The Queen withdraweth the Lady Elaine from Sir Launcelot.
Now the next day after that day, the Lady Guinevere sent for the Lady Elaine to come to her, and when she was come the Queen said to her: "Lady, I have it in mind to do thee a singular honor that I would bestow upon thee, and this is that thou shouldst be in personal attendance upon me. To this end I have purveyed thee a room next to mine own chamber in mine own part of this castle, and there thou and thy attendants may lodge so that ye shall ever be near to my person. And ever thou shalt be in close attendance upon me and never shalt thou be parted from me for all the time that thou remainest at this place."
Thus spake the Lady Guinevere, for so, under the mask of friendliness and pretence of doing honor to the Lady Elaine, she purposed to separate Sir Launcelot from his lady and after that to keep them separate from one another. This she did, though why she should do it she could not rightly tell even to her own heart.
So it was that Sir Launcelot returned to the court of the King; so it was that they were received at Camelot, and so it was that the Lady Elaine the Fair was separated from Sir Launcelot as I have recounted above.
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Now at this time the Lady Elaine was in very tender health, wherefore, after a day or two or three, she began to repine at being thus separated from Sir Launcelot as aforesaid; wherefore it befell that she grew lonely in that strange place and wept a great deal and ate little and slept little.
Now there was at this time with the Lady Elaine that Lady hight Dame Brysen before spoken of—she who went with the Lady Elaine to Sir Launcelot when he lay so nigh to death in the castle of Corbin. This lady saw how it was with the Lady Elaine and how that she pined in that wise for Sir Launcelot, and she wist that the Lady Elaine was like to fall sick unless she had sight of her lord. So Dame Brysen went to Sir Launcelot one day and she said to him: "Sir, if you find not some opportunity to see your lady, she will fall ill and maybe wane away to death because of her longing for you." Sir Launcelot said: "How may I see her?" Dame Brysen said: "Come to me this night in a certain passage of the castle during the mid-watch of the night and I will bring you to her. So you may cherish and comfort her for that while and so she will take good cheer once more."
How Sir Launcelot visiteth the Lady Elaine.
So that night Sir Launcelot came to the place where Dame Brysen had appointed and Dame Brysen took him to where was the Lady Elaine. And when the Lady Elaine beheld Sir Launcelot she could scarce control the transports of her joy in having him with her once more, for she catched him in her arms and held to him like as one sinking in deep waters holds to another who comes to save him. And ever she cried in her transport, "Thou art here! Thou art here!" And ever Sir Launcelot soothed her and spake words of comfort to her. So at last she took good cheer and smiled and laughed as she was wont to do aforetime.
So Sir Launcelot remained with the Lady Elaine for a long while, and Dame Brysen was with them for all that while, and the damsels of the court of the Lady Elaine were with them, for Sir Launcelot did notquit that place until the early watches of the morning were come, what time the Lady Elaine had fallen asleep like to a child who slumbers.
Then ere it was come the dawning of the day, Sir Launcelot took his departure and Dame Brysen conducted him thence as she had brought him thither.
The Queen is angered.
Now there was a fair young damsel of the court of the Queen who acted as a spy upon Sir Launcelot. So when the next morning had come this damsel went to the Queen and told her how Dame Brysen had brought Sir Launcelot to the apartments of the Lady Elaine the night before, and when the Queen heard that news she was wroth as though she were gone wode, yet what she did and what she said and how she behaved hath never been told, for no one beheld her in the madness of her wrath but that damsel who was the spy and one other. Only it is known that after a while the Queen cried out in a voice very harsh and loud: "Where is that false traitor knight, Sir Launcelot! Bring him hither!" And then she said: "Let no one else come in to me but him, and when he comes let us be alone together!"
Sir Launcelot standeth before the Queen.
So anon came Sir Launcelot conducted to that place where the Queen was, and then all those who were there withdrew, and no one was left in that apartment but Sir Launcelot and the Queen herself. So Sir Launcelot stood before the Queen and he said, "Here am I."
Then the Lady Guinevere looked for a long time upon Sir Launcelot, and her eyes were very wide as she stared upon him and her face was white like to wax. Anon she said, speaking in a voice that was very harsh but not loud: "Is it true that thou camest to this part of the castle last night?" and Sir Launcelot said, "Yea, lady." Then the Queen ground her white teeth together, and she said, still speaking in that same voice that was not loud: "Traitor! Traitor! how didst thou dare to come hither without my permission?"
