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LE MORTE D'ARTHUR
King Arthur and of his Noble Knights of the Round Table
By Sir Thomas Malory
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BOOK XII.
CHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot in his madness took a sword
and fought with a knight, and leapt in a bed.
AND now leave we of a while of Sir Ector and of Sir
Percivale, and speak we of Sir Launcelot that suffered and
endured many sharp showers, that ever ran wild wood from
place to place, and lived by fruit and such as he might get,
and drank water two year; and other clothing had he but
little but his shirt and his breech. Thus as Sir Launcelot
wandered here and there he came in a fair meadow where he
found a pavilion; and there by, upon a tree, there hung a
white shield, and two swords hung thereby, and two spears
leaned there by a tree. And when Sir Launcelot saw the
swords, anon he leapt to the one sword, and took it in his
hand, and drew it out. And then he lashed at the shield,
that all the meadow rang of the dints, that he gave such a
noise as ten knights had foughten together.
Then came forth a dwarf, and leapt unto Sir Launcelot,
and would have had the sword out of his hand. And then Sir
Launcelot took him by the both shoulders and threw him to
the ground upon his neck, that he had almost broken his
neck; and therewithal the dwarf cried help. Then came forth
a likely knight, and well apparelled in scarlet furred with
minever. And anon as he saw Sir Launcelot he deemed that he
should be out of his wit. And then he said with fair speech:
Good man, lay down that sword, for as meseemeth thou hadst
more need of sleep and of warm clothes than to wield that
sword. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, come not too nigh,
for an thou do, wit thou well I will slay thee.
And when the knight of the pavilion saw that, he stert
backward within the pavilion. And then the dwarf armed him
lightly; and so the knight thought by force and might to
take the sword from Sir Launcelot, and so he came stepping
out; and when Sir Launcelot saw him come so all armed with
his sword in his hand, then Sir Launcelot flew to him with
such a might, and hit him upon the helm such a buffet, that
the stroke troubled his brains, and therewith the sword
brake in three. And the knight fell to the earth as he had
been dead, the blood brasting out of his mouth, the nose,
and the ears. And then Sir Launcelot ran into the pavilion,
and rushed even into the warm bed; and there was a lady in
that bed, and she gat her smock, and ran out of the
pavilion. And when she saw her lord lie at the ground like
to be dead, then she cried and wept as she had been mad.
Then with her noise the knight awaked out of his swoon, and
looked up weakly with his eyes; and then he asked her, where
was that mad man that had given him such a buffet: For such
a buffet had I never of man's hand. Sir, said the dwarf, it
is not worship to hurt him, for he is a man out of his wit;
and doubt ye not he hath been a man of great worship, and
for some heartly sorrow that he hath taken, he is fallen
mad; and me beseemeth, said the dwarf, he resembleth much
unto Sir Launcelot, for him I saw at the great tournament
beside Lonazep. Jesu defend, said that knight, that ever
that noble knight, Sir Launcelot, should be in such a
plight; but whatsomever he be, said that knight, harm will I
none do him: and this knight's name was Bliant. Then he said
unto the dwarf: Go thou fast on horseback, unto my brother
Sir Selivant, that is at the Castle Blank, and tell him of
mine adventure, and bid him bring with him an horse litter,
and then will we bear this knight unto my castle.
CHAPTER II. How Sir Lancelot was carried in an horse
litter, and how Sir Launcelot rescued Sir Bliant, his host.
SO the dwarf rode fast, and he came again and brought Sir
Selivant with him, and six men with an horse litter; and so
they took up the feather bed with Sir Launcelot, and so
carried all away with them unto the Castle Blank, and he
never awaked till he was within the castle. And then they
bound his hands and his feet, and gave him good meats and
good drinks, and brought him again to his strength and his
fairness; but in his wit they could not bring him again, nor
to know himself. Thus was Sir Launcelot there more than a
year and a half, honestly arrayed and fair faren withal.
Then upon a day this lord of that castle, Sir Bliant,
took his arms, on horseback, with a spear, to seek
adventures. And as he rode in a forest there met with him
two knights adventurous, the one was Breuse Saunce Pité, and
his brother, Sir Bertelot; and these two ran both at once
upon Sir Bliant, and brake their spears upon his body. And
then they drew out swords and made great battle, and fought
long together. But at the last Sir Bliant was sore wounded,
and felt himself faint; and then he fled on horseback toward
his castle. And as they came hurling under the castle
whereas Sir Launcelot lay in a window, [he] saw how two
knights laid upon Sir Bliant with their swords. And when Sir
Launcelot saw that, yet as wood as he was he was sorry for
his lord, Sir Bliant. And then Sir Launcelot brake the
chains from his legs and off his arms, and in the breaking
he hurt his hands sore; and so Sir Launcelot ran out at a
postern, and there he met with the two knights that chased
Sir Bliant; and there he pulled down Sir Bertelot with his
bare hands from his horse, and therewithal he wrothe his
sword out of his hand; and so he leapt unto Sir Breuse, and
gave him such a buffet upon the head that he tumbled
backward over his horse's croup. And when Sir Bertelot saw
there his brother have such a fall, he gat a spear in his
hand, and would have run Sir Launcelot through: that saw Sir
Bliant, and struck off the hand of Sir Bertelot. And then
Sir Breuse and Sir Bertelot gat their horses and fled away.
When Sir Selivant came and saw what Sir Launcelot had
done for his brother, then he thanked God, and so did his
brother, that ever they did him any good. But when Sir
Bliant saw that Sir Launcelot was hurt with the breaking of
his irons, then was he heavy that ever he bound him. Bind
him no more, said Sir Selivant, for he is happy and
gracious. Then they made great joy of Sir Launcelot, and
they bound him no more; and so he abode there an half year
and more. And on the morn early Sir Launcelot was ware where
came a great boar with many hounds nigh him. But the boar
was so big there might no hounds tear him; and the hunters
came after, blowing their horns, both upon horseback and
some upon foot; and then Sir Launcelot was ware where one
alighted and tied his horse to a tree, and leaned his spear
against the tree.
CHAPTER III. How Sir Launcelot fought against a boar and
slew him, and how he was hurt, and brought unto an
hermitage.
SO came Sir Launcelot and found the horse bounden till a
tree, and a spear leaning against a tree, and a sword tied
to the saddle bow; and then Sir Launcelot leapt into the
saddle and gat that spear in his hand, and then he rode
after the boar; and then Sir Launcelot was ware where the
boar set his arse to a tree fast by an hermitage. Then Sir
Launcelot ran at the boar with his spear, and therewith the
boar turned him nimbly, and rove out the lungs and the heart
of the horse, so that Launcelot fell to the earth; and, or
ever Sir Launcelot might get from the horse, the boar rove
him on the brawn of the thigh up to the hough bone. And then
Sir Launcelot was wroth, and up he gat upon his feet, and
drew his sword, and he smote off the boar's head at one
stroke. And therewithal came out the hermit, and saw him
have such a wound. Then the hermit came to Sir Launcelot and
bemoaned him, and would have had him home unto his
hermitage; but when Sir Launcelot heard him speak, he was so
wroth with his wound that he ran upon the hermit to have
slain him, and the hermit ran away. And when Sir Launcelot
might not overget him, he threw his sword after him, for Sir
Launcelot might go no further for bleeding; then the hermit
turned again, and asked Sir Launcelot how he was hurt.
Fellow, said Sir Launcelot, this boar hath bitten me sore.
Then come with me, said the hermit, and I shall heal you. Go
thy way, said Sir Launcelot, and deal not with me.
Then the hermit ran his way, and there he met with a good
knight with many men. Sir, said the hermit, here is fast by
my place the goodliest man that ever I saw, and he is sore
wounded with a boar, and yet he hath slain the boar. But
well I wot, said the hermit, and he be not holpen, that
goodly man shall die of that wound, and that were great
pity. Then that knight at the desire of the hermit gat a
cart, and in that cart that knight put the boar and Sir
Launcelot, for Sir Launcelot was so feeble that they might
right easily deal with him; and so Sir Launcelot was brought
unto the hermitage, and there the hermit healed him of his
wound. But the hermit might not find Sir Launcelot's
sustenance, and so he impaired and waxed feeble, both of his
body and of his wit: for the default of his sustenance he
waxed more wooder than he was aforehand.
And then upon a day Sir Launcelot ran his way into the
forest; and by adventure he came to the city of Corbin,
where Dame Elaine was, that bare Galahad, Sir Launcelot's
son. And so when he was entered into the town he ran through
the town to the castle; and then all the young men of that
city ran after Sir Launcelot, and there they threw turves at
him, and gave him many sad strokes. And ever as Sir
Launcelot might overreach any of them, he threw them so that
they would never come in his hands no more; for of some he
brake the legs and the arms, and so fled into the castle;
and then came out knights and squires and rescued Sir
Launcelot. And when they beheld him and looked upon his
person, they thought they saw never so goodly a man. And
when they saw so many wounds upon him, all they deemed that
he had been a man of worship. And then they ordained him
clothes to his body, and straw underneath him, and a little
house. And then every day they would throw him meat, and set
him drink, but there was but few would bring him meat to his
hands.
CHAPTER IV. How Sir Launcelot was known by Dame Elaine,
and was borne into a chamber and after healed by the
Sangreal.
SO it befell that King Pelles had a nephew, his name was
Castor; and so he desired of the king to be made knight, and
so at the request of this Castor the king made him knight at
the feast of Candlemas. And when Sir Castor was made knight,
that same day he gave many gowns. And then Sir Castor sent
for the fool—that was Sir Launcelot. And when he was come
afore Sir Castor, he gave Sir Launcelot a robe of scarlet
and all that longed unto him. And when Sir Launcelot was so
arrayed like a knight, he was the seemliest man in all the
court, and none so well made. So when he saw his time he
went into the garden, and there Sir Launcelot laid him down
by a well and slept. And so at-after noon Dame Elaine and
her maidens came into the garden to play them; and as they
roamed up and down one of Dame Elaine's maidens espied where
lay a goodly man by the well sleeping, and anon showed him
to Dame Elaine. Peace, said Dame Elaine, and say no word:
and then she brought Dame Elaine where he lay. And when that
she beheld him, anon she fell in remembrance of him, and
knew him verily for Sir Launcelot; and therewithal she fell
a-weeping so heartily that she sank even to the earth; and
when she had thus wept a great while, then she arose and
called her maidens and said she was sick.
And so she yede out of the garden, and she went straight
to her father, and there she took him apart by herself; and
then she said: O father, now have I need of your help, and
but if that ye help me farewell my good days for ever. What
is that, daughter? said King Pelles. Sir, she said, thus is
it: in your garden I went for to sport, and there, by the
well, I found Sir Launcelot du Lake sleeping. I may not
believe that, said King Pelles. Sir, she said, truly he is
there, and meseemeth he should be distract out of his wit.
Then hold you still, said the king, and let me deal. Then
the king called to him such as he most trusted, a four
persons, and Dame Elaine, his daughter. And when they came
to the well and beheld Sir Launcelot, anon Dame Brisen knew
him. Sir, said Dame Brisen, we must be wise how we deal with
him, for this knight is out of his mind, and if we awake him
rudely what he will do we all know not; but ye shall abide,
and I shall throw such an enchantment upon him that he shall
not awake within the space of an hour; and so she did.
Then within a little while after, the king commanded that
all people should avoid, that none should be in that way
thereas the king would come. And so when this was done,
these four men and these ladies laid hand on Sir Launcelot,
and so they bare him into a tower, and so into a chamber
where was the holy vessel of the Sangreal, and by force Sir
Launcelot was laid by that holy vessel; and there came an
holy man and unhilled that vessel, and so by miracle and by
virtue of that holy vessel Sir Launcelot was healed and
recovered. And when that he was awaked he groaned and
sighed, and complained greatly that he was passing sore.
CHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot, after that he was whole
and had his mind, he was ashamed, and how that Elaine
desired a castle for him.
AND when Sir Launcelot saw King Pelles and Elaine, he
waxed ashamed and said thus: O Lord Jesu, how came I here?
for God's sake, my lord, let me wit how I came here. Sir,
said Dame Elaine, into this country ye came like a madman,
clean out of your wit, and here have ye been kept as a fool;
and no creature here knew what ye were, until by fortune a
maiden of mine brought me unto you whereas ye lay sleeping
by a well, and anon as I verily beheld you I knew you. And
then I told my father, and so were ye brought afore this
holy vessel, and by the virtue of it thus were ye healed. O
Jesu, mercy, said Sir Launcelot; if this be sooth, how many
there be that know of my woodness! So God me help, said
Elaine, no more but my father, and I, and Dame Brisen. Now
for Christ's love, said Sir Launcelot, keep it in counsel,
and let no man know it in the world, for I am sore ashamed
that I have been thus miscarried; for I am banished out of
the country of Logris for ever, that is for to say the
country of England.
And so Sir Launcelot lay more than a fortnight or ever
that he might stir for soreness. And then upon a day he said
unto Dame Elaine these words: Lady Elaine, for your sake I
have had much travail, care, and anguish, it needeth not to
rehearse it, ye know how. Notwithstanding I know well I have
done foul to you when that I drew my sword to you, to have
slain you, upon the morn when I had lain with you. And all
was the cause, that ye and Dame Brisen made me for to lie by
you maugre mine head; and as ye say, that night Galahad your
son was begotten. That is truth, said Dame Elaine. Now will
ye for my love, said Sir Launcelot, go unto your father and
get me a place of him wherein I may dwell? for in the court
of King Arthur may I never come. Sir, said Dame Elaine, I
will live and die with you, and only for your sake; and if
my life might not avail you and my death might avail you,
wit you well I would die for your sake. And I will go to my
father and I am sure there is nothing that I can desire of
him but I shall have it. And where ye be, my lord Sir
Launcelot, doubt ye not but I will be with you with all the
service that I may do. So forthwithal she went to her father
and said, Sir, my lord, Sir Launcelot, desireth to be here
by you in some castle of yours. Well daughter, said the
king, sith it is his desire to abide in these marches he
shall be in the Castle of Bliant, and there shall ye be with
him, and twenty of the fairest ladies that be in the
country, and they shall all be of the great blood, and ye
shall have ten knights with you; for, daughter, I will that
ye wit we all be honoured by the blood of Sir Launcelot.
CHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot came into the joyous Isle,
and there he named himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet.
THEN went Dame Elaine unto Sir Launcelot, and told him
all how her father had devised for him and her. Then came
the knight Sir Castor, that was nephew unto Kong Pelles,
unto Sir Launcelot, and asked him what was his name. Sir,
said Sir Launcelot, my name is Le Chevaler Mal Fet, that is
to say the knight that hath trespassed. Sir, said Sir
Castor, it may well be so, but ever meseemeth your name
should be Sir Launcelot du Lake, for or now I have seen you.
Sir, said Launcelot, ye are not as a gentle knight: I put
case my name were Sir Launcelot, and that it list me not to
discover my name, what should it grieve you here to keep my
counsel, and ye be not hurt thereby? but wit thou well an
ever it lie in my power I shall grieve you, and that I
promise you truly. Then Sir Castor kneeled down and besought
Sir Launcelot of mercy: For I shall never utter what ye be,
while that ye be in these parts. Then Sir Launcelot pardoned
him.
And then, after this, King Pelles with ten knights, and
Dame Elaine, and twenty ladies, rode unto the Castle of
Bliant that stood in an island beclosed in iron, with a fair
water deep and large. And when they were there Sir Launcelot
let call it the Joyous Isle; and there was he called none
otherwise but Le Chevaler Mal Fet, the knight that hath
trespassed. Then Sir Launcelot let make him a shield all of
sable, and a queen crowned in the midst, all of silver, and
a knight clean armed kneeling afore her. And every day once,
for any mirths that all the ladies might make him, he would
once every day look toward the realm of Logris, where King
Arthur and Queen Guenever was. And then would he fall upon a
weeping as his heart should to-brast.
So it fell that time Sir Launcelot heard of a jousting
fast by his castle, within three leagues. Then he called
unto him a dwarf, and he bade him go unto that jousting. And
or ever the knights depart, look thou make there a cry, in
hearing of all the knights, that there is one knight in the
Joyous Isle, that is the Castle of Bliant, and say his name
is Le Chevaler Mal Fet, that will joust against knights that
will come. And who that putteth that knight to the worse
shall have a fair maid and a gerfalcon.
CHAPTER VII. Of a great tourneying in the Joyous Isle,
and how Sir Pervivale and Sir Ector came thither, and Sir
Percivale fought with him.
SO when this cry was made, unto Joyous Isle drew knights
to the number of five hundred; and wit ye well there was
never seen in Arthur's days one knight that did so much
deeds of arms as Sir Launcelot did three days together; for
as the book maketh truly mention, he had the better of all
the five hundred knights, and there was not one slain of
them. And after that Sir Launcelot made them all a great
feast.
And in the meanwhile came Sir Percivale de Galis and Sir
Ector de Maris under that castle that was called the Joyous
Isle. And as they beheld that gay castle they would have
gone to that castle, but they might not for the broad water,
and bridge could they find none. Then they saw on the other
side a lady with a sperhawk on her hand, and Sir Percivale
called unto her, and asked that lady who was in that castle.
Fair knights, she said, here within this castle is the
fairest lady in this land, and her name is Elaine. Also we
have in this castle the fairest knight and the mightiest man
that is I dare say living, and he called himself Le Chevaler
Mal Fet. How came he into these marches? said Sir Percivale.
Truly, said the damosel, he came into this country like a
mad man, with dogs and boys chasing him through the city of
Corbin, and by the holy vessel of the Sangreal he was
brought into his wit again; but he will not do battle with
no knight, but by underne or by noon. And if ye list to come
into the castle, said the lady, ye must ride unto the
further side of the castle and there shall ye find a vessel
that will bear you and your horse. Then they departed, and
came unto the vessel. And then Sir Percivale alighted, and
said to Sir Ector de Maris: Ye shall abide me here until
that I wit what manner a knight he is; for it were shame
unto us, inasmuch as he is but one knight, an we should both
do battle with him. Do ye as ye list, said Sir Ector, and
here I shall abide you until that I hear of you
Then passed Sir Percivale the water, and when he came to
the castle gate he bade the porter: Go thou to the good
knight within the castle, and tell him here is come an
errant knight to joust with him. Sir, said the porter, ride
ye within the castle, and there is a common place for
jousting, that lords and ladies may behold you. So anon as
Sir Launcelot had warning he was soon ready; and there Sir
Percivale and Sir Launcelot encountered with such a might,
and their spears were so rude, that both the horses and the
knights fell to the earth. Then they avoided their horses,
and flang out noble swords, and hewed away cantels of their
shields, and hurtled together with their shields like two
boars, and either wounded other passing sore. At the last
Sir Percivale spake first when they had foughten there more
than two hours. Fair knight, said Sir Percivale, I require
thee tell me thy name, for I met never with such a knight.
Sir, said Sir Launcelot, my name is Le Chevaler Mal Fet. Now
tell me your name, said Sir Launcelot, I require you, gentle
knight. Truly, said Sir Percivale, my name is Sir Percivale
de Galis, that was brother unto the good knight, Sir Lamorak
de Galis, and King Pellinore was our father, and Sir
Aglovale is my brother. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, what have
I done to fight with you that art a knight of the Round
Table, that sometime was your fellow?
