village. Then Sir Andrew that was cousin unto Sir Tristram, that a tale be brought unto King Mark's court, that Sir Tristram was dead, and that ere he died he besought King Mark to make Sir Andrew King of the country of Leonese, of the which Sir Tristram was Lord. When Queen Assault heard of these tidings, she made such sorrow that she was nigh out of her mind, and she lay long sick at the point of death. Meanwhile a night came unto King Mark, and told him of a mad man in the forest at the fair fountain. So he commanded his night to take Sir Tristram with fairness, and bring him to his castle. Yet he knew not that the mad man was Sir Tristram. They did softly and fair, and cast mantles upon Sir Tristram, and so led him unto Tintagal. There they bathed 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. Now it fell upon a day that the Queen, the fair Assault, heard of this man that ran wild in the forest, and how the King had brought him home to the court, and with Dane Braggwayne she went to see him in the garden, where he was reposing in the sun. When she looked upon Sir Tristram she knew not that it was he, yet it seemed to her she had seen him before. But as soon as Sir Tristram saw her he knew her well enough, and he turned away his visage and wept. The Queen had always with her a little dog that Sir Tristram gave her the first time that ever he came into Cornwall, and never would that dog depart from her unless Sir Tristram was nigh there with his soad. And on as this little dog caught a scent of Sir Tristram, she leapt upon him, licked his cheeks, whined and smelled at his feet, and over his whole body. Then the fair Assault saw that it was her Lord, Sir Tristram, and thereupon she fell down in a soon, and so lay a great while. When she might speak she blessed God that Sir Tristram was still alive, yet she knew that her Lord King Mark would discover him by the little dog that would never leave him. CHAPTER XXII OF STORIES OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS NIGHTS This is a LibriVox recording, all LibriVox recordings in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. RECORDING BY JOY CHAN STORIES OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS NIGHTS BY U. WALDO CUTLER CHAPTER XXII HOW KING MARK WAS SORRY FOR THE GOOD RENOWN OF SIR TRISTRAM THE QUEEN DEPARTED FROM Sir Tristram, but the little dog would not from him. Therewith all came King Mark, and the dog set upon him and bade at all the barons. Thereupon Sir Andred saw by the dog that it was Sir Tristram, and King Mark repented that he had brought the madman in from the forest. Then he let call his barons to judge Sir Tristram to death. They would not assent there to, but by the advice of them all he was banished out of the country for ten years. So Sir Tristram was made to depart out of the country of Cornwall, and there were many barons brought him into his ship. When he was ready to set sail he said, Greet well, King Mark, and all mine enemies, and say I will come again when I may. And well am I rewarded for the fighting with Sir Mahos, and delivering all this country from Servidge, and well am I rewarded for the fetching of the fair soad out of Ireland, and the danger I was in first and last. So Sir Tristram departed overseas, and arrived in Wales. As he rode there through the forest perilous, a lady in great distress met him that said, Oh my lord, come with me, and that in all the haste ye may, for you shall see the most honourable night of the world hard bestowed, and he is none other than the noble King Arthur himself. God defend, said Sir Tristram, that ever he should be in such distress, I am ready to help him if I may. So they rode at a great pace till they saw a night that was King Arthur, on foot fighting with two knights, and anon the one night was smitten down, and they unlaced his helm to slay him. Therewith all came Sir Tristram with all his might, and smote the two traitors so that they fell dead. Then he hoist King Arthur, and as they rode forth together the King thanked heartily Sir Tristram, and desired to wit his name. He would not tell him, but said that he was a poor knight adventurous. So he bear King Arthur fellowship till he met with some of his knights. Then departed Sir Tristram and rode straight toward Camelot. Then was he aware of a seemingly knight riding against him with a covered shield. They dressed their shields and spears, and came together with all the might of their horses. They met so fiercely that both horses and knights fell to the earth. As fast as they were able, they then got free from their horses, and put their shields before them. And they straked together with bright swords, like men of might, and either wounded other wonderly saw, so that the blood ran out upon the grass. Thus they too fought the space of four hours. Never one would speak to other one word, and of their harness they hewed off many pieces. Then at last spake the one with the covered shield. Knight, thou fightest wonderly well as ever I saw knight. Therefore, if it please you tell me your name. Sir, said Sir Tristram, that is me loath to tell any man my name. Truly, said the other, if I was requested I was never loath to