As soon as they were on board they saw a fair bed; whereon lay a crown of silk, and at the foot was a fair and rich sword drawn from its scabbard half a foot and more. The pommel was of precious stones of many colours, every colour having a different virtue, and the scales of the haft were of two ribs of different beasts. The one was bone of a serpent from Calidone forest, named the serpent of the fiend; and its virtue saveth all men who hold it from weariness. The other was of a fish that haunteth the floods of Euphrates, named Ertanax; and its virtue causeth whoever holdeth it to forget all other things, whether of joy or pain, save the thing he seeth before him.
“In the name of God,” said Sir Percival, “I shall assay to handle this sword;” and set his hand to it, but could not grasp it. “By my faith,” said he, “now have I failed.”
Sir Bors set his hand to it, and failed also.
Then came Sir Galahad, and saw these letters written red as blood, “None shall draw me forth save the hardiest of all men; but he that draweth me shall never be shamed or wounded to death.” “By my faith,” said Sir Galahad, “I would draw it forth, but dare not try.”
“Ye may try safely,” said the gentlewoman, Sir Percival’s sister, “for be ye well assured the drawing of this sword is forbid to all but you. For this was the sword of David, King of Israel, and Solomon his son made for it this marvellous pommel and this wondrous sheath, and laid it on this bed till thou shouldest come and take it up; and though before thee some have dared to raise it, yet have they all been maimed or wounded for their daring.”
“Where,” said Sir Galahad, “shall we find a girdle for it?”
“This girdle, lords,” said she, “is made for the most part of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the world, I loved full well.”
“Fair sir,” said she, “dismay you not;” and therewith took from out a box a girdle, nobly wrought with golden thread, set full of precious stones and with a rich gold buckle.“This girdle, lords,” said she, “is made for the most part of mine own hair, which, while I was yet in the world, I loved full well;but when I knew that this adventure was ordained me, I cut off and wove as ye now see.”
Then they all prayed Sir Galahad to take the sword, and so anon he gripped it in his fingers; and the maiden girt it round his waist, saying, “Now reck I not though I die, for I have made thee the worthiest knight of all 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 the ship sailed a great way on the sea, and brought them to land near the Castle of Carteloise. When they were landed came a squire and asked them, “Be ye of King Arthur’s court?”
“We are,” said they.
“In an evil hour are ye come,” said he, and went back swiftly to the castle.
Within a while they heard a great horn blow, and saw a multitude of well-armed knights come forth, who bade them yield or die. At that they ran together, and Sir Percival smote one to the earth and mounted his horse, and so likewise did Sir Bors and Sir Galahad, and soon had they routed all their enemies and alighted on foot, and with their swords slew them downright, and entered into the castle.
Then came there forth a priest, to whom Sir Galahad kneeled and said, “In sooth, good father, I repent me of this slaughter; but we were first assailed, or else it had not been.”
“Repent ye not,” said the good man, “for if ye lived as long as the world lasted ye could do no better deed, for these were all the felon sons of a good knight, Earl Hernox, whom they have thrown into a dungeon, and in his name have slain priests and clerks, and beat down chapels far and near.”
Then Sir Galahad prayed the priest to bring him to the earl; who, when he saw Sir Galahad, cried out, “Long have I waited for thy coming, and now I pray thee hold me in thine arms that I may die in peace.”
And therewith, when Sir Galahad had taken him in his arms, his soul departed from his body.
Then came a voice in the hearing of them all, “Depart now, Sir Galahad, and go quickly to the maimed king, for he hath long abided to receive health from thy hand.”
So the three knights departed, and Sir Percival’s sister with them, and came to a vast forest, and saw before them a white hart, exceeding fair, led by four lions; and marvelling greatly at that sight, they followed.
Anon they came to a hermitage and a chapel, whereunto the hart entered, and the lions with it. Then a priest offered mass, and presently they saw the hart change into the figure of a man, most sweet and comely to behold; and the four lions also changed and became a man, an eagle, a lion, and an ox. And suddenly all those five figures vanished without sound. Then the knights marvelled greatly, and fell upon their knees, and when they rose they prayed the priest to tell them what that sight might mean.
“What saw ye, sirs?” said he, “for I saw nothing.” Then they told him.
“Ah, lords!” said he, “ye are full welcome; now know I well ye be the knights who shall achieve theSangreal, for unto them alone such mysteries are revealed. The hart ye saw is One above all men, white and without blemish, and the four lions with Him are the four evangelists.”
When they heard that they heartily rejoiced, and thanking the priest, departed.
Anon, as they passed by a certain castle, an armed knight suddenly came after them, and cried out to the damsel, “By the holy cross, ye shall not go till ye have yielded to the custom of the castle.”
“Let her go,” said Sir Percival, “for a maiden, wheresoever she cometh, is free.”
“Whatever maiden passeth here,” replied the knight, “must give a dishful of her blood from her right arm.”
