 CHAPTER 25 HOW THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL WAS BEGUN The dish from which our Lord Jesus Christ ate the Pascal Lamb at his last supper with his disciples, men called the Holy Grail. Therein also Joseph of Arimathea caught the last drops of sacred blood, and after the passion of our Lord, that gentle night, the witch took down the body off the Holy Cross, at that time departed from Jerusalem with a great party of his kindred, bearing the Holy Grail with them. It befell that they came first to a city that was called Saras, and at the last they crossed to Britain, and through them all the heathen people of this land were turned to the Christian faith. Ever as years went by the Holy Grail became more precious, and the possession of it ever more a sacred trust. But after a long while it was lost from the world through men's sinfulness, and only those of pure heart and life might from time to time see it. Even before he was put under the stone, had foreseen that by them which should be fellows of the round table, the truth of the Holy Grail would be well known, and in the good days of King Arthur, the longing grew to be worthy of the vision of this sign of the Lord's presence among men. Moreover, a holy hermit had said that, when the siege perilous was filled, the achieving of the Holy Grail should be near. After Galahad drew the sword out of the stone, the king in all estates went thoughtful home unto Camelot, and so to even song in the great minster. After that they went to supper, and every night sat in his own place at the round table. Then anon they heard cracking and crying of thunder that should, as it seemed to them, shake the place all to pieces. In the midst of this blast entered a sunbeam more clear by seven times than ever they saw day, and all they were lighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. They began every night to behold other, and either saw other by their seeming fairer than ever they looked to fall. There was no night might speak one word, and say they looked every man on his fellows as if they were dumb. Then they entered into the hall the Holy Grail covered with white Samite, but there was none might see it or who bear it. And there was all the hall filled full with good odours, and every night was nourished in his soul. When the Holy Grail had been borne through the hall then it departed suddenly, so that they wist not what became of it. Then had they all breathed to speak, and the King yielded thankings unto God for his good grace that he had sent them. "'Now,' said Segawain, we have been richly blessed this day, but one thing beguiled us. We might not see the Holy Grail, it was so preciously covered. Wherefore I will make here avow that to mourn, without longer abiding, I shall labour in the quest of the Holy Grail a twelve-month and a day, or more if need be, and shall not return unto the court, shall I have seen it more openly than it hath been seen here. And if I may not speed, I shall return again at the end of the time as he that may not be against the will of our Lord Jesus Christ.' Then they of the table round heard Segawain say so. The most part of them arose and made such avows as Segawain had made. One as King Arthur heard this he was greatly grieved, for he whisked well that they might not gain say their avows, and he should be bereft of the fairest fellowship and the truest knighthood that ever was seen together in any realm of the world. For when they departed from hence, they should never all meet again in this world, and many of his true fellowship of noble knights should die in the quest. When the Queen also and all the court whisked these tidings, they had such sorrow and heaviness that they might no tongue tell it. Many of the ladies would have gone with the knights that they loved, had not an old man in religious clothing set on high that none in this quest should lead wife with him. Moreover, he warned the knights plainly that he that was not clean of his sins should not see the mysteries of our Lord Jesus Christ. Then they went to rest themselves, and in honour of the highness of Galaad he was led into King Arthur's chamber, and there rested in his own bed. As soon as it was day the King arose, for he had no rest all that night for sorrow. Then the King and the Queen went unto the minster, and all the knights, armed fully, saved their shields and their helms, followed them to hear the service. Then after the service was done, the King would wit how many had taken the quest of the Holy Grail, and found by tale they were in hundred and fifty, all knights of the round table. Then they put on their helms, and so mounted upon their horses, and rode through the streets of Camelot, and there was weeping of rich and poor, and the King turned away and might not speak for weeping. Within a while they came to a city in a castle called Vagon. The Lord of that castle was a good old man, and set open the gates, and made them all the good cheer that he might. On the morrow they were all accorded that they should ride every each from other. Then they departed with weeping and mourning cheer, and every night took the way that him best liked. CHAPTER XXVI. OF STORIES OF KING ARTHUR AND HIS NIGHTS. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. CHAPTER XXVI. HOW GALAHARD GAT HIM A SHIELD. Now Sir Galahard was yet without shield, and so he rode four days without any adventure. After even song of the fourth day he came to a white abbey, and there he was received with great reverence, and led to a chamber wherein he was aware of two nights of the round table. The one King Bagdermagus, and the other Sir Uain. They went unto him, and made of him great solace, and they told him that within this place was a shield that no man might bear about his neck, without great harm to himself, unless he were the worthiest knight of the world. Ah, Sir, said King Bagdermagus to Galahard, I shall tomorrow assay this strange adventure, and if I may not achieve it you shall take it upon you, for I am sure you shall not fail. Sir, said Galahard, I agree right well there too, for I have no shield. So on the mourn there arose and heard mass. Then King Bagdermagus asked where the adventurous shield was. Anon, a monk led him behind an altar, where the shield hung as white as any snow, but in the midst was a red cross. The monk counseled him to be well advised before taking it, and King Bagdermagus answered, Well, I what well that I am not the best knight of the world, but yet shall I assay to bear it. And so bidding Sir Galahard to abide there still, till it was known how he sped, King Bagdermagus bore the red cross shield out of the monastery, took with him a squire, the which should bring tidings unto Sir Galahard how he sped, and rode away. Two miles off they came into a fair valley for a hermitage, and there they saw a goodly knight in white armour, horse and all. He came as fast as his horse might run, with his spear in the rest, and King Bagdermagus dressed his spear against him, and break it upon the white knight. The other struck him so hard that he break the mails, and thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered him not at that time, and so he bear him from his horse. Therewith the white knight alighted, and took the white shield from King Bagdermagus saying, Knight, thou hast done thyself great folly, for this shield ought not to be borne but by him that shall have no peer that liveeth. Then he came to the squire, and said, Bear this shield unto the good knight Sir Galahard, that thou left in the abbey, and greet him well from me. The squire first went unto Bagdermagus, and asked him whether he was sore-wounded or not. Yea, forsooth, said he, I shall escape hard from death. Then the squire fetched his horse, and brought him with great pain unto an abbey. There he was taken down safely, and unarmed, and laid in a bed. There his wounds were looked to, and as the book telleth he lay there long, and escaped hard with life. Sir, said the squire, when he came to Galahard, that night that wounded Bagdermagus sendeth you greeting, and bade that ye should bear this shield, where through great adventures should befall. Now, blessed be God, said Sir Galahard. Then he asked his arms, mounted upon his horse, and, commending himself unto God, hung the white shield about his neck. So he departed, and within a while came by the hermitage, where the white knight awaited him. Every each saluted other courteously, and the knight told Sir Galahard the marvels of the shield. Sir, said he, at that same hour that Joseph of Arimathea came to Saras, there was a king in that city called Eve Lake, that had great war against the Saracens, and there Joseph made this shield for him, in the name of him that died upon the cross. Then through his good belief he had the better of his enemies, for when King Eve Lake was in the battle, there was a cloth set before the shield, and when he was in the greatest peril he let put away the cloth, and then his enemies saw a figure of a man on the cross, where through they all were discomforted. Soon afterwards Joseph departed from Saras, and King Eve Lake would go with him whether he would or not, and they came unto this land of Britain. Not long after this, when Joseph lay on his deathbed, King Eve Lake begged of him some token that would lead him to think on the old night for love on whom he had left his own country. So Joseph took this shield, and thereupon made a cross with his own blood, that should be Eve Lake's token. There he said that no man should bear this shield until the time that Gala had come, the last of Joseph's lineage, that should do many marvellous deeds while bearing it about his neck. Today is the time they then set when ye shall have King Eve Lake's shield. So spake the white night, and then vanished away, and so Gala had rode with the squire back to the Abbey. CHAPTER 27 So Gala had, at the Castle of Maidens. The men of the Abbey made great joy of Sir Gala had, and he rested there that night. Upon the morn he gave the order of knighthood to the squire who had brought him the red cross shield, and asked him his name, and of what kindred he was come. Sir, said he, men call me Malias of Lyle, and I am the son of the King of Denmark. Now fair, sir, said Gala had, since ye have noble birth, see that knighthood be well placed in you, for ye ought to be a mirror unto all chivalry. Sir, said Malias, ye say truly, but sir, since ye have made me a knight, ye must of right grant me my first desire that is reasonable. Ye say truly, said Gala had. Then Malias said, suffer me to ride with you in this quest of the holy grail to some adventurer partos. I grant you, sir, said Gala had. The men brought some Malias his armour, and his spear and his horse, and so Sir Gala had, and he rode forth all that week ere they found any adventure. And then upon a Monday in the morning, as they had departed from an abbey, they came to a fork in the road where stood written these words. Now ye knights errant who go to seek knight's adventurous, see here two ways. The right hand road ye are warned against, for night shall never write out of that place again, unless he be a good man, and a worthy knight. And if ye go to the left hand, ye shall not there easily win prowess, for ye shall in this road be soon attacked. Sir, said Malias, to Gala had, if ye are pleased to suffer me to take the way on the left hand, tell me, for there I shall well prove my strength. It were better, said Gala had, ye rode not that way, for I believe I should better escape in that way than ye. Nay, my lord, said Malias, I pray ye let me have that adventure. Take it in God's name, said Gala had. Sir Malias rode through an old forest, and after two days or more came into a fair meadow. Here in a fair lodge of bows, he aspired a chair, wherein was a subtly wrought crown of gold, and nearby was a cloth spread upon the ground, with many delicious meats upon it. Sir Malias had no desire for the food, but the crown of gold pleased him much, so he stooped down and took it, and rode his way with it. And anon he saw a knight come riding after him, who called upon him to set down their crown that was not his, and to defend himself. The new-made knight was glad of this adventure, and the two let their horses run as fast as they might, so that the other knight smote Sir Malias through his hoburg, and through the left side, and he fell to the earth Nay dead. Then the knight took the crown and went his way, and Sir Malias lay still and had no power to stir. In the meanwhile, by good fortune they came Sir Gala had, and found him there in peril of death. Then he said, Ah Malias, who hath wounded you? It would have been better to ride the other way. And when Sir Malias heard him speak, Sir, he said, for God's love let me not die in this forest, but bear me unto the abbey near at hand. It shall be done, said Gala had, but where is he that hath wounded you? With that Sir Gala had heard someone cry, Knight, keep thee from me! Ah, Sir, said