"That is Palamides," said Dinadan.
"It may well be," said Sir Tristram: "go ye to him," said Sir Tristram unto Dinadan.
So Dinadan went unto Sir Palamides, and there either made of other great joy, and so they lay together that night, and on the morn early came Sir Tristram and Sir Gareth, and took them in their beds, and so they arose and brake their fast.
[And so, having done many great deeds of arms, after many days it happened that Sir Tristram rode forth for to rescue Sir Palamides, but Sir Launcelot, in disguise, had already rescued him or [before] that Sir Tristram could come. And then Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides went with the unknown knight to his castle, which was Sir Launcelot's castle of Joyous Gard.]
And when they were come within Joyous Gard, they alighted, and their horses were led into a stable, and then they unarmed them. And when Sir Launcelot had put off his helm, Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides knew him. Then Sir Tristram took Sir Launcelot in his arms; and Sir Palamides kneeled down upon his knees and thanked Sir Launcelot. When Sir Launcelot saw Sir Palamides kneel, he lightly took him up, and said,—
"Wit thou well, Sir Palamides, I and any knight in this land of worship ought of very right succor and rescue so noble a knight as ye are proved and renowned throughout all this realm, endlong and overthwart."
Then Sir Launcelot within three or four days departed; and with him rode Sir Ector de Maris; and Dinadan and Sir Palamides were there left with Sir Tristram a two months and more. But ever Sir Palamides faded and mourned, that all men had marvel wherefore he faded so away. So upon a day, in the dawning Sir Palamides went into the forest by himself alone, and there he found a well. And therewithal he laid him down by the well. And then he began to make a rhyme of la Belle Isolde and him. And in the meanwhile Sir Tristram was that same day ridden into the forest to chase the hart of greese [the fat hart]. And so as Sir Tristram rode into that forest up and down, he heard one sing marvellously loud; and that was Sir Palamides, that lay by the well. And then Sir Tristram rode softly thither, for he deemed there was some knight errant that was at the well.
And when Sir Tristram came nigh him, he descended down from his horse, and tied his horse fast to a tree, and then he came near him on foot. And anon he was ware where lay Sir Palamides by the well. And ever the complaints were of that noble queen la Belle Isolde, the which was marvellously and wonderfully well made and full dolefully and piteously. And all the whole song the noble knight Sir Tristram heard from the beginning to the ending, the which grieved and troubled him sore. But then at last, when Sir Tristram had heard all Sir Palamides' complaints, he was wroth out of measure, and thought for to slay him there as he lay. Then Sir Tristram remembered himself that Sir Palamides was unarmed, and of the noble name that Sir Palamides had, and the noble name that himself had, and then he made a restraint of his anger, and so he went unto Sir Palamides a soft pace, and said,—
"Sir Palamides, I have heard your complaint, and of thy treason that thou hast owed me so long. And wit thou well therefore thou shalt die. And if it were not for shame of knighthood thou shouldest not escape my hands, for now I know well thou hast awaited me with treason. Tell me," said Sir Tristram, "how thou wilt acquit thee."
"Sir," said Palamides, "thus I will acquit me: as for queen la Belle Isolde, ye shall wit well that I love her above all other ladies of the world; and well I wot it shall befall me as for her love as befell to the noble knight Sir Kehidius, that died for the love of la Belle Isolde; and now, Sir Tristram, I will that ye wit that I have loved la Belle Isolde many a day, and she hath been the causer of my worship. And else I had been the most simplest knight in the world. For by her, and because of her, I have won the worship that I have: for when I remembered me of la Belle Isolde, I won the worship wheresoever I came, for the most part; and yet had I never reward nor bounty of her the days of my life, and yet have I been her knight guerdonless; and therefore, Sir Tristram, as for any death I dread not, for I had as lief die as to live. And if I were armed as thou art, I should lightly do battle with thee."
"Well have ye uttered your treason," said Sir Tristram.
"I have done to you no treason," said Sir Palamides, "for love is free for all men, and though I have loved your lady she is my lady as well as yours; and yet shall I love her to the uttermost days of my life as well as ye."
"Then," said Sir Tristram, "I will fight with you unto the uttermost."
"I grant," said Sir Palamides, "for in a better quarrel keep I never to fight, for and I die of your hands, of a better knight's hands may I not be slain. And sithen [since] I understand that I shall never rejoice the queen la Belle Isolde, I have as good a will to die as to live."
"Then set ye a day of battle," said Sir Tristram.
"This day fifteen days," said Sir Palamides, "will I meet with you hereby in the meadow under Joyous Gard."
"Fie for shame!" said Sir Tristram, "will ye set so long a day? let us fight to-morrow."
"Not so," said Sir Palamides, "for I am feeble and lean, and have been long sick for the love of la Belle Isolde, and therefore I will rest me till that I have my strength again."
So then Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides promised faithfully to meet at the well as that day fifteen days.
Right so departed Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides; and so Sir Palamides took his horse and his harness, and rode unto King Arthur's court, and there Sir Palamides gat him four knights and three sergeants of arms; and so he returned again towards Joyous Gard. And in the meanwhile Sir Tristram chased and hunted at all manner of venery [game]; and about a three days afore that the battle should be, as Sir Tristram chased an hart, there was an archer shot at the hart, and by misfortune he smote Sir Tristram in the thickest of the thigh and wounded him right sore, and the arrow slew Sir Tristram's horse; and when Sir Tristram was so sore hurt, he was passing heavy, and wit ye well he bled sore. And then he took another horse, and rode unto Joyous Gard with full great heaviness.
Then when the fifteenth day was come, Sir Palamides came to the well with four knights with him of King Arthur's court, and three sergeants of arms. And the one sergeant brought his helm, the other his spear, and the third his sword. So Sir Palamides came into the field, and there he abode nigh two hours, and then he sent a squire unto Sir Tristram, and desired him to come into the field for to hold his promise. When the squire was come to Joyous Gard, and that Sir Tristram heard of his coming, he commanded that the squire should come to his presence there as he lay in his bed.
"My lord Sir Tristram," said Palamides' squire, "wit you well, my lord Palamides abideth you in the field, and he would wit whether ye would do battle or not."
"Ah, my fair brother," said Sir Tristram, "wit thou well that I am right heavy for these tidings, therefore tell Sir Palamides and I were well at ease I would not lie here, nor he should have no need to send for me, and I might either ride or go: and for thou shalt say that I am no liar," Sir Tristram showed him his thigh, that the wound was six inches deep:—"and now thou hast seen my hurt, tell thy lord that this is no feigned matter; and tell him that I had liever than all the gold of King Arthur that I were whole; and tell Sir Palamides, as soon as I am whole I shall seek him endlong and overthwart, and that I promise you as I am true knight; and if ever I may meet with him he shall have battle of me his fill."
And with this the squire departed. And then departed Sir Palamides where as fortune led him. And within a month Sir Tristram was whole of his hurt. And then he took his horse, and rode from country to country, and all strange adventures he achieved wheresoever he rode, and always he inquired for Sir Palamides.
[When Sir Tristram was returned, he heard how there should be a great feast at King Arthur's court on the Pentecost next following. And so when that day was nigh Sir Tristram set forth unarmed towards Camelot.]