“It is a foul and shameful custom,” cried Sir Galahad and both his fellows, “and sooner will we die than let this maiden yield thereto.”
“Then shall ye die,” replied the knight, and as he spake there came out from a gate hard by, ten or twelve more, and encountered with them, running upon them vehemently with a great cry. But the three knights withstood them, and set their hands to their swords, and beat them down and slew them.
At that came forth a company of threescore knights, all armed. “Fair lords,” said Sir Galahad, “have mercy on yourselves and keep from us.”
“Nay, fair lords,” they answered, “rather be advised by us, and yield ye to our custom.”
“It is an idle word,” said Galahad, “in vain ye speak it.”
“Well,” said they, “will ye die?”
“We be not come thereto as yet,” replied Sir Galahad.
Then did they fall upon each other, and Sir Galahad drew forth his sword, and smote on the right hand and onthe left, and slew so mightily that all who saw him thought he was a monster and no earthly man. And both his comrades helped him well, and so they held the field against that multitude till it was night. Then came a good knight forward from the enemy and said, “Fair knights, abide with us to-night and be right welcome; by the faith of our bodies as we are true knights, to-morrow ye shall rise unharmed, and meanwhile maybe ye will, of your own accord, accept the custom of the castle when ye know it better.”
So they entered and alighted and made great cheer. Anon, they asked them whence that custom came. “The lady of this castle is a leper,” said they, “and can be no way cured save by the blood of a pure virgin and a king’s daughter; therefore to save her life are we her servants bound to stay every maid that passeth by, and try if her blood may not cure our mistress.”
Then said the damsel, “Take ye of my blood as much as ye will, if it may avail your lady.”
And though the three knights urged her not to put her life in that great peril, she replied, “If I die to heal another’s body, I shall get health to my soul,” and would not be persuaded to refuse.
So on the morrow she was brought to the sick lady, and her arm was bared, and a vein thereof was opened, and the dish filled with her blood. Then the sick lady was anointed therewith, and anon she was whole of her malady. With that Sir Percival’s sister lifted up her hand and blessed her, saying, “Madam, I am come to my death to make you whole; for God’s love pray for me;” and thus saying she fell down in a swoon.
Then Sir Galahad, Sir Percival, and Sir Bors started to lift her up and staunch her blood, but she had lost toomuch to live. So when she came to herself she said to Sir Percival, “Fair brother, I must die for the healing of this lady, and now, I pray thee, bury me not here, but when I am dead put me in a boat at the next haven and let me float at venture on the sea. And when ye come to the city of Sarras, to achieve the Sangreal, shall ye find me waiting by a tower, and there I pray thee bury me, for there shall Sir Galahad and ye also be laid.” Thus having said, she died.
Then Sir Percival wrote all the story of her life and put it in her right hand, and so laid her in a barge and covered it with silk. And the wind arising drove the barge from land, and all the knights stood watching it till it was out of sight.
Anon they returned to the castle, and forthwith fell a sudden tempest of thunder and lightning and rain, as if the earth were broken up: and half the castle was thrown down. Then came a voice to the three knights which said, “Depart ye now asunder till ye meet again where the maimed king is lying.” So they parted and rode divers ways.
Now after Sir Lancelot had left the hermit, he rode a long while till he knew not whither to turn, and so he lay down to sleep, if haply he might dream whither to go.
And in his sleep a vision came to him saying, “Lancelot, rise up and take thine armour, and enter the first ship that thou shalt find.”
When he awoke he obeyed the vision, and rode till he came to the sea-shore, and found there a ship without sails or oars, and as soon as he was in it he smelt the sweetest savour he had ever known, and seemed filled with all things he could think of or desire. And looking round he saw a fair bed, and thereon a gentlewomanlying dead, who was Sir Percival’s sister. And as Sir Lancelot looked on her he spied the writing in her right hand, and, taking it, he read therein her story. And more than a month thereafter he abode in that ship and was nourished by the grace of Heaven, as Israel was fed with manna in the desert.
And on a certain night he went ashore to pass the time, for he was somewhat weary, and, listening, he heard a horse come towards him, from which a knight alighted and went up into the ship; who, when he saw Sir Lancelot, said, “Fair sir, ye be right welcome to mine eyes, for I am thy son Galahad, and long time I have sought for thee.” With that he kneeled and asked his blessing, and took off his helm and kissed him, and the great joy there was between them no tongue can tell.
Then for half a year they dwelt together in the ship, and served God night and day with all their powers, and went to many unknown islands, where none but wild beasts haunted, and there found many strange and perilous adventures.
And upon a time they came to the edge of a forest, before a cross of stone, and saw a knight armed all in white, leading a white horse. Then the knight saluted them, and said to Galahad, “Ye have been long time enough with your father; now, therefore, leave him and ride this horse till ye achieve the Holy Quest.”
Then went Sir Galahad to his father and kissed him full courteously, and said, “Fair father, I know not when I shall see thee again.”
And as he took his horse a voice spake in their hearing, “Ye shall meet no more in this life.”