Malias, beware, for that is he that hath slain me. Sir Gala had answered, Sir Knight, come at your peril. So they came together as fast as their horses might run, and Gala had smote the other, so that his spear went through the knight's shoulder, and smote him down off his horse, and in the falling Gala had spear break. With that came out another knight from the leaves, and break his spear upon Gala had before he might turn about. Then Gala had drew out his sword, and smote this one, so that he fled away, and Sir Gala had pursued fast after him. But soon he turned again unto Sir Malias, and there he alighted, and placed him softly on his horse before him, and Sir Gala had climbed up behind, and held him in his arms, and so brought him to the Abbey and into his chamber. Here he placed the wounded knight in the care of an old monk that promised to heal him of his wounds. Now I will depart, said Gala had, for I have much on hand. Many good knights be full busy about it, and this knight and I were in the same quest of the Holy Grail. Sir, said the good monk, for his sins he was thus wounded, and I marvel, said he to Malias, how ye dost take upon you so richer thing as a high order of knighthood without clean confession, and that was the cause you were bitterly wounded. For the way on the right hand betoken at the high way of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the way of a true good liver, and the other way betoken at the way of sinners and misbelievers. Your pride and presumption in taking the quest of the blessed Holy Grail made you to be overthrown, for it may not be achieved but by virtuous living. Pride is head of all deadly sins, and that cause you to depart from Sir Gala had, and when you took the crown of gold your sin was covetousness and theft. But this Gala had, the holy knight, the which fought with the two knights that signify the two deadly sins which were wholly in you, was able to overthrow them, for he is pure in his heart. My Lord Gala had, said Sir Malias, as soon as I may ride I shall seek you. God send you health, said Gala had, and so he took his horse and departed, and rode many journeys forward and backward as adventure would lead him. Then Sir Gala had came unto a mountain, there he found an old chapel where all was desolate, and he knelt before the altar and besought of God wholesome counsel. As he prayed he heard a voice that said, Go thou now, thou adventurous knight, to the castle of maidens, and there do thou weigh the wicked customs. When Sir Gala had heard this he thanked God and took his horse, and he had ridden but half a mile when he saw in a valley before him a strong castle with deep ditches, and there ran beside it a fair river that was called Severn. Then he met with a man of great age, either saluted other, and Gala had asked him the castle's name. Fair Sir, said he, it is the castle of maidens. That is a cursed castle, said Gala had, and all who have intercourse therein accursed, for all pity is lacking there, and all cruelty and mischief at their end. Therefore I counsel you, Sir Knight, said the other, that ye turn back. Sir, said Sir Gala had, ye may be sure I shall not turn back. Then Sir Gala had looked on his armour to see that nothing was lacking, and he put his shield before him, and anon there met him seven fair maidens, which said unto him, Sir Knight, ye ride here in great folly, for ye have the water to pass over. Why should I not pass the water? said Gala had. So he rode away from them and met with a squire who said, Knight, those knights in the castle defy you and forbid you to go farther, till they know what you would. Fair Sir, said Gala had, I come to destroy the wicked customs of this castle. Sir, said the squire, if ye will abide by that ye shall have enough to do. The squire entered into the castle and anon there came out seven knights, all brethren, and when they saw Gala had they cried, Knight defend thyself, for we assure thee nothing but death. Then Gala had put forth his spear and smote the foremost to the earth, and therewith all the others smote him on his shield, great strokes so that their spears break. Then Sir Gala had drew out his sword and set upon them so hard that it was marvelled to see, and so through great force he made them to forsake the field. Gala had chased them till they entered into the castle, and they passed through the castle and out at another gate. Now they met Sir Gala had an old man who said, Sir, have here the keys of this castle. Then Sir Gala had opened the gates and saw many people in the passages that he might not number them, and all said, Sir ye be welcome, for long have we awaited here our deliverance. Then came to him a gentlewoman and said, These knights have fled, but they will come again this night, and here begin again their evil practices. What will ye that I shall do? said Gala had. Sir said the gentlewoman, that ye send after all the knights hither that hold the lands of this castle, and make them to swear to use the customs that were used here to for of old time. I will well, said Gala had. She brought him a horn of ivory richly bound with gold and said, Sir, blow this horn which will be heard two miles about this castle. When Sir Gala had had blown the horn, he set himself down upon a bed. Then a priest came and told him of the evil practices of the castle, and why it was called the Castle of Maidens. It chanced in this wise, said he, more than seven years ago the seven brethren came, and lodged with the lord of this castle, and of all the country round about. When they aspired the duke's daughter, a full fair woman, they plotted falsely betwixt themselves, and slew the duke and his eldest son. Then they took the maiden and the treasure of the castle, and by great force they held all the knights of this castle against their will, under their power in great slavery. And robbed and pillaged the poor common people of all that they had. Then it happened on a day the duke's daughter said, You have done unto me great wrong to slay my own father and my brother, and thus to hold our lands. But you shall not hold this castle many years, for by one night you shall be overcome. Thus she had prophesied seven years ago. Well, said the seven knights, if that be so, they shall never lady nor knight pass by this castle, but they shall abide here whether they will or not, or die for it, till that night become by whom we shall lose this castle. Therefore it is called the maidens' castle, for many maidens have here been destroyed. By the time the priest had finished, the knights of the country were come at the call from the ivory horn. Then Sir Galahad made them do homage and fealty to the duke's daughter, and set the people in great ease of heart. And the next morning one came to Galahad and told him how Gawain, Gareth and Uayne had slain the seven brethren. I am glad to hear it, said Sir Galahad, and he took his armour, mounted his horse, and commended the people of the castle of maidens unto God, and so rode away. Recording by Joy Chan Stories of King Arthur and His Knights by Uwald O'Cutler When Sir Galahad was departed from the castle of maidens, he rode till he came to a waste-forest, and there he met with Sir Galahad and Sir Percival, but they knew him not, for he was new disguised. Right so Sir Galahad dressed his spear and break it upon Sir Galahad, and Sir Galahad smote him so again, that he smoked down horse and man. Then he drew his sword and dressed him unto Sir Percival, and smote him so on the helm that, had not the sword swerved, Sir Percival had been slain, and with the stroke he fell out of his saddle. This just was done to fore the hermitage where a recluse dwelt, and when she saw Sir Galahad ride she said, God be with thee, best knight of the world! Ah, verily, if Yonder two knights had known thee as well as I do, they would not have encountered with thee. When Sir Galahad heard her say so he was sore a dread to be known. Therefore he smote his horse with his spurs, and rode at a great pace away from them. Then perceived they both that he was Galahad, and upped their gat on their horses, and rode fast after him. But in a while he was out of their sight. Then they turned again with heavy cheer, and Sir Percival said, Let us ask some tidings at Yonder recluse. Do as ye list, said Sir Lancelot. So Sir Percival turned back, but Sir Lancelot rode on across and en long in a wild forest, and held no path, but as wild adventure led him. At last he came to a stone cross which pointed two ways, and by the cross was a stone that was of marble, but it was so dark that he might not wit what it was. Sir Lancelot looked about him and saw an old chapel. There he expected to find people, so he tied his horse, and took off his shield, and hung it upon a tree. Then he went to the chapel door, and found it waste and broken. Within he saw a fair altar, full richly arrayed with cloth of clean silk, and there stood a fair clean candlestick of silver, which bears six great candles. When Sir Lancelot saw this light he had great will to enter into the chapel, but he could find no place where he might enter. Then was he passing heavy and dismayed. He returned to his horse, took off his saddle and bridle, and let him pasture. Then he unlaced his helmet, ungirded his sword, and laid himself down to sleep upon his shield to fall the cross. So he fell asleep, and half waking and half sleeping, he saw in a vision two fair white polfries come toward him, bearing in a litter a sick night. When he was neither cross he abode still, and Sir Lancelot heard him say, Oh, sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me, and when shall the holy vessel come by me? Where through I shall be pleased, for I have endured thus long for little trespass. A full great while lamented the night thus, and always Sir Lancelot heard it. Then he saw the candlestick with the six tapers come before the cross, yet he saw nobody that brought it. Also there came a table of silver, and the sacred vessel of the holy grail upon it. There with the sick night sat up, and holding up both hands, he prayed that he might be whole of his melody. Then on his hands and knees he went so nigh that he touched the holy vessel and kissed it, and anon he was whole. Then he said, Lord God, I thank thee, for I am healed of this sickness. When the holy vessel had been there a great while, it went unto the chapel with the candlestick and the light, so that Lancelot whisked not what became of it, for he was overtaken with the feeling of his sin, so that he had no power to arise and follow the holy vessel. Then the sick night raised himself up and kissed the cross. Anon his squire brought him his arms and asked his Lord how he did. Verily, said he, I thank God right well through the holy vessel I am healed, but I have great marvel of this sleeping night that had no power to awake when the holy grail was brought hither. I dare right well say, said the squire, that he dwelleth in some deadly sin, whereof he has never repented. By my faith, said the night, whatsoever he be he is unhappy, for as I deem he is of the fellowship of the round table, though which is entered into the quest of the holy grail. Sir, said the squire, here I have brought you all your arms, save your helm and your sword. By my assent now may ye take this night's helm and his sword. So he did, and when he was clean-armed, he took Lancelot's horse, for he was better than his own, and so they departed from the cross. Anon's Lancelot awoke and bethought him what he had seen there, and whethered were a dream or not. Right so heard he a voice that said, Sir Lancelot, more hard than his stone, more bitter than his wood, and more naked and buried than is the fig tree, go thou from hence, and withdraw thee from this holy place. When Sir Lancelot heard this he was passing heavy, and wished not what to do. So he arose, sore weeping, and cursed at the time when he was born, for he thought never to have honour more. Then he went to the cross and found his helm, his sword, and his horse taken away. Then he called himself a very wretch, and the most unhappy of all nights, and he said, My sin and my wickedness have brought me unto great dishonour. When I sought worldly adventures from worldly desires I ever achieved them, and had the better in every place, and never was I discomforted in any quarrel, were it right or wrong. But now when I take upon me the adventures of holy things, I see and understand that mine old sin hindreth and shameth me, so that I had no power to stir or to speak when the holy grail appeared before me. Thus he soared till it was day, and he heard the birds sing. Then somewhat he was comforted, but, when he missed his horse and his harness, he wished well God was displeased with him. He departed from the cross on foot into a forest, and came to a hermitage, and a hermit therein. There Lancelot kneeled down and cried on the Lord for mercy, and begged the hermit for charity to hear his confession. With a good will, said the good man, art thou of