CHAPTER VIlI. How each of them knew other, and of their
great courtesy, and how his brother Sir Ector came unto him,
and of their joy.
AND therewithal Sir Launcelot kneeled down upon his
knees, and threw away his shield and his sword from him.
When Sir Percivale saw him do so he marvelled what he meant.
And then thus he said: Sir knight, whatsomever thou be, I
require thee upon the high order of knighthood, tell me thy
true name. Then he said: So God me help, my name is Sir
Launcelot du Lake, King Ban's son of Benoy. Alas, said Sir
Percivale, what have I done? I was sent by the queen for to
seek you, and so I have sought you nigh this two year, and
yonder is Sir Ector de Maris, your brother abideth me on the
other side of the yonder water. Now for God's sake, said Sir
Percivale, forgive me mine offences that I have here done.
It is soon forgiven, said Sir Launcelot.
Then Sir Percivale sent for Sir Ector de Maris, and when
Sir Launcelot had a sight of him, he ran unto him and took
him in his arms; and then Sir Ector kneeled down, and either
wept upon other, that all had pity to behold them. Then came
Dame Elaine and she there made them great cheer as might lie
in her power; and there she told Sir Ector and Sir Percivale
how and in what manner Sir Launcelot came into that country,
and how he was healed; and there it was known how long Sir
Launcelot was with Sir Bliant and with Sir Selivant, and how
he first met with them, and how he departed from them
because of a boar; and how the hermit healed Sir Launcelot
of his great wound, and how that he came to Corbin.
CHAPTER IX. How Sir Bors and Sir Lionel came to King
Brandegore, and how Sir Bors took his son Helin le Blank,
and of Sir Launcelot.
NOW leave we Sir Launcelot in the Joyous Isle with the
Lady Dame Elaine, and Sir Percivale and Sir Ector playing
with them, and turn we to Sir Bors de Ganis and Sir Lionel,
that had sought Sir Launcelot nigh by the space of two year,
and never could they hear of him. And as they thus rode, by
adventure they came to the house of Brandegore, and there
Sir Bors was well known, for he had gotten a child upon the
king's daughter fifteen year to-fore, and his name was Helin
le Blank. And when Sir Bors saw that child it liked him
passing well. And so those knights had good cheer of the
King Brandegore. And on the morn Sir Bors came afore King
Brandegore and said: Here is my son Helin le Blank, that as
it is said he is my son; and sith it is so, I will that ye
wit that I will have him with me unto the court of King
Arthur. Sir, said the king, ye may well take him with you,
but he is over tender of age. As for that, said Sir Bors, I
will have him with me, and bring him to the house of most
worship of the world. So when Sir Bors should depart there
was made great sorrow for the departing of Helin le Blank,
and great weeping was there made. But Sir Bors and Sir
Lionel departed, and within a while they came to Camelot,
where was King Arthur. And when King Arthur understood that
Helin le Blank was Sir Bors' son, and nephew unto King
Brandegore, then King Arthur let him make knight of the
Round Table; and so he proved a good knight and an
adventurous.
Now will we turn to our matter of Sir Launcelot. It
befell upon a day Sir Ector and Sir Percivale came to Sir
Launcelot and asked him what he would do, and whether he
would go with them unto King Arthur or not. Nay, said Sir
Launcelot, that may not be by no mean, for I was so
entreated at the court that I cast me never to come there
more. Sir, said Sir Ector, I am your brother, and ye are the
man in the world that I love most; and if I understood that
it were your disworship, ye may understand I would never
counsel you thereto; but King Arthur and all his knights,
and in especial Queen Guenever, made such dole and sorrow
that it was marvel to hear and see. And ye must remember the
great worship and renown that ye be of, how that ye have
been more spoken of than any other knight that is now
living; for there is none that beareth the name now but ye
and Sir Tristram. Therefore brother, said Sir Ector, make
you ready to ride to the court with us, and I dare say there
was never knight better welcome to the court than ye; and I
wot well and can make it good, said Sir Ector, it hath cost
my lady, the queen, twenty thousand pound the seeking of
you. Well brother, said Sir Launcelot, I will do after your
counsel, and ride with you.
So then they took their horses and made them ready, and
took their leave at King Pelles and at Dame Elaine. And when
Sir Launcelot should depart Dame Elaine made great sorrow.
My lord, Sir Launcelot, said Dame Elaine, at this same feast
of Pentecost shall your son and mine, Galahad, be made
knight, for he is fully now fifteen winter old. Do as ye
list, said Sir Launcelot; God give him grace to prove a good
knight. As for that, said Dame Elaine, I doubt not he shall
prove the best man of his kin except one. Then shall he be a
man good enough, said Sir Launcelot.
CHAPTER X. How Sir Launcelot with Sir Percivale and Sir
Ector came to the court, and of the great joy of him.
THEN they departed, and within five days' journey they
came to Camelot, that is called in English, Winchester. And
when Sir Launcelot was come among them, the king and all the
knights made great joy of him. And there Sir Percivale de
Galis and Sir Ector de Maris began and told the whole
adventures: that Sir Launcelot had been out of his mind the
time of his absence, and how he called himself Le Chevaler
Mal Fet, the knight that had trespassed; and in three days
Sir Launcelot smote down five hundred knights. And ever as
Sir Ector and Sir Percivale told these tales of Sir
Launcelot, Queen Guenever wept as she should have died. Then
the queen made great cheer. O Jesu, said King Arthur, I
marvel for what cause ye, Sir Launcelot, went out of your
mind. I and many others deem it was for the love of fair
Elaine, the daughter of King Pelles, by whom ye are noised
that ye have gotten a child, and his name is Galahad, and
men say he shall do marvels. My lord, said Sir Launcelot, if
I did any folly I have that I sought. And therewithal the
king spake no more. But all Sir Launcelot's kin knew for
whom he went out of his mind. And then there were great
feasts made and great joy; and many great lords and ladies,
when they heard that Sir Launcelot was come to the court
again, they made great joy.
CHAPTER XI. How La Beale Isoud counselled Sir Tristram
to go unto the court, to the great feast of Pentecost.
NOW will we leave off this matter, and speak we of Sir
Tristram, and of Sir Palomides that was the Saracen
unchristened. When Sir Tristram was come home unto Joyous
Gard from his adventures, all this while that Sir Launcelot
was thus missed, two year and more, Sir Tristram bare the
renown through all the realm of Logris, and many strange
adventures befell him, and full well and manly and
worshipfully he brought them to an end. So when he was come
home La Beale Isoud told him of the great feast that should
be at Pentecost next following, and there she told him how
Sir Launcelot had been missed two year, and all that while
he had been out of his mind, and how he was holpen by the
holy vessel, the Sangreal. Alas, said Sir Tristram, that
caused some debate betwixt him and Queen Guenever. Sir, said
Dame Isoud, I know it all, for Queen Guenever sent me a
letter in the which she wrote me all how it was, for to
require you to seek him. And now, blessed be God, said La
Beale Isoud, he is whole and sound and come again to the
court.
Thereof am I glad, said Sir Tristram, and now shall ye
and I make us ready, for both ye and I will be at the feast.
Sir, said Isoud, an it please you I will not be there, for
through me ye be marked of many good knights, and that
caused you to have much more labour for my sake than needeth
you. Then will I not be there, said Sir Tristram, but if ye
be there. God defend, said La Beale Isoud, for then shall I
be spoken of shame among all queens and ladies of estate;
for ye that are called one of the noblest knights of the
world, and ye a knight of the Round Table, how may ye be
missed at that feast? What shall be said among all knights?
See how Sir Tristram hunteth, and hawketh, and cowereth
within a castle with his lady, and forsaketh your worship.
Alas, shall some say, it is pity that ever he was made
knight, or that ever he should have the love of a lady. Also
what shall queens and ladies say of me? It is pity that I
have my life, that I will hold so noble a knight as ye are
from his worship. So God me help, said Sir Tristram unto La
Beale Isoud, it is passing well said of you and nobly
counselled; and now I well understand that ye love me; and
like as ye have counselled me I will do a part thereafter.
But there shall no man nor child ride with me, but myself.
And so will I ride on Tuesday next coming, and no more
harness of war but my spear and my sword.
CHAPTER XII. How Sir Tristram departed unarmed and met
with Sir Palomides, and how they smote each other, and how
Sir Palomides forbare him.
AND so when the day came Sir Tristram took his leave at
La Beale Isoud, and she sent with him four knights, and
within half a mile he sent them again: and within a mile
after Sir Tristram saw afore him where Sir Palomides had
stricken down a knight, and almost wounded him to the death.
Then Sir Tristram repented him that he was not armed, and
then he hoved still. With that Sir Palomides knew Sir
Tristram, and cried on high: Sir Tristram, now be we met,
for or we depart we will redress our old sores. As for that,
said Sir Tristram, there was yet never Christian man might
make his boast that ever I fled from him; and wit ye well,
Sir Palomides, thou that art a Saracen shall never make thy
boast that Sir Tristram de Liones shall flee from thee. And
therewith Sir Tristram made his horse to run, and with all
his might he came straight upon Sir Palomides, and brast his
spear upon him an hundred pieces. And forthwithal Sir
Tristram drew his sword. And then he turned his horse and
struck at Palomides six great strokes upon his helm; and
then Sir Palomides stood still, and beheld Sir Tristram, and
marvelled of his woodness, and of his folly. And then Sir
Palomides said to himself: An Sir Tristram were armed, it
were hard to cease him of this battle, and if I turn again
and slay him I am ashamed wheresomever that I go.
Then Sir Tristram spake and said: Thou coward knight,
what castest thou to do; why wilt thou not do battle with
me? for have thou no doubt I shall endure all thy malice.
Ah, Sir Tristram, said Palomides, full well thou wottest I
may not fight with thee for shame, for thou art here naked
and I am armed, and if I slay thee, dishonour shall be mine.
And well thou wottest, said Sir Palomides to Sir Tristram, I
know thy strength and thy hardiness to endure against a good
knight. That is truth, said Sir Tristram, I understand thy
valiantness well. Ye say well, said Sir Palomides; now, I
require you, tell me a question that I shall say to you.
Tell me what it is, said Sir Tristram, and I shall answer
you the truth, as God me help. I put case, said Sir
Palomides, that ye were armed at all rights as well as I am,
and I naked as ye be, what would you do to me now, by your
true knighthood? Ah, said Sir Tristram, now I understand
thee well, Sir Palomides, for now must I say mine own
judgment, and as God me bless, that I shall say shall not be
said for no fear that I have of thee. But this is all: wit
Sir Palomides, as at this time thou shouldest depart from
me, for I would not have ado with thee. No more will I, said
Palomides, and therefore ride forth on thy way. As for that
I may choose, said Sir Tristram, either to ride or to abide.
But Sir Palomides, said Sir Tristram, I marvel of one thing,
that thou that art so good a knight, that thou wilt not be
christened, and thy brother, Sir Safere, hath been
christened many a day.
CHAPTER XIII. How that Sir Tristram gat him harness of a
knight which was hurt, and how he overthrew Sir Palomides.
AS for that, said Sir Palomides, I may not yet be
christened for one avow that I have made many years agone;
howbeit in my heart I believe in Jesu Christ and his mild
mother Mary; but I have but one battle to do, and when that
is done I will be baptised with a good will. By my head,
said Tristram, as for one battle thou shalt not seek it no
longer. For God defend, said Sir Tristram, that through my
default thou shouldst longer live thus a Saracen, for yonder
is a knight that ye, Sir Palomides, have hurt and smitten
down. Now help me that I were armed in his armour, and I
shall soon fulfil thine avows. As ye will, said Palomides,
so it shall be.
So they rode both unto that knight that sat upon a bank,
and then Sir Tristram saluted him, and he weakly saluted him
again. Sir knight, said Sir Tristram, I require you tell me
your right name. Sir, he said, my name is Sir Galleron of
Galway, and knight of the Table Round. So God me help, said
Sir Tristram, I am right heavy of your hurts; but this is
all, I must pray you to lend me all your whole armour, for
ye see I am unarmed, and I must do battle with this knight.
Sir, said the hurt knight, ye shall have it with a good
will; but ye must beware, for I warn you that knight is
wight. Sir, said Galleron, I pray you tell me your name, and
what is that knight's name that hath beaten me. Sir, as for
my name it is Sir Tristram de Liones, and as for the
knight's name that hath hurt you is Sir Palomides, brother
to the good knight Sir Safere, and yet is Sir Palomides
unchristened. Alas, said Sir Galleron, that is pity that so
good a knight and so noble a man of arms should be
unchristened. So God me help, said Sir Tristram, either he
shall slay me or I him but that he shall be christened or
ever we depart in-sunder. My lord Sir Tristram, said Sir
Galleron, your renown and worship is well known through many
realms, and God save you this day from shenship and shame.
Then Sir Tristram unarmed Galleron, the which was a noble
knight, and had done many deeds of arms, and he was a large
knight of flesh and bone. And when he was unarmed he stood
upon his feet, for he was bruised in the back with a spear;
yet so as Sir Galleron might, he armed Sir Tristram. And
then Sir Tristram mounted upon his own horse, and in his
hand he gat Sir Galleron's spear; and therewithal Sir
Palomides was ready. And so they came hurtling together, and
either smote other in midst of their shields; and
therewithal Sir Palomides' spear brake, and Sir Tristram
smote down the horse; and Sir Palomides, as soon as he
might, avoided his horse, and dressed his shield, and pulled
out his sword. That saw Sir Tristram, and therewithal he
alighted and tied his horse till a tree.
CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Tristram and Sir Palomides fought
long together, and after accorded, and how Sir Tristram made
him to be christened.
AND then they came together as two wild boars, lashing
together, tracing and traversing as noble men that oft had
been well proved in battle; but ever Sir Palomides dread the
might of Sir Tristram, and therefore he suffered him to
breathe him. Thus they fought more than two hours, but often
Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palomides that he
made him to kneel; and Sir Palomides brake and cut away many
pieces of Sir Tristram's shield; and then Sir Palomides
wounded Sir Tristram, for he was a well fighting man. Then
Sir Tristram was wood wroth out of measure, and rushed upon
Sir Palomides with such a might that Sir Palomides fell
grovelling to the earth; and therewithal he leapt up lightly
upon his feet, and then Sir Tristram wounded Palomides sore
through the shoulder. And ever Sir Tristram fought still in
like hard, and Sir Palomides failed not, but gave him many
sad strokes. And at the last Sir Tristram doubled his
strokes, and by fortune Sir Tristram smote Sir Palomides
sword out of his hand, and if Sir Palomides had stooped for
his sword he had been slain.
Then Palomides stood still and beheld his sword with a
sorrowful heart. How now, said Sir Tristram unto Palomides,
now have I thee at advantage as thou haddest me this day;
but it shall never be said in no court, nor among good
knights, that Sir Tristram shall slay any knight that is
weaponless; and therefore take thou thy sword, and let us
make an end of this battle. As for to do this battle, said
Palomides, I dare right well end it, but I have no great
lust to fight no more. And for this cause, said Palomides:
mine offence to you is not so great but that we may be
friends. All that I have offended is and was for the love of
La Beale Isoud. And as for her, I dare say she is peerless
above all other ladies, and also I proffered her never no
dishonour; and by her I have gotten the most part of my
worship. And sithen I offended never as to her own person,
and as for the offence that I have done, it was against your
own person, and for that offence ye have given me this day
many sad strokes, and some I have given you again; and now I
dare say I felt never man of your might, nor so well
breathed, but if it were Sir Launcelot du Lake; wherefore I
require you, my lord, forgive me all that I have offended
unto you; and this same day have me to the next church, and
first let me be clean confessed, and after see you now that
I be truly baptised. And then will we all ride together unto
the court of Arthur, that we be there at the high feast. Now
take your horse, said Sir Tristram, and as ye say so it
shall be, and all thine evil will God forgive it you, and I
do. And here within this mile is the Suffragan of Carlisle
that shall give you the sacrament of baptism.
Then they took their horses and Sir Galleron rode with
them. And when they came to the Suffragan Sir Tristram told
him their desire. Then the Suffragan let fill a great vessel
with water, and when he had hallowed it he then confessed
clean Sir Palomides, and Sir Tristram and Sir Galleron were
his godfathers. And then soon after they departed, riding
toward Camelot, where King Arthur and Queen Guenever was,
and for the most part all the knights of the Round Table.
And so the king and all the court were glad that Sir
Palomides was christened. And at the same feast in came
Galahad and sat in the Siege Perilous. And so therewithal
departed and dissevered all the knights of the Round Table.
And Sir Tristram returned again unto Joyous Gard, and Sir
Palomides followed the Questing Beast.
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BOOK XIII.
CHAPTER I. How at the vigil of the Feast of Pentecost
entered into the hall before King Arthur a damosel, and
desired Sir Launcelot for to come and
dub a knight, and how he went with her.
AT the vigil of Pentecost, when all the fellowship of the
Round Table were come unto Camelot and there heard their
service, and the tables were set ready to the meat, right so
entered into the hall a full fair gentlewoman on horseback,
that had ridden full fast, for her horse was all besweated.
Then she there alighted, and came before the king and
saluted him; and he said: Damosel, God thee bless. Sir, said
she, for God's sake say me where Sir Launcelot is. Yonder ye
may see him, said the king. Then she went unto Launcelot and
said: Sir Launcelot, I salute you on King Pelles' behalf,
and I require you come on with me hereby into a forest. Then
Sir Launcelot asked her with whom she dwelled. I dwell, said
she, with King Pelles. What will ye with me? said Launcelot.
Ye shall know, said she, when ye come thither. Well, said
he, I will gladly go with you. So Sir Launcelot bade his
squire saddle his horse and bring his arms; and in all haste
he did his commandment.
Then came the queen unto Launcelot, and said: Will ye
leave us at this high feast? Madam, said the gentlewoman,
wit ye well he shall be with you to-morn by dinner time. If
I wist, said the queen, that he should not be with us here
to-morn he should not go with you by my good will. Right so
departed Sir Launcelot with the gentlewoman, and rode until
that he came into a forest and into a great valley, where
they saw an abbey of nuns; and there was a squire ready and
opened the gates, and so they entered and descended off
their horses; and there came a fair fellowship about Sir
Launcelot, and welcomed him, and were passing glad of his
coming. And then they led him unto the Abbess's chamber and
unarmed him; and right so he was ware upon a bed lying two
of his cousins, Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and then he waked
them; and when they saw him they made great joy. Sir, said
Sir Bors unto Sir Launcelot, what adventure hath brought you
hither, for we weened to-morn to have found you at Camelot?
As God me help, said Sir Launcelot, a gentlewoman brought me
hither, but I know not the cause.
In the meanwhile that they thus stood talking together,
therein came twelve nuns that brought with them Galahad, the
which was passing fair and well made, that unnethe in the
world men might not find his match: and all those ladies
wept. Sir, said they all, we bring you here this child the
which we have nourished, and we pray you to make him a
knight, for of a more worthier man's hand may he not receive
the order of knighthood. Sir Launcelot beheld the young
squire and saw him seemly and demure as a dove, with all
manner of good features, that he weened of his age never to
have seen so fair a man of form. Then said Sir Launcelot:
Cometh this desire of himself? He and all they said yea.