“Now, my son, Sir Galahad,” said Sir Lancelot, “since we must so part and see each other never more, I pray the High Father of Heaven to preserve both you and me.”
Then they bade farewell, and Sir Galahad entered the forest, and Sir Lancelot returned to the ship, and the wind rose and drove him more than a month through the sea, whereby he slept but little, yet ever prayed that he might see the Sangreal.
So it befell upon a certain midnight, the moon shining clear, he came before a fair and rich castle, whereof the postern gate was open towards the sea, having no keeper save two lions in the entry.
Anon Sir Lancelot heard a voice: “Leave now thy ship and go within the castle, and thou shalt see a part of thy desire.”
Then he armed and went towards the gate, and coming to the lions he drew out his sword, but suddenly a dwarf rushed out and smote him on the arm, so that he dropt his sword, and heard again the voice, “Oh, man of evil faith, and poor belief, wherefore trustest thou thine arms above thy Maker?” Then he put up his sword and signed the cross upon his forehead, and so passed by the lions without hurt.
And going in, he found a chamber with the door shut, which in vain he tried to open. And listening thereat he heard a voice within, which sang so sweetly that it seemed no earthly thing, “Joy and honour be to the Father of Heaven!” Then he kneeled down at the door, for he knew well the Sangreal was there within.
Anon the door was opened without hands, and forthwith came thereout so great a splendour as if all the torches of the world had been alight together. But when he would have entered in, a voice forbad him; wherefore he drew back, and looked, standing upon the threshold of the door. And there he saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel covered with red samite, and many angels round it holdingburning candles and a cross and all the ornaments of the altar.
Then a priest stood up and offered mass, and when he took the vessel up, he seemed to sink beneath that burden. At that Sir Lancelot cried, “O Father, take it not for sin that I go in to help the priest, who hath much need thereof.” So saying, he went in, but when he came towards the table he felt a breath of fire which issued out therefrom and smote him to the ground, so that he had no power to rise.
Then felt he many hands about him, which took him up and laid him down outside the chapel door. There lay he in a swoon all through that night, and on the morrow certain people found him senseless, and bore him to an inner chamber and laid him on a bed. And there he rested, living, but moving no limbs, twenty-four days and nights.
On the twenty-fifth day he opened his eyes and saw those standing round, and said, “Why have ye waked me? for I have seen marvels that no tongue can tell, and more than any heart can think.”
Then he asked where he was, and they told him, “In the Castle of Carbonek.”
“Tell your lord, King Pelles,” said he, “that I am Sir Lancelot.”
At that they marvelled greatly, and told their lord it was Sir Lancelot who had lain there so long.
Then was King Pelles wondrous glad and went to see him, and prayed him to abide there for a season. But Sir Lancelot said, “I know well that I have now seen as much as mine eyes may behold of the Sangreal; wherefore I will return to my own country.” So he took leave of King Pelles, and departed towards Logris.
Now after Sir Galahad had parted from Sir Lancelot, he rode many days, till he came to the monastery where the blind King Evelake lay, whom Sir Percival had seen. And on the morrow, when he had heard mass, Sir Galahad desired to see the king, who cried out, “Welcome, Sir Galahad, servant of the Lord! long have I abided thy coming. Take me now in thine arms, that I may die in peace.”
At that Sir Galahad embraced him; and when he had so done the king’s eyes were opened, and he said, “Fair Lord Jesus, suffer me now to come to Thee;” and anon his soul departed.
Then they buried him royally, as a king should be; and Sir Galahad went on his way.
Within a while he came to a chapel in a forest, in the crypt whereof he saw a tomb which always blazed and burnt. And asking the brethren what that might mean, they told him, “Joseph of Arimathea’s son did found this monastery, and one who wronged him hath lain here these three hundred and fifty years and burneth evermore, until that perfect knight who shall achieve the Sangreal doth quench the fire.”
Then said he, “I pray ye bring me to the tomb.”
And when he touched the place immediately the fire was quenched, and a voice came from the grave and cried, “Thanks be to God, who now hath purged me of my sin, and draweth me from earthly pains into the joys of paradise.”
Then Sir Galahad took the body in his arms and bore it to the abbey, and on the morrow put it in the earth before the high altar.
Anon he departed from thence and rode five days in a great forest; and after that he met Sir Percival, anda little further on Sir Bors. When they had told each other their adventures, they rode together to the Castle of Carbonek: and there King Pelles gave them hearty welcome, for he knew they should achieve the Holy Quest.
As soon as they were come into the castle, a voice cried in the midst of the chamber, “Let them who ought not now to sit at the table of the Lord rise and depart hence!” Then all, save those three knights, departed.
Anon they saw other knights come in with haste at the hall doors and take their harness off, who said to Sir Galahad, “Sir, we have tried sore to be with you at this table.”
“Ye be welcome,” said he, “but whence are ye?”
So three of them said they were from Gaul; and three from Ireland; and three from Denmark.