tell my name. I am Sir Lancelot of the 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 Lancelot, tell me now your name. Truly, said he, my name is Sir Tristram of Léonès. Oh! said Sir Lancelot, what adventure has befallen me? Therewith Sir Lancelot kneeled adown and yielded him up his sword, and therewithal Sir Tristram kneeled adown and yielded him up his sword. So either gave other the victory. Thereupon they both forthwithal went to a stone and sat down upon it, and took off their helms to cool themselves. Then after a while they took their helms and rode together to Camelot. There soon they met King Arthur, and when he wist that it was Sir Tristram, 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. Then they went to the table round where Queen Grenever came, 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 honour, for of all manner of hunting ye bear the prize, 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, ye are welcome to this court. Now I pray you, 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, there to is me loathe, for I have a do in many countries. Not so, said Arthur, ye have promised at me, and ye may not say nay. So Tristram agreed to remain with King Arthur, who then went unto the sieges about the round table, and looked in every siege that lacked a knight. Then the king saw in the siege of Mahos letters that said, This is the siege of the noble knight, Sir Tristram. And then Arthur made Sir Tristram night of the table round with great splendour and great feast, as might be thought. For that Sir Mahos, a worthy knight, was slain afore by the hands of Sir Tristram, was well known at that time in the court of Arthur, and that for evil deeds that he did unto the country of Cornwall, Sir Tristram and he fought, and that 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, and that Sir Tristram by fortune recovered, and Sir Mahos died through the stroke on the head. King Mark had had great despite of the renown of Sir Tristram, and therefore had chased him out of Cornwall. When now he heard of the great prowess that Sir Tristram did in England, he was so grieved, and sent men to aspire what deeds he did. The queen assured also on her part, sent privileged spies to know what deeds he had done, for great love was between them twain. When the messengers came home and told that Sir Tristram passed all other nights that Arthur's court, unless it was Sir Lancelot, King Mark was right heavy of the tidings, and as glad was the fair sword. Then in great despite King Mark took with him two good nights and two squires, disguised himself, and took his way into England to the intent to slay Sir Tristram. So King Mark came into England, where he soon became known as the most horrible coward that ever bestowed horse. There was much laughing ingesting at the night of Cornwall, and much he was despised. Sir Dagonet, King Arthur's fool, at one time chased him through thick and thin over the forests, and when on a day Sir Lancelot overtook him and bade him turn and fight, he made no defence, but tumbled down out of the saddle to the earth as a sack, and there he lay still and cried to Lancelot mercy. So King Mark was soon brought as a recreational before King Arthur, who already knew wherefore he was coming to his country, and that he had not done the service and homage he owed as King Arthur's Underlord. But King Mark promised to make larger men for the wrongs he had done, for he was a fair speaker, and false thereunder. So on a day King Arthur prayed of him one gift, and King Mark promised to give him whatsoever he desired, if it were in his power. Then King Arthur asked him to be good Lord unto Sir Tristram, and to take him back into Cornwall, and to cherish him for Arthur's sake. King Mark promised this, and saw upon a book for Arthur and all his knights. Therewith King Arthur forgave him all the evil will that ever he owed him, and 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 afterward. Then soon afterward King Mark took his leave to ride into Cornwall, and Sir Tristram rode with him, wherefore the most part of the round table were passing heavy, and some were wroth, knowing that King Mark was the most coward and the villainous knight living. After a while letters came out of Cornwall that spake ill of Sir Tristram, and showed plainly that King Mark took Sir Tristram for his mortal enemy. Sir Lancelot in a special made great sorrow for anger, wherefore Dinadon, a gentle, wise, and courteous knight, said to him, King Mark is so villainous that by fair speech shall never man get of him. But you shall see what I shall do. I will make a lay for him, and when it is made I shall make a harper sing it for him. So Anon Dinadon went and made the lay, hoping thereby to humble the crafty king. And he taught it in harper named Elliot, and when he knew it he taught it to many harpers. And so by the Will of Sir Lancelot and of Arthur the harpers went straight into Wales and into Cornwall to sing the lay that Sir Dinadon made of King Mark, which was the worst lay that ever harper sang with harper, or with any other instrument. At a great feast that King Mark made came in Elliot the harper, and because he was a