King Arthur's court and of the fellowship of the round table? Ye foresooth was the answer, and my name is Sir Lancelot of the lake, that hath been right well said of, but now my good fortune is changed, for I am the worst wretch of the world. The hermit beheld him, and had marveled how he was humbled. Sir, said he, thou artest to thank God more than any night living, for he hath caused thee to have more worldly honour than any other night that now liveth. For thy presumption in taking upon thee, while in deadly sin, to be in his presence through the sacred vessel, that was the cause that thou mightest not see it with worldly eyes, for he will not appear where such sinners be, unless to their great hurt and shame. There is no night living now that ought to give God so great thanks as thou, for he hath given thee beauty, seamliness, and great strength above all other nights. Therefore thou art the more beholden unto God than any other man to love him and fear him. For thy strength and manhood will little avail thee, if God be against thee. Then Sir Lancelot wept with heavy cheer, for he knew the hermit, said Soothe. Sir, said the good man, hide none old sin from me. Truly, said Sir Lancelot, that were me full loathe to disclose, for one thing that I have done I never disclose these fourteen years, and for that may I now blame my shamelessness and my misadventure. Then he told there that good man all his life, and how he had loved a queen unmeasurably, and out of measure long. And, said he, all my great deeds of arms that I have done, I did the most part for that queen's sake. For her sake would I battle were it right or wrong, and never did I battle wholly for God's sake, but for to win honour and to make myself better beloved, and little or not I thanked God for it. I pray you counsel me. I will counsel thee, said the hermit, if thou wilt assure me that thou wilt never come into that queen's companionship when thou canst prevent it. This Sir Lancelot solemnly promised, whereupon the good man said, Look that thy heart and mouth accord, and I assure thee that thou shalt have more honour than ever thou hadst. For it seemeth well God loveeth thee, and in all the world men shall not find one night to whom he hath given so much grace as he hath given thee. He hath given thee beauty with seamliness, he hath given thee wit, discretion to know good from evil, he hath given thee prowess and hardiness, and he hath given thee to work so largely that thou has had at all times the better whosoever thou camest, and now our Lord will suffer thee no longer, but that thou shalt know him, whether thou wilt or nilt. Why the voice called thee bitterer than wood was because whereover much sin dwelleth there may be but little sweetness, and wherefore thou art likened to an old rotten tree. Why thou art harder than stone is because thou wilt not leave thy sin for any goodness that God hath sent thee. Therefore thou art more than any stone, and never wouldst thou be made soft neither by water nor by fire, that is the heat of the Holy Ghost may not enter in thee. Now shall I show thee why thou art more naked and bareer than the fig tree, it befell that our Lord on Palm Sunday preached in Jerusalem, and there he found in the people that all hardness was harbored in them, and there he found in all the town not one that would harbour him, and then he went without the town, and found in the midst of the way a fig tree, though which was right fair and well garnished of leaves, but fruit had it none. There now, Lord, cursed the tree that bared no fruit, that likeneth the fig tree unto Jerusalem that had leaves and no fruit. So thou, Salonslot, when the Holy Grail was broughter for thee, he found in thee no fruit, nor good thought, nor good will, and thou wilt be fouled with sin. Verily, said Salonslot, all that ye have said is true, and from henceforward I undertake by the grace of God never to be so wicked as I have been, but to follow knighthood and to do feats of arms. Then the good man enjoined Salonslot to such penance as he might do, and to sue knighthood, and so blessed him, and prayed him to abide there all that day. I will well, said Salonslot, for I have neither helm nor horse nor sword. As for that, said the good man, I shall help you ear to mourn to a horse and all that belongeth unto you. And so Salonslot repented him greatly. CHAPTER XXIX When Sir Percival departed from the recluse to seek Sir Galahad, he rode till the hour of noon, when he met in a valley about twenty men of arms. As they saw him, they asked him whence he was, and he answered, of the court of King Arthur. Then they cried all at once, slay him! Then Sir Percival smote the first to the earth and his horse upon him. Thereupon seven of the knights smote upon his shield all at once, and the remnants slew his horse so that he fell to the earth. So had they slain him or taken him, had not the good knights of Galahad with the red arms come there by adventure into those parts. And when he saw all those knights upon one night, he cried, Save me that knight's life! Then he dressed him towards the twenty men of arms as fast as his horse might drive, with his spear in the rest, and smote the foremost horse and man to the earth. And when his spear was broken, he set his hand to his sword, and smote on the right hand and on the left hand, that it was marvelled to see. At every stroke he smote one down, or put him to rebuke, so that they would fight no more, but fled to a thick forest, and Sogalahad followed them. When Sopercival saw him chase them so, he made great sorrow that his horse was away, for he whisked well it was Sogalahad. Then he cried aloud, Ah, fair knight, abide and suffer me to do thankings unto thee, for much have ye done for me. But ever Sogalahad rode so fast, that at the last he passed out of his sight, and Sopercival went after him on foot as fast as he might. Soon he met a yeoman riding upon a hackney, who led in his hand a great black steed, blacker than any bear. Ah, fair friend, said Sopercival, as ever I may do for you and be your true knight in the first place ye will require me. I beg ye will lend me that black steed, that I may overtake a knight, the rich rider before me. So knight, said the yeoman, I pray you hold me excused of that, for that I may not do, for wit ye well the horse belongs to a man that, if I lent it you or any other man, would slay me. Alas, said Sopercival, I had never so great sorrow as I have for losing of yonder night. Sir, said the yeoman, I am right heavy for you, for a good horse would beseem you well, but I dare not deliver you this horse unless ye take it from me. That will I not do, said Sopercival. So they departed, and Sopercival sat him down under a tree, and made sorrow out of measure. Anon the yeoman came pricking after as fast as ever he might, and asked Sopercival, So ye, sir, any night riding on my black steed, it hath been taken from me by force, wherefore my lord will slay me in what place he findeth me. Well, said Sopercival, what wits thou that I did? Thou seest well that I am on foot, but had I a good horse I should bring him soon again. Sir, said the yeoman, take my hackney and do the best you can, and I shall follow you on foot to wit how that ye shall speed. Then Sopercival mounted upon that hackney, and rode as fast as he might. At the last he saw the night on the black steed, and cried out to him to turn again, and he turned and set his sphere against Sopercival, and he smote the hackney in the midst of the breast, that he fell down dead to the earth. There Sopercival had a great fall, and the other rode his way. Sopercival was very wroth, and cried, Abide wicked night, coward and false-hearted night, turn again, and fight with me on foot. He answered not, but passed on his way. When Sopercival saw he would not turn, he cast away his helm and sword, and thought himself unhappy above all other nights. In this sorrow he abode all that day till it was night. Then he was faint, and laid him down, and slept till it was midnight. Then he awaked, and saw for him a woman which said unto him right fiercely, Sopercival, abide here, and I shall go fetch you a horse, which shall bear you wither you will. So she came soon again, and brought a horse with her that was inky black. When Sopercival beheld that horse, he marveled that it was so great and so well apparelled. Courageously he leapt upon him, and took no heed of himself. As soon as ever he was mounted, he thrust in the spurs, and so rode away by the forest, and the moon shone clear. Within an hour and less the black steed bear him four days' journey-thence, till he came to a rough water, the which roared, and his horse would have borne him into it. And when Sopercival came nigh the brim, and saw the water so boisterous, he feared to over-pass it. Then he made a sign of the cross in his forehead, whereupon the horse shook off Sopercival, and he fell into the water, crying and roaring, making great sorrow. And it seemed unto him that the water burned. Then Sopercival perceived the steed was effemed, the which would have brought him unto his petition. Then he commended himself unto God, and prayed our Lord to keep him from all such temptations. So he prayed all that night till it was day. Then he saw that he was in a wild mountain the which was closed with the sea-nigh all about, so that he might see no land about him which might relieve him. Then was Sopercival where in the sea, and saw a ship come sailing towards him, and he went unto the ship, and found it covered within and without with white samite. At the board stood an old man clothed in a surplus in likeness of a priest. Sir, said Sopercival, ye be welcome. God keep you, said the good man, of whence be ye. Sir, said Sopercival, I am of King Arthur's court, and a night of the table round, the which am in the quest of the holy grail. Here I am in great distress, and never likely to escape out of this wilderness. Doubt not, said the good man, if ye be so true a night as the order of chivalry requireth, and of heart as ye ought to be, ye need not fear that any enemy shall slay you. What are ye, said Sopercival? Sir, said the old man, I am of a strange country, and hither I come to comfort you, and to warn you of your great battle that shall befall you. With whom, said Sopercival, shall I fight? With the most champion of the world, said the old man, but if ye quit you well, ye shall lose no limb, even though vanquished and seemingly shamed to the world's end. Then the good man leapt over the board and the ship, and all went away, Sir Percival whisked not wither. He abode there till midday when he saw a ship come rowing in the sea, as if all the winds of the world had driven it. It drove under the rock on which he sat, and when he hide thither he found the ship covered with silk, blacker than any beer, and therein was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she was clothed richly that none might be better. When she saw Sopercival, she said, Who brought you in this wilderness where ye be never like to pass hence, for ye shall die here for hunger and mischief? Damsel, said Sopercival, I serve the best man of the world, and in his service he will not suffer me to die, for who that knocketh shall enter, and who that asketh shall have, and from the man that seeketh him he hideeth him not. And I came out of the waste forest, where I found the red night with the white shield, said the Damsel. Ah, Damsel, said he, with that night would I meet passing fain. Sir, said Gee, if ye will ensure me, by the faith that ye owe unto knighthood, that ye will do my will what time I summon you, I shall bring you unto that night. Ye, said he, I shall promise you to fulfill your desire, but what are ye that prophoreth me, thus great kindness? I am, said Gee, a gentlewoman that am desereted, which was some time the richest woman of the world. Damsel, said Sopercival, who hath desereted you, for I have great pity of you. Sir, said Gee, I dwell with the greatest man of the world, and he made me so fair and so clear, that there was none like me, and of that great beauty I had a little pride, more than I ought to have had. Also I said a word that pleased him not, and then he would not suffer me to be any longer in his company. He drove me from mine heritage, and so disowned me, and he had never pity for me, and would none of my counsel nor of my court. Since the night it hath befallen me so, I and mine have taken from him many of his men, and have made them to become my men, for they ask never anything of me, but I give it them, that and much more. Therefore I and my servants war against him night and day. I know now no good night, and no good man, but I get on my side, if I may. And since I know that ye are good night, I beseech you to help me, and since ye are fellow of the round table, ye ought not to fail any gentlewoman who is deserited, if she beseech you of help. Then Superceva promised her all the help that he might. She thanked him, and since the weather was at that time