Then Sir Launcelot looked very long into the Queen's face, and at last he said, "I am betrayed, it seems." "Yea," said the Queen, "thou art betrayed indeed, but it is thou who hast betrayed thyself."
Sir Launcelot said: "In what way have I betrayed myself, and in what way am I a traitor to thee or to anyone? Is not my duty first of all toward that lady to whom I have sworn my duty? What treason did I then do in cherishing her who is sick and weak and sad and helpless in this place where thou keepest her prisoner?"
So said Sir Launcelot and after that those two, to wit, the Queen and the knight champion, stared very fiercely at one another for a while.Then by and by the Queen's eyes fell before his eyes, and anon she fell to trembling. Then, of a sudden, she cried out in a very bitter voice: "Ah, Launcelot, Launcelot! May God have pity upon me for I am most unhappy!" Therewith she lifted her handkerchief to her eyes and so covered her face with it. And that while her face was altogether hidden excepting her lips which were all writhed and twisted with her passion. And yet she wept not, but ever her bosom rose and fell very violently as with a convulsion.
Sir Launcelot pitieth the Queen.
Then Sir Launcelot wist not what to do, albeit his heart was rent with love and pity. Then by and by he came close to her and he said: "Lady, lady! What is this you do! May God have pity on us both, for you tear my heart strings with your grief." Therewith, they two being alone, he sank down upon his knees before her, and he took her hands into his and strove to draw them away from her face. And for a while she would not let him withdraw her hands and then after a while she did let him, and so he held them imprisoned very tight in his own. Yet ever she kept her face turned away from him so that he could see but little of it. So with her face turned away she said after a while, "Launcelot! Launcelot! Art thou not sorry for me?" He said: "Yea, lady, I am sorry for thee and I am sorry for myself, and for which of the two I am more sorry I cannot tell. For God knoweth I would abide by my duty and my faith, and mefeareth thou wouldst have me do otherwise." Then the Queen said: "Launcelot, what is duty and what is faith when we measure these things with the measurement of happiness and unhappiness?" And Sir Launcelot said, "Lady, for God's sake, forbear."
The Lady Elaine appeareth at that place.
Now as Sir Launcelot said those words he became of a sudden aware that some one was in that room. So he looked up and behold! not far away from them there stood the Lady Elaine, and she was regarding them both and her face was as white as death, for she had entered that place without their knowing and she had heard much of that which had passed.
Then Sir Launcelot was aware that she had overheard his words to the Queen and with that he was overwhelmed with confusion and with pity. So he arose from his knees, though not quickly, and stood there before the Lady Elaine with folded arms and with his gaze downcast upon the floor. Then the Queen also looked up and likewise beheld the Lady Elaine where she stood, and therewith her face flamed all red like to fire.
Then the Queen arose very haughtily and she said: "Lady, this is well met, for I was about to send for you. Now tell me, was it by your willthat this knight came last night to this part of the castle?" and the Lady Elaine said: "Yea, lady, it was by my will he came, for I was sad, and no one but he could comfort me."
Then the Queen's eyes sparkled with anger and she said: "Then you have broken an ordinance of the King's court, for well you know that such a thing as that is not permitted. For this I might punish you even unto death an I chose to do so. Yet I will not so punish you, but will have mercy upon you and will spare you. Nevertheless I command you that you quit this place with all expedition that is possible."
The Lady Elaine chideth the Queen.
So spake the angry Queen. But ever the Lady Elaine looked very proudly upon her. And when the Queen had ended that speech she said: "Lady, it shall be as you ordain, and to-morrow I shall be glad to depart from this place, for it is a place of great unhappiness to me. But tell me this, lady, ere I go: What would you say of one who took from another who harmed her not, all the happiness and joy that that other had in her life? And what would you say if that one who would so rob the other had for herself a lord who was the most noble and the most worthy knight of any in all of the world?"
At this speech the eyes of the Queen shone very wild like to the eyes of a hawk. And first she strove to speak and could not, and then she did speak, yet it was as though the words strangled her. And she said, "Go! Leave me! You know not what you say!" and other than that she could not say, but only strove to speak without any sound issuing out from her throat.
Then the Lady Elaine turned with great dignity and went away leaving those two alone together, and she neither turned her head nor paused at any time in her going.
Then the Queen, turning to Sir Launcelot, said: "Messire, I lay this command upon you, that though your lady shall depart, yet that you shall remain here at this court until such time as I give you leave to depart hence." Then she also turned and went away, and for a while Sir Launcelot remained, standing alone like to a statue of stone.
