Sir Blyant looketh upon the madman.
But Sir Blyant pitied the madman and he said: "Let be and harm him not, for I misdoubt this madman is not what he seemeth to be." And he said, "Help me to arise, for my head swimmeth." So the lady and the dwarf helped Sir Blyant to his feet and in a little while he was able to stand and to walk. And anon Sir Blyant went into the pavilion, and he went to where Sir Launcelot lay and he stood and looked down upon him. And he beheld that Sir Launcelot wore a rich ring upon his finger (and that was the ring of magic which the Lady of the Lake had given him) and he beheld that Sir Launcelot's body was covered with many scars of wounds such as a knight might receive in battle. So seeing these things, Sir Blyant said: "This is no common madman, but some great champion who has fallen into misfortune, for I behold that he weareth a ring such as only a knight of great credit might wear, and I behold that he beareth many honorable scars of battle."
And Sir Blyant said to the dwarf: "Take thou thy horse and ride with all speed to my castle. When thou art come there, bid my brother Sir Selivant to make haste hither with several men. And bid him to fetch a horse litter with him so that we may be able to bring this mad knight to where he may have succor and where he may haply be cured of his infirmities."
So the dwarf did as Sir Blyant commanded him; he took horse and rode with all speed to the castle of Sir Blyant, and there he gave Sir Blyant's word to Sir Selivant. And straightway Sir Selivant came to that place with those men and a horse litter for to bring Sir Launcelot away; and he reached that place within three hours after the messenger had been sent to him.
They bear the madman thence.
So Sir Selivant and Sir Blyant and those men lifted Sir Launcelot as he lay in his bed, and they laid him on the litter and Sir Launcelot did not awake. And they took him away from that place and still he did not awake; for all that while he lay in a deep slumber that was like to a swoon. Thus they brought him to the castle of Sir Blyant without his ever arousing from that swoonlike sleep.
After that they fetched the barber of the castle and the barber trimmed the hair and the beard of Sir Launcelot and they put fresh decent clothes upon him, and all that time Sir Launcelot did not awake but lay ever in that swoonlike sleep.
Now when they of that castle beheld Sir Launcelot as he lay after he had been thus clothed and clipped; and when they beheld how noble and comely was his appearance, they said, "Certes, this is indeed some noble and haughty champion of high estate, though who he may be we know not."
So they all took great pity for Sir Launcelot, but yet they feared his phrenzy when he should awake. So they sent for the smith of the castle, and the smith fastened light strong chains of steel to the wrists of Sir Launcelot and to his ankles; so that he might do no harm to any one.
The madman is made prisoner.
So when Sir Launcelot awoke he was a prisoner in chains in the castle of Sir Blyant. And Sir Launcelot remained dwelling in the castle of Sir Blyant for a year and a half, and ever he remained bound with those light strong chains of steel. For still his wits flitted and he wist not where he was or who he was, wherefore they feared he might at any moment break forth into a phrenzy.
But ever the folk of the castle treated Sir Launcelot with great kindness and gentleness. And especially Sir Blyant was kind to him, whereforeSir Launcelot loved Sir Blyant as some dumb creature loveth its master, and he would follow Sir Blyant about whithersoever he went.
Thus it was that Sir Launcelot went mad and thus he came to be chained in the castle of Sir Blyant.
And now remaineth other adventures to be told that befell at this time.
The Forest Madman saveth ye Life of King Arthur:
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How Sir Launcelot saved the life of Sir Blyant. How he escaped from the castle of Sir Blyant, and how he slew the great wild boar of Lystenesse and saved the life of King Arthur, his liege lord.
Sir Blyant rideth in the woodland.
Now it happened upon a day that Sir Blyant rode in a little wood nigh to his castle, and whilst he was thus alone he beheld two knights riding side by side all in the clear bright springtime. As these drew nigh to him Sir Blyant was aware from the devices upon their shields that one of them was Sir Breuce sans Pitie and that the other was Sir Bertolet his brother, which same, you are to know, were Sir Blyant's bitter enemies. For in the tournament at Astolat Sir Blyant had very grievously hurt a young knight who was their brother, and afterward that knight (whose name was Sir Gelotius) had died of those hurts.
Yet though Sir Blyant wist that this meeting boded ill for him yet would he not withdraw therefrom but went forward. So it came about that when he was pretty close to those two knights, the foremost of them (who was Sir Breuce sans Pitie) rode forth and bespoke him, saying, "Sir Knight, who are you and whither go you?" Sir Blyant said: "Messires, I am a knight of these marches, riding errant in search of adventure." Sir Breuce said, "Art thou not Sir Blyant of the White Castle?" Sir Blyant said, "Thou sayest it and I am he."