And within a mile after, Sir Tristram saw before him where Sir Palamides had stricken down a knight, and had almost wounded him to death. Then Sir Tristram repented him that he was not armed, and then he hoved still. With that Sir Palamides knew Sir Tristram, and cried on high: "Sir Tristram, now be we met, for or we depart we will redress our old sores."
"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "there was never yet Christian man that might make his boast that ever I fled from him, and wit thou well, Sir Palamides, thou that art a Saracen shall never make thy boast that Sir Tristram de Lyonesse shall flee from thee."
And therewithal Sir Tristram made his horse to run with all his might, came he straight upon Sir Palamides, and brake his spear upon him in an hundred pieces, and forthwith Sir Tristram drew his sword, and then he turned his horse and struck at Sir Palamides six great strokes upon his helm. And then Sir Palamides stood still, and beheld Sir Tristram, and marvelled of his woodness and of his great folly; and then Sir Palamides said to himself, "And Sir Tristram were armed it were hard to cease him of this battle, and if I turn again and slay him I am shamed wheresoever that I go."
Then Sir Tristram spake and said, "Thou coward knight, what castest thou to do? why wilt thou not do battle with me, for have thou no doubt I shall endure all thy malice."
"Ah, Sir Tristram," said Sir Palamides, "full well thou wottest I may not fight with thee for shame, for thou art here naked, and I am armed, and if I slay thee dishonor shall be mine. And well thou wottest I know thy strength and thy hardiness to endure against a good knight."
"That is truth," said Sir Tristram, "I understand thy valiantness well."
"Ye say well," said Sir Palamides, "now I require you tell me a question that I shall say to you."
"Tell me what it is," said Sir Tristram, "and I shall answer you the truth."
"I put the case," said Sir Palamides, "that ye were armed at all rights as well as I am, and I naked as ye be, what would ye do to me now by your true knighthood?"
"Ah," said Sir Tristram, "now I understand thee well, Sir Palamides, for now must I say my own judgment, and, as God me bless, that I shall say shall not be said for no fear that I have of thee. But this is all; wit, Sir Palamides, as at this time thou shouldest depart from me, for I would not have ado with thee."
"No more will I," said Sir Palamides, "and therefore ride forth on thy way."
"As for that I may choose," said Sir Tristram, "either to ride or to abide. But Sir Palamides," said Sir Tristram, "I marvel of one thing, that thou that art so good a knight, that thou will not be christened, and thy brother Sir Safere hath been christened many a day."
"As for that," said Sir Palamides, "I may not yet be christened for one avow that I have made many years agone; howbeit in my heart I believe in Jesus Christ and his mild mother Mary; but I have but one battle to do, and when that is done I will be baptized with a good will."
"By my head," said Sir Tristram, "as for one battle thou shalt not seek it no longer. For God defend," said Sir Tristram, "that through my default thou shouldest longer live thus a Saracen. For yonder is a knight that ye, Sir Palamides, have hurt and smitten down; now help me that I were armed in his armor, and I shall soon fulfil thine avows."
"As ye will," said Sir Palamides, "so it shall be."
So they rode unto that knight that sat upon a bank, and then Sir Tristram saluted him, and he weakly saluted him again.
"Sir knight," said Sir Tristram, "I require you tell me your right name."
"Sir," he said, "my name is Sir Galleron of Galway, and knight of the Table Round."
"Truly," said Sir Tristram, "I am right heavy of your hurts: but this is all, I must pray you to lend me all your whole armor, for ye see I am unarmed, and I must do battle with this knight."
"Sir," said the hurt knight, "ye shall have it with a good will; but ye must beware, for I warn you that knight is wight [strong]. Sir," said Galleron, "I pray you tell me your name, and what is that knight's name that hath beaten me."
"Sir, as for my name, it is Sir Tristram de Lyonesse, and as for the knight's name that hath hurt you, it is Sir Palamides, brother unto the good knight Sir Safere, and yet is Sir Palamides unchristened."
"Alas," said Sir Galleron, "that is pity that so good a knight and so noble a man of arms should be unchristened."
"Truly," said Sir Tristram, "either he shall slay me, or I him, but that he shall be christened or ever we depart in sunder."
"My lord Sir Tristram," said Sir Galleron, "your renown and worship is well known through many realms and God save you this day from shame."
Then Sir Tristram unarmed Galleron, the which was a noble knight and had done many deeds of arms, and he was a large knight of flesh and bone. And when he was unarmed he stood upon his feet, for he was bruised in the back with a spear; yet, so as Sir Galleron might, he armed Sir Tristram. And then Sir Tristram mounted upon his own horse, and in his hand he gat Sir Galleron's spear. And therewithal Sir Palamides was ready, and so they came hurtling together, and either smote other in the midst of their shields, and therewithal Sir Palamides' spear brake, and Sir Tristram smote down the horse; and then Sir Palamides, as soon as he might, avoided his horse, and dressed his shield, and pulled out his sword. That saw Sir Tristram, and therewith he alighted, and tied his horse to a tree.
And then they came together as two wild boars, lashing together, tracing and traversing as noble men that oft had been well proved in battle; but ever Sir Palamides dreaded the might of Sir Tristram, and therefore he suffered him to breathe him. Thus they fought more than two hours; and often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palamides that he made him to kneel; and Sir Palamides brake and cut away many pieces of Sir Tristram's shield, and then Sir Palamides wounded Sir Tristram, for he was a well fighting man. Then Sir Tristram was wood wrath out of measure, and rashed upon Sir Palamides with such a might that Sir Palamides fell grovelling to the earth, and therewithal he leapt up lightly upon his feet, and then Sir Tristram wounded Sir Palamides sore through the shoulder. And ever Sir Tristram fought still in like hard, and Sir Palamides failed not, but gave him many sad strokes. And at the last Sir Tristram doubled his strokes, and by fortune Sir Tristram smote Sir Palamides' sword out of his hand, and if Sir Palamides had stooped for his sword, he had been slain. Then Sir Palamides stood still and beheld his sword with a sorrowful heart.
"How now," said Sir Tristram unto Sir Palamides, "now have I thee at advantage as thou hadst me this day, but it shall never be said in no court, nor among good knights, that Sir Tristram shall slay any knight that is weaponless, and therefore take thou thy sword, and let us make an end of this battle."
"As for to do this battle," said Sir Palamides, "I dare right well end it; but I have no great lust to fight no more, and for this cause, mine offence to you is not so great but that we may be friends. All that I have offended is and was for the love of la Belle Isolde. And as for her, I dare say she is peerless above all other ladies, and also I proffered her never no dishonor; and by her I have gotten the most part of my worship, and sithen I offended never as to her own person. And as for the offence that I have done, it was against your own person, and for that offence ye have given me this day many sad strokes, and some I have given you again; and now I dare say I felt never man of your might, nor so well breathed, but if it were Sir Launcelot du Lake. Wherefore I require you, my lord, forgive me all that I have offended unto you. And this same day have me to the next church, and first let me be clean confessed, and after see you now that I be truly baptized. And then will we all ride together unto the court of Arthur, that we be there at the high feast."
"Now take your horse," said Sir Tristram, "and as ye say, so it shall be; and all your evil will God forgive it you, and I do. And here, within this mile, is the suffragan of Carlisle, that shall give you the sacrament of baptism."