Then came forth the likeness of a bishop, with a cross in his hand, and four angels stood by him, and a table of silver was before them, whereon was set the vessel of the Sangreal. Then came forth other angels also—two bearing burning candles, and the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled marvellously, the drops wherefrom fell into a box he held in his left hand. Anon the bishop took the wafer up to consecrate it, and at the lifting up, they saw the figure of a Child, whose visage was as bright as any fire, which smote itself into the midst of the wafer and vanished, so that all saw the flesh made bread.
Thereat the bishop went to Galahad and kissed him, and bade him go and kiss his fellows; and said, “Now, servants of the Lord, prepare for food such as none ever yet were fed with since the world began.”
With that he vanished, and the knights were filled with a great dread and prayed devoutly.
Then saw they come forth from the holy vessel the vision of a man bleeding all openly, whom they knew well by the tokens of His passion for the Lord Himself. At that they fell upon their faces and were dumb. Anon he brought the Holy Grale to them and spake high words of comfort, and, when they drank therefrom, the taste thereof was sweeter than any tongue could tell or heart desire. Then a voice said to Galahad, “Son, with this blood which drippeth from the spear anoint thou the maimed king and heal him. And when thou hast this done, depart hence with thy brethren in a ship that ye shall find, and go to the city of Sarras. And bear with thee the holy vessel, for it shall no more be seen in the realm of Logris.”
At that Sir Galahad walked to the bleeding spear, and therefrom anointing his fingers went out straightway to the maimed King Pelles, and touched his wound. Then suddenly he uprose from his bed as whole a man as ever he was, and praised God passing thankfully with all his heart.
Then Sir Galahad, Sir Bors, and Sir Percival departed as they had been told; and when they had ridden three days they came to the sea-shore, and found the ship awaiting them. Therein they entered, and saw in the midst the silver table and the vessel of the Sangreal, covered with red samite. Then were they passing glad, and made great reverence thereto. And Sir Galahad prayed that now he might leave the world and pass to God. And presently, the while he prayed, a voice said to him, “Galahad, thy prayer is heard, and when thou asketh the death of the body thou shalt have it, and find the life of thy soul.”
But while they prayed and slept the ship sailed on, and when they woke they saw the city of Sarras beforethem, and the other ship wherein was Sir Percival’s sister. Then the three knights took up the holy table and the Sangreal and went into the city; and there, in a chapel, they buried Sir Percival’s sister right solemnly.
Now at the gate of the town they saw an old cripple sitting, whom Sir Galahad called to help them bear their weight.
“Truly,” said the old man, “it is ten years since I have gone a step without these crutches.”
“Care ye not,” said Sir Galahad; “rise now and show goodwill.”
So he assayed to move, and found his limbs as strong as any man’s might be, and running to the table helped to carry it.
Anon there rose a rumour in the city that a cripple had been healed by certain marvellous strange knights.
But the king, named Estouranse, who was a heathen tyrant, when he heard thereof took Sir Galahad and his fellows, and put them in prison in a deep hole. Therein they abode a great while, but ever the Sangreal was with them and fed them with marvellous sweet food, so that they fainted not, but had all joy and comfort they could wish.
At the year’s end the king fell sick and felt that he should die. Then sent he for the three knights, and when they came before him prayed their mercy for his trespasses against them. So they forgave him gladly, and anon he died.
Then the chief men of the city took counsel together who should be king in his stead, and as they talked, a voice cried in their midst, “Choose ye the youngest of the three knights King Estouranse cast into prison for your king.” At that they sought Sir Galahad and made himking with the assent of all the city, and else they would have slain him.
But within a twelvemonth came to him, upon a certain day, as he prayed before the Sangreal, a man in likeness of a bishop, with a great company of angels round about him, who offered mass, and afterwards called to Sir Galahad, “Come forth, thou servant of the Lord, for the time hath come thou hast desired so long.”
Then Sir Galahad lifted up his hands and prayed, “Now, blessed Lord! would I no longer live if it might please Thee.”
Anon the bishop gave him the sacrament, and when he had received it with unspeakable gladness, he said, “Who art thou, father?”
“I am Joseph of Arimathea,” answered he, “whom our Lord hath sent to bear thee fellowship.”
When he heard that, Sir Galahad went to Sir Percival and Sir Bors and kissed them and commended them to God, saying, “Salute for me Sir Lancelot, my father, and bid him remember this unstable world.”
Therewith he kneeled down and prayed, and suddenly his soul departed, and a multitude of angels bare it up to heaven. Then came a hand from heaven and took the vessel and the spear and bare them out of sight.
Since then was never man so hardy as to say that he had seen the Sangreal.
And after all these things, Sir Percival put off his armour and betook him to an hermitage, and within a little while passed out of this world. And Sir Bors, when he had buried him beside his sister, returned, weeping sore for the loss of his two brethren, to King Arthur, at Camelot.
