“I would with a good will,” said King Arthur; “but I have no more spears.”
“I have enough of spears,” replied the knight, and called a squire, who brought two good new lances.
Then spurring their horses, they rushed together with all their might, and broke each one his own spear short off in his hand. Then the king again put his hand to his sword, but the knight once more cried out, “Nay, yet abide awhile; ye are the best jouster that I ever met with; for the love of knighthood, let us joust yet once again.”
So once again they tilted with their fullest force, and this time King Arthur’s spear was shivered, but the knight’s held whole, and drove so furiously against the king that both his horse and he were hurled to the ground.
At that, King Arthur was enraged and drew his sword and said, “I will attack thee now, Sir knight, on foot, for on horseback I have lost the honour.”
“I will be on horseback,” said the knight. But when he saw him come on foot, he lighted from his horse, thinking it shame to have so great advantage.
And then began they a strong battle, with many great strokes and grievous blows, and so hewed with their swords that the fragments of their armour flew about the fields, and both so bled that all the ground around was like a marsh of blood. Thus they fought long and mightily, and anon, after brief rest fell to again, and so hurtled together like two wild boars that they both rolled to the ground. At last their swords clashed furiously together, and the knight’s sword shivered the king’s in two.
Then said the knight, “Now art thou in my power, to save thee or to slay. Yield therefore as defeated, and a recreant knight, or thou shall surely die.”
“As for death,” replied King Arthur, “welcome be it when it cometh; but as for yielding me to thee as a recreant because of this poor accident upon my sword, I had far liefer die than be so shamed.”
So saying, he sprang on the knight, and took him by the middle and threw him down, and tore off his helm. But the knight, being a huge man, wrestled and struggled in a frenzy with the king until he brought him under, and tore off his helm in turn, and would have smitten off his head.
At that came Merlin and said, “Knight, hold thy hand, for if thou slayest yonder knight, thou puttest all this realm to greater loss and damage than ever realm was in; for he is a man of greater worship than thou dreamest of.”
“Who then is he?” cried the knight.
“Arthur Pendragon!” answered Merlin.
Then would he have slain him for dread of his wrath, but Merlin cast a spell upon the knight, so that he fell suddenly to the earth in a deep sleep. Then raising up the king, he took the knight’s horse for himself and rode away.
“Alas,” said King Arthur, “what hast thou done, Merlin? hast thou slain this good knight by thy crafts? There never lived a better knight; I had rather lose my kingdom for a year than have him dead.”
“Be not afraid,” said Merlin; “he is more whole and sound than thou art, and is but in a sleep, wherefrom in three hours’ time he will awake. I told thee what aknight he was, and how near thou wast to death. There liveth not a better knight than he in all the world, and hereafter he shall do thee good service. His name is King Pellinore, and he shall have two sons, who shall be passing valiant men, and, save one another, shall have no equal in prowess and in purity of life. The one shall be named Percival, and the other Lamoracke of Wales.”
So they rode on to Caerleon, and all the knights grieved greatly when they heard of this adventure, that the king would jeopardise his person thus alone. Yet could they not hide their joy at serving under such a noble chief, who adventured his own life as much as did the poorest knight among them all.
King Arthur Conquers Ireland and Norway, Slays the Giant of St. Michael’s Mount, and Conquers Gaul — The Adventures of Sir Balin
Drop Case T
he land of Britain being now in peace, and many great and valiant knights therein ready to take part in whatsoever battles or adventures might arise, King Arthur resolved to follow all his enemies to their own coasts. Anon he fitted out a great fleet, and sailing first to Ireland, in one battle he miserably routed the people of the country. The King of Ireland also he took prisoner, and forced all earls and barons to pay him homage.
Having conquered Ireland, he went next to Iceland and subdued it also, and the winter being then arrived, returned to Britain.
In the next year he set forth to Norway, whence many times the heathen had descended on the British coasts; for he was determined to give so terrible a lesson to those savages as should be told through all their tribes both far and near, and make his name fearful to them.
As soon as he was come, Riculf, the king, with all the power of that country, met and gave him battle; but, after mighty slaughter, the Britons had at length theadvantage, and slew Riculf and a countless multitude besides.
Having thus defeated them, they set the cities on fire, dispersed the country people, and pursued the victory till they had reduced all Norway, as also Dacia, under the dominion of King Arthur.