Then shall he, said Sir Launcelot, receive the high order of
knighthood as to-morn at the reverence of the high feast.
That night Sir Launcelot had passing good cheer; and on the
morn at the hour of prime, at Galahad's desire, he made him
knight and said: God make him a good man, for of beauty
faileth you not as any that liveth.
CHAPTER II. How the letters were found written in the
Siege Perilous and of the marvellous adventure of the sword
in a stone.
NOW fair sir, said Sir Launcelot, will ye come with me
unto the court of King Arthur? Nay, said he, I will not go
with you as at this time. Then he departed from them and
took his two cousins with him, and so they came unto Camelot
by the hour of underne on Whitsunday. By that time the king
and the queen were gone to the minster to hear their
service. Then the king and the queen were passing glad of
Sir Bors and Sir Lionel, and so was all the fellowship. So
when the king and all the knights were come from service,
the barons espied in the sieges of the Round Table all
about, written with golden letters: Here ought to sit he,
and he ought to sit here. And thus they went so long till
that they came to the Siege Perilous, where they found
letters newly written of gold which said: Four hundred
winters and four and fifty accomplished after the passion of
our Lord Jesu Christ ought this siege to be fulfilled. Then
all they said: This is a marvellous thing and an
adventurous. In the name of God, said Sir Launcelot; and
then accompted the term of the writing from the birth of our
Lord unto that day. It seemeth me said Sir Launcelot, this
siege ought to be fulfilled this same day, for this is the
feast of Pentecost after the four hundred and four and fifty
year; and if it would please all parties, I would none of
these letters were seen this day, till he be come that ought
to enchieve this adventure. Then made they to ordain a cloth
of silk, for to cover these letters in the Siege Perilous.
Then the king bade haste unto dinner. Sir, said Sir Kay
the Steward, if ye go now unto your meat ye shall break your
old custom of your court, for ye have not used on this day
to sit at your meat or that ye have seen some adventure. Ye
say sooth, said the king, but I had so great joy of Sir
Launcelot and of his cousins, which be come to the court
whole and sound, so that I bethought me not of mine old
custom. So, as they stood speaking, in came a squire and
said unto the king: Sir, I bring unto you marvellous
tidings. What be they? said the king. Sir, there is here
beneath at the river a great stone which I saw fleet above
the water, and therein I saw sticking a sword. The king
said: I will see that marvel. So all the knights went with
him, and when they came to the river they found there a
stone fleeting, as it were of red marble, and therein stuck
a fair rich sword, and in the pommel thereof were precious
stones wrought with subtle letters of gold. Then the barons
read the letters which said in this wise: Never shall man
take me hence, but only he by whose side I ought to hang,
and he shall be the best knight of the world.
When the king had seen the letters, he said unto Sir
Launcelot: Fair Sir, this sword ought to be yours, for I am
sure ye be the best knight of the world. Then Sir Launcelot
answered full soberly: Certes, sir, it is not my sword;
also, Sir, wit ye well I have no hardiness to set my hand to
it, for it longed not to hang by my side. Also, who that
assayeth to take the sword and faileth of it, he shall
receive a wound by that sword that he shall not be whole
long after. And I will that ye wit that this same day shall
the adventures of the Sangreal, that is called the Holy
Vessel, begin
CHAPTER III. How Sir Gawaine assayed to draw out the
sword, and how an old man brought in Galahad.
NOW, fair nephew, said the
king unto Sir Gawaine, assay ye, for my love. Sir, he said,
save your good grace I shall not do that. Sir, said the
king, assay to take the sword and at my commandment. Sir,
said Gawaine, your commandment I will obey. And therewith he
took up the sword by the handles, but he might not stir it.
I thank you, said the king to Sir Gawaine. My lord Sir
Gawaine, said Sir Launcelot, now wit ye well this sword
shall touch you so sore that ye shall will ye had never set
your hand thereto for the best castle of this realm. Sir, he
said, I might not withsay mine uncle's will and commandment.
But when the king heard this he repented it much, and said
unto Sir Percivale that he should assay, for his love. And
he said: Gladly, for to bear Sir Gawaine fellowship. And
therewith he set his hand on the sword and drew it strongly,
but he might not move it. Then were there none that durst be so hardy to
set their hands thereto. Now may ye go to your dinner, said
Sir Kay unto the king, for a marvellous adventure have ye
seen. So the king and all went unto the court, and every
knight knew his own place, and set him therein, and young
men that were knights served them.
So when they were served, and all sieges fulfilled save
only the Siege Perilous, anon there befell a marvellous
adventure, that all the doors and windows of the palace shut
by themself. Not for then the hall was not greatly darked;
and therewith they were all abashed both one and other. Then
King Arthur spake first and said: By God, fair fellows and
lords, we have seen this day marvels, but or night I suppose
we shall see greater marvels.
In the meanwhile came in a good old man, and an ancient,
clothed all in white, and there was no knight knew from
whence he came. And with him he brought a young knight, both
on foot, in red arms, without sword or shield, save a
scabbard hanging by his side. And these words he said: Peace
be with you, fair lords. Then the old man said unto Arthur:
Sir, I bring here a young knight, the which is of king's
lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of Aramathie, whereby
the marvels of this court, and of strange realms, shall be
fully accomplished.
CHAPTER IV. How the old man brought Galahad to the Siege
Perilous and set him therein, and how all the knights
marvelled.
THE king was right glad of his words, and said unto the
good man: Sir, ye be right welcome, and the young knight
with you. Then the old man made the young man to unarm him,
and he was in a coat of red sendal, and bare a mantle upon
his shoulder that was furred with ermine, and put that upon
him. And the old knight said unto the young knight: Sir,
follow me. And anon he led him unto the Siege Perilous,
where beside sat Sir Launcelot; and the good man lift up the
cloth, and found there letters that said thus: This is the
siege of Galahad, the haut prince. Sir, said the old knight,
wit ye well that place is yours. And then he set him down
surely in that siege. And then he said to the old man: Sir,
ye may now go your way, for well have ye done that ye were
commanded to do; and recommend me unto my grandsire, King
Pelles, and unto my lord Petchere, and say them on my
behalf, I shall come and see them as soon as ever I may. So
the good man departed; and there met him twenty noble
squires, and so took their horses and went their way.
Then all the knights of the Table Round marvelled greatly
of Sir Galahad, that he durst sit there in that Siege
Perilous, and was so tender of age; and wist not from whence
he came but all only by God; and said: This is he by whom
the Sangreal shall be enchieved, for there sat never none
but he, but he were mischieved. Then Sir Launcelot beheld
his son and had great joy of him. Then Bors told his
fellows: Upon pain of my life this young knight shall come
unto great worship. This noise was great in all the court,
so that it came to the queen. Then she had marvel what
knight it might be that durst adventure him to sit in the
Siege Perilous. Many said unto the queen he resembled much
unto Sir Launcelot. I may well suppose, said the queen, that
Sir Launcelot begat him on King Pelles' daughter, by the
which he was made to lie by, by enchantment, and his name is
Galahad. I would fain see him, said the queen, for he must
needs be a noble man, for so is his father that him begat, I
report me unto all the Table Round.
So when the meat was done that the king and all were
risen, the king yede unto the Siege Perilous and lift up the
cloth, and found there the name of Galahad; and then he
shewed it unto Sir Gawaine, and said: Fair nephew, now have
we among us Sir Galahad, the good knight that shall worship
us all; and upon pain of my life he shall enchieve the
Sangreal, right as Sir Launcelot had done us to understand.
Then came King Arthur unto Galahad and said: Sir, ye be
welcome, for ye shall move many good knights to the quest of
the Sangreal, and ye shall enchieve that never knights might
bring to an end. Then the king took him by the hand, and
went down from the palace to shew Galahad the adventures of
the stone.
CHAPTER V. How King Arthur shewed the stone hoving on
the water to Galahad, and how he drew out the sword.
THE queen heard thereof, and came after with many ladies,
and shewed them the stone where it hoved on the water. Sir,
said the king unto Sir Galahad, here is a great marvel as
ever I saw, and right good knights have assayed and failed.
Sir, said Galahad, that is no marvel, for this adventure is
not theirs but mine; and for the surety of this sword I
brought none with me, for here by my side hangeth the
scabbard. And anon he laid his hand on the sword, and
lightly drew it out of the stone, and put it in the sheath,
and said unto the king: Now it goeth better than it did
aforehand. Sir, said the king, a shield God shall send you.
Now have I that sword that sometime was the good knight's,
Balin le Savage, and he was a passing good man of his hands;
and with this sword he slew his brother Balan, and that was
great pity, for he was a good knight, and either slew other
through a dolorous stroke that Balin gave unto my
grandfather King Pelles, the which is not yet whole, nor not
shall be till I heal him.
Therewith the king and all espied where came riding down
the river a lady on a white palfrey toward them. Then she
saluted the king and the queen, and asked if that Sir
Launcelot was there. And then he answered himself: I am
here, fair lady. Then she said all with weeping: How your
great doing is changed sith this day in the morn. Damosel,
why say you so? said Launcelot. I say you sooth, said the
damosel, for ye were this day the best knight of the world,
but who should say so now, he should be a liar, for there is
now one better than ye, and well it is proved by the
adventures of the sword whereto ye durst not set to your
hand; and that is the change and leaving of your name.
Wherefore I make unto you a remembrance, that ye shall not
ween from henceforth that ye be the best knight of the
world. As touching unto that, said Launcelot, I know well I
was never the best. Yes, said the damosel, that were ye, and
are yet, of any sinful man of the world. And, Sir king,
Nacien, the hermit, sendeth thee word, that thee shall
befall the greatest worship that ever befell king in
Britain; and I say you wherefore, for this day the Sangreal
appeared in thy house and fed thee and all thy fellowship of
the Round Table. So she departed and went that same way that
she came.
CHAPTER VI. How King Arthur had all the knights together
for to joust in the meadow beside Camelot or they departed.
Now, said the king, I am sure at this quest of the
Sangreal shall all ye of the Table Round depart, and never
shall I see you again whole together; therefore I will see
you all whole together in the meadow of Camelot to joust and
to tourney, that after your death men may speak of it that
such good knights were wholly together such a day. As unto
that counsel and at the king's request they accorded all,
and took on their harness that longed unto jousting. But all
this moving of the king was for this intent, for to see
Galahad proved; for the king deemed he should not lightly
come again unto the court after his departing. So were they
assembled in the meadow, both more and less. Then Sir
Galahad, by the prayer of the king and the queen, did upon
him a noble jesseraunce, and also he did on his helm, but
shield would he take none for no prayer of the king. And
then Sir Gawaine and other knights prayed him to take a
spear. Right so he did; and the queen was in a tower with
all her ladies, for to behold that tournament. Then Sir
Galahad dressed him in midst of the meadow, and began to
break spears marvellously, that all men had wonder of him;
for he there surmounted all other knights, for within a
while he had defouled many good knights of the Table Round
save twain, that was Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale.
CHAPTER VII. How the queen desired to see Galahad; and
how after, all the knights were replenished with the Holy
Sangreal, and how they avowed the
enquest of the same.
THEN the king, at the queen's request, made him to alight
and to unlace his helm, that the queen might see him in the
visage. When she beheld him she said: Soothly I dare well
say that Sir Launcelot begat him, for never two men
resembled more in likeness, therefore it nis no marvel
though he be of great prowess. So a lady that stood by the
queen said: Madam, for God's sake ought he of right to be so
good a knight? Yea, forsooth, said the queen, for he is of
all parties come of the best knights of the world and of the
highest lineage; for Sir Launcelot is come but of the eighth
degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, and Sir Galahad is of the
ninth degree from our Lord Jesu Christ, therefore I dare say
they be the greatest gentlemen of the world.
And then the king and all estates went home unto Camelot,
and so went to evensong to the great minster, and so after
upon that to supper, and every knight sat in his own place
as they were toforehand. Then anon they heard cracking and
crying of thunder, that them thought the place should all
to-drive. In the midst of this blast entered a sunbeam more
clearer by seven times than ever they saw day, and all they
were alighted of the grace of the Holy Ghost. Then began
every knight to behold other, and either saw other, by their
seeming, fairer than ever they saw afore. Not for then there
was no knight might speak one word a great while, and so
they looked every man on other as they had been dumb. Then
there entered into the hall the Holy Grail covered with
white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare
it. And there was all the hall fulfilled with good odours,
and every knight had such meats and drinks as he best loved
in this world. And when the Holy Grail had been borne
through the hall, then the holy vessel departed suddenly,
that they wist not where it became: then had they all breath
to speak. And then the king yielded thankings to God, of His
good grace that he had sent them. Certes, said the king, we
ought to thank our Lord Jesu greatly for that he hath shewed
us this day, at the reverence of this high feast of
Pentecost.
Now, said Sir Gawaine, we have been served this day of
what meats and drinks we thought on; but one thing beguiled
us, we might not see the Holy Grail, it was so preciously
covered. Wherefore I will make here avow, that to-morn,
without longer abiding, I shall labour in the quest of the
Sangreal, that I shall hold me out a twelvemonth and a day,
or more if need be, and never shall I return again unto the
court till I have seen it more openly than it hath been seen
here; and if I may not speed I shall return again as he that
may not be against the will of our Lord Jesu Christ.
When they of the Table Round heard Sir Gawaine say so,
they arose up the most part and made such avows as Sir
Gawaine had made. Anon as King Arthur heard this he was
greatly displeased, for he wist well they might not
again-say their avows. Alas, said King Arthur unto Sir
Gawaine, ye have nigh slain me with the avow and promise
that ye have made; for through you ye have bereft me the
fairest fellowship and the truest of knighthood that ever
were seen together in any realm of the world; for when they
depart from hence I am sure they all shall never meet more
in this world, for they shall die many in the quest. And so
it forthinketh me a little, for I have loved them as well as
my life, wherefore it shall grieve me right sore, the
departition of this fellowship: for I have had an old custom
to have them in my fellowship.
CHAPTER VIII. How great sorrow was made of the king and
the queen and ladies for the departing of the knights, and
how they departed.
AND therewith the tears fell in his eyes. And then he
said: Gawaine, Gawaine, ye have set me in great sorrow, for
I have great doubt that my true fellowship shall never meet
here more again. Ah, said Sir Launcelot, comfort yourself;
for it shall be unto us a great honour and much more than if
we died in any other places, for of death we be siker. Ah,
Launcelot, said the king, the great love that I have had
unto you all the days of my life maketh me to say such
doleful words; for never Christian king had never so many
worthy men at his table as I have had this day at the Round
Table, and that is my great sorrow.
When the queen, ladies, and gentlewomen, wist these
tidings, they had such sorrow and heaviness that there might
no tongue tell it, for those knights had held them in honour
and chierté. But among all other Queen Guenever made great
sorrow. I marvel, said she, my lord would suffer them to
depart from him. Thus was all the court troubled for the
love of the departition of those knights. And many of those
ladies that loved knights would have gone with their lovers;
and so had they done, had not an old knight come among them
in religious clothing; and then he spake all on high and
said: Fair lords, which have sworn in the quest of the
Sangreal, thus sendeth you Nacien, the hermit, word, that
none in this quest lead lady nor gentlewoman with him, for
it is not to do in so high a service as they labour in; for
I warn you plain, he that is not clean of his sins he shall
not see the mysteries of our Lord Jesu Christ. And for this
cause they left these ladies and gentlewomen.
After this the queen came unto Galahad and asked him of
whence he was, and of what country. He told her of whence he
was. And son unto Launcelot, she said he was. As to that, he
said neither yea nor nay. So God me help, said the queen, of
your father ye need not to shame you, for he is the
goodliest knight, and of the best men of the world come, and
of the strain, of all parties, of kings. Wherefore ye ought
of right to be, of your deeds, a passing good man; and
certainly, she said, ye resemble him much. Then Sir Galahad
was a little ashamed and said: Madam, sith ye know in
certain, wherefore do ye ask it me? for he that is my father
shall be known openly and all betimes. And then they went to
rest them. And in the honour of the highness of Galahad he
was led into King Arthur's chamber, and there rested in his
own bed.
And as soon as it was day the king arose, for he had no
rest of all that night for sorrow. Then he went unto Gawaine
and to Sir Launcelot that were arisen for to hear mass. And
then the king again said: Ah Gawaine, Gawaine, ye have
betrayed me; for never shall my court be amended by you, but
ye will never be sorry for me as I am for you. And therewith
the tears began to run down by his visage. And therewith the
king said: Ah, knight Sir Launcelot, I require thee thou
counsel me, for I would that this quest were undone, an it
might be Sir, said Sir Launcelot, ye saw yesterday so many
worthy knights that then were sworn that they may not leave
it in no manner of wise. That wot I well, said the king, but
it shall so heavy me at their departing that I wot well
there shall no manner of joy remedy me. And then the king
and the queen went unto the minster. So anon Launcelot and
Gawaine commanded their men to bring their arms. And when
they all were armed save their shields and their helms, then
they came to their fellowship, which were all ready in the
same wise, for to go to the minster to hear their service.
Then after the service was done the king would wit how
many had undertaken the quest of the Holy Grail; and to
accompt them he prayed them all. Then found they by the tale
an hundred and fifty, and all were knights of the Round
Table. And then they put on their helms and departed, and
recommended them all wholly unto the queen; and there was
weeping and great sorrow. Then the queen departed into her
chamber and held her, so that no man should perceive her
great sorrows. When Sir Launcelot missed the queen he went
till her chamber, and when she saw him she cried aloud: O
Launcelot, Launcelot, ye have betrayed me and put me to the
death, for to leave thus my lord. Ah, madam, I pray you be
not displeased, for I shall come again as soon as I may with
my worship. Alas, said she, that ever I saw you; but he that
suffered upon the cross for all mankind, he be unto you good
conduct and safety, and all the whole fellowship.
Right so departed Sir Launcelot, and found his fellowship
that abode his coming. And so they mounted upon their horses
and rode through the streets of Camelot; and there was
weeping of rich and poor, and the king turned away and might
not speak for weeping. So within a while they came to a
city, and a castle that hight Vagon. There they entered into
the castle, and the lord of that castle was an old man that
hight Vagon, and he was a good man of his living, and set
open the gates, and made them all the cheer that he might.
And so on the morn they were all accorded that they should
depart everych from other; and on the morn they departed
with weeping cheer, and every knight took the way that him
liked best.
CHAPTER IX. How Galahad gat him a shield, and how they
sped that presumed to take down the said shield.
NOW rideth Sir Galahad yet without shield, and so he rode
four days without any adventure. And at the fourth day after
evensong he came to a White Abbey, and there he was received
with great reverence, and led unto a chamber, and there was
he unarmed; and then was he ware of two knights of the
Table Round, one was Sir Bagdemagus, and (1)that other was
Sir Uwaine. And when they saw him they went unto Galahad and
made of him great solace, and so they went unto supper.
Sirs, said Sir Galahad, what adventure brought you hither?