Then they took their horses, and Sir Galleron rode with them. And when they came to the suffragan Sir Tristram told him their desire. Then the suffragan let fill a great vessel with water. And when he had hallowed it, he then confessed clean Sir Palamides, and Sir Tristram and Sir Galleron were his god-fathers. And then soon after they departed, riding towards Camelot, where King Arthur and Queen Guenever was, and for the most part all the knights of the Round Table. And so the king and all the court were glad that Sir Palamides was christened. And Sir Tristram returned again towards Joyous Gard.
[And so, after years, and many mighty deeds of arms, the] traitor King Mark slew the noble knight Sir Tristram as he sat harping before his lady la Belle Isolde, with a trenchant glaive; for whose death was much bewailing of every knight in Arthur's days. And la Belle Isolde died swooning upon the corpse of Sir Tristram, whereof was great pity. And all that were with King Mark consenting to the death of Sir Tristram were slain.
King Mark slew the noble knight Sir Tristram as he sat harping before his lady la Belle Isolde
King Mark slew the noble knight Sir Tristram as he sat harping before his lady la Belle Isolde
King Mark slew the noble knight Sir Tristram as he sat harping before his lady la Belle Isolde
OF SIR GALAHAD AND SIR PERCIVAL AND THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL
At the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the Round Table were come unto Camelot, and there they all heard their service, and all the tables were covered, ready to set thereon the meat, right so entered into the hall a full fair gentlewoman on horseback, that had ridden full fast, for her horse was all to-besweat; [and she besought Sir Launcelot that he would come forth with her into the forest for to dub a knight.] Right so departed Sir Launcelot with the gentlewoman, and rode till they came into a forest, and into a great valley, where he saw an abbey of nuns; and there was a squire ready to open the gates. And so there came in twelve nuns, which brought with them Galahad, the which was passing fair and well made, that unneth [hardly] men in the world might not find his match; and all those ladies wept.
"Sir," said the ladies, "we bring here this child, the which we have nourished, and we pray you for to make him a knight; for of a more worthier man's hand may he not receive the order of knighthood."
Sir Launcelot beheld that young squire, and saw he was seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features, that he wend of his age never to have seen so fair a man of form.
Then said Sir Launcelot, "Cometh this desire of himself?"
He and all they said, "Yea."
"Then shall he," said Sir Launcelot, "receive the high order of knighthood as to-morrow at the reverence of the high feast."
That night Sir Launcelot had passing good cheer, and on the morrow at the hour of prime, at Galahad's desire, he made him knight; and said, "God make him a good man, for beauty faileth him not as any that liveth."
So when the king and all the knights were come from service, the barons espied in the sieges of the Round Table, all about written with gold letters: "Here ought to sit" he, and he "ought to sit here." And thus they went so long until that they came to the Siege Perilous, where they found letters newly written of gold, that said: "Four hundred winters and fifty-four accomplished after the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ ought this siege to be fulfilled."
Then all they said, "This is a marvellous thing, and an adventurous."
"In the name of God," said Sir Launcelot; and then he accounted the term of the writing, from the birth of our Lord unto that day.
"It seemeth me," said Sir Launcelot, "this siege ought to be fulfilled this same day, for this is the feast of Pentecost after the four hundred and four and fifty year; and if it would please all parties, I would none of these letters were seen this day, till he be come that ought to achieve this adventure."
Then made they to ordain a cloth of silk for to cover these letters in the Siege Perilous. Then the king bade haste unto dinner.
"Sir," said Sir Kay the steward, "if ye go now unto your meat, ye shall break your old custom of your court. For ye have not used on this day to sit at your meat or that ye have seen some adventure."
"Ye say sooth," said the king, "but I had so great joy of Sir Launcelot and of his cousins, which be come to the court whole and sound, that I bethought me not of my old custom."
So as they stood speaking, in came a squire, and said unto the king, "Sir, I bring unto you marvellous tidings."
"What be they?" said the king.
"Sir, there is here beneath at the river a great stone, which I saw fleet [float] above the water, and therein saw I sticking a sword."
The king said, "I will see that marvel."
So all the knights went with him, and when they came unto the river, they found there a stone fleeting, as it were of red marble, and therein stuck a fair and a rich sword, and in the pommel thereof were precious stones, wrought with subtle letters of gold. Then the barons read the letters, which said in this wise: "Never shall man take me hence, but only he by whom I ought to hang, and he shall be the best knight of the world."
When the king had seen these letters, he said unto Sir
Launcelot, "Fair sir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am sure that ye be the best knight of the world."
Then Sir Launcelot answered soberly, "Certainly, sir, it is not my sword. Also, sir, wit ye well I have no hardiness to set my hand to it, for it belongeth not to hang by my side. Also, who assayeth for to take that sword, and faileth of it, he shall receive a wound by that sword that he shall not be whole long after. And I will that ye wit that this same day will the adventures of the Sancgreal (that is called the holy vessel) begin."
So when they were served, and all the sieges fulfilled save only the Siege Perilous, anon there befell a marvellous adventure, that all the doors and the windows of the palace shut by themselves, but for all that the hall was not greatly darked, and therewith they were all abashed both one and other. Then King Arthur spake first, and said, "Fair fellows and lords, we have seen this day marvels, but or night I suppose we shall see greater marvels."
In the meanwhile came in a good old man and an ancient, clothed all in white; and there was no knight that knew from whence he came. And with him he brought a young knight, both on foot, in red arms, without sword or shield, save a scabbard hanging by his side; and these words he said, "Peace be with you, fair lords." Then the old man said unto King Arthur, "Sir, I bring you here a young knight that is of king's lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Arimathea, whereby the marvels of this court and of strange realms shall be fully accomplished."
The king was right glad of his words, and said unto the good man, "Sir, ye be right heartily welcome, and the young knight with you."
Then the old man made the young knight to unarm him; and he was in a coat of red sendall, and bare a mantle upon his shoulder that was furred with fine ermines, and put that upon him. And the old man said unto the young knight, "Sir, follow after."
And anon he led him unto the Siege Perilous, where beside sat Sir Launcelot; and the good man lifted up the cloth, and found there letters that said thus: "This is the siege of Galahad the haut [high] prince."
Then all the knights of the Table Round marvelled them greatly of Sir Galahad, that he durst sit there in that Siege Perilous, and was so tender of age, and wist not from whence he came, but all only by God, and said, This is he by whom the Sancgreal shall be achieved, for there sat never none but he, but he were mischieved. Then Sir Launcelot beheld his son, and had great joy of him.
Then came King Arthur unto Sir Galahad, and said, "Sir, ye be welcome, for ye shall move many good knights unto the quest of the Sancgreal, and ye shall achieve that never knight might bring to an end."
Then the king took him by the hand, and went down from the palace to show Sir Galahad the adventure of the stone.
The queen heard thereof, and came after with many ladies, and showed them the stone where it hoved on the water. "Sir," said the king unto Sir Galahad, "here is a great marvel as ever I saw, and right good knights have assayed and failed."
"Sir," said Galahad, "that is no marvel, for this adventure is not theirs, but mine, and for the surety of this sword I brought none with me; for here by my side hangeth the scabbard."
And anon he laid his hand on the sword, and lightly drew it out of the stone, and put it in the sheath, and said unto the king, "Now it goeth better than it did aforehand."
"Sir," said the king, "a shield God shall send you."
"Now have I," said Sir Galahad, "that sword that sometime was the good knight's Balin le Savage, and he was a passing good man of his hands. And with this sword he slew his brother Balan, and that was great pity, for he was a good knight, and either slew other through a dolorous stroke that Balan gave unto my grandfather King Pelles, the which is not yet whole, nor not shall be till I heal him."