Now, therefore, having thus chastised those pagans who so long had harassed Britain, and put his yoke upon them, he voyaged on to Gaul, being steadfastly set upon defeating the Roman governor of that province, and so beginning to make good the threats which he had sent the emperor by his ambassadors.
So soon as he was landed on the shores of Gaul, there came to him a countryman who told him of a fearful giant in the land of Brittany, who had slain, murdered, and devoured many people, and had lived for seven years upon young children only, “insomuch,” said the man, “that all the children of the country are destroyed; and but the other day he seized upon our duchess, as she rode out with her men, and took her away to his lodging in a cave of a mountain, and though five hundred people followed her, yet could they give her no help or rescue, but left her shrieking and crying lamentably in the giant’s hands; and, Lord, she is thy cousin Hoel’s wife, who is of thy near kindred; wherefore, as thou art a rightful king, have pity on this lady; and as thou art a valiant conqueror, avenge us and deliver us.”
“Alas!” said King Arthur, “this is a great mischief that ye tell of. I had rather than the best realm I have, that I had rescued that lady ere the giant laid his hand on her; but tell me now, good fellow, canst thou bring me where this giant haunteth?”
“Yea, Lord!” replied the man; “lo, yonder, where thou seest two great fires, there shall thou find him, and more treasure also than is in all Gaul besides.”
Then the king returned to his tent, and, calling Sir Key and Sir Bedwin, desired them to get horses ready for himself and them, for that after evensong he would ride a pilgrimage with them alone to St. Michael’s Mount. So in the evening they departed, and rode as fast as they could till they came near the mount, and there alighted; and the king commanded the two knights to await him at the hill foot, while he went up alone.
Then he ascended the mountain till he came to a great fire. And there he found a sorrowful widow wringing her hands and weeping miserably, sitting by a new-made grave. And saluting her, King Arthur prayed her wherefore she made such heavy lamentations.
“Sir knight,” she said, “speak softly, for yonder is a devil, who, if he hear thy voice, will come and straightway slay thee. Alas! what dost thou here? Fifty such men as thou were powerless to resist him. Here lieth dead my lady, Duchess of Brittany, wife to Sir Hoel, who was the fairest lady in the world, foully and shamefully slaughtered by that fiend! Beware that thou go not too nigh, for he hath overcome and vanquished fifteen kings, and hath made himself a coat of precious stones, embroidered with their beards; but if thou art hardy, and wilt speak with him, at yonder great fire he is at supper.”
The giant sat at supper, gnawing on a limb of a man, and baking his huge frame by the fire.
“Well,” said King Arthur, “I will accomplish mine errand, for all thy fearful words;” and so went forth to the crest of the hill, and saw wherethe giant sat at supper, gnawing on a limb of a man, and baking his huge frame by the fire,while three damsels turned three spits whereon were spitted, like larks, twelve young children lately born.
When King Arthur saw all that, his heart bled for sorrow, and he trembled for rage and indignation; then lifting up his voice he cried aloud—“God, that wieldeth all the world, give thee short life and shameful death, and may the devil have thy soul! Why hast thou slain those children and that fair lady? Wherefore arise, and prepare thee to perish, thou glutton and fiend, for this day thou shalt die by my hands.”
Then the giant, mad with fury at these words, started up, and seizing a great club, smote the king, and struck his crown from off his head. But King Arthur smote him with his sword so mightily in return, that all his blood gushed forth in streams.
At that the giant, howling in great anguish, threw away his club of iron, and caught the king in both his arms and strove to crush his ribs together. But King Arthur struggled and writhed, and twisted him about, so that the giant could not hold him tightly; and as they fiercely wrestled, they both fell, and rolling over one another, tumbled—wrestling, and struggling, and fighting frantically—from rock to rock, till they came to the sea.
And as they tore and strove and tumbled, the king ever and anon smote at the giant with his dagger, till his arms stiffened in death around King Arthur’s body, and groaning horribly, he died. So presently the two knights came and found the king locked fast in the giant’s arms, and very faint and weary, and loosed him from their hold.
Then the king bade Sir Key to “smite off the giant’s head and set it on the truncheon of a spear, and bear it to Sir Hoel, and tell him that his enemy is slain; and afterwards let it be fastened to the castle gate, that all the people may behold it. And go ye two up on the mountain and fetch me my shield and sword, and also the great club of iron ye will see there; and as for the treasure, ye shall find there wealth beyond counting, but take as much as ye will, for if I have his kirtle and the club, I desire no more.”