Then Sir Breuce sans Pitie spoke very savagely, saying: "Sir Knight, this is well that we meet you here who are the slayer of our brother Sir Gelotius at the tournament of Astolat." To this Sir Blyant said: "Messires, what do you have against me for that? Certes, it is that I overthrew Sir Gelotius and that he died thereafter, yet it was by chance of battle that this happened and with no evil intent of mine. Moreover, your brother, Sir Gelotius, took his chances of battle as did all those who entered that tournament."
"Say no more!" said Sir Breuce. "Say no more! but prepare you straight for battle with us who have every day sought you from that time till now, and so have found you here to our hand."
"Messires," cried Sir Blyant, "would you fall upon me thus, two against one?" They say, "Aye," and thereupon they drew sword and prepared themselves for battle.
Sir Blyant is assailed in the woodland.
Then Sir Blyant perceiving how it was, and that there was no other way for him to do than to fight this battle against odds, straightway drew his sword and put himself into posture of defence. Then in a moment they three came to battle together in the woods, two of them against the one.
Yet, for a while, although he stood one to two, Sir Blyant defended himself with great courage and address, striking now upon this side and now upon that, anon wheeling his horse away from a stroke, anon lashing a stroke at his enemies. And so great was the defence he made that it was a long time ere that those two knights had their will of him.
But one knight could not hope to fight thus a continued battle against two who were his equals, wherefore it befell that in a little while Sir Blyant was wounded here and there, and in another place; and then, in a little while longer it came about that, what with weariness and what from the loss of blood, he was aware that he must die in that battle alone in the woodlands unless he saved himself from his enemies.
Sir Blyant fleeth.
Therewith a great despair fell upon him and with that he put his horse straight at Sir Breuce as though to strike him a buffet. Then as Sir Breuce drew aside to avoid that stroke, Sir Blyant drave his horse very fiercely against Sir Breuce's horse, so that Sir Breuce's horse wellnigh fell to the ground with his rider upon his back. Therewith Sir Blyant thrust past his enemy and quickly fled away toward his castle with all the speed that he could drive his horse to make.
Now at first those two knights were astonished at the sudden escape of their enemy. But immediately they awoke to his going and so set spurs to horse upon their part and chased after Sir Blyant; and if he sped fast, they sped as fast after him. And ever and anon they lashed furiously at him, yet because of his speed they could do him no great harm.
So Sir Blyant raced for his castle and he rushed forward beneath the walls of the castle with those two knights thundering after him amain. And because they were so close upon him, Sir Blyant could not draw rein to turn his steed into the drawbridge of the castle, but must needs rush past the drawbridge, calling for aid to those who were within the walls.
The madman beholdeth Sir Blyant's danger.
Now at that time Sir Launcelot lay (chained as was aforetold) in a certain window of the castle where the sun shone down strong and warm upon him, and Sir Launcelot slumbered there in the sunlight. And as Sir Launcelot so slumbered he was aroused by the sound of galloping horses and a loud noise of shouting and the din of lashing of blows. So, looking forth from that window, he beheld the three knights as they came thundering past the walls of the castle. And Sir Launcelot beheld that the one knight who was pursued by the two knights was his master, Sir Blyant; and he beheld that Sir Blyant was much put to it to save his life; for he was all covered over with blood and, whilst anon he would wheel his horse and strike right and left, yet anon he would wheel again and flee for his life; and Sir Launcelot beheld that Sir Blyant reeled in his saddle under every blow that his enemies lashed at him. Meanwhile, in the castle was a great shouting and calling to arms, wherefore it came to Sir Launcelot to know that Sir Blyant was being slain.
The madman breaketh his bonds.
Then a great rage of battle awoke in Sir Launcelot's heart against those who pressed his beloved master, Sir Blyant, in that wise, wherefore he would have hastened to the aid of Sir Blyant, but could not because of the chains that bound him. Then, in his madness, and being driven furious at being thus bound, Sir Launcelot catched those strong steel chains in his hands and wrestled with them. And the chains bit deep into his flesh in his wrestlings so that he was sore wounded by the iron. But in spite of that Sir Launcelot put forth his entire strength, and even though the blood flowed from his arms and hands yet he snapped the chains that bound his arms. After that he catched up a great stone in his hands and he beat upon the chains that bound his legs and brake those also, and so he was free again.