Sir, said they, it is told us that within this place is a
shield that no man may bear about his neck but he be
mischieved outher dead within three days, or maimed for
ever. Ah sir, said King Bagdemagus, I shall it bear
to-morrow for to assay this adventure. In the name of God,
said Sir Galahad. Sir, said Bagdemagus, an I may not
enchieve the adventure of this shield ye shall take it upon
you, for I am sure ye shall not fail. Sir, said Galahad, I
right well agree me thereto, for I have no shield. So on the
morn they arose and heard mass. Then Bagdemagus asked where
the adventurous shield was. Anon a monk led him behind an
altar where the shield hung as white as any snow, but in the
midst was a red cross. Sir, said the monk, this shield ought
not to be hanged about no knight's neck but he be the
worthiest knight of the world;
therefore I counsel you knights to be well advised. Well,
said Bagdemagus, I wot well that I am not the best knight of
the world, but yet I shall assay to bear it, and so bare it
out of the minster. And then he said unto Galahad: An it
please you abide here still, till ye wit how that I speed. I
shall abide you, said Galahad. Then King Bagdemagus took
with him a good squire, to bring tidings unto Sir Galahad
how he sped.
Then when they had ridden a two mile and came to a fair
valley afore an hermitage, then they saw a knight come from
that part in white armour, horse and all; and he came as
fast as his horse might run, and his spear in his rest, and
Bagdemagus dressed his spear against him and brake it upon
the white knight. But the other struck him so hard that he
brast the mails, and sheef him through the right shoulder,
for the shield covered him not as at that time; and so he
bare him from his horse. And therewith he alighted and took
the white shield from him, saying: Knight, thou hast done
thyself great folly, for this shield ought not to be borne
but by him that shall have no peer that liveth. And then he
came to Bagdemagus' squire and said: Bear this shield unto
the good knight Sir Galahad, that thou left in the abbey,
and greet him well by me. Sir, said the squire, what is your
name? Take thou no heed of my name, said the knight, for it
is not for thee to know nor for none earthly man. Now, fair
sir, said the squire, at the reverence of Jesu Christ, tell
me for what cause this shield may not be borne but if the
bearer thereof be mischieved. Now sith thou hast conjured me
so, said the knight, this shield behoveth unto no man but
unto Galahad. And the squire went unto Bagdemagus and asked
whether he were sore wounded or not. Yea forsooth, said he,
I shall escape hard from the death. Then he fetched his
horse, and brought him with great pain unto an abbey. Then
was he taken down softly and unarmed, and laid in a bed, and
there was looked to his wounds. And as the book telleth, he
lay there long, and escaped hard with the life.
CHAPTER X. How Galahad departed with the shield, and how
King Evelake had received the shield of Joseph of Aramathie.
SIR GALAHAD, said the squire, that knight that wounded
Bagdemagus sendeth you greeting, and bade that ye should
bear this shield, wherethrough great adventures should
befall. Now blessed be God and fortune, said Galahad. And
then he asked his arms, and mounted upon his horse, and hung
the white shield about his neck, and commended them unto
God. And Sir Uwaine said he would bear him fellowship if it
pleased him. Sir, said Galahad, that may ye not, for I must
go alone, save this squire shall bear me fellowship: and so
departed Uwaine.
Then within a while came Galahad thereas the White Knight
abode him by the hermitage, and everych saluted other
courteously. Sir, said Galahad, by this shield be many
marvels fallen. Sir, said the knight, it befell after the
passion of our Lord Jesu Christ thirty-two year, that Joseph
of Aramathie, the gentle knight, the which took down our
Lord off the holy Cross, at that time he departed from
Jerusalem with a great party of his kindred with him. And so
he laboured till that they came to a city that hight Sarras.
And at that same hour that Joseph came to Sarras there was a
king that hight Evelake, that had great war against the
Saracens, and in especial against one Saracen, the which was
King Evelake's cousin, a rich king and a mighty, which
marched nigh this land, and his name was called Tolleme la
Feintes. So on a day these two met to do battle. Then
Joseph, the son of Joseph of Aramathie, went to King Evelake
and told him he should be discomfit and slain, but if he
left his belief of the old law and believed upon the new
law. And then there he shewed him the right belief of the
Holy Trinity, to the which he agreed unto with all his
heart; and there this shield was made for King Evelake, in
the name of Him that died upon the Cross. And then through
his good belief he had the better of King Tolleme. For when
Evelake was in the battle there was a cloth set afore the
shield, and when he was in the greatest peril he let put
away the cloth, and then his enemies saw a figure of a man
on the Cross, wherethrough they all were discomfit. And so
it befell that a man of King Evelake's was smitten his hand
off, and bare that hand in his other hand; and Joseph called
that man unto him and bade him go with good devotion touch
the Cross. And as soon as that man had touched the Cross
with his hand it was as whole as ever it was to-fore. Then
soon after there fell a great marvel, that the cross of the
shield at one time vanished away that no man wist where it
became. And then King Evelake was baptised, and for the most
part all the people of that city. So, soon after Joseph
would depart, and King Evelake would go with him, whether he
wold or nold. And so by fortune they came into this land,
that at that time was called Great Britain; and there they
found a great felon paynim, that put Joseph into prison. And
so by fortune tidings came unto a worthy man that hight
Mondrames, and he assembled all his people for the great
renown he had heard of Joseph; and so he came into the land
of Great Britain and disherited this felon paynim and
consumed him, and therewith delivered Joseph out of prison.
And after that all the people were turned to the Christian
faith.
CHAPTER XI. How Joseph made a cross on the white shield
with his blood, and how Galahad was by a monk brought to a
tomb.
NOT long after that Joseph was laid in his deadly bed.
And when King Evelake saw that he made much sorrow, and
said: For thy love I have left my country, and sith ye shall
depart out of this world, leave me some token of yours that
I may think on you. Joseph said: That will I do full gladly;
now bring me your shield that I took you when ye went into
battle against King Tolleme. Then Joseph bled sore at the
nose, so that he might not by no mean be staunched. And
there upon that shield he made a cross of his own blood. Now
may ye see a remembrance that I love you, for ye shall never
see this shield but ye shall think on me, and it shall be
always as fresh as it is now. And never shall man bear this
shield about his neck but he shall repent it, unto the time
that Galahad, the good knight, bear it; and the last of my
lineage shall have it about his neck, that shall do many
marvellous deeds. Now, said King Evelake, where shall I put
this shield, that this worthy knight may have it? Ye shall
leave it thereas Nacien, the hermit, shall be put after his
death; for thither shall that good knight come the fifteenth
day after that he shall receive the order of knighthood: and
so that day that they set is this time that he have his
shield, and in the same abbey lieth Nacien, the hermit. And
then the White Knight vanished away.
Anon as the squire had
heard these words, he alighted off his hackney and kneeled
down at Galahad's feet, and prayed him that he might go with
him till he had made him knight. Yea, I would not refuse you. Then will ye make me a
knight? said the squire, and that order, by the grace of
God, shall be well set in me. So Sir Galahad granted him,
and turned again unto the abbey where they came from; and
there men made great joy of Sir Galahad. And anon as he was
alighted there was a monk brought him unto a tomb in a
churchyard, where there was such a noise that who that heard
it should verily nigh be mad or lose his strength: and sir,
they said, we deem it is a fiend.
CHAPTER XII. Of the marvel that Sir Galahad saw and
heard in the tomb, and how he made Melias knight.
NOW lead me thither, said Galahad. And so they did, all
armed save his helm. Now, said the good man, go to the tomb
and lift it up. So he did, and heard a great noise; and
piteously he said, that all men might hear it: Sir Galahad,
the servant of Jesu Christ, come thou not nigh me, for thou
shalt make me go again there where I have been so long. But
Galahad was nothing afraid, but lifted up the stone; and
there came out so foul a smoke, and after he saw the foulest
figure leap thereout that ever he saw in the likeness of a
man; and then he blessed him and wist well it was a fiend.
Then heard he a voice say Galahad, I see there environ about
thee so many angels that my power may not dere thee{sic}
Right so Sir Galahad saw a body all armed lie in that tomb,
and beside him a sword. Now, fair brother, said Galahad, let
us remove this body, for it is not worthy to lie in this
churchyard, for he was a false Christian man. And therewith
they all departed and went to the abbey. And anon as he was
unarmed a good man came and set him down by him and said:
Sir, I shall tell you what betokeneth all that ye saw in the
tomb; for that covered body betokeneth the duresse of the
world, and the great sin that Our Lord found in the world.
For there was such wretchedness that the father loved not
the son, nor the son loved not the father; and that was one
of the causes that Our Lord took flesh and blood of a clean
maiden, for our sins were so great at that time that
well-nigh all was wickedness. Truly, said Galahad, I believe
you right well.
So Sir Galahad rested him there that night; and upon the
morn he made the squire knight, and asked him his name, and
of what kindred he was come. Sir, said he, men calleth me
Melias de Lile, and I am the son of the King of Denmark.
Now, fair sir, said Galahad, sith that ye be come of kings
and queens, now look that knighthood be well set in you, for
ye ought to be a mirror unto all chivalry. Sir, said Sir
Melias, ye say sooth. But, sir, sithen ye have made me a
knight ye must of right grant me my first desire that is
reasonable. Ye say sooth, said Galahad. Melias said: Then
that ye will suffer me to ride with you in this quest of the
Sangreal, till that some adventure depart us. I grant you,
sir.
Then men brought Sir Melias his armour and his spear and
his horse, and so Sir Galahad and he rode forth all that
week or they found any adventure. And then upon a Monday in
the morning, as they were departed from an abbey, they came
to a cross which departed two ways, and in that cross were
letters written that said thus: Now, ye knights errant, the
which goeth to seek knights adventurous, see here two ways;
that one way defendeth thee that thou ne go that way, for he
shall not go out of the way again but if he be a good man
and a worthy knight; and if thou go on the left hand, thou
shalt not lightly there win prowess, for thou shalt in this
way be soon assayed. Sir, said Melias to Galahad, if it like
you to suffer me to take the way on the left hand, tell me,
for there I shall well prove my strength. It were better,
said Galahad, ye rode not that way, for I deem I should
better escape in that way than ye. Nay, my lord, I pray you
let me have that adventure. Take it in God's name, said
Galahad.
CHAPTER XIII. Of the adventure that Melias had, and how
Galahad revenged him, and how Melias was carried into an
abbey.
AND then rode Melias into an old forest, and therein he
rode two days and more. And then he came into a fair meadow,
and there was a fair lodge of boughs. And then he espied in
that lodge a chair, wherein was a crown of gold, subtly
wrought. Also there were cloths covered upon the earth, and
many delicious meats set thereon. Sir Melias beheld this
adventure, and thought it marvellous, but he had no hunger,
but of the crown of gold he took much keep; and therewith he
stooped down and took it up, and rode his way with it. And
anon he saw a knight came riding after him that said:
Knight, set down that crown which is not yours, and
therefore defend you. Then Sir Melias blessed him and said:
Fair lord of heaven, help and save thy new-made knight. And
then they let their horses run as fast as they might, so
that the other knight smote Sir Melias through hauberk and
through the left side, that he fell to the earth nigh dead.
And then he took the crown and went his way; and Sir Melias
lay still and had no power to stir.
In the meanwhile by fortune there came Sir Galahad and
found him there in peril of death. And then he said: Ah
Melias, who hath wounded you? therefore it had been better
to have ridden the other way. And when Sir Melias heard him
speak: Sir, he said, for God's love let me not die in this
forest, but bear me unto the abbey here beside, that I may
be confessed and have my rights. It shall be done, said
Galahad, but where is he that hath wounded you? With that
Sir Galahad heard in the leaves cry on high: Knight, keep
thee from me. Ah sir, said Melias, beware, for that is he
that hath slain me. Sir Galahad answered: Sir knight, come
on your peril. Then either dressed to other, and came
together as fast as their horses might run, and Galahad
smote him so that his spear went through his shoulder, and
smote him down off his horse, and in the falling Galahad's
spear brake.
With that came out another knight out of the leaves, and
brake a spear upon Galahad or ever he might turn him. Then
Galahad drew out his sword and smote off the left arm of
him, so that it fell to the earth. And then he fled, and Sir
Galahad pursued fast after him. And then he turned again
unto Sir Melias, and there he alighted and dressed him
softly on his horse to-fore him, for the truncheon of his
spear was in his body; and Sir Galahad stert up behind him,
and held him in his arms, and so brought him to the abbey,
and there unarmed him and brought him to his chamber. And
then he asked his Saviour. And when he had received Him he
said unto Sir Galahad: Sir, let death come when it pleaseth
him. And therewith he drew out the truncheon of the spear
out of his body: and then he swooned.
Then came there an old monk which sometime had been a
knight, and beheld Sir Melias. And anon he ransacked him;
and then he said unto Sir Galahad: I shall heal him of his
wound, by the grace of God, within the term of seven weeks.
Then was Sir Galahad glad, and unarmed him, and said he
would abide there three days. And then he asked Sir Melias
how it stood with him. Then he said he was turned unto
helping, God be thanked.
CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Galahad departed, and how he was
commanded to go to the Castle of Maidens to destroy the
wicked custom.
NOW will I depart, said Galahad, for I have much on hand,
for many good knights be full busy about it, and this knight
and I were in the same quest of the Sangreal. Sir, said a
good man, for his sin he was thus wounded; and I marvel,
said the good man, how ye durst take upon you so rich a
thing as the high order of knighthood without clean
confession, and that was the cause ye were bitterly wounded.
For the way on the right hand betokeneth the highway of our
Lord Jesu Christ, and the way of a good true good liver. And
the other way betokeneth the way of sinners and of
misbelievers. And when the devil saw your pride and
presumption, for to take you in the quest of the Sangreal,
that made you to be overthrown, for it may not be enchieved
but by virtuous living. Also, the writing on the cross was a
signification of heavenly deeds, and of knightly deeds in
God's works, and no knightly deeds in worldly works. And
pride is head of all deadly sins, that caused this knight to
depart from Galahad. And where thou tookest the crown of
gold thou sinnest in covetise and in theft: all this were no
knightly deeds. And this Galahad, the holy knight, the which
fought with the two knights, the two knights signify the two
deadly sins which were wholly in this knight Melias; and
they might not withstand you, for ye are without deadly sin.
Now departed Galahad from thence, and betaught them all
unto God. Sir Melias said: My lord Galahad, as soon as I may
ride I shall seek you. God send you health, said Galahad,
and so took his horse and departed, and rode many journeys
forward and backward, as adventure would lead him. And at
the last it happened him to depart from a place or a castle
the which was named Abblasoure; and he had heard no mass,
the which he was wont ever to hear or ever he departed out
of any castle or place, and kept that for a custom. Then Sir
Galahad came unto a mountain where he found an old chapel,
and found there nobody, for all, all was desolate; and there
he kneeled to-fore the altar, and besought God of wholesome
counsel. So as he prayed he heard a voice that said: Go thou
now, thou adventurous knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and
there do thou away the wicked customs.
CHAPTER XV. How Sir Galahad fought with the knights of
the castle, and destroyed the wicked custom.
WHEN Sir Galahad heard this he thanked God, and took his
horse; and he had not ridden but half a mile, he saw in the
valley afore him a strong castle with deep ditches, and
there ran beside it a fair river that hight Severn; and
there he met with a man of great age, and either saluted
other, and Galahad asked him the castle's name. Fair sir,
said he, it is the Castle of Maidens. That is a cursed
castle, said Galahad, and all they that be conversant
therein, for all pity is out thereof, and all hardiness and
mischief is therein. Therefore, I counsel you, sir knight,
to turn again. Sir, said Galahad, wit you well I shall not
turn again. Then looked Sir Galahad on his arms that nothing
failed him, and then he put his shield afore him; and anon
there met him seven fair maidens, the which said unto him:
Sir knight, ye ride here in a great folly, for ye have the
water to pass over. Why should I not pass the water? said
Galahad. So rode he away from them and met with a squire
that said: Knight, those knights in the castle defy you, and
defenden you ye go no further till that they wit what ye
would. Fair sir, said Galahad, I come for to destroy the
wicked custom of this castle. Sir, an ye will abide by that
ye shall have enough to do. Go you now, said Galahad, and
haste my needs.
Then the squire entered into the castle. And anon after
there came out of the castle seven knights, and all were
brethren. And when they saw Galahad they cried: Knight, keep
thee, for we assure thee nothing but death. Why, said
Galahad, will ye all have ado with me at once? Yea, said
they, thereto mayst thou trust. Then Galahad put forth his
spear and smote the foremost to the earth, that near he
brake his neck. And therewithal the other smote him on his
shield great strokes, so that their spears brake. Then Sir
Galahad drew out his sword, and set upon them so hard that
it was marvel to see it, and so through great force he made
them to forsake the field; and Galahad chased them till they
entered into the castle, and so passed through the castle at
another gate.
And there met Sir Galahad an old man clothed in religious
clothing, and said: Sir, have here the keys of this castle.
Then Sir Galahad opened the gates, and saw so much people in
the streets that he might not number them, and all said:
Sir, ye be welcome, for long have we abiden here our
deliverance. Then came to him a gentlewoman and said: These
knights be fled, but they will come again this night, and
here to begin again their evil custom. What will ye that I
shall do? said Galahad. Sir, said the gentlewoman, that ye
send after all the knights hither that hold their lands of
this castle, and make them to swear for to use the customs
that were used heretofore of old time. I will well, said
Galahad. And there she brought him an horn of ivory, bounden
with gold richly, and said: Sir, blow this horn which will
be heard two mile about this castle. When Sir Galahad had
blown the horn he set him down upon a bed.
Then came a priest to Galahad, and said: Sir, it is past
a seven year agone that these seven brethren came into this
castle, and harboured with the lord of this castle that
hight the Duke Lianour, and he was lord of all this country.
And when they espied the duke's daughter, that was a full
fair woman, then by their false covin they made debate
betwixt themself, and the duke of his goodness would have
departed them, and there they slew him and his eldest son.
And then they took the maiden and the treasure of the
castle. And then by great force they held all the knights of
this castle against their will under their obeissance, and
in great service and truage, robbing and pilling the poor
common people of all that they had. So it happened on a day
the duke's daughter said: Ye have done unto me great wrong
to slay mine own father, and my brother, and thus to hold
our lands: not for then, she said, ye shall not hold this
castle for many years, for by one knight ye shall be
overcome. Thus she prophesied seven years agone. Well, said
the seven knights, sithen ye say so, there shall never lady
nor knight pass this castle but they shall abide maugre
their heads, or die therefore, till that knight be come by
whom we shall lose this castle. And therefore is it called
the Maidens' Castle, for they have devoured many maidens.
Now, said Galahad, is she here for whom this castle was
lost? Nay sir, said the priest, she was dead within these
three nights after that she was thus enforced; and sithen
have they kept her younger sister, which endureth great
pains with mo other ladies.
By this were the knights of the country come, and then he
made them do homage and fealty to the king's daughter, and
set them in great ease of heart. And in the morn there came
one to Galahad and told him how that Gawaine, Gareth, and
Uwaine, had slain the seven brethren. I suppose well, said
Sir Galahad, and took his armour and his horse, and
commended them unto God.
CHAPTER XVI. How Sir Gawaine came to the abbey for to
follow Galahad, and how he was shriven to a hermit.