Then the knights fetched the club and kirtle, as the king had ordered, and took the treasure to themselves, as much as they could carry, and returned to the army. But when this deed was noised abroad, all the people came in multitudes to thank the king, who told them “to give thanks to God, and to divide the giant’s spoils amongst them equally.” And King Arthur desired Sir Hoel to build a church upon the mount, and dedicate it to the Archangel Michael.
On the morrow, all the host moved onwards into the country of Champagne, and Flollo, the Roman tribune, retired before them into Paris. But while he was preparing to collect more forces from the neighbouring countries, King Arthur came upon him unawares, and besieged him in the town.
And when a month had passed, Flollo—full of grief at the starvation of his people, who died in hundreds day by day—sent to King Arthur, and desired that they two might fight together; for he was a man of mighty stature and courage, and thought himself sure of the victory. This challenge, King Arthur, full weary the siege, accepted with great joy, and sent backword to Flollo that he would meet him whensoever he appointed.
And a truce being made on both sides, they met together the next day on the island without the city, where all the people also were gathered to see the issue. And as the king and Flollo rode up to the lists, each was so nobly armed and horsed, and sat so mightily upon his saddle, that no man could tell which way the battle would end.
When they had saluted one another, and presented themselves against each other with their lances aloft, they put spurs to their horses and began a fierce encounter. But King Arthur, carrying his spear more warily, struck it on the upper part of Flollo’s breast, and flung him from his saddle to the earth. Then drawing his sword, he cried to him to rise, and rushed upon him; but Flollo, starting up, met him with his spear couched, and pierced the breast of King Arthur’s horse, and overthrew both horse and man.
The Britons, when they saw their king upon the ground, could scarcely keep themselves from breaking up the truce and falling on the Gauls. But as they were about to burst the barriers, and rush upon the lists, King Arthur hastily arose, and, guarding himself with his shield, ran with speed on Flollo. And now they renewed the assault with great rage, being sorely bent upon each other’s death.
At length, Flollo, seizing his advantage, gave King Arthur a huge stroke upon the helm, which nigh overthrew him, and drew forth his blood in streams.
But when King Arthur saw his armour and shield red with blood, he was inflamed with fury, and lifting upExcalibur on high, with all his might, he struck straight through the helmet into Flollo’s head, and smote it into halves; and Flollo falling backwards, and tearing up the ground with his spurs, expired.
As soon as this news spread, the citizens all ran together, and, opening the gates, surrendered the city to the conqueror.
And when he had overrun the whole province with his arms, and reduced it everywhere to subjection, he returned again to Britain, and held his court at Caerleon, with greater state than ever.
Anon he invited thereto all the kings, dukes, earls, and barons, who owed him homage, that he might treat them royally, and reconcile them to each other, and to his rule.
And never was there a city more fit and pleasant for such festivals. For on one side it was washed by a noble river, so that the kings and princes from the countries beyond sea might conveniently sail up to it; and on the other side, the beauty of the groves and meadows, and the stateliness and magnificence of the royal palaces, with lofty gilded roofs, made it even rival the grandeur of Rome. It was famous also for two great and noble churches, whereof one was built in honour of the martyr Julius, and adorned with a choir of virgins who had devoted themselves wholly to the service of God; and the other, founded in memory of St. Aaron, his companion, maintained a convent of canons, and was the third metropolitan church of Britain. Besides, there was a college of two hundred philosophers, learned in astronomy, and all the other sciences and arts.
In this place, therefore, full of such delights, KingArthur held his court, with many jousts and tournaments, and royal huntings, and rested for a season after all his wars.
And on a certain day there came into the court a messenger from Ryence, King of North Wales, bearing this message from his master: That King Ryence had discomfited eleven kings, and had compelled each one of them to cut off his beard; that he had trimmed a mantle with these beards, and lacked but one more beard to finish it; and that he therefore now sent for King Arthur’s beard, which he required of him forthwith, or else he would enter his lands and burn and slay, and never leave them till he had taken by force not his beard only, but his head also.