Then Sir Launcelot leaped upon the window-ledge, and he leaped out of the window of the castle and into the moat below and he swam the moat and so came out upon the other side thereof.
Right there came Sir Blyant striving to defend himself against those who followed him, and at that time he was very nigh falling from his horse at every blow he received. This Sir Launcelot beheld and when he saw how those two knights ever smote Sir Blyant and how that Sir Blyant reeled in his saddle beneath those blows, he roared aloud in pity and in rage.
The madman doeth battle for Sir Blyant.
Therewith, thus roaring, he straightway rushed upon Sir Bertolet, who was nighest to him, and he leaped up and catched that knight about the body and dragged him down upon the pommel of his saddle with great force of strength, and Sir Launcelotcatched the sword of Sir Bertolet and he wrestled with Sir Bertolet and so plucked the sword out of Sir Bertolet's hand.
Then Sir Bertolet cried out to Sir Breuce: "Help! Help! my brother! For this madman slayeth me."
Therewith Sir Breuce turned from Sir Blyant for to succor his brother, and upon that Sir Launcelot quitted Sir Bertolet and rushed at Sir Breuce. And Sir Launcelot gave Sir Breuce such a buffet upon the helm with the sword of Sir Bertolet that he smote Sir Breuce with that one blow clean over the crupper of his horse.
Then Sir Bertolet took his spear in hand and therewith rushed his horse upon Sir Launcelot with intent to pierce him through the body. But from that assault Sir Launcelot leaped nimbly aside. Thereupon he rushed in and catched the spear of Sir Bertolet in his hand; and he ran up the length of the spear, and reached forward, and smote Sir Bertolet such a blow that he cut through the epaulier of the shoulder and deep into the shoulder to the very bone thereof, so that the arm of Sir Bertolet was half cut away from the body at that blow. Then Sir Launcelot would have struck again only that Sir Bertolet let go his spear from his hand, shrieking aloud, and wheeled his horse to escape.
Now by that time Sir Breuce sans Pitie had got him to horse again wherefore, beholding that terrible blow and beholding how his brother Sir Bertolet fled away from that madman, he also drove spurs to flank and fled away with might and main.
So it was that Sir Launcelot, unarmed, save for the sword in his naked hand, defeated two strong and doughty knights and so saved his master's life.
Sir Blyant cherisheth the madman.
But by now the castle folk had come running to where were Sir Blyant and him whom they called the mad fool of the castle, and they beheld them both panting and bleeding. And Sir Blyant looked upon Sir Launcelot and beheld how his arms and hands were torn and bleeding from breaking those chains, and he said, "Poor fool! and hast thou suffered all that for my sake?" And at that Sir Launcelot laughed and nodded. Then Sir Blyant said to the folk of the castle: "Never let those chains be put upon his body again, for he is gentle and kind, and meaneth harm to no one."
So they did not chain Sir Launcelot again, but suffered him to go free, and after that he wandered whithersoever he willed to go, and no one stayed him in his going or his coming. And ever he was kind and gentle to all so that no one in all that place had any fear of him but all were pleased and merry with him.
Yet ever there lay within the heart of Sir Launcelot some remembrance that told him that he was too worthy to content himself with being a mad fool in a lord's castle, wherefore it was always in his will to escape from the castle of Sir Blyant if he was able to do so.
The madman escapeth from the castle of Sir Blyant.
So now, being unchained, it happened one night when none observed him, that he dropped privily from the wall of the castle into the moat thereof, and swam the moat to the other side. And after he had thus escaped into the night he ran on without stopping until he had reached the forest, and there he roamed once more altogether wild as he had been aforetime. For the remnant of his knighthood said to him that it would be better for him to die alone there in the woodlands than to dwell in shame in a lord's castle.
Now at that time there was a great wild boar in those parts that was the terror of all men, and this boar was called the boar of Lystenesse—taking its name from that part of the forest which was called the Forest of Lystenesse.
King Arthur hunts the boar of Lystenesse.
So word of this great wild boar, and news of its ravages came to the ears of King Arthur, whereupon the King ordained that a day should be set apart for a hunt in which the beast should be slain and the countryside set free from the ravages thereof.
The madman chases the boar.