NOW, saith the tale, after Sir Gawaine departed, he rode
many journeys, both toward and froward. And at the last he
came to the abbey where Sir Galahad had the white shield,
and there Sir Gawaine learned the way to sewe after Sir
Galahad; and so he rode to the abbey where Melias lay sick,
and there Sir Melias told Sir Gawaine of the marvellous
adventures that Sir Galahad did. Certes, said Sir Gawaine, I
am not happy that I took not the way that he went, for an I
may meet with him I will not depart from him lightly, for
all marvellous adventures Sir Galahad enchieveth. Sir, said
one of the monks, he will not of your fellowship. Why? said
Sir Gawaine. Sir, said he, for ye be wicked and sinful, and
he is full blessed. Right as they thus stood talking there
came in riding Sir Gareth. And then they made joy either of
other. And on the morn they heard mass, and so departed. And
by the way they met with Sir Uwaine les Avoutres, and there
Sir Uwaine told Sir Gawaine how he had met with none
adventure sith he departed from the court. Nor we, said Sir
Gawaine. And either promised other of the three knights not
to depart while they were in that quest, but if fortune
caused it.
So they departed and rode by fortune till that they came
by the Castle of Maidens; and there the seven brethren
espied the three knights, and said: Sithen, we be flemed by
one knight from this castle, we shall destroy all the
knights of King Arthur's that we may overcome, for the love
of Sir Galahad. And therewith the seven knights set upon the
three knights, and by fortune Sir Gawaine slew one ot the
brethren, and each one of his fellows slew another, and so
slew the remnant. And then they took the way under the
castle, and there they lost the way that Sir Galahad rode,
and there everych of them departed from other; and Sir
Gawaine rode till he came to an hermitage, and there he
found the good man saying his evensong of Our Lady; and
there Sir Gawaine asked harbour for charity, and the good
man granted it him gladly.
Then the good man asked him what he was. Sir, he said, I
am a knight of King Arthur's that am in the quest of the
Sangreal, and my name is Sir Gawaine. Sir, said the good
man, I would wit how it standeth betwixt God and you. Sir,
said Sir Gawaine, I will with a good will shew you my life
if it please you; and there he told the hermit how a monk of
an abbey called me wicked knight. He might well say it, said
the hermit, for when ye were first made knight ye should
have taken you to knightly deeds and virtuous living, and ye
have done the contrary, for ye have lived mischievously many
winters; and Sir Galahad is a maid and sinned never, and
that is the cause he shall enchieve where he goeth that ye
nor none such shall not attain, nor none in your fellowship,
for ye have used the most untruest life that ever I heard
knight live. For certes had ye not been so wicked as ye are,
never had the seven brethren been slain by you and your two
fellows. For Sir Galahad himself alone beat them all seven
the day to-fore, but his living is such he shall slay no man
lightly. Also I may say you the Castle of Maidens betokeneth
the good souls that were in prison afore the Incarnation of
Jesu Christ. And the seven knights betoken the seven deadly
sins that reigned that time in the world; and I may liken
the good Galahad unto the son of the High Father, that
lighted within a maid, and bought all the souls out of
thrall, so did Sir Galahad deliver all the maidens out of
the woful castle.
Now, Sir Gawaine, said the good man, thou must do penance
for thy sin. Sir, what penance shall I do? Such as I will
give, said the good man. Nay, said Sir Gawaine, I may do no
penance; for we knights adventurous oft suffer great woe and
pain. Well, said the good man, and then he held his peace.
And on the morn Sir Gawaine departed from the hermit, and
betaught him unto God. And by adventure he met with Sir
Aglovale and Sir Griflet, two knights of the Table Round.
And they two rode four days without finding of any
adventure, and at the fifth day they departed. And everych
held as fell them by adventure. Here leaveth the tale of Sir
Gawaine and his fellows, and speak we of Sir Galahad.
CHAPTER XVII. How Sir Galahad met with Sir Launcelot and
Sir Percivale, and smote them down, and departed from them.
So when Sir Galahad was departed from the Castle of
Maidens he rode till he came to a waste forest, and there he
met with Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale, but they knew him
not, for he was new disguised. Right so Sir Launcelot, his
father, dressed his spear and brake it upon Sir Galahad, and
Galahad smote him so again that he smote down horse and man.
And then he drew his sword, and dressed him unto Sir
Percivale, and smote him so on the helm, that it rove to the
coif of steel; and had not the sword swerved Sir Percivale
had been slain, and with the stroke he fell out of his
saddle. This jousts was done to-fore the hermitage where a
recluse dwelled. And when she saw Sir Galahad ride, she
said: God be with thee, best knight of the world. Ah certes,
said she, all aloud that Launcelot and Percivale might hear
it: An yonder two knights had known thee as well as I do
they would not have encountered with thee. Then Sir Galahad
heard her say so he was adread to be known: therewith he
smote his horse with his spurs and rode a great pace froward
them. Then perceived they both that he was Galahad; and up
they gat on their horses, and rode fast after him, but in a
while he was out of their sight. And then they turned again
with heavy cheer. Let us spere some tidings, said Percivale,
at yonder recluse. Do as ye list, said Sir Launcelot.
When Sir Percivale came to the recluse she knew him well
enough, and Sir Launcelot both. But Sir Launcelot rode
overthwart and endlong in a wild forest, and held no path
but as wild adventure led him. And at the last he came to a
stony cross which departed two ways in waste land; and by
the cross was a stone that was of marble, but it was so dark
that Sir Launcelot might not wit what it was. Then Sir
Launcelot looked by him, and saw an old chapel, and there he
weened to have found people; and Sir Launcelot tied his
horse till a tree, and there he did off his shield and hung
it upon a tree, and then went to the chapel door, and found
it waste and broken. And within he found a fair altar, full
richly arrayed with cloth of clean silk, and there stood a
fair clean candlestick, which bare six great candles, and
the candlestick was of silver. And when Sir Launcelot saw
this light he had great will for to enter into the chapel,
but he could find no place where he might enter; then was he
passing heavy and dismayed. Then he returned and came to his
horse and did off his saddle and bridle, and let him
pasture, and unlaced his helm, and ungirt his sword, and
laid him down to sleep upon his shield to-fore the cross.
CHAPTER XVIII. How Sir Launcelot, half sleeping and half
waking, saw a sick man borne in a litter, and how he was
healed with the Sangreal.
AND so he fell asleep; and half waking and sleeping he
saw come by him two palfreys all fair and white, the which
bare a litter, therein lying a sick knight. And when he was
nigh the cross he there abode still. All this Sir Launcelot
saw and beheld, for he slept not verily; and he heard him
say: O sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me? and when
shall the holy vessel come by me, wherethrough I shall be
blessed? For I have endured thus long, for little trespass.
A full great while complained the knight thus, and always
Sir Launcelot heard it. With that Sir Launcelot saw the
candlestick with the six tapers come before the cross, and
he saw nobody that brought it. Also there came a table of
silver, and the holy vessel of the Sangreal, which Launcelot
had seen aforetime in King Pescheour's house. And therewith
the sick knight set him up, and held up both his hands, and
said: Fair sweet Lord, which is here within this holy
vessel; take heed unto me that I may be whole of this
malady. And therewith on his hands and on his knees he went
so nigh that he touched the holy vessel and kissed it, and
anon he was whole; and then he said: Lord God, I thank thee,
for I am healed of this sickness.
So when the holy vessel had been there a great while it
went unto the chapel with the chandelier and the light, so
that Launcelot wist not where it was become; for he was
overtaken with sin that he had no power to rise again the
holy vessel; wherefore after that many men said of him
shame, but he took repentance after that. Then the sick
knight dressed him up and kissed the cross; anon his squire
brought him his arms, and asked his lord how he did. Certes,
said he, I thank God right well, through the holy vessel I
am healed. But I have marvel of this sleeping knight that
had no power to awake when this holy vessel was brought
hither. I dare right well say, said the squire, that he
dwelleth in some deadly sin whereof he was never confessed.
By my faith, said the knight, whatsomever he be he is
unhappy, for as I deem he is of the fellowship of the Round
Table, the which is entered into the quest of the Sangreal.
Sir, said the squire, here I have brought you all your arms
save your helm and your sword, and therefore by mine assent
now may ye take this knight's helm and his sword: and so he
did. And when he was clean armed he took Sir Launcelot's
horse, for he was better than his; and so departed they from
the cross.
CHAPTER XIX. How a voice spake to Sir Launcelot, and how
he found his horse and his helm borne away, and after went
afoot.
THEN anon Sir Launcelot waked, and set him up, and
bethought him what he had seen there, and whether it were
dreams or not. Right so heard he a voice that said: Sir
Launcelot, more harder than is the stone, and more bitter
than is the wood, and more naked and barer than is the leaf
of the fig tree; therefore go thou from hence, and withdraw
thee from this holy place. And when Sir Launcelot heard this
he was passing heavy and wist not what to do, and so
departed sore weeping, and cursed the time that he was born.
For then he deemed never to have had worship more. For those
words went to his heart, till that he knew wherefore he was
called so. Then Sir Launcelot went to the cross and found
his helm, his sword, and his horse taken away. And then he
called himself a very wretch, and most unhappy of all
knights; and there he said: My sin and my wickedness have
brought me unto great dishonour. For when I sought worldly
adventures for worldly desires, I ever enchieved them and
had the better in every place, and never was I discomfit in
no quarrel, were it right or wrong. And now I take upon me
the adventures of holy things, and now I see and understand
that mine old sin hindereth me and shameth me, so that I had
no power to stir nor speak when the holy blood appeared
afore me. So thus he sorrowed till it was day, and heard the
fowls sing: then somewhat he was comforted. But when Sir
Launcelot missed his horse and his harness then he wist well
God was displeased with him.
Then he departed from the cross on foot into a forest;
and so by prime he came to an high hill, and found an
hermitage and a hermit therein which was going unto mass.
And then Launcelot kneeled down and cried on Our Lord mercy
for his wicked works. So when mass was done Launcelot called
him, and prayed him for charity for to hear his life. With a
good will, said the good man. Sir, said he, be ye of King
Arthur's court and of the fellowship of the Round Table? Yea
forsooth, and my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake that hath
been right well said of, and now my good fortune is changed,
for I am the most wretch of the world. The hermit beheld him
and had marvel how he was so abashed. Sir, said the hermit,
ye ought to thank God more than any knight living, for He
hath caused you to have more worldly worship than any knight
that now liveth. And for your presumption to take upon you
in deadly sin for to be in His presence, where His flesh and
His blood was, that caused you ye might not see it with
worldly eyes; for He will not appear where such sinners be,
but if it be unto their great hurt and unto their great
shame; and there is no knight living now that ought to give
God so great thank as ye, for He hath given you beauty,
seemliness, and great strength above all other knights; and
therefore ye are the more beholding unto God than any other
man, to love Him and dread Him, for your strength and
manhood will little avail you an God be against you.
CHAPTER XX. How Sir Launcelot was shriven, and what
sorrow he made and of the good ensamples which were shewed
him.
THEN Sir Launcelot wept with heavy cheer, and said: Now I
know well ye say me sooth. Sir, said the good man, hide none
old sin from me. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, that were me
full loath to discover. For this fourteen year I never
discovered one thing that I have used, and that may I now
wite my shame and my disadventure. And then he told there
that good man all his life. And how he had loved a queen
unmeasurably and out of measure long. And all my great deeds
of arms that I have done, I did for the most part for the
queen's sake, and for her sake would I do battle were it
right or wrong, and never did I battle all only for God's
sake, but for to win worship and to cause me to be the
better beloved and little or nought I thanked God of it.
Then Sir Launcelot said: I pray you counsel me. I will
counsel you, said the hermit, if ye will ensure me that ye
will never come in that queen's fellowship as much as ye may
forbear. And then Sir Launcelot promised him he nold, by the
faith of his body. Look that your heart and your mouth
accord, said the good man, and I shall ensure you ye shall
have more worship than ever ye had.
Holy father, said Sir Launcelot, I marvel of the voice
that said to me marvellous words, as ye have heard
to-forehand. Have ye no marvel, said the good man thereof,
for it seemeth well God loveth you; for men may understand a
stone is hard of kind, and namely one more than another; and
that is to understand by thee, Sir Launcelot, for thou wilt
not leave thy sin for no goodness that God hath sent thee;
therefore thou art more than any stone, and never wouldst
thou be made nesh nor by water nor by fire, and that is the
heat of the Holy Ghost may not enter in thee. Now take heed,
in all the world men shall not find one knight to whom Our
Lord hath given so much of grace as He hath given you, for
He hath given you fairness with seemliness, He hath given
thee wit, discretion to know good from evil, He hath given
thee prowess and hardiness, and given thee to work so
largely that thou hast had at all days the better
wheresomever thou came; and now Our Lord will suffer thee no
longer, but that thou shalt know Him whether thou wilt or
nylt. And why the voice called thee bitterer than wood, for
where overmuch sin dwelleth, there may be but little
sweetness, wherefore thou art likened to an old rotten tree.
Now have I shewed thee why thou art harder than the stone
and bitterer than the tree. Now shall I shew thee why thou
art more naked and barer than the fig tree. It befell that
Our Lord on Palm Sunday preached in Jerusalem, and there He
found in the people that all hardness was harboured in them,
and there He found in all the town not one that would
harbour him. And then He went without the town, and found in
midst of the way a fig tree, the which was right fair and
well garnished of leaves, but fruit had it none. Then Our
Lord cursed the tree that bare no fruit; that betokeneth the
fig tree unto Jerusalem, that had leaves and no fruit. So
thou, Sir Launcelot, when the Holy Grail was brought afore
thee, He found in thee no fruit, nor good thought nor good
will, and defouled with lechery. Certes, said Sir Launcelot,
all that you have said is true, and from henceforward I cast
me, by the grace of God, never to be so wicked as I have
been, but as to follow knighthood and to do feats of arms.
Then the good man enjoined Sir Launcelot such penance as
he might do and to sewe knighthood, and so assoiled him, and
prayed Sir Launcelot to abide with him all that day. I will
well, said Sir Launcelot, for I have neither helm, nor
horse, nor sword. As for that, said the good man, I shall
help you or to-morn at even of an horse, and all that longed
unto you. And then Sir Launcelot repented him greatly.
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BOOK XIV.
CHAPTER I. How Sir Percivale came to a recluse and asked
counsel, and how she told him that she was his aunt.
NOW saith the tale, that when Sir Launcelot was ridden
after Sir Galahad, the which had all these adventures above
said, Sir Percivale turned again unto the recluse, where he
deemed to have tidings of that knight that Launcelot
followed. And so he kneeled at her window, and the recluse
opened it and asked Sir Percivale what he would. Madam, he
said, I am a knight of King Arthur's court, and my name is
Sir Percivale de Galis. When the recluse heard his name she
had great joy of him, for mickle she had loved him to-fore
any other knight, for she ought to do so, for she was his
aunt. And then she commanded the gates to be opened, and
there he had all the cheer that she might make him, and all
that was in her power was at his commandment.
So on the morn Sir Percivale went to the recluse and
asked her if she knew that knight with the white shield.
Sir, said she, why would ye wit? Truly, madam, said Sir
Percivale, I shall never be well at ease till that I know of
that knight's fellowship, and that I may fight with him, for
I may not leave him so lightly, for I have the shame yet.
Ah, Percivale, said she, would ye fight with him? I see well
ye have great will to be slain as your father was, through
outrageousness. Madam, said Sir Percivale, it seemeth by
your words that ye know me. Yea, said she, I well ought to
know you, for I am your aunt, although I be in a priory
place. For some called me sometime the Queen of the Waste
Lands, and I was called the queen of most riches in the
world; and it pleased me never my riches so much as doth my
poverty. Then Sir Percivale wept for very pity when that he
knew it was his aunt. Ah, fair nephew, said she, when heard
ye tidings of your mother? Truly, said he, I heard none of
her, but I dream of her much in my sleep; and therefore I
wot not whether she be dead or alive. Certes, fair nephew,
said she, your mother is dead, for after your departing from
her she took such a sorrow that anon, after she was
confessed, she died. Now, God have mercy on her soul, said
Sir Percivale, it sore forthinketh me; but all we must
change the life. Now, fair aunt, tell me what is the knight?
I deem it be he that bare the red arms on Whitsunday. Wit
you well, said she, that this is he, for otherwise ought he
not to do, but to go in red arms; and that same knight hath
no peer, for he worketh all by miracle, and he shall never
be overcome of none earthly man's hand.
CHAPTER II. How Merlin likened the Round Table to the
world, and how the knights that should achieve the Sangreal
should be known.
ALSO Merlin made the Round Table in tokening of roundness
of the world, for by the Round Table is the world signified
by right, for all the world, Christian and heathen, repair
unto the Round Table; and when they are chosen to be of the
fellowship of the Round Table they think them more blessed
and more in worship than if they had gotten half the world;
and ye have seen that they have lost their fathers and their
mothers, and all their kin, and their wives and their
children, for to be of your fellowship. It is well seen by
you; for since ye have departed from your mother ye would
never see her, ye found such fellowship at the Round Table.
When Merlin had ordained the Round Table he said, by them
which should be fellows of the Round Table the truth of the
Sangreal should be well known. And men asked him how men
might know them that should best do and to enchieve the
Sangreal? Then he said there should be three white bulls
that should enchieve it, and the two should be maidens, and
the third should be chaste. And that one of the three should
pass his father as much as the lion passeth the leopard,
both of strength and hardiness.
They that heard Merlin say so said thus unto Merlin:
Sithen there shall be such a knight, thou shouldest ordain
by thy crafts a siege, that no man should sit in it but he
all only that shall pass all other knights. Then Merlin
answered that he would do so. And then he made the Siege
Perilous, in the which Galahad sat in at his meat on
Whitsunday last past. Now, madam, said Sir Percivale, so
much have I heard of you that by my good will I will never
have ado with Sir Galahad but by way of kindness; and for
God's love, fair aunt, can ye teach me some way where I may
find him? for much would I love the fellowship of him. Fair
nephew, said she, ye must ride unto a castle the which is
called Goothe, where he hath a cousin-germain, and there may
ye be lodged this night. And as he teacheth you, seweth
after as fast as ye can; and if he can tell you no tidings
of him, ride straight unto the Castle of Carbonek, where the
maimed king is there lying, for there shall ye hear true
tidings of him.
CHAPTER III. How Sir Percivale came into a monastery,
where he found King Evelake, which was an old man.
THEN departed Sir Percivale from his aunt, either making
great sorrow. And so he rode till evensong time. And then he
heard a clock smite; and then he was ware of an house closed
well with walls and deep ditches, and there he knocked at
the gate and was let in, and he alighted and was led unto a
chamber, and soon he was unarmed. And there he had right
good cheer all that night; and on the morn he heard his
mass, and in the monastery he found a priest ready at the
altar. And on the right side he saw a pew closed with iron,
and behind the altar he saw a rich bed and a fair, as of
cloth of silk and gold.