When King Arthur heard these words he flushed all scarlet, and rising in great anger said, “Well is it for thee that thou speakest another man’s words with thy lips, and not thine own. Thou hast said thy message, which is the most insolent and villainous that ever man heard sent to any king: now hear my reply. My beard is yet too young to trim that mantle of thy master’s with; yet, young although I be, I owe no homage either to him or any man—nor will ever owe. But, young although I be, I will have thy master’s homage upon both his knees before this year be past, or else he shall lose his head, by the faith of my body, for this message is the shamefullest I ever heard speak of. I see well thy king hath never yet met with a worshipful man; but tell that King Arthur will have his head or his worship right soon.”
Then the messenger departed, and Arthur, looking round upon his knights, demanded of them if any thereknew this King Ryence. “Yea,” answered Sir Noran, “I know him well, and there be few better or stronger knights upon a field than he; and he is passing proud and haughty in his heart; wherefore I doubt not, Lord, he will make war on thee with mighty power.”
“Well,” said King Arthur, “I shall be ready for him, and that shall he find.”
While the king thus spoke, there came into the hall a damsel having on a mantle richly furred, which she let fall and showed herself to be girded with a noble sword. The king being surprised at this, said, “Damsel, wherefore art thou girt with that sword, for it beseemeth thee not?” “Sir,” said she, “I will tell thee. This sword wherewith I am thus girt gives me great sorrow and encumbrance, for I may not be delivered from it till I find a knight faithful and pure and true, strong of body and of valiant deeds, without guile or treachery, who shall be able to draw it from its scabbard, which no man else can do. And I have but just now come from the court of King Ryence, for there they told me many great and good knights were to be ever found; but he and all his knights have tried to draw it forth in vain—for none of them can move it.”
“This is a great marvel,” said King Arthur; “I will myself try to draw forth this sword, not thinking in my heart that I am the best knight, but rather to begin and give example that all may try after me.” Saying this, he took the sword and pulled at it with all his might, but could not shake or move it.
“Thou needest not strive so hard, Lord,” said the damsel, “for whoever may be able to pull it forth shall do so very easily.”“Thou sayest well,” replied the king, remembering how he had himself drawn forth the sword from the stone before St. Paul’s. “Now try ye, all my barons; but beware ye be not stained with shame, or any treachery, or guile.” And turning away his face from them, King Arthur mused full heavily of sins within his breast he knew of, and which his failure brought to mind right sadly.
Then all the barons present tried each after other, but could none of them succeed; whereat the damsel greatly wept, and said, “Alas, alas! I thought in this court to have found the best knight, without shame or treachery or treason.”
Now by chance there was at that time a poor knight with King Arthur, who had been prisoner at his court for half a year and more, charged with slaying unawares a knight who was a cousin of the king’s. He was named Balin le Savage, and had been by the good offices of the barons delivered from prison, for he was of good and valiant address and gentle blood. He being secretly present at the court saw this adventure, and felt his heart rise high within him, and longed to try the sword as did the others; but being poor and poorly clad, he was ashamed to come forward in the press of knights and nobles. But in his heart he felt assured that he could do better—if Heaven willed—than any knight among them all.
So as the damsel left the king, he called to her and said, “Damsel, I pray thee of thy courtesy, suffer me to try the sword as well as all these lords; for though I be but poorly clad, I feel assurance in my heart.”
The damsel looking at him, saw in him a likelyan honest man, but because of his poor garments could not think him to be any knight of worship, and said, “Sir, there is no need to put me to any more pain or labour; why shouldst thou succeed where so many worthy ones have failed?”
“Ah, fair lady,” answered Balin, “worthiness and brave deeds are not shown by fair raiment, but manhood and truth lie hid within the heart. There be many worshipful knights unknown to all the people.”
“By my faith, thou sayest truth,” replied the damsel; “try therefore, if thou wilt, what thou canst do.”
So Balin took the sword by the girdle and hilt, and drew it lightly out, and looking on its workmanship and brightness, it pleased him greatly.
But the king and all the barons marvelled at Sir Balin’s fortune, and many knights were envious of him, for, “Truly,” said the damsel, “this is a passing good knight, and the best man I have ever found, and the most worshipfully free from treason, treachery, or villainy, and many wonders shall he achieve.”
“Now, gentle and courteous knight,” continued she, turning to Balin, “give me the sword again.”
“Nay,” said Sir Balin, “save it be taken from me by force, I shall preserve this sword for evermore.”
“Thou art not wise,” replied the damsel, “to keep it from me; for if thou wilt do so, thou shalt slay with it the best friend thou hast, and the sword shall be thine destruction also.”