curious harper men heard him sing the lay that Dinadon had made, the which spake the most villainy of King Mark's treason that ever man heard. When the harper had sung his song to the end, King Mark was wonderfully wroth, for he deemed that the lay that was sung for him was made by Sir Tristram's counsel, wherefore he thought to slay him and all his well-willers in that country. So King Mark grew ever more jealous of Sir Tristram because of his prowess as night, and his great love and loyal devotion to the Queen, the fair soul. And by treason King Mark let take him and put him in prison, contrary to his promise that he made unto King Arthur. When Queen Assaud 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 her, 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 Logress, that is, this land. When the fair Assaud understood Sir Tristram's letter and his intent, she sent him another and bade him be of good comfort, for she would make the vessel ready, and all things to purpose. Then she had King Mark taken and put in prison, until the time that she and Sir Tristram were departed unto the realm of Logress. And then Sir Tristram was delivered out of prison, and anon in all haste, they took their vessel and came by water into England. When Sir Lancelot understood that Sir Tristram was there, he was full glad, he aspired wither he went, and after him he rode, and then either made of other great joy. And so Sir Lancelot brought Sir Tristram and the fair Assaud unto joyous guard, that was Sir Lancelot's own castle that he had won with his own hands, and he charged all his people to honour them and love them as they would do himself. Near three years Sir Tristram kept the fair Assaud with him in joyous guard, and then by means of treaties he brought her again unto King Fox, which was the name Sir Lancelot gave unto Mark, because of his wiles and treason. But ever the malice of King Fox followed his brave nephew, and in the end he slew him as he sat harping before his lady the fair Assaud, with a trenchant glaive thrust in behind to the heart. For his death was much bewailing of every night that ever was in Arthur's days, for he was treacherously slain, and the fair Assaud died swooning upon the cross of Sir Tristram, whereof was great pity. And all that were there with King Mark that were consenting to the death of Sir Tristram was slain as Sir Andred and many others. End of Chapter 22 Chapter 23 Of Stories of King Arthur and His Knights While King Arthur and his knights were still sorrowful over Sir Tristram's return to Cornwall, greatly fearing mischief to the good night by some manner of falsehood or treason of King Mark, they came to the court a night bringing a young squire with him. It was Sir Aglival, King Pelinor's son, and the squire was his brother Percival, that he wished King Arthur to make night. The boy was the youngest of five sons, and for love of the father and the brothers, good nights all, the king made him a knight the next day in Camelot. Yet the king and all the knights thought it would be long ear he proved a man of prowess, and Sir Cain Sir Mordred made sport of his rude manner. At the dinner, when every night was set after his honour, the king commanded Sir Percival to be placed among mean knights, but there was a maiden in the queen's court that was calm of high blood. Yet she was dumb, and never spake a word. Right so she came straight into the hall, went unto Sir Percival, took him by the hand, and said aloud that the king and all the knights might hear it. Arise, Sir Percival, the noble knight and God's knight, and go with me. So he did, and she brought him to the right side of the siege perilous, and said, Fair Knight, take here thy siege, for that siege are pertaineth to thee, and to none other. Right so she departed, and soon afterwards she died. Then the king and all the court made great joy of Sir Percival. Then Sir Percival rode forth upon adventures, and came unto Cornwall to seek Sir Tristram. And he delivered him from a prison where King Mark had placed him, and then rode straight unto King Mark, and told him he had done himself great shame to treat so falsely Sir Tristram, the knight of most renown in all the world. Then Sir Percival departed, but anon King Mark bethought him of more treason, notwithstanding his promise never by any manner of means to hurt Sir Tristram, and he let take him and put him again in prison. How he then escaped with his sword into England we have already read in the tale of Sir Tristram. Now a chance that Sir Lancelot of the lake had so offended the Queen Grenever, and she rebuked him harshly, called him false traitor knight, and sent him from her court. Therewith he took such an hearty sorrow at her words that he went clean out of his mind, and leapt out at a bay window into a garden, and there with thorns he was all scratched up in his visage. So he ran forth he whisked not wither, and for a long while none of his kin whisked what was become of him. Soon Queen Grenever was right sorry that she had been so angry with her faithful knight, and on her knees were sorts of bores and many others to seek Sir Lancelot throughout all England, Wales and Scotland. So these noble knights by one are said rode forth by twos and threes, and ever they assigned where they should meet. Sir Aguilveil and Sir Percival 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 said, Ah my dear sons, when your father was slain he left me five sons of the which now be three slain. My heart shall never be glad more. Then she kneeled down to Four Aguilveil and Percival, and besought them to abide at home with her. Ah, sweet mother, said Sir Percival, we may not, for we become of King's blood on both sides, and therefore, mother, it is our kind to follow arms and noble deeds. Then there was but weeping and sobbing when they should depart, and after they were gone she sent a squire after them with spending enough. 