Sir Lancelot and the Fair Maid of Astolat
Drop Case N
ow after the quest of the Sangreal was fulfilled and all the knights who were left alive were come again to the Round Table, there was great joy in the court. And passing glad were King Arthur and Queen Guinevere to see Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors, for they had been long absent in that quest.
And so greatly was Sir Lancelot’s fame now spread abroad that many ladies and damsels daily resorted to him and besought him for their champion; and all right quarrels did he gladly undertake for the pleasure of our Lord Christ. And always as much as he might he withdrew him from the queen.
Wherefore Queen Guinevere, who counted him for her own knight, grew wroth with him, and on a certain day she called him to her chamber, and said thus: “Sir Lancelot, I daily see thy loyalty to me doth slack, for ever thou art absent from this court, and takest other ladies’ quarrels on thee more than ever thou wert wont. Now do I understand thee, false knight, and therefore shall I never trust thee more. Depart now from my sight, and come no more within this court upon pain of thy head.” With that she turned from him and would hear no excuses.
So Sir Lancelot departed in heaviness of heart, and calling Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel, he told them how the queen had dealt with him.
“Fair sir,” replied Sir Bors, “remember what honour ye have in this country, and how ye are called the noblest knight in the world; wherefore go not, for women are hasty, and do often what they sore repent of afterwards. Be ruled by my advice. Take horse and ride to the hermitage beside Windsor, and there abide till I send ye better tidings.”
To that Sir Lancelot consented, and departed with a sorrowful countenance.
Now when the queen heard of his leaving she was inwardly sorry, but made no show of grief, bearing a proud visage outwardly. And on a certain day she made a costly banquet to all the knights of the Round Table, to show she had as great joy in all others as in Sir Lancelot. And at the banquet were Sir Gawain, and his brothers Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Gareth; also Sir Modred, Sir Bors, Sir Blamor, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Ector, Sir Lionel, Sir Palomedes, Sir Mador de la Port, and his cousin Sir Patrice—a knight of Ireland, Sir Pinell le Savage, and many more.
Now Sir Pinell hated Sir Gawain because he had slain one of his kinsmen by treason; and Sir Gawain had a great love for all kinds of fruit, which, when Sir Pinell knew, he poisoned certain apples that were set upon the table, with intent to slay him. And so it chanced as they ate and made merry, Sir Patrice, who sat next to Sir Gawain, took one of the poisoned apples and eat it, and when he had eaten he suddenly swelled up and fell down dead.
At that every knight leapt from the board ashamedand enraged nigh out of their wits, for they knew not what to say, yet seeing that the queen had made the banquet they all had suspicion of her.
“My lady the queen,” said Sir Gawain, “I wit well this fruit was meant for me, for all men know my love for it, and now had I been nearly slain; wherefore, I fear me, ye will be ashamed.”
“This shall not end so,” cried Sir Mador de la Port; “now have I lost a noble knight of my own blood, and for this despite and shame I will be revenged to the uttermost.”
Then he challenged Queen Guinevere concerning the death of his cousin, but she stood still, sore abashed, and anon with her sorrow and dread, she swooned.
At the noise and sudden cry came in King Arthur, and to him appealed Sir Mador, and impeached the queen.
“Fair lords,” said he, “full sorely am I troubled at this matter, for I must be rightful judge, and therein it repenteth me I may not do battle for my wife, for, as I deem, this deed was none of hers. But I suppose she will not lack a champion, and some good knight surely will put his body in jeopardy to save her.”
But all who had been bidden to the banquet said they could not hold the queen excused, or be her champions, for she had made the feast, and either by herself or servants must it have come.
“Alas!” said the queen, “I made this dinner for a good intent, and no evil, so God help me in my need.”
“My lord the king,” said Sir Mador, “I require you heartily as you be a righteous king give me a day when I may have justice.”
“Well,” said the king, “I give ye this day fifteen days, when ye shall be ready and armed in the meadow besideWestminster, and if there be a knight to fight with you, God speed the right, and if not, then must my queen be burnt.”
When the king and queen were alone together he asked her how this case befell.
“I wot not how or in what manner,” answered she.
“Where is Sir Lancelot?” said King Arthur, “for he would not grudge to do battle for thee.”
“Sir,” said she, “I cannot tell you, but all his kinsmen deem he is not in this realm.”
“These be sad tidings,” said the king; “I counsel ye to find Sir Bors, and pray him for Sir Lancelot’s sake to do this battle for you.”
So the queen departed and sent for Sir Bors to her chamber, and besought his succour.
“Madam,” said he, “what would you have me do? for I may not with my honour take this matter on me, for I was at that same dinner, and all the other knights would have me ever in suspicion. Now do ye miss Sir Lancelot, for he would not have failed you in right nor yet in wrong, as ye have often proved, but now ye have driven him from the country.”
“Alas! fair knight,” said the queen, “I put me wholly at your mercy, and all that is done amiss I will amend as ye will counsel me.”