Thus it befell that upon a time Sir Launcelot, where he lived in his madness alone in the forest, was aware of the baying of hounds and the shouting of voices sounding ever nearer and nearer to where he was. Anon the baying of the hounds approached him very near indeed, and presently there came a great cracking and rending of the bushes and the small trees. Thereupon as he gazed, there burst out of the forest that great savage wild boar of Lystenesse. And lo! the jowl of that boar was all white with the foam that was churned by his tusks, and the huge tusks of the boar gleamed white in the midst of the foam. And the bristles of that great beast were like sharp wires of steel, and they too were all flecked with the foam that had fallen from the jowl of the beast. And the eyes of the wild boar gleamed like to two coals of fire, and it roared like to a devil as it fled, rending, through the forest. And ever the hounds pursued the boar, hanging upon its flanks but not daring to grapple with it in its flight, because of the terror that surrounded it.
Then when Sir Launcelot beheld that sight the love of the chase flamed up within his heart and thereupon he shouted aloud and fell to running beside the dogs after the boar, tearing his way through the briars and thorns and thickets, even as the boar and the hounds burst through them.And so Sir Launcelot and the dogs chased the boar for a great while, until at last the beast came to bay, with his back set against a great crag of stone, and there the dogs surrounded it, yelling and baying. And ever Sir Launcelot shouted them on to the assault, yet not one of the hounds dared to grapple with the wild beast because of the terror of its appearance.
So as Sir Launcelot and the dogs joined in assault about the boar, there came the sound of a horseman riding with speed and winding his horn. Then in a moment there came King Arthur himself, bursting out of the forest alone; for he had outridden all his court and was the first of all upon the field.
Then King Arthur, beholding the boar where he stood at bay, set his lance in rest with intent to charge the beast and to pierce him through the body. But the boar, all fierce and mad with the chase it had suffered, did not wait that charge of the King but himself charged the horseman. And at that charge King Arthur's horse was affrighted, with the terror of the beast and flung suddenly aside so that the lance of King Arthur failed of its aim.
The boar overthroweth King Arthur.
Therewith the boar ran up under the point of the lance and he catched the horse of the King with his tusks and ripped the horse so that both horse and rider fell to the ground; King Arthur beneath the wounded animal, so that he could not free his leg to rise from his fall.
Then it would have been ill indeed with King Arthur but for that forest madman. For beholding the fall of the King, Sir Launcelot ran straightway to him. And he seized the sword of the King and plucked it forth from its sheath. Therewith he leaped at the boar and lashed at it a mighty buffet, and as he did so his foot slipped in the blood of the horse which there lay upon the ground, and he fell flat with the force of that blow which he purposed should destroy the boar.
Thereupon the boar, finding himself thus attacked by another, turned upon that other and ere Sir Launcelot could arise from his fall it was upon him. And the boar ripped Sir Launcelot with its tusks through the flesh of the thigh, even to the hip bone.
The madman slayeth the boar.
Now, when Sir Launcelot felt the pang of that dreadful wound which the boar gave him he yelled aloud. At the same time his soul was filled with a great passion of rage and madness so that, ere the boar could charge him again, he leaped to his feet and rushed upon the boar. And Sir Launcelot smote the boar such a terrible dreadful stroke that he cut through the bristles of the neck and through the spine of the neck and half-way through the neck itself, so that the head of the boar was wellnigh cut away from its body.
Therewith the boar fell down dead and Sir Launcelot staggered and stood leaning upon the sword, groaning amain with the bitter pangs of pain that racked him.
Right so, as Sir Launcelot stood thus, the other huntsmen of the King's party came bursting out of the forest with the sound of horses and of shouting voices.
Then when Sir Launcelot beheld them he thought, because of his madness and the raging of his torments, that these were they who had hurt him. So therewith he roared like to a wild beast and he ran at those newcomers, whirling the sword of King Arthur like lightning around his head.
Then several of those set their lances in rest with intent to run the madman through the body ere he could do a harm to any one, but King Arthur cried out: "Beware what you do! Do him no harm, for he hath saved my life." So those who would else have charged Sir Launcelot held their hands and drew away in retreat before him.
But already Sir Launcelot's strength was failing him, for his brains were even then swimming with faintness. So in a little he sank down in a swoon and lay all of a heap upon the ground.
Then the King, and the others who were there came to where he lay bleeding and swooning, and all looked down upon him, and because he was all naked and unkempt they knew him not. But nevertheless, they beheld that he was of great girth and that he was covered over with a great many scars of battle, and they all felt deep pity for him as he lay there. Then King Arthur said: "This is the framework of a mighty champion. Pity indeed that he should have come to this as we behold him." And he said: "Lift him up tenderly and bear him hence to where he may have comfort and nourishment."