The Lady Elaine quitteth the court.
So the next day the Lady Elaine quitted the court of the King but Sir Launcelot remained. And he said not to any one that the Queen had commanded him to stay, for he would not betray her, so it was that all who were of the King's court thought that he stayed of his own will.
But ere the court of the Lady Elaine departed from that place Sir Lavaine, the brother of the Lady Elaine, came to Sir Launcelot and no one was present but they two. And Sir Lavaine said to Sir Launcelot: "Messire, do you not go hence with your lady?" and Sir Launcelot said: "Nay, but maybe I shall follow her anon."
Sir Lavaine accuseth Sir Launcelot of treason.
Then Sir Lavaine said: "Sir, see you not that your lady, my sister, is in exceeding tender health?" and Sir Launcelot said, "Yea, I see it." Then Sir Lavaine said, speaking very fiercely: "What honor hath a man who will leave his own lady for the smiles of another woman? If you do such a thing you are dishonored as a knight and are a traitor to your troth."
Then Sir Launcelot looked very steadily at Sir Lavaine and his face was exceedingly white and his eyes were like to coals of fire. Anon he said: "Messire, you speak bitter words, but you are safe from mine anger." Then Sir Lavaine laughed, though not with mirth, and immediately he went away from Sir Launcelot and left him where he was.
That same hour the Lady Elaine quitted the court of King Arthur, riding thence in a closed litter so that few, saving those immediately in attendance upon her, could know aught of what she thought or said or did.
And yet the whole world might have seen her countenance, for it was very calm and steadfast and without any mark of passion. And all the world might have heard her words for those words were also without passion of any sort. Yea, I believe that at that time her soul itself was altogether cheerful and well-content and without any shadow of sorrow upon it.
For once, when Sir Lavaine spoke with great anger and indignation, she chid him for his heat, saying: "My brother, let be. What matters it? Could you but see into the future as I gaze thereinto, you would know that it mattereth but very little indeed that such things as this befall a poor wayfarer in this brief valley of tears."
And at another time she said: "My poor lord, Sir Launcelot! Him do I pity indeed, for God is like to chasten him before long, and to bend him and to bruise him as though he were a reed that was bent and bruised so that it may never be able to stand fully erect again. Yet even this mattereth but little; for the span of life is but very short, and all is in the hands of God."
So spake the Lady Elaine, very calmly and without passion or sorrow of any sort! For, as aforesaid, I believe that even at that time her eyes penetrated into the future and that she beheld therein what was to befall all of them.
Thus they journeyed by easy stages for two days, what time they came out from the mazes of the forest and into an open plain where they beheld a fair priory of the forest set in the midst of fair and fertile fields of corn and of rye. And the walls of the priory gleamed as white as snow in thesunlight, and the red roofs thereof shone like flames of fire against the deep blue sky against which they stood. And the road whereon they travelled went down beside the banks of a smooth and placid river, very bright and shining like to polished silver; and there were willows and aspens upon the one hand and smooth fields of ripening grain upon the other.
Now at that time the Lady Elaine was suffering great pangs of sickness, wherefore she said to those in attendance upon her: "Dear friends, it is well that we have come hither to this place. For this is a house of peace, and I am very sick. Wherefore I pray you let me rest here till God shall have dealt with me in my travails in such a manner as He shall see fit."
So spake the Lady Elaine, and upon that command they bare her to the gates of the priory. And they bare her into the priory and laid her upon a soft couch and there she had such ease in her sickness as they could bring to her at that time.
Meantime Sir Launcelot abided at the court of the King, very heavy of heart and very sorrowful of spirit. For his soul was dragged this way and that way. And whether he had gone away from the court or whether he had stayed as he did, in either case he would have been most unhappy. Yet to his present unhappiness was added many pangs like to the pangs of remorse. For he could not tell whether he did altogether ill or somewhat well in remaining at the King's court as he did.
Yet ever his thoughts went out after the Lady Elaine and he said to himself: "So soon as I can escape from this place with courtesy to the Queen, I will follow after her." Wherefore had he wist that even then she was lying so sick at the priory in the forest, it may well be believed that he would not have tarried a single moment longer, but would have flown to her upon the wings of the wind.
But Sir Launcelot knew not how it was with his lady, and so God was even then preparing a great punishment for him for which he might never hope to escape for as long as he should live.