hot, she bade a gentlewoman bring a pavilion. So she did, and pitched it there upon the gravel. He slept a great while there in the heat of the day, and when he awoke, there was set before him upon a table all manner of meats that he could think of. Also he drank there the strongest wine that ever he drank, him thought, and therewith he was a little heated more than he ought to be. With that he beheld the gentlewoman, and him thought that she was the fairest creature that ever he saw. When she saw him well refreshed, then she said, Superceva, we ye well, I shall not fulfill your will, but if ye swear from henceforth to be my true servant, and do nothing but that I shall command you, will ye insure me this as ye be a true knight. Superceva was on the point of promising her all, when by adventure and grace he saw his sword lie upon the ground, all naked, and whose pommel was a red cross. Then he bethought him of his knighthood, and the warning spoken to forehand by the good man, and he made the sign of the cross in his forehead. Thereupon the pavilion turned up so down, and changed unto a smoke and a black cloud. Superceva was adred at this, and cried aloud, fair sweet father, Jesus Christ, let me not be shamed, that was nigh lost, had not thy good grace been. Then he looked upon the ship, and saw the damsel enter therein, which said, Superceva ye have betrayed me. So she went with the wind roaring and yelling, that it seemed that all the water burned after her. Then Superceva made great sorrow, and drew his sword unto him, saying, since my flesh will be my master, I shall punish it. Therewith he stabbed himself through the thigh, so that the blood started, and he said, O good Lord, take this in recompensation, of that I have done against thee, my Lord. Then he clothed him, and armed him, and called himself a wretch, saying, How nigh was I lost, and have lost that I should never have gotten again, my honour as a pure man and worthy knight, for that may never be recovered after it is once lost. As he thus made his moan, he saw the same ship come from the Orient, that the good man was in the day before, and the noble night was ashamed with himself, and therewith he fell in a swoon. When he awoke, he went unto this good man weakly, and saluted him. Then he asked Superceva, How has thou done since I departed? Sir, said he, here was a gentlewoman that led me to deadly sin, and there he told him all his temptation. New ye not the maid? said the good man. Sir, said he, Nay, but well I what the fiend sent her hither to shame me. O good night, said he, that gentlewoman was the master fiend of hell, the champion that thou foughtest with all, the which would have overcome thee, had it not been for the grace of God. Now beware, Superceva, and take this for an ensemble. Then the good man vanished away, and Superceva took his arms and entered into the ship, and so departed from fence. Recording by Joy Chan. Stories of King Arthur and his Knights by U. Waldo Cutler. Chapter 30 The Victory of Sir Bors Over Himself When Sir Bors was departed from Vargon, he met with a religious man riding on an ass, and Sir Bors saluted him. A non-the good man knew him to be one of the Knight's errant that was in the quest of the Holy Grail. What are ye, said the good man? Sir, said he, I am a Knight that feign would be counselled in the quest of the Holy Grail, for he shall have much earthly honour that may bring it to an end. Verily, said the good man, that is sooth, for he shall be the best Knight of the world, and the fairest of all the fellowship. But we ye well, they shall none attain it, but by cleanness of heart and of life. So rode they together till they came to a hermitage, and there he prayed Bors to dwell all that night with him. So he alighted and put away his armour, and prayed him that he might be confessed. So they went into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed, and they ate bread and drank water together. Now, said the good man, I pray thee that thou eat none other, till that thou sit at the table where the Holy Grail shall be. Sir, said he, I agree there too, but how we eat that I shall sit there? Yes, said the good man, that no I, but there shall be few of your fellowship with you. All is welcome, said Sir Bors, that God sendeth me. Also the good man, in sign of chastisement, put on him a scarlet coat, instead of his shirt, and found him in so vigorous a life, and so stable, that he marvelled, and felt that he was never corrupt in fleshly lusts. Then Sir Bors put on his armour, and took his leave, and so departed. After he had ridden a day or two on his road, he met about the hour of noon at the parting of two ways, two nights, that led Lionel, his brother, bound upon a strong hackney, and his hands bound to four his breast. Each of the two held in his hands thorns, wherewith they went beating him so sore that the blood trailed down more than in a hundred places of his body. But he said never a word, as he which was great of heart. He suffered all that ever they did to him, as though he had felt non-anguish. Anon Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his brother. Just then he chance to look upon his other side, and saw a knight which brought a fair gentlewoman, and would have dragged her into the thickest part of the forest out of the way of them that sought to rescue her. Anon she aspired where Sir Bors came riding. She deemed him a knight of the round table, wherefore she hoped to have some comfort, and she conjured him by the faith that he owed unto him in whose service he had entered, and the fidelity he owed unto the high order of knighthood, and for the noble King Arthur's sake, to help her in her sore distress. When Sir Bors heard her cry, he had so much sorrow he knew not what to do. For, said he, if I let my brother be an adventure he must be slain, and that would I not for all the earth, and if I help not the maiden her peril, I am shamed for ever. Then he lifted up his eyes and said weeping, Fair Lord Jesus Christ, whose leech man I am, keep Lionel my brother, that these nights slay him not, and for Mary's sake I shall succor this maid. Then dressed he him unto the knight, the witch had the gentlewoman, and cried, Sir Knight, let your hand off that maiden, or ye be but a dead man. The knight set down the maiden and drew out his sword, but Bors smoked him so hard that he beat him down to the earth. Then came twelve knights seeking the gentlewoman, and anon she told them all how Bors had delivered her. They made great joy and besought him to come to her father, a noble lord, but Bors had a great adventure in hand and might not delay, so he commended them unto God and departed. Then Sir Bors rode after Lionel his brother by the trace of their horses. He sought a great while, and at the last he overtook a man clothed in religious clothing, that told him Lionel was dead, and showed him a slain body lying in a thicket that well seemed to him the body of Lionel. Then he made such a sorrow that he fell to the earth all in a swoon, and lay a great while there. When he came to himself he said, Fair brother, since the company of you and me is parted, shall I never have joy in my heart, and now he which I have taken is to my master, he be my help. When he had said thus, he took the body lightly in his arms, and put it upon the bow of his saddle, and so rode to an old feeble chapel fast by, and put him into a tomb of marble. Then went Sir Bors from Thence, and rode all that day, and then turned to a hermitage at the entry of a forest. There he found Lionel his brother, which sat all armed at the chapel door, for he was yet on life, and a fiend had deceived Bors with the body left in the chapel, for to put him in error so that he might not find the blessed adventure of the holy grail. When Sir Bors saw his brother alive he had great joy of him, that it was marvell to tell of his joy. And then he alighted off his horse, and said, Fair sweet brother, when came ye thither? Anon as Sir Lionel saw him, he said, Ah Bors, ye may make no boast, for all you I might have been slain. When ye saw two nights leading me away, beating me, ye left me for to succour a gentlewoman, and suffered me to remain in peril of death. Never before did any brother to another so great an untruth, and for that misdeed now I insure you but death, for well have ye deserved it, therefore guard yourself from henceforward, and that shall ye find needful as soon as I am armed. When Sir Bors understood his brother's wrath, he kneeled down to the earth and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to forgive him his evil will. But Lionel would show no pity, and made his avow to God that he should have only death. Right so he went in and put on his harness. Then he mounted upon his horse and came to fore him, and said, Bors, keep thee from me, for I shall do to thee as I would to a felon or a traitor, for ye be the untruest night that ever came out of so worthy a house as was that of our father, King Bors of Gaines. When Sir Bors saw that he must fight with his brother or else die, he wished not what to do. Then his heart counseled him not to fight, inasmuch as Lionel was born before him, wherefore he ought to bear him reverence. Again kneeled he down before Lionel's horse's feet, and said, fair sweet brother, have mercy upon me and slay me not, and have in remembrance the great love which ought to be between us twain. What Sir Bors said Lionel wrecked not, for the feet had brought him in such a will that he was determined to slay him. Then when Lionel saw he would none other, and that he would not rise to give him battle he rushed over him, so that his horse's feet smote Bors to the earth, and hurt him so sore that he swooned of distress. When Lionel saw this he alighted from his horse to smite off his head. So he took him by the helm and would have rented from his head, had not the hermit come running unto him, which was a good man and of great age. Well had he heard all the words that were between them, and so fell down upon Sir Bors. Then he said to Lionel, Ah gentle knight, have mercy upon me and on thy brother, for if thou slay him thou shalt commit a deadly sin, and that were sorrowful, for he is one of the worthiest knights of the world, and of the best conditions. So God help me, said Lionel, Sir Priest, unless ye flee from him I shall slay you, and he shall never the sooner be quit. Verily, said the good man, I had rather ye slay me than him, for my death shall not be great harm, not half so much as his. Well, said Lionel, I am agreed, and he set his hand to his sword, and smote the hermit so hard that his head went backward. For all that he restrained him not off his evil will, but took his brother by the helm, and unlaced it to strike off his head. And he would have slain him without fail, but so it happened that Colgravence, a fellow of the round table, came at that time thither as our Lord's will was. First he saw the good man slain, then he beheld how Lionel would slay his brother, whom he knew and loved right well. A non he sprang down and took Lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly back from Bors, and said, Lionel, will ye slay your brother, one of the worthiest knights of the world? That should no good man suffer. Why, said Sir Lionel, will ye hinder me? If ye interfere in this, I shall slay you and him after. Then Lionel ran upon Bors, and would have smitten him through the head, but Sir Colgravence ran betwixt to them, and said, if ye be so hardiest to do so more, we too shall meddle together. Then Lionel defied him, and gave a great stroke through the helm. Now Colgravence drew his sword, for he was a passing good night, and defended himself right manfully. So long endured the battle that Sir Bors awoke from his swoon, and rose up all anguishly, and beheld Sir Colgravence the good night, fight with his brother for his quarrel. Then was he full sorry and heavy, and would have risen to part them, but he had not so much might as to stand on foot, and must abide so long till Colgravence had the worse, for Sir Lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy. Only death awaited Colgravence, when he beheld Sir Bors a saying to rise, and he cried, ah, Bors, come ye and cast me out of peril of death, wherein I have put me to succour you, which were right now nigh to death. When Bors heard that, he did so much as to rise and put on his helm, making a marvellous sorrow at the sight of the dead hermit hard by. With that Lionel smote Colgravence so sore that he bare him to the earth. When he had slain Colgravence, he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him such a stroke that he made him stoop. And he, full of humility, prayed him for God's love to leave this battle. But Lionel would not, and then Bors drew his sword all weeping and said, Fair brother, God knoweth mine intent. Ah, brother ye have done full evil this day to slay such a holy priest, than which never trespassed. Also ye have slain a gentle knight, one of our fellows, and