So they lifted Sir Launcelot with great gentleness, and they bare him away from that place, and they brought him to the hut of that hermit where he had been healed aforetime when he had received that grievous wound in the tournament at Astolat.
So the hermit received Sir Launcelot and wist not who he was. For though he beheld that here was a man of mighty girth and stature, yet was the great champion so changed by his madness and by his continued fasting in the forest that even his nearest friends might not know him. Nevertheless, though the hermit knew him not, yet he had them lay that forest madman upon a cot in his cell, and he searched that wound in the madman's thigh and bathed it with tepid water, and anointed it with balmand bound it up with bands of smooth white linen, so that that wound was in all ways well searched and dressed.
The madman lyeth in the hermit's cell.
And the hermit looked upon Sir Launcelot and beheld that he was all gaunt and hollow with hunger and he said: "If this poor mad creature is not fed, he will die in a little while." So when Sir Launcelot had revived him from that swoon, the good old man fetched milk and white bread and offered them to the sick man. But he would not touch that food. For, though he was dying of hunger, yet he loathed that food because of his madness.
So Sir Launcelot lay there wounded and famishing and the hermit wist not what to do to make him eat. And he lay in that wise for three days and ever the hermit watched him and tried to make him partake of food, and ever the madman would fling away from the food that was offered him.
The madman escapeth from the cell of the hermit.
Now upon the fourth day, the hermit being at his orisons in the chapel, Sir Launcelot made assay to rise, and in spite of his weakness, he did arise. And having thus arisen, he found strength in some wise for to crawl out of the hut of the hermit, and the hermit at his prayers wist not that the wounded man was gone. And after that Sir Launcelot crept away into the forest and so hid himself, very cunningly, like to a wild creature, so that, though the hermit searched for him ever so closely, yet he was not able to find him. And the hermit said: "Alas for this! For certes this poor madman will die of his wound and of starvation all alone here in the forest, and no one can bring him succor."
So it was that Sir Launcelot escaped from the cell of the hermit a second time. And now it remaineth to be told how he returned to Corbin and to the Lady Elaine the Fair, and how the Lady Elaine cherished him and brought him back to health and strength and comeliness again. So I pray you to read that which followeth if you would fain learn concerning those things.
The Lady Elaine the Fair knoweth Sir Launcelot:
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How Sir Launcelot returned to Corbin again and how the Lady Elaine the Fair cherished him and brought him back to health. Also how Sir Launcelot with the Lady Elaine withdrew to Joyous Isle.
So Sir Launcelot escaped from the cell of the hermit as aforetold. And he lay hidden in the thickets all that day till the night had come. And when the night had come he arose and turned his face toward the eastward and thitherward he made his way.
How Sir Launcelot returneth to Corbin.
For death was very close to Sir Launcelot and there was but one thought in his mind and that thought was to return to Corbin. For even through his clouds of madness, Sir Launcelot wist that there at Corbin a great love awaited him and that if he might reach that place he might there have rest and peace; wherefore in this time of weakness and of pain, he willed to return to that place once more.
So Sir Launcelot made his way toward Corbin, and he travelled thitherward several days and God alone knows how he did so. And one morning at the breaking of the day he came to the town of Corbin, and he entered the town by a postern gate he knew of old. And after he had entered the town he made his way slowly and with great pain up through the streets of the town and the town was still asleep. So he came unseen to the market-place of Corbin where he had aforetime slain the Worm of Corbin as aforetold, and there sat him down upon that slab of stone beneath which the Worm had made its habitation. And why he came there who shall say except that maybe there lay very dimly within his mind some remembrance that here he had one time had great honor and glory of knighthood.
The people behold the madman.
So there he sat, and when the people of the town awoke they beheld sitting there in the midst of that market-place one all naked and famished who gazed about him with wild and terrified looks like to a starving wolf who had come out of the forest driven by hunger.
And many gathered and stared at Sir Launcelot from a distance, and these laughed and jeered at him as he sat there in his nakedness, and not one of those wist that this was he who had aforetime slain the Worm of Corbin and so saved them in a time of their direst need. So they laughed and mocked him and anon some of those who were there began to cast stones at him with intent to drive him away from that place. So, at last, one of those stones struck Sir Launcelot where he sat, and at that his rage flamed up and took possession of him, whereupon he leaped up and ran at those who were tormenting him. And he catched a young man of the town and heaved him up and cast him down so violently upon the earth that he broke the bone of his thigh.
The people assail the madman.