“I will take whatever adventure God may send,” said Balin; “but the sword will I keep, by the faith of my body.”
“Thou will repent it shortly,” said the damsel; “Iwould take the sword for thy sake rather than for mine for I am passing grieved and heavy for thy sake, who wilt not believe the peril I foretell thee.” With that she departed, making great lamentation.
Then Balin sent for his horse and armour, and took his leave of King Arthur, who urged him to stay at his court. “For,” said he, “I believe that thou art displeased that I showed thee unkindness; blame me not overmuch, for I was misinformed against thee, and knew not truly what a knight of worship thou art. Abide in this court with my good knights, and I will so advance thee that thou shalt be well pleased.”
“God thank thee, Lord,” said Balin, “for no man can reward thy bounty and thy nobleness; but at this time I must needs depart, praying thee ever to hold me in thy favour.”
“Truly,” said King Arthur, “I am grieved for thy departure; but tarry not long, and thou shalt be right welcome to me and all my knights when thou returnest, and I will repair my neglect and all that I have done amiss against thee.”
“God thank thee, Lord,” again said Balin, and made ready to depart.
But meanwhile came into the court a lady upon horseback, full richly dressed, and saluted King Arthur, and asked him for the gift that he had promised her when she gave him his sword Excalibur, “for,” said she, “I am the lady of the lake.”
“Ask what thou wilt,” said the king, “and thou shalt have it, if I have power to give.”
“I ask,” said she, “the head of that knight who hath just achieved the sword, or else the damsel’s head whobrought it, or else both; for the knight slew my brother, and the lady caused my father’s death.”
“Truly,” said King Arthur, “I cannot grant thee this desire; it were against my nature and against my name; but ask whatever else thou wilt, and I will do it.”
“I will demand no other thing,” said she.
And as she spake came Balin, on his way to leave the court, and saw her where she stood, and knew her straightway for his mother’s murderess, whom he had sought in vain three years. And when they told him that she had asked King Arthur for his head, he went up straight to her and said, “May evil have thee! Thou desirest my head, therefore shalt thou lose thine;” and with his sword he lightly smote her head off, in the presence of the king and all the court.
“Alas, for shame!” cried out King Arthur, rising up in wrath; “why hast thou done this, shaming both me and my court? I am beholden greatly to this lady, and under my safe conduct came she here; thy deed is passing shameful; never shall I forgive thy villainy.”
“Lord,” cried Sir Balin, “hear me; this lady was the falsest living, and by her witchcraft hath destroyed many, and caused my mother also to be burnt to death by her false arts and treachery.”
“What cause soever thou mightest have had,” said the king, “thou shouldst have forborne her in my presence. Deceive not thyself, thou shalt repent this sin, for such a shame was never brought upon my court; depart now from my face with all the haste thou mayest.”
Then Balin took up the head of the lady and carried it to his lodgings, and rode forth with his squire from outthe town. Then said he, “Now must we part; take ye this head and bear it to my friends in Northumberland, and tell them how I speed, and that our worst foe is dead; also tell them that I am free from prison, and of the adventure of my sword.”
“Alas!” said the squire, “ye are greatly to blame to have so displeased King Arthur.”
“As for that,” said Sir Balin, “I go now to find King Ryence, and destroy him or lose my life; for should I take him prisoner, and lead him to the court, perchance King Arthur would forgive me, and become my good and gracious lord.”
“Where shall I meet thee again?” said the squire.
“In King Arthur’s court,” said Balin.
Sir Balin Smites the Dolorous Stroke, and Fights with his Brother, Sir Balan
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ow there was a knight at the court more envious than the others of Sir Balin, for he counted himself one of the best knights in Britain. His name was Lancear; and going to the king, he begged leave to follow after Sir Balin and avenge the insult he had put upon the court. “Do thy best,” replied the king, “for I am passing wroth with Balin.”
In the meantime came Merlin, and was told of this adventure of the sword and lady of the lake.
“Now hear me,” said he, “when I tell ye that this lady who hath brought the sword is the falsest damsel living.”
“Say not so,” they answered, “for she hath a brother a good knight, who slew another knight this damsel loved; so she, to be revenged upon her brother, went to the Lady Lile, of Avilion, and besought her help. Then Lady Lile gave her the sword, and told her that no man should draw it forth but one, a valiant knight and strong, who should avenge her on her brother. This, therefore, was the reason why the damsel came here.”“I know it all as well as ye do,” answered Merlin; “and would to God she had never come hither, for never came she into any company but to do harm; and that good knight who hath achieved the sword shall be himself slain by it, which shall be great harm and loss, for a better knight there liveth not; and he shall do unto my lord the king great honour and service.”