And therewith she kneeled down upon both her knees before Sir Bors, and besought him to have mercy on her.
Anon came in King Arthur also, and prayed him of his courtesy to help her, saying, “I require you for the love of Lancelot.”
“My lord,” said he, “ye require the greatest thing of me that any man can ask, for if I do this battle for the queen I shall anger all my fellows of the Table Round;nevertheless, for my lord Sir Lancelot’s sake, and for yours, I will that day be the queen’s champion, unless there chance to come a better knight than I am to do battle for her.” And this he promised on his faith.
Then were the king and queen passing glad, and thanked him heartily, and so departed.
But Sir Bors rode in secret to the hermitage where Sir Lancelot was, and told him all these tidings.
“It has chanced as I would have it,” said Sir Lancelot; “yet make ye ready for the battle, but tarry till ye see me come.”
“Sir,” said Sir Bors, “doubt not but ye shall have your will.”
But many of the knights were greatly wroth with him when they heard he was to be the queen’s champion, for there were few in the court but deemed her guilty.
Then said Sir Bors, “Wit ye well, fair lords, it were a shame to us all to suffer so fair and noble a lady to be burnt for lack of a champion, for ever hath she proved herself a lover of good knights; wherefore I doubt not she is guiltless of this treason.”
At that were some well pleased, but others rested passing wroth.
And when the day was come, the king and queen and all the knights went to the meadow beside Westminster, where the battle should be fought. Then the queen was put in ward, and a great fire was made round the iron stake, where she must be burnt if Sir Mador won the day.
So when the heralds blew, Sir Mador rode forth, and took oath that Queen Guinevere was guilty of Sir Patrice’s death, and his oath he would prove with his body against any who would say the contrary. Then came forth SirBors, and said, “Queen Guinevere is in the right, and that will I prove with my hands.”
With that they both departed to their tents to make ready for the battle. But Sir Bors tarried long, hoping Sir Lancelot would come, till Sir Mador cried out to King Arthur, “Bid thy champion come forth, unless he dare not.” Then was Sir Bors ashamed, and took his horse and rode to the end of the lists.
But ere he could meet Sir Mador he was ware of a knight upon a white horse, armed at all points, and with a strange shield, who rode to him and said, “I pray you withdraw from this quarrel, for it is mine, and I have ridden far to fight in it.”
Thereat Sir Bors rode to King Arthur, and told him that another knight was come who would do battle for the queen.
“Who is he?” said King Arthur.
“I may not tell you,” said Sir Bors; “but he made a covenant with me to be here to-day, wherefore I am discharged.”
Then the king called that knight, and asked him if he would fight for the queen.
“Therefore came I hither, Sir king,” answered he; “but let us tarry no longer, for anon I have other matters to do. But wit ye well,” said he to the Knights of the Round Table, “it is shame to ye for such a courteous queen to suffer this dishonour.”
And all men marvelled who this knight might be, for none knew him save Sir Bors.
Then Sir Mador and the knight rode to either end of the lists, and couching their spears, ran one against the other with all their might; and Sir Mador’s spear broke short, but the strange knight bore both him and his horsedown to the ground. Then lightly they leaped from their saddles and drew their swords, and so came eagerly to the battle, and either gave the other many sad strokes and sore and deep wounds.
At last the strange knight smote him to the earth, and gave him such a buffet on the helm as well-nigh killed him.
Thus they fought nigh an hour, for Sir Mador was a full strong and valiant knight.But at last the strange knight smote him to the earth, and gave him such a buffet on the helm as wellnigh killed him.Then did Sir Mador yield, and prayed his life.
“I will but grant it thee,” said the strange knight, “if thou wilt release the queen from this quarrel for ever, and promise that no mention shall be made upon Sir Patrice’s tomb that ever she consented to that treason.”
“All this shall be done,” said Sir Mador.
Then the knights parters took up Sir Mador and led him to his tent, and the other knight went straight to the stair foot of King Arthur’s throne; and by that time was the queen come to the king again, and kissed him lovingly.
Then both the king and she stooped down, and thanked the knight, and prayed him to put off his helm and rest him, and to take a cup of wine. And when he put his helmet off to drink, all people saw it was Sir Lancelot. But when the queen beheld him she sank almost to the ground weeping for sorrow and for joy, that he had done her such great goodness when she had showed him such unkindness.
Then the knights of his blood gathered round him, and there was great joy and mirth in the court. And Sir Mador and Sir Lancelot were soon healed of their wounds; and not long after came the Lady of the Lake to the court, and told all there by her enchantments how Sir Pinell, and not the queen, was guilty of Sir Patrice’s death. Whereat the queen was held excused of all men, and Sir Pinell fled the country.
So Sir Patrice was buried in the church of Winchester, and it was written on his tomb that Sir Pinell slew him with a poisoned apple, in error for Sir Gawain. Then, through Sir Lancelot’s favour, the queen was reconciled to Sir Mador, and all was forgiven.