well what ye that I am not afraid of you greatly, but I dread the wrath of God. This is an unkindly war. Therefore may God show miracle upon us both. Now God have mercy upon me, though I defend my life against my brother. With that, Bors lifted up his hands and would have smitten Lionel. But even then he heard a voice that said, Flea Bors and touch him not. Right so came a cloud betwixt them in likeness of a fire, so that both their shields burned. Then were they sore afraid and fell both to the earth and lay there great while in a swoon. When they came to themselves, Bors saw that his brother had no harm, wherefore he gave thanks for he feared God had taken vengeance upon him. With that he heard a voice say, Bors, go hence and bear thy brother no longer fellowship, but take thy way anon right to the sea, for supercival abideth thee there. So so Bors departed from Lionel and rode the next way to the sea. On the strand he found a ship covered all with white samite. He alighted from his horse and entered into the ship, and anon it departed into the sea, and went so fast that him seemed the ship went flying. Then he saw in the midst of the ship a night lie, all armed save his helm, and he knew that it was supercival, and either made great joy of other that it was marvelled to hear. Then so Bors told supercival how he came into the ship, and by whose admonishment, and either told other of his temptations as ye have heard to forehand. So they went downward in the sea, one while backward, another while forward, and each comforted other, and oft were they in their prayers. Then said supercival, we lack nothing but gala had the good night. CHAPTER XXXI. How Salonslot found the Holy Grail When the hermit had kept Salonslot three days, he got him a horse, a helm, and a sword. So he departed, and took the adventure that God would send him. On a night as he slept, there came a vision unto him, and a voice said, Salonslot, arise up and take thy armour, and enter into the first ship that thou shalt find. When he heard these words, he started up and saw great clearness about him. Then he lifted up his hands in worship, and so took his arms and made him ready. By adventure he came by a strand and found a ship, the which was without sail or all, and as soon as he was within the ship, he felt the most sweetness that ever he felt, and he was filled with a peace such as he had never known before. In this joy he laid himself down on the ship's board and slept till day. So Salonslot was a month and more on the ship, and if you would ask how he lived, as God fed the people of Israel with manor in the desert, so was he fed. On a night he went to play him by the waterside, for he was somewhat weary of the ship, and then he listened and heard a horse come, and one riding upon him. When he came nigh he seemed a night, and soon he saw that it was Galahad, and there was great joy between them, for there is no tongue can tell the joy that they made either of other, and there was many a friendly word spoken between them, the which need not here be rehearsed, and there each told other of the adventures and marvels that were befallen to them in many journeys since they were departed from the court. So Dwelld Lonslot and Galahad within that ship half a year, and served God daily and nightly with all their power, and often they arrived in Isles far from Folk, where they repaired none but wild beasts. There they found many strange adventures and perilous, which they brought to an end. But because the adventures were with wild beasts and not in the quest of the Holy Grail, therefore the tale maketh here no mention thereof, for it would be too long to tell of all those adventures that befell them. Thereafter it befell that they arrived in the edge of a forest to for a cross, and then they saw a knight, armed all in white and richly horse, leading in his right hand a white horse. He came to the ship and saluted the two nights on the High Lord's behalf, and said, Galahad, sir, ye have been long enough with Lonslot, come out of the ship and start upon this horse, and go where the adventures shall lead thee in the quest of the Holy Grail. So Galahad took sorrowful leave of Sir Lonslot, for they knew that one should never see the other before the dreadful day of doom. Galahad took his horse and entered into the forest, and the wind arose and drove Lonslot more than a month throughout the sea, where he slept little, but prayed to God that he might see some tidings of the Holy Grail. And that befell on a night, at midnight, he arrived before a castle on the back side which was rich and fair. There was a post turn opened towards the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept the entry, and the moon shone clear. A Lonslot heard a voice that said, Lonslot, go out of this ship and enter into the castle where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire. Then he ran for his arms, and so he went to the gate and saw the lions. He set his hand to a sword and drew it, whereupon there came a dwarf suddenly, and smirked him on the arm so sore that the sword fell out of his hand. Then he heard a voice say, O man of evil faith and poor belief, wherefore throwest thou more on thy harness than in thy maker, he in whose service thou art set might more avail thee than thine armour. Then said Lonslot, Farefather Jesus Christ, I thank thee of thy great mercy that thou reproofest me of my misdeed. Now see I well that ye hold me for your servant. Then took he again his sword, and put it up in his sheath, and came to the lions, and they made semblance to do him harm. Notwithstanding he passed by them without hurt, and entered into the castle to the chief fortress, and there were all at rest. Lonslot entered in so armed, for he found no gate nor door but it was open. At last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut, and he set his hand there too to open it, but he might not, though he enforced himself much to undo the door. Then he listened and heard a voice which sang so sweetly, that it seemed none earthly thing. Lonslot kneeled down to fore the chamber, for well wist he that there was the holy grail within that chamber. Then said he, Faresweet Father Jesus Christ, if ever I did think that pleased thee, for thy pity have me not in despite for my sins done a foretime, and show me something of that I seek. With that he saw the chamber door open, and they came out a great clearness, so that the house was as bright as if all the tortures of the world had been there. So came he to the chamber door and would have entered, but a none a voice said to him, Fleelonslot and enter not, for thou oughtest not to do it, and if thou enter thou shalt repent it. He withdrew himself back right heavy, and then looked he up in the midst of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel covered with red semite, and many angels about it. Right so came he to the door at a great pace, entered into the chamber, and drew towards the table of silver. When he came nigh he felt a breath that seemed intermingled with fire, which smoked him so sore on the visage that he thought it burned his visage. Therewith he fell to the earth and had no power to arise. Then felt he many hands about him, which took him up and bare him out of the chamber door, and left him there seeming dead to all people. Upon the morrow, when it was fair day, they within were arisen, and found Lonslot lying afore the chamber door, and all they marvelled how he came in. They looked upon him and felt his pulse, to wit whether there were any life in him, and so they found life in him, but he might neither stand nor stir any limb that he had. They took him up and bare him into a chamber, and laid him in a rich bed, far from all folk, and so he lay still as a dead man, four and twenty days, in punishment, he afterwards thought, for the twenty-four hours that he had been a sinner. At the twenty-fifth day it befell that he opened his eyes, and the folk asked how it stood with him. He answered that he was whole of body, and then he would know where he was. They told him he was in the castle of Carbonech, and that the quest of the Holy Grail had been achieved by him, and that he should never see the sacred vessel more nearly than he had seen it. Soon Sir Lonslot took his leave of all the fellowship that were there at the castle, and thanked them for the great labour. So he took his armour and departed, and said that he would go back to the realm of Logris. Chapter 32 The End of the Quest Now, sayeth the story, Sir Gala had rode into a vast forest, wherein he rode many journeys, and he found many adventures, the which he brought to an end, whereof the story maketh here no mention. And on a day it befell him that he was benighted in a hermitage. The good man there was glad when he saw a knight errant, and made him what cheer he might. Then when they were at rest, they came a gentlewoman knocking at the door, and called Gala had. So the hermit came to the door to wit what she would, and she said to him that she would speak with the knight that was lodged there. The good man awoke Gala had, and bade him arise, and speak with a gentlewoman that seemed to have great need of him. Then Gala had went to her, and asked her what she would. Gala had, said she, I will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse, and follow me, for I shall show you within these three days the highest adventure that ever any knight saw. Anon Gala had armed him, and took his horse, and bade the gentlewoman go, and he would follow as she liked. So she rode as fast as her poultry might bear her, till they came to the seaside, and there they found the ship wherein were bores and purseable. The rich cried on the ship's board, so Gala had ye be welcome, we have awaited you long. So, leaving his horse behind, Gala had entered into the ship, where the two knights received him with great joy. And the wind arose, and drove them through the sea marvelously. Now saith the story that they rode a great wild till they came to the castle of Carbonic, where Salonslot had been to fall. They entered within the castle, and then there was great joy, for they wist well that they had fulfilled the quest of the Holy Grail. As they were alone in the hall, it seemed to them that they came a man in likeness of a bishop, with four angels from heaven, and held mass about a table of silver, whereupon the Holy Grail was. And in a vision they saw on the bread of the sacrament a figure in likeness of a child, and the visage was as bright as any fire. Then said the bishop to them, Servants of Jesus Christ, ye shall be fed afore this table with sweet food that never knights tasted. When he had said, he vanished away, and they sat them at the table in great reverence, and made their prayers. Then looked they, and saw a man that had all the signs of the passion of Jesus Christ, and he said, My knights and my servants and my true children, which we come out of deadly life into spiritual life. I will now no longer hide me from you, but ye shall see now part of my secrets, and of my hid things. Now hold and receive the high meat which ye have so much desired. Then took he himself the holy vessel, and came to Galahad, who knelt down, and there he received the sacrament, and after him so received all his fellows, and they thought it so sweet that it was marvellous to tell. Then said he to Galahad, Son, knowest thou what I hold betwixt my hands? Nay, said he, unless you will tell me. This is, said he, the holy dish wherein I ate the lamb at the last supper, and now hast thou seen that thou most desirous to see, but yet hast thou not seen it so openly, as thou shalt see it in the city of Saras, in the spiritual place. Therefore thou must go hence, and bear with thee this holy vessel, for this night it shall depart from the realm of Logris, that it shall never be seen more here, and knowest thou wherefore, because they of this land be turned to evil living. Therefore I shall disinherit them of the honour which I have done them. Therefore go ye three unto the sea, where ye shall find your ship ready. Right so departed Galahad, Percival, and Bors, with him. They rode three days, and then they came to a rivage, where they found the ship whereof the tail speaketh to fall. When they came to the board, they found in the midst the table of silver, which they had left in the castle of Carbonech, and the holy grail, which was covered with red semite. Then were they glad to have such things in their fellowship. They had remained some time in the ship, when they awoke of a morning to see the city of Saras afford them. Here they landed, and took out of the ship the table of silver, Percival and Bors going to fall, and Galahad behind. Right so they went to the city, and at the gate of the city they saw an old bent man. Then Galahad called him, and bade him help to bear this heavy thing. Truly, said the old man, it is ten years since I might go without crutches. Care thou not, said Galahad, arise up and show thy good will. So he assayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was. Then ran he to the table, and took one part opposite Galahad. An honor rose there great noise in the city, that a cripple was made whole by night's marvellous that entered into the city. When the king of the city, which was called Estoros, saw the fellowship. He asked them from whence they were, and one thing it was that they had brought upon the table of silver. And they told him the truth of the Holy Grail, and the power which God had set there. Now King Estoros was a tyrant, and was come of a line of pagans. He took the three nights and put them in a deep hole. But as soon as they were there our Lord sent them the Holy Grail, through whose grace they were always satisfied while that they were in prison. At the year's end it befell that this king lay sick, and felt that he should die. Then he sent for the three nights. They came before him, and he cried the mercy of that he had done to them, and they forgave it him goodly, and he died anon. When the king was dead, all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be their king. Right so as they were in council, they came a voice among them, and bade them choose the youngest night of them there to be their king, for he should well maintain them and all theirs. So they made Galahad king by all the ascent of the whole city. When he was come to behold the land, he let make about the table of silver, a chest of gold, and of precious stones that covered the Holy Vessel, and every day early the three fellows would come for it and make their prayers. Now at the year's end the three nights arose early, and came to the palace, and saw before them the Holy Vessel, and a man kneeling in likeness of a bishop, that had about him a great fellowship of angels, and he called Galahad and said to him, come forth thou servant of Jesus Christ, and thou shalt see that thou hast much desired to see. Then Galahad began to tremble right hard, when the deadly flesh began to behold the spiritual things. Then he held up his hands towards heaven and said, Lord I thank thee, for now I see what hath been my desire many a day. Now blessed, Lord, would I not longer live if it might please thee, Lord. Therewith the good man took the sacrament and profited it to Galahad, and he received it right gladly and meekly. Now what is thou what I am? said the good man. I am Joseph of Arimathea, which our Lord hath sent here to thee to bear thee fellowship, and what is thou therefore he hath sent me more than any other, for thou hast resembled me in two things, and that thou hast seen the marvels of the Holy Grail, and in that thou hast been a clean and virtuous night, as I have been and am. When these words had been spoken, Galahad went to Percival and to Bors and kissed them, and commended them to God, and said, salute me to my Lord Salantelot, and bid him remember of this unstable world. Therewith he kneeled down to four the table and made his prayers, and then suddenly his soul departed to Jesus Christ, and a great multitude of angels bear his soul up to heaven, and the two fellows might well behold it. Also they saw come from heaven a hand, but they saw not the body, and it came right to the vessel and took it, and bear it up to heaven. Since then was there never a man so hard as to say that he had seen the Holy Grail. When Percival and Bors saw Galahad had died, they made as much sorrow as ever did to men, and if they had not been good men, they might lightly have fallen in despair, and the people of the country and of the city were right heavy. And then he was buried, and as soon as he was buried, Percival betook himself to a hermitage out of the city, wherefor a year and two months he lived a full holy life, and then passed out of this world. When Bors saw that he was alone in so far countries, he departed from Saras and came to the sea. There he entered into a ship, and so it befell that in good adventures he came into the realm of Logres. And he rode to Camelot, where King Arthur was, and then was there great joy made of him in the court, for they believed all that he was dead, for as much as he had been so long out of the country. When they had eaten, the king made great clerks a comer for him, that they should chronicle of the high adventures of the good knights. When Bors had told of the adventures of the Holy Grail, such as had befallen him and his two fellows, that was Percival and Galahad, then Lancelot took the adventures of the Holy Grail that he had seen. All this was made in great books and put in chests at Salisbury. Chapter 33 Your Stories of King Arthur and His Knights 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 Knights by U. Waldo Cutler. Chapter 33 Salonslot and the Fair Maid of Asterlat After the quest of the Holy Grail was fulfilled, and all knights that were left alive were come again on to the table round, then was there great joy in the court, and in a special King Arthur and Queen Grenever made great joy at the remnant that were come home. Passing glad were the King and Queen of Salonslot and of Sir Bors, for they had been long away in the quest of the Holy Grail. Then, as the book saith, Salonslot began to resort on to Queen Grenever again, and forget the promise that he made in the quest. For, had he not been in his privy thoughts and in his minds so set inwardly to the Queen, as he was in seeming outward to guard, there had no knight past him in the quest of the Holy Grail. But ever his thoughts were privily on the Queen, more than to forehand, so that many in the court spake of it, and in a special Sir Agriven, Sir Gawain's brother, for he was ever open-mouthed. Thus it passed forth till on a day the King let cry great jousts and a tournament that should be at Camelot, that is Winchester, and thither came many knights. So King Arthur made him ready to depart to these jousts, and would have had the Queen with him, but she would not go, pretending to be sick. This grieved the King, for such a fellowship of knights had not been seen together since the Witsun tide, when Gala had departed from the court. And many deemed the Queen would not be there, because of Salonslot of the Lake, who would not ride with the King, for he said he was not whole of a wound. So when the King was departed the Queen called Salonslot unto her, and told him he was greatly to blame, thus to hold himself before his Lord, and counseled him to take his way towards the tournament at Winchester. So upon the morn he took his leave of the Queen and departed. He rode all that day, and at Eventide he came to Astelat, that is Guilford, and was lodged at the place of an old baron, named Sir Bernard of Astelat. The old knight welcomed him in the best manner, but he knew not that he was Salonslot. Fair Sir, said Salonslot to his host, I would pray you to lend me a shield that is not openly known, for mine be well known, and I would go to the tournament in disguise. Sir, said his host, ye shall have your desire, for me seemeth ye be one of the likeliest knights of the world, and I shall show you friendship. Sir, with ye well I have two sons which were but late, made knights. The eldest is called Sotur, and he was hurt that same day that he was made knight, so that he may not ride. His shield ye shall have, for that is not known, I dare say, except in this place. And my youngest son is named Sir Lavaine, and if it please you, he shall ride with you unto the jousts, for he is of his age strong and brave. Much my heart leads me to believe that ye should be a noble knight. Therefore I pray you tell me your name. As for that, said Salonslot, you must hold me excused at this time, but if God give me grace to speed while at the jousts, I shall come again and tell you. But I pray you in any wise let me have your son Sir Lavaine with me, and his brother's shield. This shall be done, said Sir Bernard. This old Baron had a daughter, Elaine Leblanc, that was called at that time the fair maid of Astellat. Ever she beheld Salonslot admiringly, and as the book sayeth, she cast such a love unto him that she could never withdraw her love, so she besought him to wear at the jousts a token of hers. Fair Damsel, said Salonslot, if I grant you that, you may say I do more for your love than ever I did for Lady or Damsel. Then he remembered that he would go to the jousts, disguised, and because he had never afore that time borne any manner of token of any Damsel, he bethought him that he would bear one of her, so that none of his blood thereby might know him. And then he said, Fair Maiden, I will grant you to wear a token of yours upon my helmet, therefore show me what it is. Sir, she said, it is a red sleeve of mine, of scarlet, well embroidered with great pearls. So she brought it him, and Salonslot received it, saying that he had never done so much for any Damsel. Then he left his shield in the Fair Maiden's keeping, and prayed her to care for it until that he came again. So that night he had merry rest and great cheer. For ever the Damsel Elaine was about Salonslot, all the while she might be suffered. On the mourn Salonslot and Sir Lavaine took their leave of Sir Bernard, the old baron, and of his daughter the fair maid of Asterlat, and then they rode so long till they came to Camelot. There was great press of kings, dukes, earls, and barons, and many noble knights. But there Salonslot was lodged privily, by the means of Sir Lavaine, with a rich burgess, so that no man in that town was where what they were. At the time appointed the justes began, and Salonslot made him ready in his best manner, and put the red sleeve upon his head, and fastened it fast. Then he with Salavaine came in at the thickest of the press, and did marvellous deeds of arms, so that all wondered what night he might be. Sir Gawain said it might be Salonslot by his riding in his buffets, but ever it seemed it should not be he, for he bore the red sleeve upon his head, and he never whisked Salonslot bare token of lady or gentleman at any justes. At the last, by misfortune, Sir Gawain unhorsed Salonslot, and smote him through the shield into the side, and the spear break in the head was left still in his side. But Sir Lavaine by great force took the horse from the king of Scots, and brought it to his lord, Salonslot, and in spite of them all he made him to melt upon that horse. Then Salonslot got his spear in his hand, and then he smote Sir Gawain's horse and man to the earth. In the same wise served he other nights, and as the books sayeth, he might have slain them, but his heart might not serve him there too, and he left them there. Then afterwards he hurled in the thickest press of them all, and did there the marvellous deeds of arms that ever man saw or heard speak of. And ever Sir Lavaine, the good night, was with him. And there Salonslot with his sword smote and pulled down, as the French bookmakerth mention, more than thirty nights, and the most part were of the table round. And Sir Lavaine also did full well that day. At the last the king blew unto lodging, and the prize was given by Herald's unto the night with the white shield, that bear the red sleeve. But Salonslot was sore hurt and cared not for honour, and groaning piteously he rode at a great gallop awayward from all the nights, until he came under a wood side. When he saw that he was from the field nigh a mile, so that he was sure he might not be seen, he besought Sir Lavaine as he loved him to draw the truncheon out of his side. This Sir Lavaine dreaded sore to do, lest Salonslot should be in peril of death from loss of blood, if the truncheon were drawn out. Yet he did as his lord would have him do, and Salonslot gave a great shriek, and so swooned pale and deadly. Thereupon Sir Lavaine took him to a hermitage fast by within two miles, where dwelt a gentle hermit, that some time was a full noble night, and a great lord of possessions. For great goodness he had taken himself to willful poverty, and forsaken many lands. He was a full noble surgeon, and anon he stanched Salonslot's blood, and made him to drink good wine, so that he was well refreshed and came to himself. Meanwhile King Arthur let seek the night that bear the red sleeve, that he might have his lord and honour, and the prize as was right. But he could not be found, and the king and all the knights feared he was sore hurt in the battle. Then Sir Lavaine took a squire with him, and drove all about Camelot within six or seven miles, but could hear no word of him. Then within two days King Arthur and all the fellowship returned unto London again, and so as they rode by the way, it happened that Sir Lavaine was lodged at Astalat with suburned. Thereby the means of the shield left in Elaine's care, he learned that the night who won such honour at the tournament was none other than Salonslot himself, and the fair maid of Astalat learned on how valiant a night she had fixed her love. When Elaine heard also that Salonslot was grievously wounded, and that the knights knew not where he lay, she said to suburned her