Therewith the king and all espied where came riding down the river a lady on a white palfrey towards them. Then she saluted the king and the queen, and asked if that Sir Launcelot was there? And then he answered himself, "I am here, fair lady."
Then she said, all with weeping, "How your great doing is changed sith this day in the morn."
"Damsel, why say ye so?" said Launcelot.
"I say you sooth," said the damsel, "for ye were this day the best knight of the world, but who should say so now should be a liar, for there is now one better than ye. And well it is proved by the adventures of the sword whereto ye durst not set your hand, and that is in remembrance, that ye shall not ween from henceforth that ye be the best knight of the world."
"As touching that," said Sir Launcelot, "I know well I was never the best."
"Yes," said the damsel, "that were ye, and yet are of any sinful man of the world; and, sir king, Nacien the hermit sendeth thee word that to thee shall befall the greatest worship that ever befell king in Britain, and I shall tell you wherefore, for this day the Sancgreal appeared in this thy house, and fed thee and all thy fellowship of the Round Table."
And so the damsel took her leave, and departed the same way that she came.
Then the king [caused that Queen Guenever should see Sir Galahad] in the visage; and when she beheld him she said, "Soothly I dare well say that he is Sir Launcelot's son, for never two men resembled more in likeness, therefore it is no marvel though he be of great prowess."
So a lady that stood by the queen said: "Madam, for God's sake, ought he of right to be so good a knight?"
"Yea, forsooth," said the queen, "for he is of all parties come of the best knights of the world, and of the highest lineage, for Sir Launcelot is come but of the eighth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, and Sir Galahad is of the ninth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, therefore I dare well say that they be the greatest gentlemen of all the world."
And then the king and all the estates went home unto Camelot, and so went to even-song to the great minster; and so after that they went to supper, and every knight sat in their place as they were beforehand. Then anon they heard cracking and crying of thunder, that them thought the place should all to-rive [burst]; in the midst of the blast entered a sunbeam more clear by seven times than ever they saw day, and all they were alighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then began every knight to behold other, and either saw other by their seeming fairer than ever they saw afore, [and] there was no knight that might speak one word a great while, and so they looked every man on other, as they had been dumb. Then there entered into the hall the Holy Grail covered with white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it. And there was all the hall full filled with good odors, and every knight had such meats and drinks as he best loved in this world; and when the Holy Grail had been borne through the hall, then the holy vessel departed suddenly, that they wist not where it became. Then had they all breath to speak. And then the king yielded thankings unto God of His good grace that He had sent them.
"Now," said Sir Gawaine, "we have been served this day of what meats and drinks we thought on, but one thing beguiled us, we might not see the Holy Grail, it was so preciously covered: wherefore I will make here avow, that to-morn, without longer abiding, I shall labor in the quest of the Sancgreal, that I shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a day, or more if need be, and never shall I return again unto the court till I have seen it more openly than it hath been seen here: and if I may not speed, I shall return again as he that may not be against the will of our Lord Jesu Christ."
When they of the Table Round heard Sir Gawaine say so, they arose up the most part, and made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made.
Anon as King Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he wist well that they might not gainsay their avows.
"Alas!" said King Arthur unto Sir Gawaine, "ye have nigh slain me with the avow and promise that ye have made. For through you ye have bereft me of the fairest fellowship and the truest of knighthood that ever were seen together in any realm of the world. For when they depart from hence, I am sure they all shall never meet more in this world, for they shall die many in the quest. And so it forethinketh [repenteth] me a little, for I have loved them as well as my life, wherefore it shall grieve me right sore the departing of this fellowship. For I have had an old custom to have them in my fellowship."
And therewith the tears fell into his eyes, and he said: "Sir Gawaine, Sir Gawaine, ye have set me in great sorrow, for I have great doubt that my true fellowship shall never meet more here again."
When the queen, ladies, and gentlewomen wist these tidings, they had such sorrow and heaviness that no tongue might tell it, for those knights had holden them in honor and charity, but among all other, Queen Guenever made great sorrow. "I marvel," said she, "my lord will suffer them to depart from him." Thus was all the court troubled, because those knights should depart.
After this the queen came unto Sir Galahad, and asked him of whence he was, and of what country; he told her of whence he was, and son unto Sir Launcelot she said he was.
And then they went to rest them; and in the honor of the highness of Sir Galahad he was led into King Arthur's chamber, and there he rested him in his own bed; and as soon as it was daylight the king arose, for he had taken no rest of all that night for sorrow.
So anon Sir Launcelot and Sir Gawaine commanded their men to bring their arms; and when they [were all armed, then the king would know how many they were, and they found by tale [count] that they were an hundred and fifty, and all knights of the Round Table.]
And so they mounted their horses, and rode through the streets of Camelot, and there was weeping of the rich and poor, and the king turned away and might not speak for weeping.
So within a while they came to a city and a castle that hight [was named] Vagon; there they entered into the castle, and the lord of that castle was an old man that hight Vagon, and he was a good man of his living, and set open the gates, and made them all the good cheer that he might.
And then they departed on the morrow with weeping and mourning cheer, and every knight took the way that him best liked.
Now rideth Sir Galahad yet without shield; and so he rode four days without any adventure, and at the fourth day after even-song he came to a white abbey, and there he was received with great reverence, and led to a chamber; and there he was unarmed, and then was he ware of two knights of the Round Table, one was King Bagdemagus, and that other was Sir Uwaine. And when they saw him, they went unto him and made of him great solace, and so they went to supper.
"Sirs," said Sir Galahad, "what adventure brought you hither?"
"Sir," said they, "it is told us that within this place is a shield that no man may bear about his neck but if that he be mischieved or dead within three days, or else maimed forever."
"Ah, sir," said King Bagdemagus, "I shall bear it to-morrow for to assay this strange adventure."
"In the name of God," said Sir Galahad.
"Sir," said King Bagdemagus, "and I may not achieve the adventure of this shield, ye shall take it upon you, for I am sure ye shall not fail."
"Sir," said Sir Galahad, "I agree right well thereto, for I have no shield."
So on the morrow they arose and heard mass. Then King Bagdemagus asked where the adventurous shield was; anon a monk led him behind an altar, where the shield hung as white as any snow, but in the midst was a red cross.
"Sir," said the monk, "this shield ought not to be hanged about no knight's neck, but he be the worthiest knight of the world, and therefore I counsel you knights to be well advised."
"Well," said King Bagdemagus, "I wot well that I am not the best knight of the world, but yet shall I assay to bear it."
And so he bare it out of the monastery; and then he said unto Sir Galahad, "If it will please you, I pray you abide here still, till ye know how I shall speed."
"I shall abide you here," said Galahad.
Then King Bagdemagus took with him a squire, the which should bring tidings unto Sir Galahad how he sped. Then when they had ridden a two mile, and came in a fair valley afore an hermitage, then they saw a goodly knight come from that part in white armor, horse and all, and he came as fast as his horse might run with his spear in the rest, and King Bagdemagus dressed his spear against him, and brake it upon the white knight; but the other struck him so hard that he brake the mails, and thrust him through the right shoulder, for the shield covered him not as at that time, and so he bare him from his horse, and therewith he alighted and took the white shield from him, saying, "Knight, thou hast done thyself great folly, for this shield ought not to be borne but by him that shall have no peer that liveth."