Now fifteen days before the Feast of the Assumption of our Lady, the king proclaimed a tourney to be held that feast-day at Camelot, whereat himself and the King of Scotland would joust with all who should come against them. So thither went the King of North Wales, and King Anguish of Ireland, and Sir Galahaut the noble prince, and many other nobles of divers countries.
And King Arthur made ready to go, and would have had the queen go with him, but she said that she was sick. Sir Lancelot, also, made excuses, saying he was not yet whole of his wounds.
At that the king was passing heavy and grieved, and so departed alone towards Camelot. And by the way he lodged in a town called Astolat, and lay that night in the castle.
As soon as he had gone, Sir Lancelot said to the queen, “This night I will rest, and to-morrow betimes will I take my way to Camelot; for at these jousts I will be against the king and his fellowship.”
“Ye may do as ye list,” said Queen Guinevere; “but by my counsel ye will not be against the king, for in his company are many hardy knights, as ye well know.”
“Madam,” said Sir Lancelot, “I pray ye be not displeased with me, for I will take the adventure that God may send me.”
And on the morrow he went to the church and heard mass, and took his leave of the queen, and so departed.
Then he rode long till he came to Astolat, and therelodged at the castle of an old baron called Sir Bernard of Astolat, which was near the castle where King Arthur lodged. And as Sir Lancelot entered the king espied him, and knew him. Then said he to the knights, “I have just seen a knight who will fight full well at the joust toward which we go.”
“Who is it?” asked they.
“As yet ye shall not know,” he answered smiling.
When Sir Lancelot was in his chamber unarming, the old baron came to him saluting him, though as yet he knew not who he was.
Now Sir Bernard had a daughter passing beautiful, called the Fair Maid of Astolat, and when she saw Sir Lancelot she loved him from that instant with her whole heart, and could not stay from gazing on him.
On the morrow, Sir Lancelot asked the old baron to lend him a strange shield. “For,” said he, “I would be unknown.”
“Sir,” said his host, “ye shall have your desire, for here is the shield of my eldest son, Sir Torre, who was hurt the day he was made knight, so that he cannot ride; and his shield, therefore, is not known. And, if it please you, my youngest son, Sir Lavaine, shall ride with you to the jousts, for he is of his age full strong and mighty; and I deem ye be a noble knight, wherefore I pray ye tell me your name.”
“As to that,” said Sir Lancelot, “ye must hold me excused at this time, but if I speed well at the jousts, I will come again and tell you; but in anywise let me have your son, Sir Lavaine, with me, and lend me his brother’s shield.”
Then, ere they departed, came Elaine, the baron’s daughter, and said to Sir Lancelot, “I pray thee, gentle knight, to wear my token at to-morrow’s tourney.”
“If I should grant you that, fair damsel,” said he, “ye might say that I did more for you than ever I have done for lady or damsel.”
Then he bethought him that if he granted her request he would be the more disguised, for never before had he worn any lady’s token. So anon he said, “Fair damsel, I will wear thy token on my helmet if thou wilt show it me.”
Thereat was she passing glad, and brought him a scarlet sleeve broidered with pearls, which Sir Lancelot took, and put upon his helm. Then he prayed her to keep his shield for him until he came again, and taking Sir Torre’s shield instead, rode forth with Sir Lavaine towards Camelot.
On the morrow the trumpets blew for the tourney, and there was a great press of dukes and earls and barons and many noble knights; and King Arthur sat in a gallery to behold who did the best. So the King of Scotland and his knights, and King Anguish of Ireland rode forth on King Arthur’s side; and against them came the King of North Wales, the King of a Hundred Knights, the King of Northumberland, and the noble prince Sir Galahaut.
But Sir Lancelot and Sir Lavaine rode into a little wood behind the party which was against King Arthur, to watch which side should prove the weakest.
Then was there a strong fight between the two parties, for the King of a Hundred Knights smote down the King of Scotland; and Sir Palomedes, who was on King Arthur’s side, overthrew Sir Galahaut. Then came fifteen Knights of the Round Table and beat back the Kings of Northumberland and North Wales with their knights.
“Now,” said Sir Lancelot to Sir Lavaine, “if ye willhelp me, ye shall see yonder fellowship go back as fast as they came.”
“Sir,” said Sir Lavaine, “I will do what I can.”
Then they rode together into the thickest of the press, and there, with one spear, Sir Lancelot smote down five Knights of the Round Table, one after other, and Sir Lavaine overthrew two. And taking another spear, for his own was broken, Sir Lancelot smote down four more knights, and Sir Lavaine a fifth. Then, drawing his sword, Sir Lancelot fought fiercely on the right hand and the left, and unhorsed Sir Safire, Sir Epinogris, and Sir Galleron. At that the Knights of the Round Table withdrew themselves as well as they were able.
“Now, mercy,” said Sir Gawain, who sat by King Arthur; “what knight is that who doth such marvellous deeds of arms? I should deem him by his force to be Sir Lancelot, but that he wears a lady’s token on his helm as never Lancelot doth.”