father. Now I request you give me leave to ride and to seek him, or else I what well I shall go out of my mind, for I shall never stop till that I find him and my brother Sir Lavaine. Do as it likeeth you, said her father, for I am right sore grieve of the hurt of that noble night. Right so the maid made herself ready, and Sir Gawain rode on to London, where he openly disclosed to all the court that it was Salonslot that bore the red sleeve, and that jousted best. And when Sir Bors heard that, we ewe well he was a heavy man, and so were all his kinsmen, for it was he who had given Salonslot that was his own cousin, the grievous wound in the tournament. But when Queen Guinevere wished that Salonslot bear the red sleeve of the fair maid of Astalat, she was nigh out of her mind for wrath, and called him false traitor, because he had worn the token of any lady but herself. As fair Elaine came to Winchester, she sought there all about, and by fortune Sir Lavaine had ridden out to refresh himself and to exercise his horse. Annon, as Elaine saw him, she knew him, and then she cried aloud unto him. When he heard her, Annon he came hither, and then she asked her brother how Salonslot did. Who told you, sister? said he, that my lord's name is Salonslot. Then she told him how Sir Guine knew him by his shield, and so they rode together till they came to the Hermitage. Annon she alighted, and so Lavaine brought her in to Salonslot. So this maiden Elaine never went from Salonslot, but watched him day and night, and did such attendance to him that the French book sayeth there was never woman did kindlier for man than she. After a long while he was healed of his wounds, and so upon a morn they took their horses, and Elaine leblanc'd with them, and departed from the Hermitage. And when they came to Astelat, there they were well lodged, and had great cheer of Sir Bernard, the old Baron, and of Sir Tur, his son. When Salonslot should depart from Astelat for to return to King Arthur's court, fair Elaine seemed like to die for love of him and for Sorrow at his going. But Salonslot loved only Queen Grenever, and thought never to be wedded man, and could only grieve at her great sorrow, and for her good will and great kindness, he promised that, whensoever she should set her heart upon some good night that would wed her, he would give her a thousand pounds yearly, and always while he lived be her own true night. Then Salonslot took his leave, and with Sir Lavaine he came unto Winchester. And when Arthur wist that Salonslot was come whole and sound, he made great joy of him, and so did all the nights of the round table, except Sir Agravain and Sir Mordred. Now speak we of the fair maiden of Astelat that made such sorrow day and night that she never slept, ate, or drank, and ever she made her lament for Salonslot. When she had thus endured a ten days, and weakened so that she must needs pass out of this world, she prepared for death, but ever she mourned for Salonslot. Then her priest bade her leave such thoughts, but she said, Why should I leave such thoughts? Am I not an earthly woman? And all the while the breath is in my body I may lament, for I do none offence, though I love an earthly man, and I take God to my record I never loved any but Salonslot of the lake, and as I am a pure maiden I never shall. And since it is the sufferance of God that I shall die for the love of so noble a night, I beseech the High Father of heaven to have mercy upon my soul. And, sweet Lord Jesus, I take thee to record, I was never great offender against thy laws, but that I loved this noble night's Salonslot out of measure, and of myself, good Lord, I might not withstand the fervent love wherefore I have my death. Then she called her father Sir Bernard and her brother Sir Thur, and heartily she prayed her father that her brother might write a letter, like as she did in Dietet, and so her father grounded her. And when the letter was written word by word as she devised, then she prayed her father that after her death she might be put in a barge in all her richest clothes, the letter fast in her right hand, and that the barge, covered over and over with black Samite, might be steered by one boatman only down the Thames to Westminster. So she died and all was done as she desired. Now by fortune King Arthur and Queen Grenever were speaking together at a window of the palace, and as they looked they aspired this black barge, and had marvel what it meant, and the King sent three nights thither to bring him ready word what was there. Then these three nights came to the barge, and found therein the fairest corpse lying in a rich bed, and a poor man sitting at the barge's end, and no word would he speak. Then the King took the Queen by the hand and went thither, and there they saw the fair woman in all the rich clothing lying as though she smiled, and the Queen aspired the letter in her right hand, and a clerk read it in the presence of many nights. This was the intent of the letter. Most noble nights a lot a lot, now hath death made us two at debate for your love. I was your lover, that men called the fair maiden of Vastalat. Therefore unto all ladies I make my moan. Yet pray for my soul and bear me at the least, and offer my mass penny. This is my last request, and a clean maiden I died, I take God to witness. Pray for my soul, Soloncelot, as thou art peerless. When the letter was read, the King, the Queen, and all the nights wept for pity at the doleful lament. Then was Soloncelot sent for, and when he heard the letter word for word, he said, My Lord Arthur, with ye well I am right heavy of the death of this fair damsel, but God knoweth I was never cause of her death by my willing. I will not say but that she was both fair and good, and much I was beholden unto her, but she loved me out of measure. Then said the King unto Soloncelot, it will be your honour that ye oversee that she be interred honourably. Sir, said Soloncelot, that shall be done as I can best devise. So upon the mourn she was interred richly, and Soloncelot offered her mass penny, and all the nights of the table round that were there at that time offered with Soloncelot. And the Queen sent for Soloncelot and prayed him of mercy, because she had been wroth with him causeless, and he willingly forgave her. So it passed on all that winter with all manner of hunting and hawking, and jousts and turnies where many betwixt the great lords, and ever in all places Sir Levain get great honour, so that he was nobly renowned among many nights of the table round. CHAPTER XXXIV 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 XXXIV OF THE GREAT TOURNAMENT ON CANDLENESS DAY At Christmas time many nights were together at the court, and every day there was a joust made. Sir Levain jousted there all that Christmas passing well, and was praised best, for there were but few that did so well. Wherefore all nights thought that Sir Levain should be made night of the round table at the next feast of Pentecost. But Sir Lancelot would joust only when a great tournament was held. So after Christmas King Arthur had many nights caught on to him, and there they agreed together to make a party and a great tournament near Westminster on Candleness Day. Of this many nights were glad, and made themselves ready to be at these jousts in the freshest manner. The Queen Guinevere sent for Sir Lancelot and said, At these jousts that shall be, you shall bear upon your helmet the sleeve of gold that you shall have of me, and I pray you, for my sake exert yourself there, so that men may speak of your honour. Madam, said Sir Lancelot, it shall be done. And when Sir Lancelot saw his time, he told Sir Bors that he would depart, and have no others with him than Sir Levain, and to the good helmet that dwelt in the forest of Windsor. His name was Sobresteus, and there he intended to take all the repose he might, because he wished to be fresh on the day of the jousts. So Sir Lancelot with Sir Levain departed so quietly, that no creature except the noblemen of his own kin knew what had become of him. And when he had come to the hermitage, you may be sure he had good cheer. Daily he would go to a spring hard by the hermitage, and there he would lie down and watch the spring bubble, and sometimes he slept there. At that time a lady dwelt in the forest who was a great huntress. Every day she used to hunt, and no men ever went with her, but always women. They were all shooters, and could well kill a deer both undercover and in the open. They always carried bows and arrows, horns and wood knives, and many good dogs they had. Now it happened that this lady, the huntress, was one day chasing a deer, keeping the direction by the noise of the hounds. The deer, hard pressed, came down to the spring where Sir Lancelot was sleeping, and there sank down exhausted, and lay there a great while. At length dogs came fast after and beat about, for they had lost the very perfect track of the deer. Just then there came that lady, the huntress, who knew by the sounds of the dogs that the deer must be at the spring. So she came swiftly and found the deer. She put a broad arrow in her bow, and shot at it, but aimed too high, and so by misfortune the arrow smote Sir Lancelot deep in the thick of the thigh. When Sir Lancelot felt himself so hurt, he jumped up madly, and saw the lady that had smitten him. And when he saw it was a woman he said thus, Lady, or damsel, whatever thou be, in an evil time ye bear bow, the devil made you a shooter. Now, mercy fair sir, said the lady, I am a gentle woman that am want to hunt here in this forest, and truly I saw you not. There was the deer by the spring, and I believed I was doing well to shoot, but my hand swerved. Alas! said Sir Lancelot, you have done mischief to me. And so the lady departed, and Sir Lancelot, as well as he might, pulled out the arrow, but the head remained still in his thigh, and so he went feebly to the hermitage, ever bleeding as he went. And when Sir Lavaine and the hermit spied that Sir Lancelot was hurt, we e'er well they were passing sorry. But neither Sir Lavaine nor the hermit knew how he was hurt or by whom. Then with great pain the hermit got the arrow's head out of Sir Lancelot's thigh, but much of his blood was shed, and the wound was passing sore. Ah! mercy! said Sir Lancelot, I call myself the most unhappy man that liveth, for ever when I would most gladly have honour there befalleth me some unhappy thing. Now, so heaven help me, I shall be in the field upon candle-mistay at the jousts, whatsoever come of it. So all that might heal Sir Lancelot was gotten, and when the day came, he and Sir Lavaine had themselves in their horses arrayed, and so departed and came nigh to the field. Many proved good nights with their retainers were there ready to joust, and King Arthur himself came into the field with two hundred nights, the most part noble nights of the table round. And there were old nights set in scaffolds, for to judge with the queen who did best. Then they blew to the field, and the nights met in the battle, furiously smiting down one and another in the rush of the tournament. King Arthur himself ran into the lists with a hundred followers, smiting to the earth four nights, one after the other, and even when his spear was broken, he did passing well. And so night after night came in. Sir Gawain, and Sir Gaharis, and Sir Agrawain, and Sir Mordred, and many others, all pressed their opponents hard, some being discomforted, and others gaining great honour by their mighty prowess. All this doing Sir Lancelot saw, and then he came into the field with Sir Lavaine, as if it had been thunder. He encountered with Sir Gawain, and by force smote him and his horse to the earth, and then one night after another all with one spear. And Sir Lavaine encountered with Sir Palamedes, and either met others so hard and so fiercely that both their horses fell to the earth. But they were hoist again, and then Sir Lancelot met with Sir Palamedes, and there Sir Palamedes had a fall. And so Sir Lancelot, as fast as he could get spears, smote down thirty nights, and the most part of them were nights of the table round. And then King Arthur was wroth when he saw Sir Lancelot do such deeds, and with nine chosen nights made ready to set upon Sir Lancelot and Sir Lavaine. All this aspired Sir Gareth, and he said to Sir Balls, I will ride unto my Lord Sir Lancelot for to help him, fall of it what may, for he is the same man that made me night. He shall not so, said Sir Balls, by my counsel, unless ye be disguised. You shall see me disguised, said Sir Gareth, so he rode to a Welsh night who lay to repose himself, for he was so hurt afore by Sir Gareth, and Sir Gareth prayed him of his knighthood to lend him his green shield for his. I will well, said the Welsh night. So Sir Gareth came driving to Sir Lancelot with all his might, and bore him fellowship for old love he had shown him. And so the King and his nine nights encountered with Sir Lancelot and Sir Lavaine and Sir