And then he came to King Bagdemagus' squire and said, "Bear this shield unto the good knight Sir Galahad, that thou left in the abbey, and greet him well from me."
And the squire went unto Bagdemagus and asked him whether he were sore wounded or not?
"Yea, forsooth," said he, "I shall escape hard from the death."
Then he fetched his horse, and brought him with great pain unto an abbey. Then was he taken down softly, and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and there was looked to his wounds. And he lay there long, and escaped hard with the life.
"Sir Galahad," said the squire, "that knight that wounded Bagdemagus sendeth you greeting, and bade that ye should bear this shield, wherethrough great adventures should befall."
"Now blessed be God and fortune," said Sir Galahad.
And then he asked his arms, and mounted upon his horse, and hung the white shield about his neck, and commended them unto God. And Sir Uwaine said he would bear him fellowship, if it pleased him.
"Sir," said Sir Galahad, "that may ye not, for I must go alone, save this squire that shall bear me fellowship." And so departed Sir Uwaine.
Then within a while came Sir Galahad there as the white knight abode him by the hermitage, and every each saluted other courteously.
"Sir," said Sir Galahad, "by this shield been fall many marvels."
"Sir," said the knight, "it befell, after the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ thirty year, that Joseph of Arimathea, the gentle knight that took down our Lord from the cross, at that time he departed from Jerusalem with a great part of his kindred with him, and so they labored till they came to a city that hight Sarras. And at that same hour that Joseph came unto Sarras, there was a king that hight Evelake, that had great war against the Saracens, and in especial against one Saracen, the which was King Evelake's cousin, a rich king and a mighty, the which marched nigh this land, and his name was called Tollome le Feintes. So upon a day these two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of Arimathea, went unto King Evelake, and told him that he would be discomfited and slain but if he left his believe of the old law and believe upon the new law. And then he showed him the right believe of the Holy Trinity, the which he agreed with all his heart, and there this shield was made for King Evelake, in the name of Him that died upon the cross; and then through his good believe he had the better of King Tollome. For when King Evelake was in the battle, there was a cloth set afore the shield, and when he was in the greatest peril he let put away the cloth, and then anon his enemies saw a figure of a man upon the cross, wherethrough they were discomfited. And so it befell that a man of King Evelake's had his hand smitten off, and bare his hand in his other hand, and Joseph called that man unto him, and bade him go with good devotion and touch the cross; and as soon as that man had touched the cross with his hand it was as whole as ever it was before. Not long after that, Joseph was laid in his death bed, and when King Evelake saw that, he made great sorrow, and said: 'For thy love I have left my country, and sith [since] thou shalt out of this world, leave me some token that I may think on thee.' 'That will I do right gladly,' said Joseph. 'Now bring me the shield that I took you when ye went into the battle against King Tollome.' Then Joseph bled sore that he might not by no means be stanched, and there upon that same shield he made a cross of his own blood. 'Now ye shall never see this shield but that ye shall think on me, and it shall be always as fresh as it is now, and never shall no man bear this shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time that Galahad the good knight bear it, and the last of my lineage shall have it about his neck, that shall do many marvellous deeds.' 'Now,' said King Evelake, 'where shall I put this shield, that this worthy knight may have it?' 'Ye shall leave it there as Nacien the hermit shall be put after his death. For thither shall that good knight come the fifteenth day after that he shall receive the order of knighthood. And so that day that they set is this time that ye have his shield. And in the same abbey lieth Nacien the hermit.'"
And then the white knight vanished away. Anon, as the squire had heard these words, he alighted off his hackney, and kneeled down at Galahad's feet, and prayed him that he might go with him till he had made him knight. So Sir Galahad granted him, and turned again unto the abbey there they came from. And there men made great joy of Sir Galahad.
Then as Sir Galahad heard this, he thanked God, and took his horse, and he had not ridden but half a mile, he saw in a valley before him a strong castle with deep ditches, and there ran beside a fair river, the which hight Sevarne; and there he met with a man of great age, and either saluted other, and Sir Galahad asked him what was the castle's name.
"Fair sir," said he, "it is the Castle of Maidens."
"That is a cursed castle," said Sir Galahad, "and all they that been conversant therein, for all pity is out thereof, and all hardiness and mischief is therein."
"Therefore I counsel you, sir knight," said the old man, "to return again."
"Sir," said Sir Galahad, "wit ye well I shall not return again."
Then looked Sir Galahad on his armor that nothing failed him, and then he put his shield afore him; and anon there met him seven maidens, that said unto him, "Sir knight, ye ride here in a great folly, for ye have the waters for to pass over."
"Why should I not pass the water?" said Sir Galahad.
So rode he away from them, and met with a squire that said, "Knight, those knights in the castle defy you, and forbid you ye go no further till that they wit what ye would."
"Fair sir," said Galahad, "I come for to destroy the wicked custom of this castle."
"Sir, and ye will abide by that, ye shall have enough to do."
"Go you now," said Galahad, "and haste my needs."
Then the squire entered into the castle. And anon after there came out of the castle seven knights, and all were brethren. And when they saw Galahad, they cried, "Knight, keep thee, for we assure thee nothing but death."
"Why," said Galahad, "will ye all have ado with me at once?"
"Yea," said they, "thereto mayest thou trust."
Then Galahad put forth his spear, and smote the foremost to the earth, that near he brake his neck. And therewith all the other smote him on his shield great strokes, so that their spears brake. Then Sir Galahad drew out his sword, and set upon them so hard that it was marvel to see it, and so, through great force, he made them to forsake the field; and Galahad chased them till they entered into the castle, and so passed through the castle at another gate. And there met Sir Galahad an old man clothed in religious clothing, and said, "Sir, have here the keys of this castle."
Then Sir Galahad opened the gates, and saw so much people in the streets that he might not number them, and all said, "Sir, ye be welcome, for long have we abiden here our deliverance."
Then came to him a gentlewoman, and said, "These knights be fled, but they will come again this night, and here to begin again their evil custom."
"What will ye that I shall do?" said Galahad.
"Sir," said the gentlewoman, "that ye send after all the knights hither that hold their lands of this castle, and make them to swear for to use the customs that were used heretofore of old time."
"I will well," said Galahad.
And there she brought him an horn of ivory, bounden with gold, and said, "Sir, blow ye this horn, which will be heard two mile about this castle."
And when Sir Galahad had blown the horn, he set him down upon a bed. Then came there a priest unto Sir Galahad, and said, "Sir, it is past a seven year that these seven brethren came into this castle, and herborowed [harbored] with the lord of this castle, which hight the duke Lianour; and he was lord of all this country. And so when they espied the duke's daughter that was a fair woman, then by their false covin [conspiracy] they slew him and his eldest son, and then they took the maiden and the treasure of the castle. And then by great force they held all the knights of this castle against their will under their obeisance, and in great servage and truage, robbing and pulling [pillaging] the poor common people of all that they had. So it happened upon a day that the duke's daughter said, 'Ye have done to me great wrong to slay mine own father and my brother, and thus to hold our lands; not for then,' said she, 'ye shall not hold this castle for many years; for by one knight ye shall be overcome.' Thus she prophesied seven year before. 'Well,' said the seven knights, 'sithence [since] ye say so, there shall never lady nor knight pass this castle, but they shall abide mauger [spite of] their heads, or die therefore, till that knight be come by whom we shall leese [lose] this castle.' And therefore it is called the maidens' castle, for they have devoured many maidens."