“Let him be,” said King Arthur; “he will be better known, and do more ere he depart.”
Thus the party against King Arthur prospered at this time, and his knights were sore ashamed. Then Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel called together the knights of their blood, nine in number, and agreed to join together in one band against the two strange knights. So they encountered Sir Lancelot all at once, and by main force smote his horse to the ground; and by misfortune Sir Bors struck Sir Lancelot through the shield into the side, and the spear broke off and left the head in the wound.
When Sir Lavaine saw that, he ran to the King of Scotland and struck him off his horse, and brought it to Sir Lancelot, and helped him to mount. Then SirLancelot bore Sir Bors and his horse to the ground, and in like manner served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel; and turning upon three other knights he smote them down also; while Sir Lavaine did many gallant deeds.
But feeling himself now sorely wounded Sir Lancelot drew his sword, and proffered to fight with Sir Bors, who, by this time, was mounted anew. And as they met, Sir Ector and Sir Lionel came also, and the swords of all three drave fiercely against him. When he felt their buffets, and his wound that was so grievous, he determined to do all his best while he could yet endure, and smote Sir Bors a blow that bent his head down nearly to the ground and razed his helmet off and pulled him from his horse.
Then rushing at Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, he smote them down, and might have slain all three, but when he saw their faces his heart forbade him. Leaving them, therefore, on the field, he hurled into the thickest of the press, and did such feats of arms as never were beheld before.
And Sir Lavaine was with him through it all, and overthrew ten knights; but Sir Lancelot smote down more than thirty, and most of them Knights of the Round Table.
Then the king ordered the trumpets to blow for the end of the tourney, and the prize to be given by the heralds to the knight with the white shield who bore the red sleeve.
But ere Sir Lancelot was found by the heralds, came the King of the Hundred Knights, the King of North Wales, the King of Northumberland, and Sir Galahaut, and said to him, “Fair knight, God bless thee, for much have ye done this day for us; wherefore we pray ye comewith us and receive the honour and the prize as ye have worshipfully deserved it.”
“My fair lords,” said Sir Lancelot, “wit ye well if I have deserved thanks, I have sore bought them, for I am like never to escape with my life; therefore I pray ye let me depart, for I am sore hurt. I take no thought of honour, for I had rather rest me than be lord of all the world.” And therewith he groaned piteously, and rode a great gallop away from them.
And Sir Lavaine rode after him, sad at heart, for the broken spear still stuck fast in Sir Lancelot’s side, and the blood streamed sorely from the wound. Anon they came near a wood more than a mile from the lists, where he knew he could be hidden.
Then said he to Sir Lavaine, “O gentle knight, help me to pull out this spear-head from my side, for the pain thereof nigh killeth me.”
“Dear lord,” said he, “I fain would help ye; but I dread to draw it forth, lest ye should die for loss of blood.”
“I charge you as you love me,” said Sir Lancelot, “draw it out.”
So they dismounted, and with a mighty wrench Sir Lavaine drew the spear forth from Sir Lancelot’s side; whereat he gave a marvellous great shriek and ghastly groan, and all his blood leaped forth in a full stream. Then he sank swooning to the earth, with a visage pale as death.
“Alas!” cried Sir Lavaine, “what shall I do now?”
And then he turned his master’s face towards the wind, and sat by him nigh half an hour while he lay quiet as one dead. But at the last he lifted up his eyes, and said, “I pray ye bear me on my horse again, and lead me to ahermit who dwelleth within two miles hence, for he was formerly a knight of Arthur’s court, and now hath mighty skill in medicine and herbs.”
So with great pain Sir Lavaine got him to his horse, and led him to the hermitage within the wood, beside a stream. Then knocked he with his spear upon the door, and prayed to enter. At that a child came out, to whom he said, “Fair child, pray the good man thy master to come hither and let in a knight who is sore wounded.”
Anon came out the knight-hermit, whose name was Sir Baldwin, and asked, “Who is this wounded knight?”
“I know not,” said Sir Lavaine, “save that he is the noblest knight I ever met with, and hath done this day such marvellous deeds of arms against King Arthur that he hath won the prize of the tourney.”
Then the hermit gazed long on Sir Lancelot, and hardly knew him, so pale he was with bleeding, yet said he at the last, “Who art thou, lord?”
Sir Lancelot answered feebly, “I am a stranger knight adventurous, who laboureth through many realms to win worship.”
“Why hidest thou thy name, dear lord, from me?” cried Sir Baldwin; “for in sooth I know thee now to be the noblest knight in all the world—my lord Sir Lancelot du Lake, with whom I long had fellowship at the Round Table.”
“Since ye know me, fair sir,” said he, “I pray ye, for Christ’s sake, to help me if ye may.”
“Doubt not,” replied he, “that ye shall live and fare right well.”
Then he staunched his wound, and gave him strong medicines and cordials till he was refreshed from his faintness and came to himself again.