Then Sir Percivale espied that therein was a man or a
woman, for the visage was covered; then he left off his
looking and heard his service. And when it came to the
sacring, he that lay within that parclos dressed him up, and
uncovered his head; and then him beseemed a passing old man,
and he had a crown of gold upon his head, and his shoulders
were naked and unhilled unto his navel. And then Sir
Percivale espied his body was full of great wounds, both on
the shoulders, arms, and visage. And ever he held up his
hands against Our Lord's body, and cried: Fair, sweet
Father, Jesu Christ, forget not me. And so he lay down, but
always he was in his prayers and orisons; and him seemed to
be of the age of three hundred winter. And when the mass was
done the priest took Our Lord's body and bare it to the sick
king. And when he had used it he did off his crown, and
commanded the crown to be set on the altar.
Then Sir Percivale asked one of the brethren what he was.
Sir, said the good man, ye have heard much of Joseph of
Aramathie, how he was sent by Jesu Christ into this land for
to teach and preach the holy Christian faith; and therefore
he suffered many persecutions the which the enemies of
Christ did unto him, and in the city of Sarras he converted
a king whose name was Evelake. And so this king came with
Joseph into this land, and ever he was busy to be thereas
the Sangreal was; and on a time he nighed it so nigh that
Our Lord was displeased with him, but ever he followed it
more and more, till God struck him almost blind. Then this
king cried mercy, and said: Fair Lord, let me never die till
the good knight of my blood of the ninth degree be come,
that I may see him openly that he shall enchieve the
Sangreal, that I may kiss him.
CHAPTER IV. How Sir Percivale saw many men of arms
bearing a dead knight, and how he fought against them.
WHEN the king thus had made his prayers he heard a voice
that said: Heard be thy prayers, for thou shalt not die till
he have kissed thee. And when that knight shall come the
clearness of your eyes shall come again, and thou shalt see
openly, and thy wounds shall be healed, and erst shall they
never close. And this befell of King Evelake, and this same
king hath lived this three hundred winters this holy life,
and men say the knight is in the court that shall heal him.
Sir, said the good man, I pray you tell me what knight that
ye be, and if ye be of King Arthur's court and of the Table
Round. Yea forsooth, said he, and my name is Sir Percivale
de Galis. And when the good man understood his name he made
great joy of him.
And then Sir Percivale departed and rode till the hour of
noon. And he met in a valley about a twenty men of arms,
which bare in a bier a knight deadly slain. And when they
saw Sir Percivale they asked him of whence he was. And he
answered: Of the court of King Arthur. Then they cried all
at once: Slay him. Then Sir Percivale smote the first to the
earth and his horse upon him. And then seven of the knights
smote upon his shield all at once, and the remnant slew his
horse so that he fell to the earth. So had they slain him or
taken him had not the good knight, Sir Galahad, with the red
arms come there by adventure into those parts. And when he
saw all those knights upon one knight he cried: Save me that
knight's life. And then he dressed him toward the twenty men
of arms as fast as his horse might drive, with his spear in
the rest, and smote the foremost horse and man to the earth.
And when his spear was broken he set his hand to his sword,
and smote on the right hand and on the left hand that it was
marvel to see, and at every stroke he smote one down or put
him to a rebuke, so that they would fight no more but fled
to a thick forest, and Sir Galahad followed them.
And when Sir Percivale saw him chase them so, he made
great sorrow that his horse was away. And then he wist well
it was Sir Galahad. And then he cried aloud: Ah fair knight,
abide and suffer me to do thankings unto thee, for much have
ye done for me. But ever Sir Galahad rode so fast that at
the last he passed out of his sight. And as fast as Sir
Percivale might he went after him on foot, crying. And then
he met with a yeoman riding upon an hackney, the which led
in his hand a great steed blacker than any bear. Ah, fair
friend, said Sir Percivale, as ever I may do for you, and to
be your true knight in the first place ye will require me,
that ye will lend me that black steed, that I might overtake
a knight the which rideth afore me. Sir knight, said the
yeoman, I pray you hold me excused of that, for that I may
not do. For wit ye well, the horse is such a man's horse,
that an I lent it you or any man, that he would slay me.
Alas, said Sir Percivale, I had never so great sorrow as I
have had for losing of yonder knight. Sir, said the yeoman,
I am right heavy for you, for a good horse would beseem you
well; but I dare not deliver you this horse but if ye would
take him from me. That will I not do, said Sir Percivale.
And so they departed; and Sir Percivale set him down under a
tree, and made sorrow out of measure. And as he was there,
there came a knight riding on the horse that the yeoman led,
and he was clean armed.
CHAPTER V. How a yeoman desired him to get again an
horse, and how Sir Percivale's hackney was slain, and how he
gat an horse.
AND anon the yeoman came pricking after as fast as ever
he might, and asked Sir Percivale if he saw any knight
riding on his black steed. Yea, sir, forsooth, said he; why,
sir, ask ye me that? Ah, sir, that steed he hath benome me
with strength; wherefore my lord will slay me in what place
he findeth me. Well, said Sir Percivale, what wouldst thou
that I did? Thou seest well that I am on foot, but an I had
a good horse I should bring him soon again. Sir, said the
yeoman, take mine hackney and do the best ye can, and I
shall sewe you on foot to wit how that ye shall speed. Then
Sir Percivale alighted upon that hackney, and rode as fast
as he might, and at the last he saw that knight. And then he
cried: Knight, turn again; and he turned and set his spear
against Sir Percivale, and he smote the hackney in the midst
of the breast that he fell down dead to the earth, and there
he had a great fall, and the other rode his way. And then
Sir Percivale was wood wroth, and cried: Abide, wicked
knight; coward and false-hearted knight, turn again and
fight with me on foot. But he answered not, but passed on
his way.
When Sir Percivale saw he would not turn he cast away his
helm and sword, and said: Now am I a very wretch, cursed and
most unhappy above all other knights. So in this sorrow he
abode all that day till it was night; and then he was faint,
and laid him down and slept till it was midnight; and then
he awaked and saw afore him a woman which said unto him
right fiercely: Sir Percivale, what dost thou here? He
answered, I do neither good nor great ill. If thou wilt
ensure me, said she, that thou wilt fulfil my will when I
summon thee, I shall lend thee mine own horse which shall
bear thee whither thou wilt. Sir Percivale was glad of her
proffer, and ensured her to fulfil all her desire. Then
abide me here, and I shall go and fetch you an horse. And so
she came soon again and brought an horse with her that was
inly black. When Percivale beheld that horse he marvelled
that it was so great and so well apparelled; and not for
then he was so hardy, and he leapt upon him, and took none
heed of himself. And so anon as he was upon him he thrust to
him with his spurs, and so he rode by a forest, and the moon
shone clear. And within an hour and less he bare him four
days' journey thence, until he came to a rough water the
which roared, and his horse would have borne him into it.
CHAPTER VI. Of the great danger that Sir Percivale was
in by his horse, and how he saw a serpent and a lion fight.
AND when Sir Percivale came nigh the brim, and saw the
water so boistous, he doubted to overpass it. And then he
made a sign of the cross in his forehead. When the fiend
felt him so charged he shook off Sir Percivale, and he went
into the water crying and roaring, making great sorrow, and
it seemed unto him that the water brent. Then Sir Percivale
perceived it was a fiend, the which would have brought him
unto his perdition. Then he commended himself unto God, and
prayed Our Lord to keep him from all such temptations; and
so he prayed all that night till on the morn that it was
day; then he saw that he was in a wild mountain the which
was closed with the sea nigh all about, that he might see no
land about him which might relieve him, but wild beasts.
And then he went into a valley, and there he saw a young
serpent bring a young lion by the neck, and so he came by
Sir Percivale. With that came a great lion crying and
roaring after the serpent. And as fast as Sir Percivale saw
this he marvelled, and hied him thither, but anon the lion
had overtaken the serpent and began battle with him. And
then Sir Percivale thought to help the lion, for he was the
more natural beast of the two; and therewith he drew his
sword, and set his shield afore him, and there he gave the
serpent such a buffet that he had a deadly wound. When the
lion saw that, he made no resemblaunt to fight with him, but
made him all the cheer that a beast might make a man. Then
Percivale perceived that, and cast down his shield which was
broken; and then he did off his helm for to gather wind, for
he was greatly enchafed with the serpent: and the lion went
alway about him fawning as a spaniel. And then he stroked
him on the neck and on the shoulders. And then he thanked
God of the fellowship of that beast. And about noon the lion
took his little whelp and trussed him and bare him there he
came from.
Then was Sir Percivale alone. And as the tale telleth, he
was one of the men of the world at that time which most
believed in Our Lord Jesu Christ, for in those days there
were but few folks that believed in God perfectly. For in
those days the son spared not the father no more than a
stranger. And so Sir Percivale comforted himself in our Lord
Jesu, and besought God no temptation should bring him out of
God's service, but to endure as his true champion. Thus when
Sir Percivale had prayed he saw the lion come toward him,
and then he couched down at his feet. And so all that night
the lion and he slept together; and when Sir Percivale slept
he dreamed a marvellous dream, that there two ladies met
with him, and that one sat upon a lion, and that other sat
upon a serpent, and that one of them was young, and the
other was old; and the youngest him thought said: Sir
Percivale, my lord saluteth thee, and sendeth thee word that
thou array thee and make thee ready, for to-morn thou must
fight with the strongest champion of the world. And if thou
be overcome thou shall not be quit for losing of any of thy
members, but thou shalt be shamed for ever to the world's
end. And then he asked her what was her lord. And she said
the greatest lord of all the world: and so she departed
suddenly that he wist not where.
CHAPTER VII. Of the vision that Sir Percivale saw, and
how his vision was expounded, and of his lion.
THEN came forth the other lady that rode upon the
serpent, and she said: Sir Percivale, I complain me of you
that ye have done unto me, and have not offended unto you.
Certes, madam, he said, unto you nor no lady I never
offended. Yes, said she, I shall tell you why. I have
nourished in this place a great while a serpent, which
served me a great while, and yesterday ye slew him as he gat
his prey. Say me for what cause ye slew him, for the lion
was not yours. Madam, said Sir Percivale, I know well the
lion was not mine, but I did it for the lion is of more
gentler nature than the serpent, and therefore I slew him;
meseemeth I did not amiss against you. Madam, said he, what
would ye that I did? I would, said she, for the amends of my
beast that ye become my man. And then he answered: That will
I not grant you. No, said she, truly ye were never but my
servant sin ye received the homage of Our Lord Jesu Christ.
Therefore, I ensure you in what place I may find you without
keeping I shall take you, as he that sometime was my man.
And so she departed from Sir Percivale and left him
sleeping, the which was sore travailed of his advision. And
on the morn he arose and blessed him, and he was passing
feeble.
Then was Sir Percivale ware in the sea, and saw a ship
come sailing toward him; and Sir Percivale went unto the
ship and found it covered within and without with white
samite. And at the board stood an old man clothed in a
surplice, in likeness of a priest. Sir, said Sir Percivale,
ye be welcome. God keep you, said the good man. Sir, said
the old man, of whence be ye? Sir, said Sir Percivale, I am
of King Arthur's court, and a knight of the Table Round, the
which am in the quest of the Sangreal; and here am I in
great duresse, and never like to escape out of this
wilderness. Doubt not, said the good man, an ye be so true a
knight as the order of chivalry requireth, and of heart as
ye ought to be, ye should not doubt that none enemy should
slay you. What are ye? said Sir Percivale. Sir, said the old
man, I am of a strange country, and hither I come to comfort
you.
Sir, said Sir Percivale, what signifieth my dream that I
dreamed this night? And there he told him altogether: She
which rode upon the lion betokeneth the new law of holy
church, that is to understand, faith, good hope, belief, and
baptism. For she seemed younger than the other it is great
reason, for she was born in the resurrection and the passion
of Our Lord Jesu Christ. And for great love she came to thee
to warn thee of thy great battle that shall befall thee.
With whom, said Sir Percivale, shall I fight? With the most
champion of the world, said the old man; for as the lady
said, but if thou quit thee well thou shalt not be quit by
losing of one member, but thou shalt be shamed to the
world's end. And she that rode on the serpent signifieth the
old law, and that serpent betokeneth a fiend. And why she
blamed thee that thou slewest her servant, it betokeneth
nothing; the serpent that thou slewest betokeneth the devil
that thou rodest upon to the rock. And when thou madest a
sign of the cross, there thou slewest him, and put away his
power. And when she asked thee amends and to become her man,
and thou saidst thou wouldst not, that was to make thee to
believe on her and leave thy baptism. So he commanded Sir
Percivale to depart, and so he leapt over the board and the
ship, and all went away he wist not whither. Then he went up
unto the rock and found the lion which always kept him
fellowship, and he stroked him upon the back and had great
joy of him.
CHAPTER VIII. How Sir Percivale saw a ship coming to
him-ward, and how the lady of the ship told him of her
disheritance.
BY that Sir Percivale had abiden there till mid-day he
saw a ship came rowing in the sea, as all the wind of the
world had driven it. And so it drove under that rock. And
when Sir Percivale saw this he hied him thither, and found
the ship covered with silk more blacker than any bear, and
therein was a gentlewoman of great beauty, and she was
clothed richly that none might be better. And when she saw
Sir Percivale she said: Who brought you in this wilderness
where ye be never like to pass hence, for ye shall die here
for hunger and mischief? Damosel, said Sir Percivale, I
serve the best man of the world, and in his service he will
not suffer me to die, for who that knocketh shall enter, and
who that asketh shall have, and who that seeketh him he
hideth him not. But then she said: Sir Percivale, wot ye
what I am? Yea, said he. Now who taught you my name? said
she. Now, said Sir Percivale, I know you better than ye
ween. And I came out of the waste forest where I found the
Red Knight with the white shield, said the damosel. Ah,
damosel, said he, with that knight would I meet passing
fain. Sir knight, said she, an ye will ensure me by the
faith that ye owe unto knighthood that ye shall do my will
what time I summon you, and I shall bring you unto that
knight. Yea, said he, I shall promise you to fulfil your
desire. Well, said she, now shall I tell you. I saw him in
the forest chasing two knights unto a water, the which is
called Mortaise; and they drove him into the water for dread
of death, and the two knights passed over, and the Red
Knight passed after, and there his horse was drenched, and
he, through great strength, escaped unto the land: thus she
told him, and Sir Percivale was passing glad thereof.
Then she asked him if he had ate any meat late. Nay,
madam, truly I ate no meat nigh this three days, but late
here I spake with a good man that fed me with his good words
and holy, and refreshed me greatly. Ah, sir knight, said
she, that same man is an enchanter and a multiplier of
words. For an ye believe him ye shall plainly be shamed, and
die in this rock for pure hunger, and be eaten with wild
beasts; and ye be a young man and a goodly knight, and I
shall help you an ye will. What are ye, said Sir Percivale,
that proffered me thus great kindness? I am, said she, a
gentlewoman that am disherited, which was sometime the
richest woman of the world. Damosel, said Sir Percivale, who
hath disherited you? for I have great pity of you. Sir, said
she, I dwelled with the greatest man of the world, and he
made me so fair and clear that there was none like me; and
of that great beauty I had a little pride more than I ought
to have had. Also I said a word that pleased him not. And
then he would not suffer me to be any longer in his company,
and so drove me from mine heritage, and so disherited me,
and he had never pity of me nor of none of my council, nor
of my court. And sithen, sir knight, it hath befallen me so,
and through me and mine I have benome him many of his men,
and made them to become my men. For they ask never nothing
of me but I give it them, that and much more. Thus I and all
my servants were against him night and day. Therefore I know
now no good knight, nor no good man, but I get them on my
side an I may. And for that I know that thou art a good
knight, I beseech you to help me; and for ye be a fellow of
the Round Table, wherefore ye ought not to fail no
gentlewoman which is disherited, an she besought you of
help.
CHAPTER IX. How Sir Percivale promised her help, and how
he required her of love, and how he was saved from the
fiend.
THEN Sir Percivale promised her all the help that he
might; and then she thanked him. And at that time the
weather was hot. Then she called unto her a gentlewoman and
bade her bring forth a pavilion; and so she did, and pight
it upon the gravel. Sir, said she, now may ye rest you in
this heat of the day. Then he thanked her, and she put off
his helm and his shield, and there he slept a great while.
And then he awoke and asked her if she had any meat, and she
said: Yea, also ye shall have enough. And so there was set
enough upon the table, and thereon so much that he had
marvel, for there was all manner of meats that he could
think on. Also he drank there the strongest wine that ever
he drank, him thought, and therewith he was a little chafed
more than he ought to be; with that he beheld the
gentlewoman, and him thought she was the fairest creature
that ever he saw. And then Sir Percivale proffered her love,
and prayed her that she would be his. Then she refused him,
in a manner, when he required her, for the cause he should
be the more ardent on her, and ever he ceased not to pray
her of love. And when she saw him well enchafed, then she
said: Sir Percivale, wit you well I shall not fulfil your
will but if ye swear from henceforth ye shall be my true
servant, and to do nothing but that I shall command you.
Will ye ensure me this as ye be a true knight? Yea, said he,
fair lady, by the faith of my body. Well, said she, now
shall ye do with me whatso it please you; and now wit ye
well ye are the knight in the world that I have most desire
to.
And then two squires were commanded to make a bed in
midst of the pavilion. And anon she was unclothed and laid
therein. And then Sir Percivale laid him down by her naked;
and by adventure and grace he saw his sword lie on the
ground naked, in whose pommel was a red cross and the sign
of the crucifix therein, and bethought him on his knighthood
and his promise made to-forehand unto the good man; then he
made a sign of the cross in his forehead, and therewith the
pavilion turned up-so-down, and then it changed unto a
smoke, and a black cloud, and then he was adread and cried
aloud:
CHAPTER X. How Sir Percivale for penance rove himself
through the thigh; and how she was known for the devil.
FAIR sweet Father, Jesu Christ, ne let me not be shamed,
the which was nigh lost had not thy good grace been. And
then he looked into a ship, and saw her enter therein, which
said: Sir Percivale, ye have betrayed me. And so she went
with the wind roaring and yelling, that it seemed all the
water brent after her. Then Sir Percivale made great sorrow,
and drew his sword unto him, saying: Sithen my flesh will be
my master I shall punish it; and therewith he rove himself
through the thigh that the blood stert about him, and said:
O good Lord, take this in recompensation of that I have done
against thee, my Lord. So then he clothed him and armed him,
and called himself a wretch, saying: How nigh was I lost,
and to have lost that I should never have gotten again, that
was my virginity, for that may never be recovered after it
is once lost. And then he stopped his bleeding wound with a
piece of his shirt.
Thus as he made his moan he saw the same ship come from
Orient that the good man was in the day afore, and the noble
knight was ashamed with himself, and therewith he fell in a
swoon. And when he awoke he went unto him weakly, and there
he saluted this good man. And then he asked Sir Percivale:
How hast thou done sith I departed? Sir, said he, here was a
gentlewoman and led me into deadly sin. And there he told
him altogether. Knew ye not the maid? said the good man.
Sir, said he, nay, but well I wot the fiend sent her hither
to shame me. O good knight, said he, thou art a fool, for
that gentlewoman was the master fiend of hell, the which
hath power above all devils, and that was the old lady that
thou sawest in thine advision riding on the serpent. Then he
told Sir Percivale how our Lord Jesu Christ beat him out of
heaven for his sin, the which was the most brightest angel
of heaven, and therefore he lost his heritage. And that was
the champion that thou foughtest withal, the which had
overcome thee had not the grace of God been. Now beware Sir
Percivale, and take this for an ensample. And then the good
man vanished away. Then Sir Percivale took his arms, and
entered into the ship, and so departed from thence.