Here followeth the story of the nativity of Sir Galahad and of how Sir Gawaine heard a miraculous prophecy concerning the Achievement of the Holy Grail, and of how it was prophesied that Sir Galahad should achieve that holy chalice. Also it shall be told how the infant Galahad was confided to the care of Sir Bors de Ganis, who alone knew what then became of him, until in due time he was manifested to the world as the greatest and the most puissant knight who ever lived.
Merlin Prophesieth from a Cloud of Mist:
Angel holding child
How Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Gawaine went forth in search of Sir Launcelot. How they parted company, and what befell Sir Gawaine thereafter.
Now the history hath been told of those things that happened to several of the knights who went forth in quest of Sir Launcelot after that he went mad as aforetold; to wit, the history hath been told of Sir Percival and of Sir Ewaine and of Sir Sagramore and of Sir Ector de Maris. Here followeth an account of that which befell Sir Gawaine, when he, together with Sir Bors de Ganis, also went forth in search of Sir Launcelot.
After they two had left the court of King Arthur they joined company for a while. Thus travelling together as companions in arms, they met with several adventures, some of which are told in histories of chivalry and some of which are not. In such companionship there passed the spring and the summer and by and by it was the fall of the year.
How Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors rode forth together.
Now some there be who love the summer time the best and some there be that love the spring; yet others still there be who love the autumn the best of all. And certes each season hath its beauties, so that one cannotwonder that there are some who love the beauties of the fall above the beauties of all other seasons. For in that time of the year there comes the nutting season, when country folk take joy in being abroad in the hazel thickets, gathering the bright brown fruits of the hazel bushes. Then are days so clear and frosty, all early in the morning, that it is as though the whole vault of heaven were made of clear crystal. Then, when you look into the cold blue shadows of the wayside bank, there you behold everywhere the sparkling of many myriads of bright points of light where the thin frosts catch the shining of the early and yet slanting sun. Then do the birds cry with a wilder note as though heralding the approach of dreary winter. Then do the squirrels gambol in the dry, dead foliage in search of their winter store of food. Then is all the world clad very gloriously in russet and gold, and when the bright and jolly sun shines down through the thin yellow leaves of the woodland, all the earth appears to be illuminated with a wonderful splendor of golden light, so that it may be that even the glory of Paradise is not more wonderful than that unusual radiance.
Such was the world of autumn in which in the latter part of their journeyings in company those two noble knights made progress together. For anon they would ride along the smooth and dusty highways, where were hedgerows, growing thin of leaves but all bright with red and purple berries; and anon they would be riding through some thin woodland where the dry and fallen leaves rustled under foot with a sound like to a faint thunder of multitudinous rustlings; and anon they would be journeying along the wolds where the wind blew strong and free and the great white clouds sailed very smoothly and solemnly across the sky above their heads.
They meet Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore.
So travelling ever in that wise—sometimes here, sometimes there—they came one day in the early morning to where there was a smooth and shining lake, the chill waters whereof were all asmoke in the gentle warmth of the newly risen sun. And here were sedge and reeds, all fading brown and yellow, and at many places, wild fowl, disturbed at their coming, would spring up with loud and noisy splashings from the entangled water. So as they went beside that lake they beheld two knights coming toward them, riding side by side in the sunlight. And when they four had met together and had saluted one another and had bespoken one another, they found that those two knights were Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore, and that they also were journeying as armed companions, as aforetold of in this history.
So they four went a little farther to where there was a pleasant thatched farmhouse not far distant from the roadside, and there they broke theirfast with bread and milk and fresh laid eggs and honey, which the farmer's wife served to them.
Sir Sagramore telleth of the Adventure of the Fountain.
Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors besought Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore for news, and therewith they two told Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors how they had parted with Sir Ewaine and how that he had gone upon that Adventure of the Fountain. Then Sir Sagramore told them how it had befallen with him upon that same adventure, and to all this Sir Gawaine and Sir Bors listened very intently. And after Sir Sagramore had ended his story, Sir Bors and Sir Gawaine asked him many questions concerning those happenings, and he answered all that they asked him. Then Sir Gawaine said: "Well, Messire, I wot that all this mischief of which thou tellest us was brewed by that sorceress the Lady Vivien. Well I know her, and often have I had reason to chide her in times gone by for the mischiefs she was continually plotting against innocent folk. Now I have a mind to turn aside from my present quest and to find that lady and to bring her to repentance. And if I may not bring her to repentance then I shall compel her to undo all these mischiefs she hath done in this matter of the Fountain." Then Sir Sagramore said: "Sir, hearken to me and let be, or else thou wilt entangle thyself in those mischiefs also."