"Now," said Sir Galahad, "is she here for whom this castle was lost."
"Nay," said the priest, "she died within three nights after, and sithence have they kept her young sister, which endureth great pain, with moe other ladies."
By this were the knights of the country come. And then he made them do homage and fealty to the duke's daughter, and set them in great ease of heart. And in the morn there came one to Galahad, and told him how that Gawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine had slain the seven brethren.
"I suppose well," said Sir Galahad: and took his armor and his horse, and commended them unto God.
So when Sir Galahad was departed from the Castle of Maidens, he rode till he came to a waste forest, and there he met with Sir Launcelot and Sir Percival, but they knew him not, for he was new disguised. Right so, Sir Launcelot his father dressed his spear, and brake it upon Sir Galahad, and Sir Galahad smote him so again, that he smote down horse and man. And then he drew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir Percival, and smote him so on the helm that it rove to the coif of steel, and had not the sword swerved Sir Percival had been slain, and with the stroke he fell out of his saddle. This joust was done before the hermitage where a recluse dwelled. And when she saw Sir Galahad ride, she said, "God be with thee, best knight of the world. Ah, certes," said she all aloud, that Launcelot and Percival might hear it, "and yonder two knights had known thee as well as I do, they would not have encountered with thee."
When Sir Galahad heard her say so he was sore adread to be known: therewith he smote his horse with his spurs, and then rode a great pace froward them. Then perceived they both that he was Galahad, and up they gat on their horses, and rode fast after him, but in a while he was out of their sight.
[Then it fell that Sir Percival's horse was slain; and he gat him a hackney from a yeoman that he met, and the hackney was slain. Then Sir Percival cast away his helm and sword, and said, "Now am I a very wretch, cursed, and most unhappy above all other knights."]
So in this sorrow he abode all that day, till it was night, and then he was faint, and laid him down and slept till it was midnight. And then he awaked, and saw afore him a woman which said unto him, "Abide me here, and I shall go fetch you an horse."
And so she came soon again, and brought an horse with her that was black. When Sir Percival beheld that horse, he marvelled that it was so great and so well apparelled; and for then he was so hardy, he leaped upon him, and took none heed of himself. And so anon as he was upon him he thrust to him with his spurs, and so rode by a forest, and the moon shone clear. And within an hour and less, he bare him four days' journey thence, till he came to a rough water the which roared, and his horse would have borne him into it.
And when Sir Percival came nigh the brim, and saw the water so boisterous, he doubted to overpass it. And then he made the sign of the cross in his forehead. When the fiend felt him so charged, he shook off Sir Percival, and he went into the water, crying and roaring, making great sorrow; and it seemed unto him that the water burnt. Then Sir Percival perceived it was a fiend, the which would have brought him unto his perdition.
And so he prayed all that night, till on the morn that it was day. Then he saw that he was in a wild mountain the which was closed with the sea nigh all about, that he might see no land about him which might relieve him, but wild beasts. And then he went into a valley, and there he saw a young serpent bring a young lion by the neck, and so he came by Sir Percival. With that came a great lion crying and roaring after the serpent. And as fast as Sir Percival saw this, he marvelled, and hied him thither, but anon the lion had overtaken the serpent, and began battle with him. And then Sir Percival thought to help the lion, for he was the more natural beast of the two; and therewith he drew his sword, and set his shield afore him, and there gave the serpent such a buffet that he had a deadly wound. When the lion saw that, he made no semblant to fight with him, but made him all the cheer that a beast might make a man. Then Sir Percival perceived that, and cast down his shield, which was broken, and then he did off his helm for to gather wind, for he was greatly enchafed with the serpent. And the lion went alway about him fawning as a spaniel. And then he stroked him on the neck and on the shoulders. And then he thanked God of the fellowship of that beast. And about noon, the lion took his little whelp, and trussed him, and bare him there he came from. Then was Sir Percival alone.
Thus when Sir Percival had prayed, he saw the lion come towards him, and then he couched down at his feet. And so all that night the lion and he slept together; and when Sir Percival slept he dreamed a marvellous dream, that there two ladies met with him, and that one sat upon a lion, and that other sat upon a serpent, and that one of them was young, and the other was old, and the youngest him thought said, "Sir Percival, my lord saluteth thee, and sendeth thee word that thou array thee and make thee ready, for to-morrow thou must fight with the strongest champion of the world."
[Then, after many great deeds, it befell on a certain day that as the good knight Galahad rode, he was met by a damsel on a palfrey, and she led him towards the sea. And so at the seaside they found a ship wherein they entered, and Sir Bors and Sir Percival being in that ship greeted them with joy.]
By then the ship went from the land of Logris, and by adventure it arrived up betwixt two rocks passing great and marvellous, but there they might not land, for there was a swallow of the sea, save there was another ship, and upon it they might go without danger.
"Go we thither," said the gentlewoman, "and there shall we see adventures, for so is our Lord's will."
And when they came thither, they found the ship rich enough, but they found neither man nor woman therein. But they found in the end of the ship two fair letters written, which said a dreadful word and a marvellous:—
"Thou man which shall enter into this ship, beware thou be in steadfast belief, for I am faith, and therefore beware how thou enterest, for and thou fail I shall not help thee."
Then said the gentlewoman, "Percival, wot ye what I am?"
"Certainly," said he, "not to my witting."
"Wit ye well," said she, "I am thy sister, that am daughter of King Pellinore, and therefore wit ye well that ye are the man in the world that I most love; and if ye be not in perfect belief, enter not in no manner of wise, for then should ye perish in the ship, for it is so perfect it will suffer no sin in it."
And when Sir Percival knew that she was his sister, he was inwardly glad, and said, "Fair sister, I shall enter therein, for if I be a miss-creature or an untrue knight, there shall I perish."
In the meanwhile Sir Galahad blessed him, and entered therein, and then next the gentlewoman, and then Sir Bors and Sir Percival. And when they were therein, they found it so marvellous fair and rich, that they had great marvel thereof. And in the midst of the ship was a fair bed, and Sir Galahad went thereto, and found there a crown of silk, and at the feet was a sword rich and fair, and it was drawn out of the sheath half a foot and more, and the sword was of divers fashions, and the pommel was of stone, and there was in him all manner of colors that any man might find, and every each of the colors had divers virtues, and the scales of the haft were of two ribs of divers beasts. The one beast was a serpent, which was conversant in Calidone, and is called the serpent of the fiend. And the bone of him is of such a virtue, that there is no hand that handleth him shall never be weary nor hurt. And the other beast is a fish which is not right great, and haunteth the flood of Eufrates; and that fish is called Ertanax, and his bones be of such a manner of kind, that who that handleth them shall have so much will that he shall never be weary, and he shall not think on joy nor sorrow that he hath had, but only that thing that he beholdeth before him. And as for this sword there shall never man begripe it at the handle but one, but he shall pass all other.
"In the name of God," said Sir Percival, "I shall essay to handle it."
So he set his hand to the sword, but he might not begripe it.
"By my faith," said he, "now have I failed."
Sir Bors set his hand thereto and failed. Then Sir Galahad beheld the sword, and saw the letters like blood, that said, "Let see who shall assay to draw me out of my sheath, but if he be more hardier than other, and who that draweth me, wit ye well that he shall never fail of shame of his body, or to be wounded to the death."