Here endeth the fourteenth book, which is of Sir
Percivale. And here followeth of Sir Launcelot, which is the
fifteenth book.
BOOK XV.
CHAPTER I. How Sir Launcelot came to a chapel, where he
found dead, in a white shirt, a man of religion, of an
hundred winter old.
WHEN the hermit had kept Sir Launcelot three days, the
hermit gat him an horse, an helm, and a sword. And then he
departed about the hour of noon. And then he saw a little
house. And when he came near he saw a chapel, and there
beside he saw an old man that was clothed all in white full
richly; and then Sir Launcelot said: God save you. God keep
you, said the good man, and make you a good knight. Then Sir
Launcelot alighted and entered into the chapel, and there he
saw an old man dead, in a white shirt of passing fine cloth.
Sir, said the good man, this man that is dead ought not
to be in such clothing as ye see him in, for in that he
brake the oath of his order, for he hath been more than an
hundred winter a man of a religion. And then the good man
and Sir Launcelot went into the chapel; and the good man
took a stole about his neck, and a book, and then he
conjured on that book; and with that they saw in an hideous
figure and horrible, that there was no man so hard-hearted
nor so hard but he should have been afeard. Then said the
fiend: Thou hast travailed me greatly; now tell me what thou
wilt with me. I will, said the good man, that thou tell me
how my fellow became dead, and whether he be saved or
damned. Then he said with an horrible voice: He is not lost
but saved. How may that be? said the good man; it seemed to
me that he lived not well, for he brake his order for to
wear a shirt where he ought to wear none, and who that
trespasseth against our order doth not well. Not so, said
the fiend, this man that lieth here dead was come of a great
lineage. And there was a lord that hight the Earl de Vale,
that held great war against this man's nephew, the which
hight Aguarus. And so this Aguarus saw the earl was bigger
than he. Then he went for to take counsel of his uncle, the
which lieth here dead as ye may see. And then he asked
leave, and went out of his hermitage for to maintain his
nephew against the mighty earl; and so it happed that this
man that lieth here dead did so much by his wisdom and
hardiness that the earl was taken, and three of his lords,
by force of this dead man.
CHAPTER II. Of a dead man, how men would have hewn him,
and it would not be, and how Sir Launcelot took the hair of
the dead man.
THEN was there peace betwixt the earl and this Aguarus,
and great surety that the earl should never war against him.
Then this dead man that here lieth came to this hermitage
again; and then the earl made two of his nephews for to be
avenged upon this man. So they came on a day, and found this
dead man at the sacring of his mass, and they abode him till
he had said mass. And then they set upon him and drew out
swords to have slain him; but there would no sword bite on
him more than upon a gad of steel, for the high Lord which
he served He him preserved. Then made they a great fire, and
did off all his clothes, and the hair off his back. And then
this dead man hermit said unto them: Ween you to burn me? It
shall not lie in your power nor to perish me as much as a
thread, an there were any on my body. No? said one of them,
it shall be assayed. And then they despoiled him, and put
upon him this shirt, and cast him in a fire, and there he
lay all that night till it was day in that fire, and was not
dead, and so in the morn I came and found him dead; but I
found neither thread nor skin tamed, and so took him out of
the fire with great fear, and laid him here as ye may see.
And now may ye suffer me to go my way, for I have said you
the sooth. And then he departed with a great tempest.
Then was the good man and Sir Launcelot more gladder than
they were to-fore. And then Sir Launcelot dwelled with that
good man that night. Sir, said the good man, be ye not Sir
Launcelot du Lake? Yea, sir, said he. What seek ye in this
country? Sir, said Sir Launcelot, I go to seek the
adventures of the Sangreal. Well, said he, seek it ye may
well, but though it were here ye shall have no power to see
it no more than a blind man should see a bright sword, and
that is long on your sin, and else ye were more abler than
any man living. And then Sir Launcelot began to weep. Then
said the good man: Were ye confessed sith ye entered into
the quest of the Sangreal? Yea, sir, said Sir Launcelot.
Then upon the morn when the good man had sung his mass, then
they buried the dead man. Then Sir Launcelot said: Father,
what shall I do? Now, said the good man, I require you take
this hair that was this holy man's and put it next thy skin,
and it shall prevail thee greatly. Sir, and I will do it,
said Sir Launcelot. Also I charge you that ye eat no flesh
as long as ye be in the quest of the Sangreal, nor ye shall
drink no wine, and that ye hear mass daily an ye may do it.
So he took the hair and put it upon him, and so departed at
evensong-time.
And so rode he into a forest, and there he met with a
gentlewoman riding upon a white palfrey, and then she asked
him: Sir knight, whither ride ye? Certes, damosel, said
Launcelot, I wot not whither I ride but as fortune leadeth
me. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said she, I wot what adventure ye
seek, for ye were afore time nearer than ye be now, and yet
shall ye see it more openly than ever ye did, and that shall
ye understand in short time. Then Sir Launcelot asked her
where he might be harboured that night. Ye shall not find
this day nor night, but to-morn ye shall find harbour good,
and ease of that ye be in doubt of And then he commended her
unto God. Then he rode till that he came to a Cross, and
took that for his host as for that night.
CHAPTER III. Of an advision that Sir Launcelot had, and
how he told it to an hermit, and desired counsel of him.
AND so he put his horse to pasture, and did off his helm
and his shield, and made his prayers unto the Cross that he
never fall in deadly sin again. And so he laid him down to
sleep. And anon as he was asleep it befell him there an
advision, that there came a man afore him all by compass of
stars, and that man had a crown of gold on his head and that
man led in his fellowship seven kings and two knights. And
all these worshipped the Cross, kneeling upon their knees,
holding up their hands toward the heaven. And all they said:
Fair sweet Father of heaven come and visit us, and yield
unto us everych as we have deserved.
Then looked Launcelot up to the heaven, and him seemed
the clouds did open, and an old man came down, with a
company of angels, and alighted among them, and gave unto
everych his blessing, and called them his servants, and good
and true knights. And when this old man had said thus he
came to one of those knights, and said: I have lost all that
I have set in thee, for thou hast ruled thee against me as a
warrior, and used wrong wars with vain-glory, more for the
pleasure of the world than to please me, therefore thou
shalt be confounded without thou yield me my treasure. All
this advision saw Sir Launcelot at the Cross.
And on the morn he took his horse and rode till mid-day;
and there by adventure he met with the same knight that took
his horse, helm, and his sword, when he slept when the
Sangreal appeared afore the Cross. When Sir Launcelot saw
him he saluted hin not fair, but cried on high: Knight, keep
thee, for thou hast done to me great unkindness. And then
they put afore them their spears, and Sir Launcelot came so
fiercely upon him that he smote him and his horse down to
the earth, that he had nigh broken his neck. Then Sir
Launcelot took the knight's horse that was his own
aforehand, and descended from the horse he sat upon, and
mounted upon his own horse, and tied the knight's own horse
to a tree, that he might find that horse when that he was
arisen. Then Sir Launcelot rode till night, and by adventure
he met an hermit, and each of them saluted other; and there
he rested with that good man all night, and gave his horse
such as he might get. Then said the good man unto Launcelot:
Of whence be ye? Sir, said he, I am of Arthur's court, and
my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake that am in the quest of the
Sangreal, and therefore I pray you to counsel me of a vision
the which I had at the Cross. And so he told him all.
CHAPTER IV. How the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot
his advision, and told him that Sir Galahad was his son.
LO, Sir Launcelot, said the good man, there thou mightest
understand the high lineage that thou art come of, and thine
advision betokeneth. After the passion of Jesu Christ forty
year, Joseph of Aramathie preached the victory of King
Evelake, that he had in the battles the better of his
enemies. And of the seven kings and the two knights: the
first of them is called Nappus, an holy man; and the second
hight Nacien, in remembrance of his grandsire, and in him
dwelled our Lord Jesu Christ; and the third was called
Helias le Grose; and the fourth hight Lisais; and the fifth
hight Jonas, he departed out of his country and went into
Wales, and took there the daughter of Manuel, whereby he had
the land of Gaul, and he came to dwell in this country. And
of him came King Launcelot thy grandsire, the which there
wedded the king's daughter of Ireland, and he was as worthy
a man as thou art, and of him came King Ban, thy father, the
which was the last of the seven kings. And by thee, Sir
Launcelot, it signifieth that the angels said thou were none
of the seven fellowships. And the last was the ninth knight,
he was signified to a lion, for he should pass all manner of
earthly knights, that is Sir Galahad, the which thou gat on
King Pelles' daughter; and thou ought to thank God more than
any other man living, for of a sinner earthly thou hast no
peer as in knighthood, nor never shall be. But little thank
hast thou given to God for all the great virtues that God
hath lent thee. Sir, said Launcelot, ye say that that good
knight is my son. That oughtest thou to know and no man
better, said the good man, for thou knewest the daughter of
King Pelles fleshly, and on her thou begattest Galahad, and
that was he that at the feast of Pentecost sat in the Siege
Perilous; and therefore make thou it known openly that he is
one of thy begetting on King Pelles' daughter, for that will
be your worship and honour, and to all thy kindred. And I
counsel you in no place press not upon him to have ado with
him. Well, said Launcelot, meseemeth that good knight should
pray for me unto the High Father, that I fall not to sin
again. Trust thou well, said the good man, thou farest
mickle the better for his prayer; but the son shall not bear
the wickedness of the father, nor the father shall not bear
the wickedness of the son, but everych shall bear his own
burden. And therefore beseek thou only God, and He will help
thee in all thy needs. And then Sir Launcelot and he went to
supper, and so laid him to rest, and the hair pricked so Sir
Launcelot's skin which grieved him full sore, but he took it
meekly, and suffered the pain. And so on the morn he heard
his mass and took his arms, and so took his leave.
CHAPTER V. How Sir Launcelot jousted with many knights,
and how he was taken.
AND then mounted upon his horse, and rode into a forest,
and held no highway. And as he looked afore him he saw a
fair plain, and beside that a fair castle, and afore the
castle were many pavilions of silk and of diverse hue. And
him seemed that he saw there five hundred knights riding on
horseback; and there were two parties: they that were of the
castle were all on black horses and their trappings black,
and they that were without were all on white horses and
trappings, and everych hurtled to other that it marvelled
Sir Launcelot. And at the last him thought they of the
castle were put to the worse.
Then thought Sir Launcelot
for to help there the weaker party in increasing of his
chivalry. And so Sir Launcelot thrust in among the party of
the castle, and smote down a knight, horse and man, to the
earth. And then he rashed here and there, and did marvellous
deeds of arms. And then he drew out his sword, and struck
many knights to the earth, so that all those that saw him
marvelled that ever one knight might do so great deeds of
arms. But always the white knights held them nigh about Sir
Launcelot, for to tire him and wind him. But at the last, as
a man may not ever endure, Sir Launcelot waxed so faint of
fighting and travailing, and was so weary of his great
deeds, that he might not lift
up his arms for to give one stroke, so that he weened never
to have borne arms; and then they all took and led him away
into a forest, and there made him to alight and to rest him.
And then all the fellowship of the castle were overcome for
the default of him. Then they said all unto Sir Launcelot:
Blessed be God that ye be now of our fellowship, for we
shall hold you in our prison; and so they left him with few words. And then Sir Launcelot made great
sorrow, For never or now was I never at tournament nor
jousts but I had the best, and now I am shamed; and then he
said: Now I am sure that I am more sinfuller than ever I
was.
Thus he rode sorrowing, and half a day he was out of
despair, till that he came into a deep valley. And when Sir
Launcelot saw he might not ride up into the mountain, he
there alighted under an apple tree, and there he left his
helm and his shield, and put his horse unto pasture. And
then he laid him down to sleep. And then him thought there
came an old man afore him, the which said: Ah, Launcelot of
evil faith and poor belief, wherefore is thy will turned so
lightly toward thy deadly sin? And when he had said thus he
vanished away, and Launcelot wist not where he was become.
Then he took his horse, and armed him; and as he rode by the
way he saw a chapel where was a recluse, which had a window
that she might see up to the altar. And all aloud she called
Launcelot, for that he seemed a knight errant. And then he
came, and she asked him what he was, and of what place, and
where about he went to seek.
CHAPTER VI. How Sir Launcelot told his advision to a
woman, and how she expounded it to him.
AND then he told her altogether word by word, and the
truth how it befell him at the tournament. And after told
her his advision that he had had that night in his sleep,
and prayed her to tell him what it might mean, for he was
not well content with it. Ah, Launcelot, said she, as long
as ye were knight of earthly knighthood ye were the most
marvellous man of the world, and most adventurous. Now, said
the lady, sithen ye be set among the knights of heavenly
adventures, if adventure fell thee contrary at that
tournament have thou no marvel, for that tournament
yesterday was but a tokening of Our Lord. And not for then
there was none enchantment, for they at the tournament were
earthly knights. The tournament was a token to see who
should have most knights, either Eliazar, the son of King
Pelles, or Argustus, the son of King Harlon. But Eliazar was
all clothed in white, and Argustus was covered in black, the
which were [over]come.
All what this betokeneth I shall tell you. The day of
Pentecost, when King Arthur held his court, it befell that
earthly kings and knights took a tournament together, that
is to say the quest of the Sangreal. The earthly knights
were they the which were clothed all in black, and the
covering betokeneth the sins whereof they be not confessed.
And they with the covering of white betokeneth virginity,
and they that chose chastity. And thus was the quest begun
in them. Then thou beheld the sinners and the good men, and
when thou sawest the sinners overcome, thou inclinest to
that party for bobaunce and pride of the world, and all that
must be left in that quest, for in this quest thou shalt
have many fellows and thy betters. For thou art so feeble of
evil trust and good belief, this made it when thou were
there where they took thee and led thee into the forest. And
anon there appeared the Sangreal unto the white knights, but
thou was so feeble of good belief and faith that thou
mightest not abide it for all the teaching of the good man,
but anon thou turnest to the sinners, and that caused thy
misadventure that thou should'st know good from evil and
vain glory of the world, the which is not worth a pear. And
for great pride thou madest great sorrow that thou hadst not
overcome all the white knights with the covering of white,
by whom was betokened virginity and chastity; and therefore
God was wroth with you, for God loveth no such deeds in this
quest. And this advision signifieth that thou were of evil
faith and of poor belief, the which will make thee to fall
into the deep pit of hell if thou keep thee not. Now have I
warned thee of thy vain glory and of thy pride, that thou
hast many times erred against thy Maker. Beware of
everlasting pain, for of all earthly knights I have most
pity of thee, for I know well thou hast not thy peer of any
earthly sinful man.
And so she commended Sir Launcelot to dinner. And after
dinner he took his horse and commended her to God, and so
rode into a deep valley, and there he saw a river and an
high mountain. And through the water he must needs pass, the
which was hideous; and then in the name of God he took it
with good heart. And when he came over he saw an armed
knight, horse and man black as any bear; without any word he
smote Sir Launcelot's horse to the earth; and so he passed
on, he wist not where he was become. And then he took his
helm and his shield, and thanked God of his adventure.
BOOK XVI.
CHAPTER I. How Sir Gawaine was nigh weary of the quest
of the Sangreal, and of his marvellous dream.
WHEN Sir Gawaine was departed from his fellowship he rode
long without any adventure. For he found not the tenth part
of adventure as he was wont to do. For Sir Gawaine rode from
Whitsuntide until Michaelmas and found none adventure that
pleased him. So on a day it befell Gawaine met with Sir
Ector de Maris, and either made great joy of other that it
were marvel to tell. And so they told everych other, and
complained them greatly that they could find none adventure.
Truly, said Sir Gawaine unto Sir Ector, I am nigh weary of
this quest, and loath I am to follow further in strange
countries. One thing marvelled me, said Sir Ector, I have
met with twenty knights, fellows of mine, and all they
complain as I do. I have marvel, said Sir Gawaine, where
that Sir Launcelot, your brother, is. Truly, said Sir Ector,
I cannot hear of him, nor of Sir Galahad, Percivale, nor Sir
Bors. Let them be, said Sir Gawaine, for they four have no
peers. And if one thing were not in Sir Launcelot he had no
fellow of none earthly man; but he is as we be, but if he
took more pain upon him. But an these four be met together
they will be loath that any man meet with them; for an they
fail of the Sangreal it is in waste of all the remnant to
recover it.
Thus Ector and Gawaine rode more than eight days, and on
a Saturday they found an old chapel, the which was wasted
that there seemed no man thither repaired; and there they
alighted, and set their spears at the door, and in they
entered into the chapel, and there made their orisons a
great while, and set them down in the sieges of the chapel.
And as they spake of one thing and other, for heaviness they
fell asleep, and there befell them both marvellous
adventures. Sir Gawaine him seemed he came into a meadow
full of herbs and flowers, and there he saw a rack of bulls,
an hundred and fifty, that were proud and black, save three
of them were all white, and one had a black spot, and the
other two were so fair and so white that they might be no
whiter. And these three bulls which were so fair were tied
with two strong cords. And the remnant of the bulls said
among them: Go we hence to seek better pasture. And so some
went, and some came again, but they were so lean that they
might not stand upright; and of the bulls that were so
white, that one came again and no mo. But when this white
bull was come again among these other there rose up a great
cry for lack of wind that failed them; and so they departed
one here and another there: this advision befell Gawaine
that night.
CHAPTER II. Of the advision of Sir Ector, and how he
jousted with Sir Uwaine les Avoutres, his sworn brother.
BUT to Ector de Maris befell another vision the contrary.
For it seemed him that his brother, Sir Launcelot, and he
alighted out of a chair and leapt upon two horses, and the
one said to the other: Go we seek that we shall not find.
And him thought that a man beat Sir Launcelot, and despoiled
him, and clothed him in another array, the which was all
full of knots, and set him upon an ass, and so he rode till
he came to the fairest well that ever he saw; and Sir
Launcelot alighted and would have drunk of that well. And
when he stooped to drink of the water the water sank from
him. And when Sir Launcelot saw that, he turned and went
thither as the head came from. And in the meanwhile he
trowed that himself and Sir Ector rode till that they came
to a rich man's house where there was a wedding. And there
he saw a king the which said: Sir knight, here is no place
for you. And then he turned again unto the chair that he
came from.
Thus within a while both Gawaine and Ector awaked, and
either told other of their advision, the which marvelled
them greatly. Truly, said Ector, I shall never be merry till
I hear tidings of my brother Launcelot. Now as they sat thus
talking they saw an hand showing unto the elbow, and was
covered with red samite, and upon that hung a bridle not
right rich, and held within the fist a great candle which
burned right clear, and so passed afore them, and entered
into the chapel, and then vanished away and they wist not
where. And anon came down a voice which said: Knights of
full evil faith and of poor belief, these two things have
failed you, and therefore ye may not come to the adventures
of the Sangreal.