Sir Gawaine seeketh the Lady Vivien.
So spake Sir Sagramore very wisely, but Sir Gawaine would not listen to what he said; otherwise he declared and affirmed that he would go and find the Lady Vivien and have speech with her so that he would either persuade or else compel her to better conduct. So ere Sir Percival and Sir Sagramore had departed from that farmhouse, Sir Gawaine had diligently inquired the way in which he should go so as to be likely to find the Lady Vivien, and after that he bade Sir Sagramore and Sir Percival farewell, and he bade Sir Bors farewell, and so took horse and rode away in quest of the Lady Vivien.
Now after Sir Gawaine had thus parted company with those other knights, he travelled all alone upon his way for the entire day, and that night he lodged in the woodland, near to where there was a fountain of clear pure water. And as he had no other shelter he wrapped himself in his cloak and laid his head upon his helmet and so fell asleep with great comfort and peace of mind.
So also he awoke very cheerfully in the dawning of the day, and laying aside his armor he went to the fountain of water near to which he had reposed and bathed himself therein and so was refreshed.
Sir Gawaine findeth the Lady Vivien.
Now after that and while Sir Gawaine was still unarmed, he was suddenly aware that several people were coming thitherward toward him throughthe yellow woodlands, and when they had come pretty near he beheld that those who approached were a company in attendance upon a lady. And he beheld that the company and the lady who rode in the midst of that company were clad all in flame-colored satin, so that the entire woodland was illuminated, as it were, by a great shining, flaming fire. And when that lady had come pretty nigh to Sir Gawaine, he knew who she was and wist that she was the Lady Vivien.
Then Sir Gawaine went to meet that lady, and he laid his hand upon the bridle rein of her palfrey and he said: "Lady, if I mistake not, thou art the Lady Vivien."
Quoth she: "Yea, I am that one, and thou, I perceive, art Sir Gawaine." To the which Sir Gawaine said, "Yea, I am he," and he said, "I have come hither with the especial purpose of having speech with thee."
Upon this the Lady Vivien looked at Sir Gawaine very strangely, and by and by she said, "What is it thou wouldst have of me, Messire?"
Sir Gawaine rebuketh the Lady Vivien.
Sir Gawaine said: "Lady, I am informed that thou hast done much mischief to a certain valley called the Valley of the Fountain, and I know that through this mischief thou hast brought mischance upon many good worthy knights. Now what I would have to say to thee is this: I would beseech thee to remove all of those mischievous enchantments from that Valley of the Fountain and so set that valley free from the ills that happen to it. This I beseech thee of thy gentleness to do, but if thou wilt not do it because I so beseech thee, then I will compel thee here and now to remove those enchantments."
Then the Lady Vivien's brows drew together into a frown and her cheeks grew very red and her eyes shown like sparks of fire, and she said: "Hah, Messire, methinks thou art very saucy in thy speech. What is it to thee what mischiefs I may do to others? Lo! I do no mischiefs to thee, wherefore this is none of thy affairs. Now I bid thee straightway to take thy hand from off my bridle rein or else a greater ill than thou hast any thought of will speedily befall thee."
Sir Gawaine said: "I will not take away my hand until thou hast promised me to do that thing which I have demanded of thee and to remove the enchantments of the Valley of the Fountain."
The Lady Vivien said, "Take away thy hand, Messire!" Sir Gawaine said, "I will not."
Then the Lady Vivien cried out: "Thou fool! Then thank thyself for what thou shalt suffer."
Now the Lady Vivien had in her hand a long white wand and as she spake she lifted this wand and smote Sir Gawaine with it upon the shoulder.And as she smote him she cried out: "Quit the shape that thou now hast and take instead the shape of a misshapen dwarf."
The Lady Vivien bewitcheth Sir Gawaine.
Then as she cried in that shrill and piercing voice, there befell a very wonderful thing, for, upon the instant, it happened in that wise as she commanded. For Sir Gawaine immediately began to shrink and to shrivel so that in the space one might count five he had ceased to be what he was and became instead a misshapen and diminutive dwarf.
Then all they of the Lady Vivien's party laughed and laughed until all the woods echoed with their mirth. And thus laughing, they took their departure, and rode away from that place, leaving Sir Gawaine standing there all bewildered and astonished with terror at what had befallen him.