Then Sir Lancear, having armed himself at all points, mounted, and rode after Sir Balin, as fast as he could go, and overtaking him, he cried aloud, “Abide, Sir knight! wait yet awhile, or I shall make thee do so.”
Hearing him cry, Sir Balin fiercely turned his horse, and said, “Fair knight, what wilt thou with me? wilt thou joust?”
“Yea,” said Sir Lancear, “it is for that I have pursued thee.”
“Peradventure,” answered Balin, “thou hadst best have staid at home, for many a man who thinketh himself already victor, endeth by his own downfall. Of what court art thou?”
“Of King Arthur’s court,” cried Lancear, “and I am come to revenge the insult thou hast put on it this day.”
“Well,” said Sir Balin, “I see that I must fight thee, and I repent to be obliged to grieve King Arthur or his knights; and thy quarrel seemeth full foolish to me, for the damsel that is dead worked endless evils through the land, or else I had been loath as any knight that liveth to have slain a lady.”
“Make thee ready,” shouted Lancear, “for one of us shall rest for ever in this field.”
But at their first encounter Sir Lancear’s spear flewinto splinters from Sir Balin’s shield, and Sir Balin’s lance pierced with such might through Sir Lancear’s shield that it rove the hauberk also, and passed through the knight’s body and the horse’s crupper. And Sir Balin turning fiercely round again, drew out his sword, and knew not that he had already slain him; and then he saw him lie a corpse upon the ground.
At that same moment came a damsel riding towards him as fast as her horse could gallop, who, when she saw Sir Lancear dead, wept and sorrowed out of measure, crying, “O, Sir Balin, two bodies hast thou slain, and one heart; and two hearts in one body; and two souls also hast thou lost.”
Therewith she took the sword from her dead lover’s side—for she was Sir Lancear’s lady-love—and setting the pommel of it on the ground, ran herself through the body with the blade.
When Sir Balin saw her dead he was sorely hurt and grieved in spirit, and repented the death of Lancear, which had also caused so fair a lady’s death. And being unable to look on their bodies for sorrow, he turned aside into a forest, where presently as he rode, he saw the arms of his brother, Sir Balan. And when they were met they put off their helms, and embraced each other, kissing, and weeping for joy and pity. Then Sir Balin told Sir Balan all his late adventures, and that he was on his way to King Ryence, who at that time was besieging Castle Terrabil. “I will be with thee,” answered Sir Balan, “and we will help each other, as brethren ought to do.”
Anon by chance, as they were talking, came King Mark, of Cornwall, by that way, and when he saw the two dead bodies of Sir Lancear and his lady lying there,and heard the story of their death, he vowed to build a tomb to them before he left that place. So pitching his pavilion there, he sought through all the country round to find a monument, and found at last a rich and fair one in a church, which he took and raised above the dead knight and his damsel, writing on it—“Here lieth Lancear, son of the King of Ireland, who, at his own request, was slain by Balin; and here beside him also lieth his lady Colombe, who slew herself with her lover’s sword for grief and sorrow.”
Then as Sir Balin and Sir Balan rode away, Merlin met with them, and said to Balin, “Thou hast done thyself great harm not to have saved that lady’s life who slew herself; and because of it, thou shalt strike the most Dolorous Stroke that ever man struck, save he that smote our Lord. For thou shalt smite the truest and most worshipful of living knights, who shall not be recovered from his wounds for many years, and through that stroke three kingdoms shall be overwhelmed in poverty and misery.”
“If I believed,” said Balin, “what thou sayest, I would slay myself to make thee a liar.”
At that Merlin vanished suddenly away; but afterwards he met them in disguise towards night, and told them he could lead them to King Ryence, whom they sought. “For this night he is to ride with sixty lances only through a wood hard by.”
So Sir Balin and Sir Balan hid themselves within the wood, and at midnight came out from their ambush among the leaves by the highway, and waited for the king, whom presently they heard approaching with his company. Then did they suddenly leap forth and smote at him andoverthrew him and laid him on the ground, and turning on his company wounded and slew forty of them, and put the rest to flight. And returning to King Ryence they would have slain him there, but he craved mercy, and yielded to their grace, crying, “Knights full of prowess, slay me not; for by my life ye may win something—but my death can avail ye nought.”