Upon that all those who were there shouted and screamed and fled away. And anon they returned and began stoning Sir Launcelot where he stood glaring and gnashing his teeth with the man whom he had hurt lying upon the ground at his feet. And many stones struck Sir Launcelot, some wounding him upon the head and some upon the body. And now and then Sir Launcelot would charge the mob in his rage, and the mob would scatter before him like chaff before a gust of wind; but ever they would return and begin stoning him again.
So stoning Sir Launcelot and so Sir Launcelot charging the mob, the people drove him out of the market-place. And they drave him through the town and Sir Launcelot retreated before them toward the castle; for he wist even in his madness that there were friends there who should help him. So he ever retreated until he had come to a postern gate of the castle, and there he took stand with his back set against a wall. So at that place he maintained his stand, facing the mob and glaring upon them, until at last a stone smote him upon the head and he fell to the earth.
They of the castle save Sir Launcelot.
Then it would have fared very hard with Sir Launcelot, even to his death, had not they within the castle, hearing the uproar of the multitude, flung open the postern gate of a sudden and so come charging out upon the mob. Thereupon the multitude, being thus charged by the armed folk of the castle, scattered upon all sides and ran away, leaving Sir Launcelot lying where he was.
Then they of the castle came and gazed upon Sir Launcelot where he lay, and they beheld what a great and noble frame of man it was that lay there, and thereupon they took great pity that such a man should be in that condition. So the captain of the guard said: "Alas, that such a man as this has been should come to such a pass. Now let us lift him up and bear him away into the castle where he may have care and nourishment."
So they did as that captain said, and they brought Sir Launcelot into the castle of Corbin and to safety.
The Lady Elaine knoweth Sir Launcelot.
Now it chanced that the Lady Elaine the Fair happened to be at her window, and looking down therefrom and into the courtyard she beheld where several men at arms bore a wounded man into the castle from that postern gate. As they passed beneath where she was, the Lady Elaine looked down upon the countenance of the wounded man. Then she beheld his face with the sun shining bright upon it, and at that a thought struck through her like to the stroke of a keen, sharp knife, whereat the Lady Elaine clasped her hands and cried out aloud: "My soul! My soul! What is this? Can it be he?"
Now there was in attendance upon the Lady Elaine at that time a certain very old and sedate lady of the court who had been her nurse and caretaker ever since her mother had died, leaving her a little helpless babe cast adrift upon the world. And the name of that lady was Dame Brysen. So Elaine ran to where Dame Brysen was and she cast herself upon her knees before Dame Brysen and buried her face in Dame Brysen's lap even as though it were her mother who sat there. And she cried out from where she lay with her face in that lady's lap, "Alas! Alas! Alas! Methinks I have beheld a most terrible sight!" Dame Brysen, speaking as in affright, said, "What hast thou seen, my child?" The Lady Elaine said: "Methinks I have beheld Sir Launcelot all starved with famine, and bruised and bleeding, and lying so nigh to death that I know not whether he is dead or not."
Dame Brysen said: "What is this thou sayst, my child? Where sawst thou such a sight as that? Hast thou been dreaming?" The Lady Elaine said: "Nay, I have not been dreaming, for, certes, as I stood at the window a little while ago I saw Sir Launcelot, and several men bore him into the castle courtyard through the postern gate, and he was all naked and starved and wounded and bruised."
The Dame Brysen said: "Nay, child, calm thyself; what ails thee to think so strange a thing as that? That man whom thou didst see was not Sir Launcelot, but was a poor madman whom the townsfolk were stoning at the postern gate."
But the Lady Elaine cried out all the more vehemently: "I fear! I fear! Certes that was Sir Launcelot! Now take me to him so that I may be assured whether it was he or not, for otherwise meseems I shall go mad!"
Then Dame Brysen perceived how it was with the Lady Elaine and that she was like one gone distracted, and she wist that there was naughtto do but to let her have her will of this matter. Wherefore she said, "It shall be as thou wilt have it."
The Lady Elaine cometh to Sir Launcelot.
So Dame Brysen arose and she took the Lady Elaine by the hand and she led her to that place where the madman lay, and they beheld that he lay in a little cell of stone, very gloomy and dark. For the only light that came into that place was through a small window, barred with iron, and the window was not more than two hands' breadth in width. Yet by the dim light of this small window they beheld the wounded man where he lay upon a hard pallet of straw. And they beheld that he was in a sleep as though it were a swoon of death and they beheld that his face was like death for whiteness.