So he stood for a little, like one in a maze, but after those others had entirely gone, he suddenly awoke, as it were, to his woful case. Then straightway he began running hither and thither, as though he had gone mad. And he ran in this direction and in that direction, seeking for the Lady Vivien, but nowhere could he discover any sign of her or her court. And ever as he ran he cried aloud in a voice of exceeding agony, "Have mercy! Have mercy!" But, as aforesaid, the lady and those who were with her had disappeared, and only the lonely woodlands surrounded him. Yet it appeared to him that he heard the sound of mocking laughter echoing through the forest, though whether that was really so or whether he was cheated by his fancy he could not certainly tell.
So after a while Sir Gawaine flung himself down upon the earth and wept with despair. Then after another while he bestirred himself and prayed God for help and wiped his eyes. And after that he gathered together the pieces of his armor which he could not now wear upon his shrunken and misshapen body, and he carried these pieces of armor away and hid them in a cave which he had observed not far distant from that place. Then he mounted upon his horse and rode away, not knowing whither to turn or what to do in the direful trouble that had fallen upon him.
Now after he had ridden for a while in that way, perched high upon his horse like some diminutive and withered ape, being still in the woodlands, he was aware of the sound of voices and of horses' hoofs coming toward him and then he was further aware of a company approaching from a distance through the half-naked forest.
The Forest company behold Sir Gawaine as a dwarf.
Then Sir Gawaine was filled with a great panic of shame, and he thought of naught but how he might hide himself and his misshapen body from those who were coming. But ere he was able to hide himself, those others had catched sight of him. Andthey saw how singularly small and deformed and withered was his shape, wherefore they shouted aloud and gave chase to him as though he had been a wild creature. So they pursued him for a long distance and at last they came up with him and surrounded him.
Then, finding that he could not escape, Sir Gawaine leaped down from his horse's back, and flinging himself upon the ground he covered his face with his hands and sought to bury it, as it were, under the earth, so that they who had caught him might not behold the shame of his misshapen countenance. But they dragged him to his feet and they pulled his hands away from his face and beheld it what it was. Then, when they beheld that his face was like the face of an ape they all shouted aloud again and again with laughter.
Then he who was the chief of that party said: "Who are you and how is it that a misshapen dwarf such as you should be riding about here in the forest upon a noble and knightly war-horse?" To the which Sir Gawaine said: "Sir, a great misfortune hath befallen me, and I am not he whom I was a little while ago." So said Sir Gawaine, and when they heard his speech they thought he jested wherefore they laughed again and again with a great uproar of laughter.
They mock at Sir Gawaine.
Then he who had spoken to Sir Gawaine turned to those others and said, "This poor creature is mad," but Sir Gawaine cried out: "Nay, I am not mad, but very miserable and unfortunate. For this morning I was a noble knight of royal lineage and now I am what you behold me."
At this speech they who heard laughed more than ever, for they thought no otherwise than that this poor dwarf was mad and was making sport for them.
Then he who had before spoken to Sir Gawaine spake still again, saying: "Sirrah, you are to know that the pet dwarf of the lady of the castle at which we dwell hath died only a few days ago. Now I will that you shall go with us to her, and that you shall serve her instead of the other creature who is dead. For certes you are the smallest and the most misshapen elf that ever I beheld in all of my life. What think you of this? If you go with us you shall have meat and drink in plenty and you shall have good clothes and lodging and fifty bright silver pennies a year for your hire."
Then Sir Gawaine cried out in a voice of great anguish: "I will not go with you for such a service. For if you did but know who I am and what it is that hath befallen me, you would know that such as I are not they to take such service upon them, nor am I one to make sport for a ladyby exhibiting the miserable condition into which I have fallen from an one time high estate."
Thus said Sir Gawaine in a great agony of spirit, but still those that heard him did but laugh. Then seeing that he was of no mind to go with them, they bound his hands and his feet together so that he could not escape and so they constrained him to go whether he would or not.
After that they departed out of that forest and away therefrom, and by and by Sir Gawaine beheld that they were approaching a castle and that the castle was a very noble, stately, and lordly dwelling place.
They bring Sir Gawaine to the castle of a lady.
So they came to the castle and entered into the courtyard thereof, and after they had so arrived, he who was the leader of that party took Sir Gawaine up to a certain place where the lady of the castle was, and he said to her: "Lady, behold this dwarf; we have caught him in the woodlands and have brought him to you to serve you instead of that creature who died a while since. Saw ye ever such a wonderful dwarf as this?"