“Ye say truth,” said the two knights, and put him in a horse-litter, and went swiftly through all the night, till at cock-crow they came to King Arthur’s palace. There they delivered him to the warders and porters, to be brought before the king, with this message—“That he was sent to King Arthur by the knight of the two swords (for so was Balin known by name, since his adventure with the damsel) and by his brother.” And so they rode away again ere sunrise.
Within a month or two thereafter, King Arthur being somewhat sick, went forth outside the town, and had his pavilion pitched in a meadow, and there abode, and laid him down on a pallet to sleep, but could get no rest. And as he lay he heard the sound of a great horse, and looking out of the tent door, saw a knight ride by, making great lamentation.
“Abide, fair sir,” said King Arthur, “and tell me wherefore thou makest this sorrow.”
“Ye may little amend it,” said the knight, and so passed on.
Presently after Sir Balin, rode, by chance, past that meadow, and when he saw the king he alighted and came to him on foot, and kneeled and saluted him.
“By my head,” said King Arthur, “ye be welcome, Sir Balin;” and then he thanked him heartily forrevenging him upon King Ryence, and for sending him so speedily a prisoner to his castle, and told him how King Nero, Ryence’s brother, had attacked him afterwards to deliver Ryence from prison; and how he had defeated him and slain him, and also King Lot, of Orkney who was joined with Nero, and whom King Pellinore had killed in the battle. Then when they had thus talked, King Arthur told Sir Balin of the sullen knight that had just passed his tent, and desired him to pursue him and to bring him back.
So Sir Balin rode and overtook the knight in a forest with a damsel, and said, “Sir knight, thou must come back with me unto my lord, King Arthur, to tell him the cause of thy sorrow, which thou hast refused even now to do.”
“That will I not,” replied the knight, “for it would harm me much, and do him no advantage.”
“Sir,” said Sir Balin, “I pray thee make ready, for thou must needs go with me—or else I must fight with thee and take thee by force.”
“Wilt thou be warrant for safe conduct, if I go with thee?” inquired the knight.
“Yea, surely,” answered Balin, “I will die else.”
So the knight made ready to go with Sir Balin, and left the damsel in the wood.
But as they went, there came one invisible, and smote the knight through the body with a spear. “Alas,” cried Sir Herleus (for so was he named), “I am slain under thy guard and conduct, by that traitor knight called Garlon, who through magic and witchcraft rideth invisibly. Take, therefore, my horse, which is better than thine, and ride to the damsel whom we left, andthe quest I had in hand, as she will lead thee—and revenge my death when thou best mayest.”
“That will I do,” said Sir Balin, “by my knighthood, and so I swear to thee.”
Then went Sir Balin to the damsel, and rode forth with her; she carrying ever with her the truncheon of the spear wherewith Sir Herleus had been slain. And as they went, a good knight, Perin de Mountbelgard, joined their company, and vowed to take adventure with them wheresoever they might go. But presently as they passed a hermitage fast by a churchyard, came the knight Garlon, again invisible, and smote Sir Perin through the body with a spear, and slew him as he had slain Sir Herleus. Whereat, Sir Balin greatly raged, and swore to have Sir Garlon’s life, whenever next he might encounter and behold him in his bodily shape. Anon, he and the hermit buried the good knight Sir Perin, and rode on with the damsel till they came to a great castle, whereinto they were about to enter. But when Sir Balin had passed through the gateway, the portcullis fell behind him suddenly, leaving the damsel on the outer side, with men around her, drawing their swords as if to slay her.
When he saw that, Sir Balin climbed with eager haste by wall and tower, and leaped into the castle moat, and rushed towards the damsel and her enemies, with his sword drawn, to fight and slay them. But they cried out, “Put up thy sword, Sir knight, we will not fight thee in this quarrel, for we do nothing but an ancient custom of this castle.”
Then they told him that the lady of the castle was sick, and had lain ill for many years, and mightnever more be cured, unless she had a silver dish full of the blood of a pure maid and a king’s daughter. Wherefore the custom of the castle was, that never should a damsel pass that way but she must give a dish full of her blood. Then Sir Balin suffered them to bleed the damsel with her own consent, but her blood helped not the lady of the castle. So on the morrow they departed, after right good cheer and rest.