"By my faith," said Galahad, "I would draw this sword out of the sheath, but the offending is so great that I shall not set my hand thereto."
"Now sir," said the gentlewoman, "wit ye well that the drawing of this sword is forbidden to all men, save all only unto you. Also this ship arrived in the realm of Logris [England], and that time was deadly war between King Labor, which was father unto the maimed king, and King Hurlame, which was a Saracen. But then was he newly christened, so that men held him afterwards one of the wittiest men of the world. And so upon a day it befell that King Labor and King Hurlame had assembled their folk upon the sea, where this ship was arrived, and there King Hurlame was discomfit, and his men slain, and he was afeared to be dead, and fled to his ship, and there found this sword, and drew it, and came out and found King Labor, the man in the world of all Christendom in whom was then the greatest faith. And when King Hurlame saw King Labor, he dressed this sword, and smote him upon the helm so hard, that he clave him and his horse to the earth with the first stroke of his sword. And it was in the realm of Logris; and so befell great pestilence and great harm to both realms. For sith increased corn nor grass, nor well nigh no fruit, nor in the water was no fish, wherefore men call it the lands of the two marches, the waste land for the dolorous stroke. And when King Hurlame saw that this sword was so kerving [sharp], he returned again to fetch the scabbard, and so came into this ship, and entered and put the sword into the scabbard; and as soon as he had done so, he fell down dead before the bed. Thus was the sword proved, that none that drew it but he were dead or maimed."
"Sir," said she, "there was a king that hight Pelles the Maimed King. And while he might ride, he supported much Christendom, and holy Church. So upon a day he hunted in a wood of his which lasted unto the sea, and at the last he lost his hounds and his knights, save only one; and there he and his knight went till that they came toward Ireland, and there he found the ship. And when he saw the letters and understood them, yet he entered, for he was right perfect of his life; but his knight had none hardiness to enter, and there found he this sword, and drew it out as much as ye may see. So therewith entered a spear, wherewith he was smitten through both the thighs, and never sith might he be healed, nor nought shall, tofore we come to him. Thus, said she, was King Pelles, your grandsire, maimed for his hardiness."
"In the name of God, damsel," said Galahad.
So they went toward the bed to behold all about it, and above the head there hung two swords. Also there were two spindles which were as white as any snow, and other that were as red as blood, and other above green as any emerald: of these three colors were the spindles, and of natural color within, and without any painting.
"These spindles," said the damsel, "were when sinful Eve came to gather fruit, for which Adam and she were put out of paradise, she took with her the bough on which the apple hung. Then perceived she that the branch was fair and green, and she remembered her the loss which came from the tree, then she thought to keep the branch as long as she might; and because she had no coffer to keep it in, she put it into the ground. So by the will of our Lord the branch grew to a great tree within a little while, and was as white as any snow, branches, boughs, and leaves, that it was a token a maid planted it. And anon the tree, that was white, became as green as any grass, and all that came of it. And so it befell many days after, under the same tree, Cain slew his brother Abel, whereof befell full great marvel; for anon as Abel had received the death under the green tree, it lost the green color and became red, and that was in tokening of the blood; and anon all the plants died thereof, but the tree grew and waxed marvellous fair, and it was the fairest tree and the most delectable that any man might behold: and so died the plants that grew out of it before the time that Abel was slain under it. So long endured the tree till that Solomon, King David's son, reigned and held the land after his father. This Solomon was wise and knew the virtues of stones and of trees, and so he knew the course of the stars, and many other things. This King Solomon had an evil wife, wherethrough he wend that there had never been no good woman; and so he despised them in his books. So a voice answered him once, 'Solomon, if heaviness come unto a man by a woman, ne reck thou never; for yet shall there come a woman whereof there shall come greater joy unto man an hundred times more than this heaviness giveth sorrow, and that woman shall be born of thy lineage.' Then when Solomon heard these words, he held himself but a fool, and the truth he perceived by old books. Also the Holy Ghost showed him the coming of the glorious Virgin Mary. Then asked he of the voice if it should be in the end of his lineage. 'Nay,' said the voice, 'but there shall come a man which shall be a [pure man] of your blood, and he shall be as good a knight as Duke Josua thy brother-in-law.
'Now have I certified thee of that thou stoodst in doubt.' Then was Solomon glad that there should come any such of his lineage, but ever he marvelled and studied who that should be, and what his name might be. His wife perceived that he studied, and thought that she would know it at some season, and so she waited her time, and asked of him the cause of his studying, and there he told her altogether how the voice told him. 'Well,' said she, 'I shall let make a ship of the best wood and most durable that men may find.' So Solomon sent for all the carpenters of the land and the best. And when they had made the ship, the lady said to Solomon, 'Sir,' said she, 'since it is so that this knight ought to pass all other knights of chivalry which have been tofore him, and shall come after him, moreover I shall tell you,' said she, 'ye shall go into our Lord's temple, whereas is King David's sword, your father, the which is the marvellousest and sharpest that ever was taken in any knight's hand. Therefore take that, and take off the pommel, and thereto make ye a pommel of precious stones, that it be so subtilly made that no man perceive it but that they be all one. And after make there an hilt so marvellously and wonderly that no man may know it; and after make a marvellous sheath; and when you have made all this, I shall let make a girdle thereto, such as shall please you.' All this King Solomon let make as she devised, both the ship and all the remnant. And when the ship was ready in the sea for to sail, the lady let make a great bed and marvellous rich, and set her upon the bed's head covered with silk, and laid the sword at the bed's feet; and the girdles were of hemp. And therewith was the king angry. 'Sir, wit ye well,' said she, 'that I have none so high a thing that were worthy to sustain so big a sword, and a maid shall bring other knights thereto, but I wot not when it shall be, nor what time.' And there she let make a covering to the ship, of cloth of silk that shall never rot for no manner of weather. Yet went that lady and made a carpenter to come to that tree which Abel was slain under. 'Now,' said she, 'carve me out of this tree as much wood as will make me a spindle.' 'Ah! madam,' said the carpenter, 'this is the tree the which our first mother planted.' 'Do it,' said she, 'or else I shall destroy thee.' Anon, as the carpenter began to work, there came out drops of blood, and then would he have left, but she would not suffer him. And so he took away as much wood as might well make a spindle; and so she made him to take as much of the green tree and of the white tree. And when these three spindles were shapen, she made them to be fastened on the bed. When Solomon saw this he said to his wife, 'Ye have done marvellously, for though all the world were here now, they could not tell wherefore all this was made, but our Lord himself, and thou that hast done it wottest not what it shall betoken.' 'Now let it be,' said she, 'for ye shall hear tidings sooner than ye ween.'
That night lay King Solomon before the ship with a small fellowship. And when King Solomon was on sleep, him thought there came from heaven a great company of angels, and alighted into the ship and took water which was brought by an angel in a vessel of silver, and besprent [besprinkled] all the ship; and after he came to the sword, and drew letters on the hilt. And after went to the ship's board, and wrote there other letters, which said: 'Thou man that wilt enter within me, beware that thou be full within the faith, for I ne [not] am but faith and belief.' When Solomon espied these letters he was abashed, so that he durst not enter, and so drew him aback, and the ship was anon shoven in the sea, and he went so fast that he lost sight of him within a little while. And then a little voice said, 'Solomon, the last knight of thy lineage shall rest in this bed.' Then went Solomon and awaked his wife and told her of the adventures of the ship.