Then the lady of the castle looked upon Sir Gawaine and beheld how exceedingly diminutive he was and how exceedingly misshapen. And she was astonished at his appearance, and she said to him, "Who art thou, and whence comest thou?" She spake with such kindness and gentleness that Sir Gawaine was emboldened to tell her of his misfortune wherefore he cried out: "Lady, if I would tell you you would not believe me, for I am not what I appear to be, but am something altogether different. This morning I was a noble knight, but I have been enchanted and now I am what you behold me."
The lady pitieth Sir Gawaine.
At this the lady of the castle also thought that Sir Gawaine was certainly mad, wherefore she said: "This poor creature is not in his senses. Take him hence and treat him very kindly. Let him be fed and clothed and then chain him with a very light chain of silver so that he may not escape until he hath become used to this place, and yet so that he may not be burdened with these chains."
So spoke the lady very kindly and gently, but Sir Gawaine was filled full of an utter despair at her words. So he was taken away and fed like to some pet creature and he was chained as the lady had said and ever he wept for pure despair.
Now the lady of that castle was very tender of heart, wherefore she pitied Sir Gawaine because he appeared to be so misshapen and deformed. So ever she spoke kindly and gently to him and she would not suffer that any of the people of the castle should torment him. Thus it was that though at first Sir Gawaine was minded to escape from the castle, yetafterward he would not escape, for he said to himself: "Why should I leave this place; and where can I, poor wretch that I be, find a better and kinder shelter in my misfortunes than I have at this castle?" So he became gentle and tractable and would not have quitted that place even if he could have done so.
How Sir Gawaine dwelleth at the castle.
And Sir Gawaine abode in that castle for more than a year, and ever the lady treated him with kindness and with gentle tenderness and ever he treated her with such courtliness as a knight royal might bestow upon a lady. So great was his courtliness of demeanor that the lady marvelled much thereat, yea, insomuch that she said to herself: "Certes this poor creature must have been reared in a noble court or else he must have dwelt a long time in such a place, for to have learned such courtliness of manner as he showeth."
And sometimes it befell that the lady would question Sir Gawaine as to what had happened to him in times gone by; but Sir Gawaine had taught himself wisdom upon that point and now he would tell her nothing; for he was aware that whenever he had been moved to speak about himself and what had befallen him, then they who heard him would think him to be mad, and would laugh at him and mock him, wherefore he would no longer give any one the chance to declare that he was mad. So ever he held his peace and ever the lady of the castle wondered how it was that he had come to have so much of gentleness and dignity of demeanor.
So that winter and another winter passed, and during all that time Sir Gawaine abode at the castle of the gentle lady as aforesaid. Then came the springtime and the summertime again, and the season when all the trees were green and bosky and when the days were warm and balmy once more.
Now it befell about the middle of that summer that the lord and the lady of the castle whereof Sir Gawaine was now the dwarf went forth ahawking, and a very gay court of the castle folk went with them. With these the lady took her dwarf, for it was now come that she could hardly ever bear to be parted from him. And it befell that when the heat of the day had come the lord of the castle gave orders that a pavilion should be pitched in a pleasant shady place, and there he and his lady took their midday meal and rested until the sun should shed a less fervid heat.
Sir Gawaine beholdeth the golden bird.
That time Sir Gawaine was wandering very sadly about the skirts of the forest, making great moan of that enchantment that lay upon him. So as he wandered he was suddenly aware of a bird with plumage of gold that sat upon the ground at a little distance, regarding him with eyes that were very bright and shining. Now when Sir Gawaine beheld that bird, his heart leaped very strangely inhis breast, for he bethought him that this was that same golden bird of the Lady Nymue of the Lake which she had sent to him one time before to guide him to the valley where Sir Pellias was abiding. For it hath been aforetime told in that Book of King Arthur (which hath been written before this book) how that same golden bird had conducted Sir Gawaine and Sir Ewaine and Sir Marhaus of Ireland through the forest to where Sir Pellias was at that time in great trouble and anxiety of soul. So Sir Gawaine, beholding that bird there in the forest, wist that it was the Lady Nymue's bird, and he thought that if he should follow it now, maybe it might bring him to the Lady of the Lake, and that she would release him from his deformity.
So Sir Gawaine went back to that pavilion whence he had come, and he took a palfrey that he found there, and no one stayed him, for the dwarf was now permitted to go whithersoever he pleased. So Sir Gawaine mounted the palfrey and departed without saying a single word to any one, and no one stayed him in his going.
So Sir Gawaine came again to where he had seen the bird and the bird was still sitting upon the ground where he had first beheld it.