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 for her blessing. So this squire was benighted as he rode homeward, and by misfortune happened to come into the castle of a baron, whose brother, a false knight, and betrayer of ladies and of good knights. Sir Aguilveil had slain. When this baron knew from the squire that he served a good night called Sir Aguilveil, he commanded his men to have him away without mercy. On the mourn came Sir Aguilveil and Sir Percival, riding by churchyard where men and women were busy in burying this same dead squire. When the brothers heard from a good man of the company, how the baron had shamefully slain the squires that night, they alighted both, left their horses with their men, and went on foot to the castle. Also soon as they were within the castle gate, Sir Aguilveil bade the porter, go thou unto thy Lord and tell him that I am Sir Aguilveil, for whom the squire was slain this night. Anon the Lord of the castle, whose name was Goodwin, came armed into the court, and he and Sir Aguilveil lashed together as eagerly as it had been two lions. Sir Percival fought with all the remnant that would fight, and within a while had slain all that would withstand him, for he dealt so his strokes that there dursed no man abide him. Within a while Sir Aguilveil had Sir Goodwin also at the earth, and so the two brethren departed and took their horses. Then they let carry the dead squire into a priory, and there they interred him. When this was done they rode their way into many countries, ever inquiring after Sir Lancelot, but never they could hear of him. At last at a castle that was called Catechon, Sir Percival parted from Sir Aguilveil, and with his squire rode alone. In the afternoon he came upon a bridge of stone, where he found a knight that was bound with a chain fast about unto a pillar of stone. This was Sir Percidus, a knight of the table round, who by adventure came this way and lodged in the castle at the bridge foot. Thereby an evil custom of the castle, men set upon him suddenly, or ever he might come to his weapon, and bound him and chained him at the bridge. There he knew he should die unless some man of honour break his vans. Be ye of good cheer, said Sir Percival, and because ye are knight of the round table as well as I, I trust to God to make you free. Therewith Sir Percival drew out his sword, and struck at the chain with such a might that he cut her to the train, and threw Sir Percidus' hobbock, and hurt him a little. Truly, said Sir Percidus, this was a mighty stroke if ever I felt one, for had it not been for the chain ye had slain me. Therewith all Sir Percidus saw a knight coming out of the castle, flying o'er that ever he might. Beware, sir, said he, yonder cometh a man that will have a do with you. Let him come, said Sir Percival. So he met with that knight in the midst of the bridge, and gave him such a buffet, that he smote him quite from his horse, and over a part of the bridges, so that, had there not been a little vessel under the bridge, that night had been drowned. Then Sir Percival took the knight's horse, and made Sir Percidus to mount upon him. So they rode to the castle, and made the lady deliver Sir Percidus' servants. Had he not had a great matter in hand, he would have remained to do away with the evil customs there. But Sir Percival might not long abide, for he rode to seek Sir Lancelot. Sir Percidus brought him on to his own castle, and there made him great cheer for that night. Then on the mourn, when Sir Percival had heard Mass and broken his fast, he said to Sir Percidus, ride unto King Arthur, and tell the King how that ye met with me, and tell my brother Sir Aglival how I rescued you, and bid him seek not after me, for I am in the quest to seek Sir Lancelot of the lake, and will not see him or the court till Sir Lancelot is found. Also tell Sir Cain Sir Mordred, that I trust to God to be of as good worthiness as either of them, and that I will never see that court till men speak more honour of me, than ever men did of any of them both. So Sir Percidus departed from Sir Percival, and rode unto King Arthur, and told they of Sir Percival. And King Arthur said he must needs prove a good night, for his father and his brethren were noble knights. Now turn we to Sir Lancelot, and speak we of his care and woe, and what pain he endured from cold, hunger and thirst. As he wandered like a madman here and there, he by fortune came to the castle of King