Now a great while the three fellows [Galahad, and his two friends] beheld the bed and the three spindles. Then they were at certain that they were of natural colors, without painting. Then they lifted up a cloth which was above the ground, and there they found a rich purse by seeming. And Percival took it, and found therein a writ, and so he read it, and devised the manner of the spindles, and of the ship, whence it came, and by whom it was made.
"Now," said Galahad, "where shall we find the gentlewoman that shall make new girdles to the sword?"
"Fair sir," said Percival's sister, "dismay you not, for by the leave of God I shall let make a girdle to the sword, such one as shall belong thereto."
And then she opened a box, and took out girdles which were seemly wrought with golden threads, and thereupon were set full of precious stones, and a rich buckle of gold.
"Lo, lords," said the gentlewoman, "here is a girdle that ought to be set about the sword; and wit ye well that the greatest part of this girdle was made of my hair, the which I loved full well while I was a woman of the world; but as soon as I wist that this adventure was ordained me, I clipped off my hair, and made this girdle in the name of God."
"Ye are well found," said Sir Bors, "for truly ye have put us out of a great pain, wherein we should have entered ne had your teaching been."
Then went the gentlewoman and set it upon the girdle of the sword.
"Now," said the three fellows, "what is the right name of the sword, and what shall we call it?"
"Truly," said she, "the name of the sword is the Sword with the Strange Girdles, and the scabbard, Mover of Blood; for no man that hath blood in him shall never see the one part of the scabbard which was made of the tree of life."
Then they said unto Sir Galahad, "In the name of Jesu Christ, we pray you that ye gird you with this sword, which hath been so much desired in the realm of Logris."
"Now let me begin," said Sir Galahad, "to grip this sword for to give you courage; but wot ye well that it belongeth no more to me than it doth to you."
And then he gripped about it with his fingers a great deal, and then she girded him about the middle with the sword.
"Now reck I not though I die, for now I hold me one of the blessed maidens of the world, which hath made thee the worthiest knight of the world."
"Fair damsel," said Sir Galahad, "ye have done so much that I shall be your knight all the days of my life."
Then they went from that ship, and went into the other ship; and anon the wind drove them into the sea a great pace, but they had no victual. But it happened that they came on the morrow to a castle which men call Courteloise that was in the marches of Scotland. And when they had passed the port, the gentlewoman said, "Lords, here be men arriven that, and they wist that ye were of King Arthur's court, ye should be assailed anon."
"Damsel," said Galahad, "he that cast us out of the rock shall deliver us from them."
[And it happened after that Sir Percival's sister of her own wish died for the healing of a certain lady, and the lady was healed. Then, as she had desired beforehand, Sir Percival laid her in a barge and] covered it with silk; and the wind arose and drove the barge from land, and all knights beheld it till it was out of their sight.
When Sir Launcelot was come to the water of Mortaise, he was in great peril, and so he laid him down and slept, and took his adventure that God would send him. So when he was asleep, there came a vision unto him, and said, "Launcelot, arise up and take thine armor, and enter into the first ship that thou shalt find."
And when he had heard these words, he started up, and saw a great clearness about him; and then he lifted up his hand and blessed him, and so took his armor, and made him ready. And by adventure he came by a strand, and found a ship the which was without sail or oars; and as soon as he was within the ship, there he felt the most sweetest savor that ever he felt, and he was fulfilled with all things that he thought on or desired. And so in this joy he lay him down on the ship-board, and slept till daylight. And when he awoke, he found there a fair bed, and therein lying a gentlewoman dead, the which was Sir Percival's sister. And as Sir Launcelot beheld her, he espied in her right hand a writing, the which he read, wherein he found all the adventures as ye have heard before, and of what lineage she was come. So with this gentlewoman Sir Launcelot was a month and more.
So upon a night he went to play him by the water's side, for he was somewhat weary of the ship, and then he listened, and heard an horse come, and one riding upon him. And when he came nigh he seemed a knight. And so he let him pass, and went there as the ship was, and there he alighted, and took the saddle and the bridle and put the horse from him, and went into the ship. And then Launcelot dressed unto him and said, "Ye be welcome."
And he answered and saluted him again, and asked him, "What is your name? for much my heart giveth unto you."
"Truly," said he, "my name is Launcelot du Lake."
"Sir," said he, "then be ye welcome, for ye were the beginner of me in this world."
"Ah," said he, "are ye Galahad?"
"Yea forsooth," said he.
And so he kneeled down and asked him his blessing, and after took off his helm and kissed him. And there was great joy between them, for there is no tongue can tell the joy that they made either of other, and many a friendly word spoken between, as kind [nature] would, the which is no need here to be rehearsed. And there every each told other of their adventures and marvels that were befallen to them in many journeys, sith that they departed from the court. Anon as Galahad saw the gentlewoman dead in the bed, he knew her well enough, and told great worship of her, and that she was the best maid living, and it was great pity of her death. But when Launcelot heard how the marvellous sword was gotten, and who made it, and all the marvels rehearsed afore, then he prayed Galahad his son that he would show him the sword, and so he did. And anon he kissed the pommel, and the hilts, and the scabbard.
"Truly," said Launcelot, "never erst knew I of so high adventures done, and so marvellous and strange." So dwelled Launcelot and Galahad within that ship half a year, and served God daily and nightly with all their power. And often they arrived in isles far from folk, where there repaired none but wild beasts; and there they found many strange adventures and perilous, which they brought to an end.
[Then on a certain day, a knight in white called to Sir Galahad from the shore to leave that ship and fare on his quest, and Sir Galahad departed from his father Sir Launcelot, and rode off upon the shore. But Sir Launcelot drove a month through the sea, ever praying for news of the Sancgreal.]
So it befell on a night, at midnight he arrived afore a castle, on the back side, which was rich and fair. And there was a postern opened towards the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shone clear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard a voice that said, "Launcelot, go out of this ship, and enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire." Then he ran to his arms, and so armed him, and so he went to the gate, and saw the lions. Then set he hand to his sword, and drew it. Then there came a dwarf suddenly, and smote him on the arm so sore that the sword fell out of his hand. Then took he again his sword, and put it up in his sheath, and make a cross in his forehead, and came to the lions, and they made semblant to do him harm. Notwithstanding he passed by them without hurt, and entered into the castle to the chief fortress, and there were they all at rest. Then Launcelot entered in so armed, for he found no gate nor door but it was open. And at the last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut, and he set his hand thereto to have opened it, but he might not.
Then he enforced him mickle [much] to undo the door. Then he listened, and heard a voice which sang so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing. Then Sir Launcelot kneeled down before the chamber, for well wist he that there was the Sancgreal within that chamber. Then said he, "Fair sweet Father Jesu Christ, if ever I did thing that pleased the Lord, for thy pity have me not in despite for my sins done aforetime, and that thou show me something of that I seek!"
And with that he saw the chamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the house was as bright as all the torches of the world had been there. So came he to the chamber door, and would have entered. And anon a voice said to him, "Flee, Launcelot, and enter not, for thou oughtest not to do it: and if thou enter thou shalt forthink it." Then he withdrew him aback right heavy. Then looked he up in the midst of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel covered with red samite, and many angels about it.