Gareth. And Sir Gareth did such deeds of arms that all men wondered what night he was with the green shield, for he smoked down that day and pulled down more than thirty nights. Also Sir Lancelot knew not Sir Gareth, and marvelled, when he beheld him do such deeds, what night he might be. So this tournament and this joust lasted long till it was near evening, for the nights of the round table ever came to the relief of King Arthur, who was wroth out of measure that he and his knights could not prevail that day over Sir Lancelot and the knights who were with him. So when they had long dealt one another great strokes, and neither might prevail, King Arthur said to Sir Gareth, Tell me now, nephew, what is your best council? Sir, said Sir Gareth, ye shall have my council. Have sounded the call unto lodging, for trust me, truly it will be of no avail to strive with Sir Lancelot of the lake and my brother Sir Gareth, for he it is with the green shield, helped as they are by that good young knight Sir Lavain, unless we should fall ten or twelve upon one night, and that would be no honour but shame. Ye say truth, said the King, and it were shame to us, so many as we are, to set upon them any more. So then they blew unto lodging, and King Arthur rode after Sir Lancelot and prayed him and other of the knights to supper. So they went unto Arthur's lodging altogether, and there was a great feast and great revel, and the prize was given unto Sir Lancelot. Then Sir Lancelot told the King and the Queen how the Lady Huntress shot him in the Forest of Windsor, in the thigh with a broad arrow. Also Arthur blamed Sir Gareth because he left his fellowship and held with Sir Lancelot. My Lord, said Sir Gareth, he made me a knight, and when I saw him so hard bestowed, we thought it was my honour to help him, for I saw him do so much, and I was ashamed to see so many noble knights against him alone. Truly, said King Arthur unto Sir Gareth, ye say well, and honourably have ye done, and all the days of my life be sure I shall love you and trust you the more, for the great honour ye have done to yourself. Forever it is an honourable knight's duty to help another honourable knight, when he seeth him in a great danger. Forever an honourable man will be loath to see an honourable man put to shame. He that is of no honour, and faireth with cowardice, will never show gentleness nor any manner of goodness, where he seeth a man in any danger, for never will a coward show any mercy, and always a good man will do to another man, as he would be done to himself. So then there were great feasts unto Kings and Dukes, and revel, game, and play, and all manner of nobleness was used, and he that was courteous, true, and faithful to his friend, was at that time cherished. and what came of it. Thus it passed on from Candlemas until after Easter, and soon the month of May was come, when every manly heart begins to blossom and to bring forth fruit. For as herbs and trees flourish in May, likewise every lusty heart springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds, for more than any other month may giveth unto all men renewed courage, and calleth again to their mind all gentleness and old service, and many kind deeds that were forgotten by negligence. Therefore as the month of May flowereth and flourisheth in many gardens, so let every man of honour bring forth fruit in his heart, first unto God, and next unto the joy of them to whom he has promised his faith. So it befell in the month of May that Queen Grenovert called unto her ten nights of the table round, and she bade them ride with her and maying on the morrow into the woods and fields near Westminster. And I bid you, said she, that ye all be well-horst, and that ye all be clothed in green, either silk or woollen, and I shall bring with me ten ladies, and every night shall have a lady behind him, and every night shall have a squire and two yeoman. So they made themselves ready in the freshest manner, and in the morning rode with the Queen amaying in woods and meadows, as it pleased them in great joy and delight. The Queen purposed to be again with King Arthur the furthest by ten of the clock. Now there was a night called Meliagrants, who had at that time a castle, the gift of King Arthur, within seven miles of Westminster. He had long lain in wait to steal away the Queen, but had feared to do the base deed when Salon slot was in her company. It was her custom at that time never to ride without a great fellowship of men of arms about her, for the most part young men eager for honour, and called the Queen's knights. But this night, Meliagrants, had aspired the Queen well and her purpose on this May morning, and had seen how Salon slot was not with her, and how she had for this once no men of arms with her but the ten noble knights all arrayed in green for meying. Then he provided him twenty men of arms and a hundred archers to destroy the Queen's knights, for he thought that time was the best season to take the Queen prisoner. So while the Queen and all her knights were gathering herbs and mosses and flowers in the best manner and freshest, just then they came out of a wood, Meliagrants with eight score men, well armed, and bade the Queen and her knights to stand. Trader knight, said Queen Grenever, what intendest thou to do? Wilt thou shame thyself? Bethink thee how thou art a king's son, and knight of the table round, and thou art about to dishonour the noble king that made thee knight. Thou shamest all knighthood and thyself, but me, I let thee wit, thou shalt never shame, for I had rather cut my throat in twain, than that thou shoots dishonour me. As for all this language, said Meliagrants, be it as it may, never before could I get you at such advantage as I do now, and therefore I will take you as I find you. All the ten noble knights sought to dissuade him from dishonouring himself, and from forcing them to jeopard their lives, unarmed as they were, in defending the Queen. But Meliagrants would not yield, and the ten knights of the table round drew their swords, and stood manly against the spears and swords of the others. But Meliagrants had them at great advantage, and a non-six of them were smitten to the earth with grimly wounds. The other four fought long, but at last they also were sore wounded. When the Queen saw that her knight's needs must be slain at the last, she for pity and sorrow agreed to go with some Meliagrants to his castle upon this covenant, that he suffer not her knights to be more hurt, and that they be led wheresoever she was taken. Four, said she, I will rather slay myself than go with thee, unless these my noble knights may be in my presence. Meliagrants consented, and by the Queen's commandment they left battle. The wounded knights were placed on horseback, some sitting, some across the horse's backs, in a pitiful manner, and all rode in haste to the castle. Then Meliagrants charged the Queen and all her knights, that no one should depart from her, for full sore he dreaded Soloncelot, lest he should have any knowledging. But the Queen privily called unto her a page who could ride swiftly, gave him her ring, and told him to bear it, when he saw a chance to slip away quietly, unto Soloncelot of the lake, and pray him to rescue her. And spare thou not thy horse, said she, neither for water nor for land. So the page aspired his time, and lightly he touched his horse with the spurs, and departed as fast as he might. So Meliagrants saw him so flea, and understood that it was to warn Soloncelot. Then they that were best horse chased him and shot at him, but he escaped them all, and Anon found Soloncelot, and when he had told his message and delivered him the Queen's ring. Alas! said Soloncelot, now am I shamed for ever, unless that I may rescue that noble lady from dishonour. Then he eagerly called for his armour, and ever the page told him how the ten knights had fought marvelously, till at last the Queen made appointment to go with Meliagrants for to save their lives. Alas! said Soloncelot, that most noble lady, that she should be so destroyed, I would give all France to have been there well armed. So when Soloncelot was armed and upon his horse, he sent the Queen's page to tell Sir Lavaine how suddenly he had departed, and for what cause, and to pray him to come anon to the castle where Soloncelot abideth. Soloncelot, it is said, took to the water at Westminster Bridge, and made his horse swim over the Thames to Lambeth, and then he rode as fast as he might, until within a while he came to the place where the ten knights had fought with Soloncelot. He then followed the path until he came to a straight way through the wood. Here he was stopped by thirty archers that Soloncelot had sent out to slay Soloncelot's horse, but to no wiser have a do with him bodily. For, he had said, he is over hard to overcome. These archers bade Soloncelot to turn again and follow no longer that track, and when Soloncelot gave right-naught for them, then they shot his horse, and smoked him with many arrows. Soloncelot now set out on foot, but there were so many ditches and hedges betwixt the archers and him that he could not meddle with any one of them. He went on a while, but was much cumbered by his armour, his shield, and his spear. Wee ye well he was so annoyed at his slow progress, but was loath to leave any thing that belonged down to him, for he dreaded sore the treason of Someliogrants. Just then by chance they came by a cart that was sent thither to fetch wood. Tell me, Carter, said Soloncelot, what shall I give thee to take me in thy cart unto a castle within two miles of here? Thou shalt not set foot in my cart, said the man, for I am sent to fetch wood for my Lord Someliogrants. Then Soloncelot jumped upon him, and gave the man such a blow that he fell to the earth stark dead. Then the other Carter, his fellow, was afraid of going the same way and cried out, Fair Lord, save my life, and I will bring you where ye will. Soloncelot leapt into the cart, and the Carter drove at a great gallop, Soloncelot's horse following after with more than forty arrows in him. More than an hour and a half later Queen Guinevere was in a bay-winder of the castle with her ladies, and aspired an armed knight approaching, standing in a cart. See, madam, said a lady to her, there rideth in a cart a goodly armed knight, I suppose he rideth to hanging. Then the queen aspired by his shield that Soloncelot of the lake himself was there. Alas! said the queen, now I see that well is it with him who had a trusty friend. Oh, most noble knight, I see well thou are hard bestowed when thou ridest in a cart. By this time Soloncelot had come to the gates of that castle, and there he descended from the cart, and cried so that all the castle rang. Where art thou, false traitors, amelior grants, and knight of the table round? Now come forth here, thou traitor knight, thou and thy fellowship with thee, for here I am, Soloncelot of the lake, that shall fight with thee. With these words he burst the gate wide open upon the porter, and smoked him under his ear with his gauntlet, so that he staggered back like a dead man. When Soloncelot heard that Soloncelot was there, he ran onto Queen Grenoves and fell upon his knees, putting himself wholly at her mercy, and begging her to control the wrath of Soloncelot. Betterest peace than ever wore, said the queen, and the less noise the more is my honour. So she and her ladies went down to Soloncelot, thanked him for all his trouble in her behalf, told him of Melior grants's repentance, and bade him come in peaceably with her. Madden, said to Soloncelot, if ye are accorded with him, I am not inclined to be against peace, albeit Soloncelot has done full shamefully to me and cowardly. Ah, madden, had I known you would be so soon accorded with him, I would not have made such haste unto you. What! said the queen, do ye repent of your good deeds? We eat well, I never made peace with him for labour or love that I had unto him, but to suppress all shameful noise. Madden, said to Soloncelot, ye understand full well, I was never glad of shameful slander nor noise, and there is neither king, queen nor knight alive except my Lord King Arthur, and you, madden, that should hinder me from making some Melior grants's heart full cold, or ever I departed from hence. Then the queen and Soloncelot went in together, and she commanded him to be unarmed. Then he asked where the ten knights were that were wounded sore. So she led Soloncelot to them, and they made great joy of his coming, and he made great dole of their hurts and bewailed them greatly. And then Soloncelot told them how he had been obliged to put himself into a cart. Thus they complained each to other, and full gladly would they have been revenged, but they restrained themselves because of the queen. Soloncelot was called for many a day thereafter the Chevalier of the cart, and he did many deeds and great adventures he had. And so we leave this tale of the Knight of the Cart and turn to others.