Then in that gloomy light the Lady Elaine came and kneeled down beside the couch whereon he lay and looked down into Sir Launcelot's face and she studied his face as though it were a book written very fine and small; and ever her breath came more and more quickly as it would suffocate her, for she felt assured that this was indeed Sir Launcelot. And anon she took Sir Launcelot's hand, all thin with famine and as cold as ice, and she looked at it and she beheld a ring upon the finger and the ring was set with a clear blue stone, and thereupon the Lady Elaine knew that this was the ring which the Lady of the Lake had given Sir Launcelot aforetime.
The Lady Elaine weepeth.
Thereupon she knew that this was indeed Sir Launcelot and she cried out in a very loud and piercing voice, "It is he! It is he!" and so crying she fell to weeping with great passion. And she kissed Sir Launcelot's hand and pressed it to her throat and kissed it again and yet again.
Then Dame Brysen leaned over the Lady Elaine and catched her beneath the arm and said: "Lady, Lady! restrain your passion! remember yourself, and that people are here who will see you." Therewith Dame Brysen lifted the Lady Elaine up from where she kneeled, and she brought her out of that gloomy place, still weeping with a great passion of love and pity. But yet the Lady Elaine had so much thought for herself that she drew her veil across her face so that none might behold her passion, and she said to Dame Brysen, "Take me to my father," and so, Dame Brysen, embracing her with one arm, led her to where King Pelles was.
The Lady Elaine telleth her father of Sir Launcelot.
Then, when the Lady Elaine beheld her father standing before her, she flung herself upon her knees and embraced him about the thighs, crying: "Father! Father! I have seen him and he is in this castle!" At this passion of sorrow King Pelles was much amazed and he said, "Whom hast thou seen, my daughter?" She said: "I have seen Sir Launcelot, and it was he whom theyfetched into the castle but now to save him from the townsfolk who were stoning him to death at the postern gate." Then King Pelles was amazed beyond measure and he said: "Can such a thing be true? How knowest thou it was he?" She said: "I know him by many signs, for I knew him by my love for him and I knew him by his face, and I knew him by the ring set with a blue stone which he weareth upon his finger."
Then King Pelles lifted up the Lady Elaine where she kneeled at his feet and he said: "Daughter, stay thy weeping and I will go and examine into this."
So he did as he said and he went to the cell and he looked long upon Sir Launcelot as he lay there. And he looked at the ring which the wounded man wore upon his finger. So after a while King Pelles knew that that was indeed Sir Launcelot who lay there, albeit he would not have known him, had not the Lady Elaine first declared that it was he.
So immediately King Pelles bade those who were in attendance to lift Sir Launcelot up and to bear him very tenderly away from that place and to bring him to a fair large room. So they did as King Pelles commanded and they laid Sir Launcelot upon a couch of down spread with a coverlet of wadded satin. And King Pelles sent for a skilful leech to come and to search Sir Launcelot's hurts and he bade the physician for to take all heed to save his life. And all that while Sir Launcelot lay in that deep swoon like to death and awoke not.
And Sir Launcelot slept in that wise for three full days and when he awoke the Lady Elaine and her father and Dame Brysen and the leech alone were present. And lo! when Sir Launcelot awoke his brain was clear of madness and he was himself again, though weak, like to a little child who hath been ill abed.
How Sir Launcelot awoke from his madness.
That time the Lady Elaine was kneeling beside Sir Launcelot's couch and hers was the face he first beheld. Then Sir Launcelot said, speaking very faint and weak, "Where am I?" and the Lady Elaine wept and said, "Lord, you are safe with those who hold you very dear." Sir Launcelot said, "What has befallen me?" She said: "Lord, thou hast been bedazed in thy mind and hast been sorely hurt with grievous wounds, wherefore thou hast been upon the very edge of death. But now thou art safe with those who love thee."
He said, "Have I then been mad?" And to that they who were there said naught. Then Sir Launcelot said again, "Have I been mad?" and thereupon King Pelles said, "Yea, Messire."
Then Sir Launcelot groaned as from his soul, and he covered his facewith one hand (for the Lady Elaine held the other hand in hers) and he said, "What shame! What shame!" And therewith he groaned again.
How Sir Launcelot was cherished.
Then, ever weeping, the Lady Elaine said, "No shame, Lord, but only very great pity!" and she kissed his hand and washed it with her tears. And Sir Launcelot wept also because of his great weakness, and by and by he said, "Elaine, meseems I have no hope or honor save in thee," and she said, "Take peace, Sir, for in my heart there is indeed both honor for you and hope for your great happiness." And so Sir Launcelot did take peace.