Then they rode three or four days without adventure and came at last to the abode of a rich man, who sumptuously lodged and fed them. And while they sat at supper Sir Balin heard a voice of some one groaning grievously. “What noise is this?” said he.
“Forsooth,” said the host, “I will tell you. I was lately at a tournament, and there I fought a knight who is brother to King Pelles, and overthrew him twice, for which he swore to be revenged on me through my best friend, and so he wounded my son, who cannot be recovered till I have that knight’s blood, but he rideth through witchcraft always invisibly, and I know not his name.”
“Ah,” said Sir Balin, “but I know him; his name is Garlon, and he hath slain two knights, companions of mine own, in the same fashion, and I would rather than all the riches in this realm that I might meet him face to face.”
“Well,” said his host, “let me now tell thee that King Pelles hath proclaimed in all the country a great festival, to be held at Listeniss, in twenty days from now, whereto no knight may come without a lady. At that great feast we might perchance find out this Garlon, for many will be there; and if it please thee we will set forth together.”
So on the morrow they rode all three towards Listeniss, and travelled fifteen days, and reached it on the day the feast began. Then they alighted and stabled their horses, and went up to the castle, and Sir Balin’s host was denied entrance, having no lady with him. But Sir Balin was right heartily received, and taken to a chamber, where they unarmed him, and dressed him in rich robes, of any colour that he chose, and told him he must lay aside his sword. This, however, he refused, and said, “It is the custom of my country for a knight to keep his sword ever with him; and if I may not keep it here, I will forthwith depart.” Then they gave him leave to wear his sword. So he went to the great hall, and was set among knights of rank and worship, and his lady before him.
Soon he found means to ask one who sat near him, “Is there not here a knight whose name is Garlon?”
“Yonder he goeth,” said his neighbour, “he with that black face; he is the most marvellous knight alive, for he rideth invisibly, and destroyeth whom he will.”
“Ah, well,” said Balin, drawing a long breath, “is that indeed the man? I have aforetime heard of him.”
Then he mused long within himself, and thought, “If I shall slay him here and now, I shall not escape myself; but if I leave him, peradventure I shall never meet with him again at such advantage; and if he live, how much more harm and mischief will he do!”
But while he deeply thought, and cast his eyes from time to time upon Sir Garlon, that false knight saw that he watched him, and thinking that he could at such a time escape revenge, he came and smote Sir Balin on the face with the back of his hand, and said, “Knight, whydost thou so watch me? be ashamed, and eat thy meat, and do that which thou camest for.”
“Thou sayest well,” cried Sir Balin, rising fiercely; “now will I straightway do that which I came to do, as thou shalt find.” With that he whirled his sword aloft and struck him downright on the head, and clove his skull asunder to the shoulder.
“Give me the truncheon,” cried out Sir Balin to his lady, “wherewith he slew thy knight.” And when she gave it him—for she had always carried it about with her, wherever she had gone—he smote him through the body with it, and said, “With that truncheon didst thou treacherously murder a good knight, and now it sticketh in thy felon body.”
Then he called to the father of the wounded son, who had come with him to Listeniss, and said, “Now take as much blood as thou wilt, to heal thy son withal.”
But now arose a terrible confusion, and all the knights leaped from the table to slay Balin, King Pelles himself the foremost, who cried out, “Knight, thou hast slain my brother at my board; die, therefore, die, for thou shalt never leave this castle.”
“Slay me, thyself, then,” shouted Balin.
“Yea,” said the king, “that will I! for no other man shall touch thee, for the love I bear my brother.”
Then King Pelles caught in his hand a grim weapon and smote eagerly at Balin, but Balin put his sword between his head and the king’s stroke, and saved himself but lost his sword, which fell down smashed and shivered into pieces by the blow. So being weaponless he ran to the next room to find a sword, and so from room to room, with King Pelles after him, he in vainever eagerly casting his eyes round every place to find some weapon.
At last he ran into a chamber wondrous richly decked, where was a bed all dressed with cloth of gold, the richest that could be thought of, and one who lay quite still within the bed; and by the bedside stood a table of pure gold borne on four silver pillars, and on the table stood a marvellous spear, strangely wrought.
When Sir Balin saw the spear he seized it in his hand, and turned upon King Pelles, and smote at him so fiercely and so sore that he dropped swooning to the ground.