Pellies. There he was healed of his madness, and when he was recovered he was so ashamed that he had thus been clean out of his wit. And King Pellies gave him his castle of Bliant, that stood in an island enclosed with a fair water, deep and large. Sir Lancelot called it the joyous isle, and here he dwelt a long while. Because he was driven from King Arthur's court, he desired not to be known, and he named himself the night that hath trespassed. Now it fell at that time that Sir Lancelot heard of a jousting hard by his castle, and he sent word thither that there was one night in the joyous isle, by name the night that hath trespassed, that would joust against any nights that will come to him. When this cry was made, and to joyous isle drew many nights, and with you well there was not seen at Arthur's court one night that did so much deeds of arms as were done in that gay castle. And in the meanwhile came also Sir Percival night to joyous isle, and would have gone to that castle, but might not for the broad water. Then he saw on the other side a lady, and he called on to her and asked who was in that castle. Fair night, she said. Here within this castle is the fairest night and the mightiest man that is, I dare say, living, and he called himself the night that hath trespassed. He came into this country like a madman, with dogs and boys chasing him, and by miracle he was brought into his wit again. If you list to come into the castle, you must ride on to the farthest side of the isle, and there you shall find a vessel that will bear you and your horse. Then Sir Percival came on to the vessel and passed the water. When he came to the castle gate he bade the porter, go thou to the good night within the castle, and tell him here is come an errant night to joust with him. Sir Percival now rode within the castle, and anons the lance-lot had warning, he was soon ready, and there Sir Percival and Sir Lance-lot encountered with such a might that both the horses and the knights fell to the earth. Then they left their horses, swung out noble swords, and hewed away pieces of their shields, and dashed together like two boars, and either wounded other passing sore. At the last Sir Percival spake when they had fought they were more than two hours. Fair knight, sayeth he, I pray thee tell me thy name, for I met never with such a knight. Sir, said Sir Lance-lot, my name is the knight that hath trespassed, now tell me your name, I pray you, gentle knight. Truly, said Sir Percival, my name is Sir Percival of Gaelus, King Pelinor was my father, and Sir Aglervale is my brother. Alas! said Sir Lance-lot, what have I done to fight with you that art a knight of the table round that some time was your fellow? Therewith Sir Lance-lot kneeled down upon his knees, and threw away his shield and his sword from him. When Sir Percival saw him do so he marveled what he meant, then he baited him upon the high order of knighthood to tell his true name, and Sir Lance-lot told him all. Alas! said Sir Percival, what have I done? I was sent by the Queen for to seek you, and so I have sought you nigh these two years. I pray you forgive me mine offence that I have here done. It is soon forgiven, said Sir Lance-lot. Then Sir Percival told him how King Arthur and all his knights, and in his special Queen Grenever, made great dole and sorrow that ever he departed from them, and that never knight was better welcome back to the court than he would be. So Sir Lance-lot agreed to do after Sir Percival's council, and ride with him to the King. So then they took their horses and departed from the joyous isle, and within five days' journey they came to Camelot that is called an English Winchester. And when Sir Lance-lot was come among them the King and all the knights made great joy of him. Then Sir Percival of Gaelus began and told the whole adventures and all the tales of Sir Lance-lot. And the Queen made great cheer, and there were great feasts made, and many great lords and ladies when they heard that Sir Lance-lot was come to the court again, made great joy. CHAPTER XXIV OF THE COMING OF SER GALAHARD At the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the round table were come into Camelot, and the tables were set ready to the meet, Wright so entered into the hall a full fair gentlewoman before the King, and on behalf of King Pelis requested that Sir Lance-lot should go with her here by into a forest. Sir Lance-lot bade his squire saddle his horse and bring his arms, and Wright so he departed with the gentlewoman, and rode until that he came into a great valley where they saw an abbey of nuns. 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 Lance-lot and welcomed him, and were passing glad of his coming. In the meanwhile there came twelve nuns which brought with them Gaelahard, the which was passing fair and well-made, so that in the world men might scarcely find his match. 