Sir Gawaine followeth the golden bird into the forest.
Then as Sir Gawaine approached the bird it took wing and flew with shrill chirping to a little distance and then settled again upon the ground. And when Sir Gawaine approached it again, again it took wing and flew chirping to a little distance. So ever it flew and so ever Sir Gawaine followed, and thus it conducted him into the forest and away from that place where was the pavilion of the lord and lady.
Thus ever the golden bird led the way and ever Sir Gawaine followed, until, at last, the bird brought Sir Gawaine out of the forest and to a strange place which he had never beheld before. For beyond the edge of the woodland he beheld a dreary valley, naked and bare, and covered all over with a great multitude of stones and rocks. And in that valley could be seen no sign of vegetation or of herbage of any sort, but only those naked and desolate rocks and stones all shining bright in the heat of the sun as though they were ribs of stones shining in a furnace of fire.
Sir Gawaine beholdeth the cloudy mist.
And Sir Gawaine beheld that in the centre of the valley there was a cloud of thick mist in the shape of a solid pillar of smoke. And he beheld that that cloud of mist moved not in any way but remained fixed in its place as it were a pillar of stone.
Then Sir Gawaine looked for that golden bird and he beheld it perched upon the high branches of a tree near by. And he saw that the bird had folded its wings as though to rest, wherefore he knew that there must besomewhat at this place for him to undertake, and that the bird must have conducted him to this place for that purpose.
So Sir Gawaine, in that enchanted appearance of a dwarf, went down into the valley and drew near to that pillar of mist. And he came close to the cloud and he stood and looked upon it. Then as he so stood, a voice issued of a sudden out of the midst of the cloud saying, "Gawaine! Gawaine! is it thou who art there?" And Sir Gawaine was astonished beyond all measure that a voice should thus address him from out of the midst of the pillar of cloud, for he had long since ceased to think that any creature, mortal or otherwise, would know him in the guise into which the Lady Vivien had bewitched him.
But though he was so astonished, yet he answered in the voice of the dwarf, saying, "Who art thou who callest upon the name of Gawaine, the son of Lot of Orkney?"
Sir Gawaine heareth the voice of Merlin.
Then the voice replied: "I who speak to thee am Merlin. Here for twelve years have I been lying asleep, enclosed in a coffer of stone, yet once in every six years I awake for one hour of life and at the end of that hour I relapse into sleep again. This is my time for waking, and so hast thou been brought hither that thou mightest hear that prophecy that I have to utter.
"And this is my prophecy:
Of the prophecy of Merlin.
"The Sacred Grail that has been lost to the earth for so long shall be brought back to that earth again. Yea, the time draweth nigh and now is when he who shall achieve the Quest of that Holy Chalice is about to be born into the world."
And the voice from out of the cloud continued, saying:
"When that babe is born into the world he shall be taken away by that knight who is most worthy to handle him, and after he hath been taken away he shall be hidden by that knight from the eyes of man until his time hath come.
"You, who are a sinful man, may not have that babe in your keeping, but there is one who hath but little of sin and he may do so. So do you according to the ordination of this command:
"Follow that golden-winged thing that hath conducted you hither and it will lead you to where you may become purified of your enchantment. After that you shall follow that golden bird still farther and it will lead you to where you shall find Sir Bors de Ganis. He it is who is most worthy in all of the world at this present for to handle that babe, and so he shall care for him and shall hide him in a place of safety until his time shall be come.
"Bid Sir Bors to follow that golden bird along with you and it shall bring you both to where you shall find that wonderful infant aforesaid.
"Thereafter, when that babe shall have been taken away by Sir Bors, go you forth and proclaim to all men that when eighteen years have passed, then shall the Knights of the Round Table depart in quest of the Holy Grail. And do you proclaim this prophecy: that when that Grail hath been recovered, then soon after shall come the end of the Round Table, and so shall end the days of all this chivalry that shall forever be remembered to all the world.
"And this is the prophecy of the Grail which you have been brought hither to hear, so go you forth and declare it abroad so that all good worthy knights may know that this prophecy hath been uttered."
So spake that voice, and then it ceased and Sir Gawaine listened for a while, but still it spake no more. Then Sir Gawaine cried out aloud: "Merlin, what may I do to free thee from the enchantment that lieth upon thee?" And he waited for a reply, but no reply was vouchsafed him. And he cried out again, "Merlin, what may I do to free thee from where thou liest?" but still no answer was given to him.