Then after a while Sir Launcelot said, "Who here knoweth of my madness?" and King Pelles said, "Only a very few in this castle, Messire."
Then Sir Launcelot said: "I pray you that this be all as secret as possible, and that no word concerning me goes beyond these walls." And King Pelles said, "It shall be as you would have it, Messire."
So it was that the news of Sir Launcelot's madness and of his recovery was not carried beyond those walls.
Sir Launcelot and Elaine commune together.
Now after a fortnight had passed, Sir Launcelot was fast becoming cured in body and mind. And one day he and the Lady Elaine were alone in that room where he lay and he said, "Lady, meseems you have had great cause to hate me." At this she looked upon him and smiled, and she said, "How could I hate thee, Launcelot?" Sir Launcelot said, "Elaine, I have done thee great and grievous wrong in times gone by." She said, "Say naught of that." "Yea," he said, "I must say much of that, for I have this to say of it, that I would that I could undo that wrong which I did thee by my neglect. But what have I aught to offer thee in compensation? Naught but mine own broken and beggared life. Yet that poor life and all that it holds dearest I would fain offer thee if only it might be a compensation to thee."
Then the Lady Elaine looked very long and intently at Sir Launcelot and she said: "Sir Launcelot, thy lips speak of duty, but that which boots is that thy heart should speak of duty. For if so be that thou hast ever done me wrong, thou canst not hope to remove that wrong by the words of thy mouth. But if from thy heart thou sayst, 'I have wronged this one and I would fain make amends,' then indeed may that wrong be very quickly amended."
Then Sir Launcelot smiled and he said: "And so I have looked well into my heart ere I spake to thee, and so it is my heart that speaks and not my lips. For in my heart meseems I find great love for thee and certes I find all honor and reverence for thee lying therein, and movingme to everything that I now hope to do or to perform. Now tell me, Lady, what can any heart hold more than that?" And Elaine said, "Meseems it can hold no more."
Then Sir Launcelot took her by the hand and drew her to him and she went to him, and he kissed her upon the lips and she forbade him not. So they two were reconciled in peace and happiness.
Sir Launcelot and the Lady Elaine are wedded.
So when Sir Launcelot was altogether healed of his sickness, they two were married. And after they were married, King Pelles gave to them a very noble castle for to be their dwelling-place and that castle was called the Castle of Blayne.
That castle stood upon a very beautiful island in the midst of a lake of pure water as clear as crystal. And the island was covered over with many plantations and orchards of beautiful trees of various foliages. And there were gardens and meadows upon that island and there was a town about the castle so fair that when one stood upon the margin of that lake and gazed across the lake to the town and the castle he beheld such a place as one may see in a shining dream.
So Sir Launcelot, because of the great peace of that island and because of the peace which he hoped to find there, called it the Joyous Isle, and so it was known of all men from that time forth.
So endeth this part of the history of Sir Launcelot with only this to say. That he dwelt there in Joyous Isle in seeming peace and contentment.
How Sir Launcelot dwelt in Joyous Isle.
Yet was it indeed peace and contentment that he felt? Alas, that it should be so, but so it was that ever and anon he would remember him of other days of doughty deeds of glory and renown, and ever and anon he would bethink him of that beautiful queen to whom he had one time uplifted his eyes, and of whom he had now no right to think of in that wise. Then his soul would up in arms and would cry out aloud: "Let us go hence and seek that glory and that other's love once more! Are not all thy comrades waiting for thee to return, and doth not she also look for thee?" Then Sir Launcelot would ever say to his soul, "Down, proud spirit, and think not of these things, but of duty." But ever and anon that spirit would arise again within him and would struggle with the bonds of honor that held it in check. And ever Sir Launcelot would say, "That which remaineth for me is my duty and my peace of soul."
For indeed it is so that the will of a man is but a poor weak defence against the thoughts that arise within a stubborn heart. For, though aman may will to do that which is right, yet may his thoughts ever turn to that which is wrong; and though he may refrain from doing wrong, yet it is in spite of his desirings that he thus refraineth. Yea; there is no help for a man to contain himself within the bounds of duty, save only that he hath the love of God within his heart. For only when his feet are planted upon that rock may he hope to withstand the powerful thoughts that urge him to do that which is wrong.
So it was with Sir Launcelot at that time; for though he ever willed to do that which was right, yet his desires ever called to him to depart from the paths of honor and truth in which he walked, and so he was oftentimes much troubled in his spirit.