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 overworthy a man's hand may he not receive the order of knighthood. Sir Lance-lot beheld that young squire, and saw him seemingly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features, and he thought of his age and ever to have seen so fair man a form. Then said Sir Lance-lot, cometh this desire of himself. He and all they said, yea. Then shall he, said Sir Lance-lot, receive the high order of knighthood tomorrow. That night Sir Lance-lot had passing good year, and on the mourn at the hour of prime at Gaelahard's desire he made him knight and said, God make you a good man, for beauty faileth you not as any that liveth. Then Sir Lance-lot departed from them, and came again unto Camelot by the hour of nine on Whitt Sunday morning. By that time the king and the queen and all the fellowship were gone to the minister to hear the service. When they were come from service all were passing glad of Sir Lance-lot's return, and as they entered the hall each of the barons sought his name, written with gold letters in the sieges of the round table. Thus they went along from seat to seat, until 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 Jesus Christ ought this siege to be filled. All thought this a marvellous thing, and an adventurous. And then Sir Lance-lot accounted the term of the writing from the birth of our Lord unto that day, and said, It seemeth me this siege ought to be filled this same day, for this is the feast of Pentecost after the four hundred and four and fifty years, and if it would please all parties, I would none of these letters was seen this day till he become that ought to achieve this adventure. Then they provided a cloth of silk for to cover these letters in the siege perilous, and the king bade haste unto dinner. It was an old custom of Arthur's court that on this day they should not sit at their meat until they had seen some adventure. As they stood waiting, therefore, in came a squire bringing the marvellous tidings that beneath at the river there was a great stone, as it were of red marble, floating above the water, wherein a sword struck. So the king and all the knights went unto the river to see this marvel, and they found it even as the squire had said. Then in the stone was the fair rich sword, and in the pommel thereof were precious stones and subtle letters wrought with 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 Lancelot, Fair sir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am sure ye be the best knight of the world. Then Sir Lancelot answered full soberly, conscious of a great sin. Sir, sir, it is not my sword. Also, sir, with ye well I have no hardiness to set my hand there to, for it belongs not by my side. Now, fair nephew, said the king unto Sir Gawain, assay ye to take the sword for my love. Therewith Sir Gawain took the sword by the handles, though unwillingly, and only at the king's commandment, but he might not stir it. Then the king said unto Sir Percival that he should assay, so he set his hand on the sword and drew it strongly, but he might not move it. Then were there more than dost be so hardy as to set their hands there to, but all failed. Now may ye go to your dinner, said Sir Kay unto King Arthur, for a marvellous adventure have ye seen. So the king and all went in, and every night knew his own place and set himself there and all sieges were filled, save only the siege perilous. Anon there befell a marvellous adventure for all the doors and the windows of the place shut of themselves, yet then the hall was not greatly darkened, and therewith they were amazed, both one and another. While they sat there in suspense as to what should happen, came in a good old man and an ancient clothed all in white, and there was no night new from whence he came. With him he brought a young night in red arms without sword or shield, save a scabbard hanging by his side. Then the old man said unto Arthur, Sir, I bring here a young night the witches of King's lineage and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea, whereby the marvellous of this court and of strange realms shall be fully accomplished. The king was right glad of the good man's words, and bade him in the young night welcome. Then the old man made the young man unarmed, and he was in a coat of red silk, and wore a mantle upon his shoulder that was furred with ermine. Anon the old night led him unto the siege perilous, where beside sat Sir Percival and Sir Lancelot. The good man lifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said thus, This is the siege of Galahad, the High Prince. He set him down surely in that siege, saying, We ye well that place is yours, and then departed and went his way. All the nights of the table round marvelled greatly that Sir Galahad does sit there in that siege perilous, and was so tender of age, for never before had any one sat therein but he was mischieved. And they foresaw that Sir Galahad would come to great honour, and outdo them all in nightly courtesy. Then the king bade him welcome to the court, and taking him by the hand went down from the palace to show Galahad the adventures of the stone. Sir, said the king unto him, Here is a great marvel as ever I saw, and right good nights 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. Anon he laid his hand on the sword, and lightly drew it out of the stone, and put it in the sheath, saying, Now it goeth better than it did a forehand. End of Chapter 24