Then first spake Gawaine and said: Ector, have ye heard
these words? Yea truly, said Sir Ector, I heard all. Now go
we, said Sir Ector, unto some hermit that will tell us of
our advision, for it seemeth me we labour all in vain. And
so they departed and rode into a valley, and there met with
a squire which rode on an hackney, and they saluted him
fair. Sir, said Gawaine, can thou teach us to any hermit?
Here is one in a little mountain, but it is so rough there
may no horse go thither, and therefore ye must go upon foot;
there shall ye find a poor house, and there is Nacien the
hermit, which is the holiest man in this country. And so
they departed either from other.
And then in a valley they met with a knight all armed,
which proffered them to joust as far as he saw them. In the
name of God, said Sir Gawaine, sith I departed from Camelot
there was none proffered me to joust but once. And now, sir,
said Ector, let me joust with him. Nay, said Gawaine, ye
shall not but if I be beat; it shall not for-think me then
if ye go after me. And then either embraced other to joust
and came together as fast as their horses might run, and
brast their shields and the mails, and the one more than the
other; and Gawaine was wounded in the left side, but the
other knight was smitten through the breast, and the spear
came out on the other side, and so they fell both out of
their saddles, and in the falling they brake both their
spears.
Anon Gawaine arose and set his hand to his sword, and
cast his shield afore him. But all for naught was it, for
the knight had no power to arise against him. Then said
Gawaine: Ye must yield you as an overcome man, or else I may
slay you. Ah, sir knight, said he, I am but dead, for God's
sake and of your gentleness lead me here unto an abbey that
I may receive my Creator. Sir, said Gawaine, I know no house
of religion hereby. Sir, said the knight, set me on an horse
to-fore you, and I shall teach you. Gawaine set him up in
the saddle, and he leapt up behind him for to sustain him,
and so came to an abbey where they were well received; and
anon he was unarmed, and received his Creator. Then he
prayed Gawaine to draw out the truncheon of the spear out of
his body. Then Gawaine asked him what he was, that knew him
not. I am, said he, of King Arthur's court, and was a fellow
of the Round Table, and we were brethren sworn together; and
now Sir Gawaine, thou hast slain me, and my name is Uwaine
les Avoutres, that sometime was son unto King Uriens, and
was in the quest of the Sangreal; and now forgive it thee
God, for it shall ever be said that the one sworn brother
hath slain the other.
CHAPTER III. How Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector came to an
hermitage to be confessed, and how they told to the hermit
their advisions.
ALAS, said Gawaine, that ever this misadventure is
befallen me. No force, said Uwaine, sith I shall die this
death, of a much more worshipfuller man's hand might I not
die; but when ye come to the court recommend me unto my
lord, King Arthur, and all those that be left alive, and for
old brotherhood think on me. Then began Gawaine to weep, and
Ector also. And then Uwaine himself and Sir Gawaine drew out
the truncheon of the spear, and anon departed the soul from
the body. Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector buried him as men
ought to bury a king's son, and made write upon his name,
and by whom he was slain.
Then departed Gawaine and Ector, as heavy as they might
for their misadventure, and so rode till that they came to
the rough mountain, and there they tied their horses and
went on foot to the hermitage. And when they were come up
they saw a poor house, and beside the chapel a little
courtelage, where Nacien the hermit gathered worts, as he
which had tasted none other meat of a great while. And when
he saw the errant knights he came toward them and saluted
them, and they him again. Fair lords, said he, what
adventure brought you hither? Sir, said Gawaine, to speak
with you for to be confessed. Sir, said the hermit, I am
ready. Then they told him so much that he wist well what
they were. And then he thought to counsel them if he might.
Then began Gawaine first and told him of his advision
that he had had in the chapel, and Ector told him all as it
is afore rehearsed. Sir, said the hermit unto Sir Gawaine,
the fair meadow and the rack therein ought to be understood
the Round Table, and by the meadow ought to be understood
humility and patience, those be the things which be always
green and quick; for men may no time overcome humility and
patience, therefore was the Round Table founded, and the
chivalry hath been at all times so by the fraternity which
was there that she might not be overcome; for men said she
was founded in patience and in humility. At the rack ate an
hundred and fifty bulls; but they ate not in the meadow, for
their hearts should be set in humility and patience, and the
bulls were proud and black save only three. By the bulls is
to understand the fellowship of the Round Table, which for
their sin and their wickedness be black. Blackness is to say
without good or virtuous works. And the three bulls which
were white save only one that was spotted: the two white
betoken Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale, for they be maidens
clean and without spot; and the third that had a spot
signifieth Sir Bors de Ganis, which trespassed but once in
his virginity, but sithen he kept himself so well in
chastity that all is forgiven him and his misdeeds. And why
those three were tied by the necks, they be three knights in
virginity and chastity, and there is no pride smitten in
them. And the black bulls which said: Go we hence, they were
those which at Pentecost at the high feast took upon them to
go in the quest of the Sangreal without confession: they
might not enter in the meadow of humility and patience. And
therefore they returned into waste countries, that
signifieth death, for there shall die many of them: everych
of them shall slay other for sin, and they that shall escape
shall be so lean that it shall be marvel to see them. And of
the three bulls without spot, the one shall come again, and
the other two never.
CHAPTER IV. How the hermit expounded their advision.
THEN spake Nacien unto Ector: Sooth it is that Launcelot
and ye came down off one chair: the chair betokeneth
mastership and lordship which ye came down from. But ye two
knights, said the hermit, ye go to seek that ye shall never
find, that is the Sangreal; for it is the secret thing of
our Lord Jesu Christ. What is to mean that Sir Launcelot
fell down off his horse: he hath left pride and taken him to
humility, for he hath cried mercy loud for his sin, and sore
repented him, and our Lord hath clothed him in his clothing
which is full of knots, that is the hair that he weareth
daily. And the ass that he rode upon is a beast of humility,
for God would not ride upon no steed, nor upon no palfrey;
so in ensample that an ass betokeneth meekness, that thou
sawest Sir Launcelot ride on in thy sleep. And the well
whereas the water sank from him when he should have taken
thereof, and when he saw he might not have it, he returned
thither from whence he came, for the well betokeneth the
high grace of God, the more men desire it to take it, the
more shall be their desire. So when he came nigh the
Sangreal, he meeked him that he held him not a man worthy to
be so nigh the Holy Vessel, for he had been so defouled in
deadly sin by the space of many years; yet when he kneeled
to drink of the well, there he saw great providence of the
Sangreal. And for he had served so long the devil, he shall
have vengeance four-and-twenty days long, for that he hath
been the devil's servant four-and-twenty years. And then
soon after he shall return unto Camelot out of this country,
and he shall say a part of such things as he hath found.
Now will I tell you what betokeneth the hand with the
candle and the bridle: that is to understand the Holy Ghost
where charity is ever, and the bridle signifieth abstinence.
For when she is bridled in Christian man's heart she holdeth
him so short that he falleth not in deadly sin. And the
candle which sheweth clearness and sight signifieth the
right way of Jesu Christ. And when he went and said: Knights
of poor faith and of wicked belief, these three things
failed, charity, abstinence, and truth; therefore ye may not
attain that high adventure of the Sangreal.
CHAPTER V. Of the good counsel that the hermit gave to
them.
CERTES, said Gawaine, soothly have ye said, that I see it
openly. Now, I pray you, good man and holy father, tell me
why we met not with so many adventures as we were wont to
do, and commonly have the better. I shall tell you gladly,
said the good man; the adventure of the Sangreal which ye
and many other have undertaken the quest of it and find it
not, the cause is for it appeareth not to sinners. Wherefore
marvel not though ye fail thereof, and many other. For ye be
an untrue knight and a great murderer, and to good men
signifieth other things than murder. For I dare say, as
sinful as Sir Launcelot hath been, sith that he went into
the quest of the Sangreal he slew never man, nor nought
shall, till that he come unto Camelot again, for he hath
taken upon him for to forsake sin. And nere that he nis not
stable, but by his thought he is likely to turn again, he
should be next to enchieve it save Galahad, his son. But God
knoweth his thought and his unstableness, and yet shall he
die right an holy man, and no doubt he hath no fellow of no
earthly sinful man. Sir, said Gawaine, it seemeth me by your
words that for our sins it will not avail us to travel in
this quest Truly, said the good man, there be an hundred
such as ye be that never shall prevail, but to have shame.
And when they had heard these voices they commended him unto
God.
Then the good man called Gawaine, and said: It is long
time passed sith that ye were made knight, and never sithen
thou servedst thy Maker, and now thou art so old a tree that
in thee is neither life nor fruit; wherefore bethink thee
that thou yield to Our Lord the bare rind, sith the fiend
hath the leaves and the fruit. Sir, said Gawaine an I had
leisure I would speak with you, but my fellow here, Sir
Ector, is gone, and abideth me yonder beneath the hill.
Well, said the good man, thou were better to be counselled.
Then departed Gawaine and came to Ector, and so took their
horses and rode till they came to a forester's house, which
harboured them right well. And on the morn they departed
from their host, and rode long or they could find any
adventure.
CHAPTER VI. How Sir Bors met with an hermit, and how he
was confessed to him, and of his penance enjoined to him.
WHEN Bors was departed from Camelot he met with a
religious man riding on an ass, and Sir Bors saluted him.
Anon the good man knew him that he was one of the
knights-errant that was in the quest of the Sangreal. What
are ye? said the good man. Sir, said he, I am a knight that
fain would be counselled in the quest of the Sangreal, for
he shall have much earthly worship that may bring it to an
end. Certes, said the good man, that is sooth, for he shall
be the best knight of the world, and the fairest of all the
fellowship. But wit you well there shall none attain it but
by cleanness, that is pure confession.
So rode they together till that they came to an
hermitage. And there he prayed Bors to dwell all that night
with him. And so he alighted and put away his armour, and
prayed him that he might be confessed; and so they went into
the chapel, and there he was clean confessed, and they ate
bread and drank water together. Now, said the good man, I
pray thee that thou eat none other till that thou sit at the
table where the Sangreal shall be. Sir, said he, I agree me
thereto, but how wit ye that I shall sit there. Yes, said
the good man, that know I, but there shall be but few of
your fellows with you. All is welcome, said Sir Bors, that
God sendeth me. Also, said the good man, instead of a shirt,
and in sign of chastisement, ye shall wear a garment;
therefore I pray you do off all your clothes and your shirt:
and so he did. And then he took him a scarlet coat, so that
should be instead of his shirt till he had fulfilled the
quest of the Sangreal; and the good man found in him so
marvellous a life and so stable, that he marvelled and felt
that he was never corrupt in fleshly lusts, but in one time
that he begat Elian le Blank.
Then he armed him, and took his leave, and so departed.
And so a little from thence he looked up into a tree, and
there he saw a passing great bird upon an old tree, and it
was passing dry, without leaves; and the bird sat above, and
had birds, the which were dead for hunger. So smote he
himself with his beak, the which was great and sharp. And so
the great bird bled till that he died among his birds. And
the young birds took the life by the blood of the great
bird. When Bors saw this he wist well it was a great
tokening; for when he saw the great bird arose not, then he
took his horse and yede his way. So by evensong, by
adventure he came to a strong tower and an high, and there
was he lodged gladly.
CHAPTER VII. How Sir Bors was lodged with a lady, and
how he took upon him for to fight against a champion for her
land.
AND when he was unarmed they led him into an high tower
where was a lady, young, lusty, and fair. And she received
him with great joy, and made him to sit down by her, and so
was he set to sup with flesh and many dainties. And when Sir
Bors saw that, he bethought him on his penance, and bade a
squire to bring him water. And so he brought him, and he
made sops therein and ate them. Ah, said the lady, I trow ye
like not my meat. Yes, truly, said Sir Bors, God thank you,
madam, but I may eat none other meat this day. Then she
spake no more as at that time, for she was loath to
displease him. Then after supper they spake of one thing and
other.
With that came a squire and said: Madam, ye must purvey
you to-morn for a champion, for else your sister will have
this castle and also your lands, except ye can find a knight
that will fight to-morn in your quarrel against Pridam le
Noire. Then she made sorrow and said: Ah, Lord God,
wherefore granted ye to hold my land, whereof I should now
be disherited without reason and right? And when Sir Bors
had heard her say thus, he said: I shall comfort you. Sir,
said she, I shall tell you there was here a king that hight
Aniause, which held all this land in his keeping. So it
mishapped he loved a gentlewoman a great deal elder than I.
So took he her all this land to her keeping, and all his men
to govern; and she brought up many evil customs whereby she
put to death a great part of his kinsmen. And when he saw
that, he let chase her out of this land, and betook it me,
and all this land in my demesnes. But anon as that worthy
king was dead, this other lady began to war upon me, and
hath destroyed many of my men, and turned them against me,
that I have well-nigh no man left me; and I have nought else
but this high tower that she left me. And yet she hath
promised me to have this tower, without I can find a knight
to fight with her champion.
Now tell me, said Sir Bors, what is that Pridam le Noire?
Sir, said she, he is the most doubted man of this land. Now
may ye send her word that ye have found a knight that shall
fight with that Pridam le Noire in God's quarrel and yours.
Then that lady was not a little glad, and sent word that she
was purveyed, and that night Bors had good cheer; but in no
bed he would come, but laid him on the floor, nor never
would do otherwise till that he had met with the quest of
the Sangreal.
CHAPTER VIII. Of an advision which Sir Bors had that
night, and how he fought and overcame his adversary.
AND anon as he was asleep him befell a vision, that there
came to him two birds, the one as white as a swan, and the
other was marvellous black; but it was not so great as the
other, but in the likeness of a Raven. Then the white bird
came to him, and said: An thou wouldst give me meat and
serve me I should give thee all the riches of the world, and
I shall make thee as fair and as white as I am. So the white
bird departed, and there came the black bird to him, and
said: An thou wolt, serve me to-morrow and have me in no
despite though I be black, for wit thou well that more
availeth my blackness than the other's whiteness. And then
he departed.
And he had another vision: him thought that he came to a
great place which seemed a chapel, and there he found a
chair set on the left side, which was worm-eaten and feeble.
And on the right hand were two flowers like a lily, and the
one would have benome the other's whiteness, but a good man
departed them that the one touched not the other; and then
out of every flower came out many flowers, and fruit great
plenty. Then him thought the good man said: Should not he do
great folly that would let these two flowers perish for to
succour the rotten tree, that it fell not to the earth? Sir,
said he, it seemeth me that this wood might not avail. Now
keep thee, said the good man, that thou never see such
adventure befall thee.
Then he awaked and made a sign of the cross in midst of
the forehead, and so rose and clothed him. And there came
the lady of the place, and she saluted him, and he her
again, and so went to a chapel and heard their service. And
there came a company of knights, that the lady had sent for,
to lead Sir Bors unto battle. Then asked he his arms. And
when he was armed she prayed him to take a little morsel to
dine. Nay, madam, said he, that shall I not do till I have
done my battle, by the grace of God. And so he leapt upon
his horse, and departed, all the knights and men with him.
And as soon as these two ladies met together, she which Bors
should fight for complained her, and said: Madam, ye have
done me wrong to bereave me of my lands that King Aniause
gave me, and full loath I am there should be any battle. Ye
shall not choose, said the other lady, or else your knight
withdraw him.
Then there was the cry made, which party had the better
of the two knights, that his lady should rejoice all the
land. Now departed the one knight here, and the other there.
Then they came together with such a raundon that they
pierced their shields and their hauberks, and the spears
flew in pieces, and they wounded either other sore. Then
hurtled they together, so that they fell both to the earth,
and their horses betwixt their legs; and anon they arose,
and set hands to their swords, and smote each one other upon
the heads, that they made great wounds and deep, that the
blood went out of their bodies. For there found Sir Bors
greater defence in that knight more than he weened. For that
Pridam was a passing good knight, and he wounded Sir Bors
full evil, and he him again; but ever this Pridam held the
stour in like hard. That perceived Sir Bors, and suffered
him till he was nigh attaint. And then he ran upon him more
and more, and the other went back for dread of death. So in
his withdrawing he fell upright, and Sir Bors drew his helm
so strongly that he rent it from his head, and gave him
great strokes with the flat of his sword upon the visage,
and bade him yield him or he should slay him. Then he cried
him mercy and said: Fair knight, for God's love slay me not,
and I shall ensure thee never to war against thy lady, but
be alway toward her. Then Bors let him be; then the old lady
fled with all her knights.
CHAPTER IX. How the lady was returned to her lands by
the battle of Sir Bors, and of his departing, and how he met
Sir Lionel taken and beaten with
thorns, and also of a maid which should have been
devoured.
SO then came Bors to all those that held lands of his
lady, and said he should destroy them but if they did such
service unto her as longed to their lands. So they did their
homage, and they that would not were chased out of their
lands. Then befell that young lady to come to her estate
again, by the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de Ganis. So when
all the country was well set in peace, then Sir Bors took
his leave and departed; and she thanked him greatly, and
would have given him great riches, but he refused it.
Then he rode all that day till night, and came to an
harbour to a lady which knew him well enough, and made of
him great Joy. Upon the morn, as soon as the day appeared,
Bors departed from thence, and so rode into a forest unto
the hour of midday, and there befell him a marvellous
adventure. So he met at the departing of the two ways two
knights that led Lionel, his brother, all naked, bounden
upon a strong hackney, and his hands bounden to-fore his
breast. And everych of them held in his hands thorns
wherewith they went beating him so sore that the blood
trailed down more than in an hundred places of his body, so
that he was all blood to-fore and behind, but he said never
a word; as he which was great of heart he suffered all that
ever they did to him, as though he had felt none anguish.
Anon Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his
brother; and so he looked upon the other side of him, and
saw a knight which brought a fair gentlewoman, and would
have set her in the thickest place of the forest for to have
been the more surer out of the way from them that sought
him. And she which was nothing assured cried with an high
voice: Saint Mary succour your maid. And anon she espied
where Sir Bors came riding. And when she came nigh him she
deemed him a knight of the Round Table, whereof she hoped to
have some comfort; and then she conjured him: By the faith
that he ought unto Him in whose service thou art entered in,
and for the faith ye owe unto the high order of knighthood,
and for the noble King Arthur's sake, that I suppose made
thee knight, that thou help me, and suffer me not to be
shamed of this knight. When Bors heard her say thus he had
so much sorrow there he nist not what to do. For if I let my
brother be in adventure he must be slain, and that would I
not for all the earth. And if I help not the maid she is
shamed for ever, and also she shall lose her virginity the
which she shall never get again. Then lift he up his eyes
and said weeping: Fair sweet Lord Jesu Christ, whose liege
man I am, keep Lionel, my brother, that these knights slay
him not, and for pity of you, and for Mary's sake, I shall
succour this maid.
CHAPTER X. How Sir Bors left to rescue his brother, and
rescued the damosel; and how it was told him that Lionel was
dead.
THEN dressed he him unto the knight the which had the
gentlewoman, and then he cried: Sir knight, let your hand
off that maiden, or ye be but dead. And then he set down the
maiden, and was armed at all pieces save he lacked his
spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew out his sword,
and Bors smote him so hard that it went through his shield
and habergeon on the left shoulder. And through great
strength he beat him down to the earth, and at the pulling
out of Bors' spear there he swooned. Then came Bors to the
maid and said: How seemeth it you? of this knight ye be
delivered at this time. Now sir, said she, I pray you lead
me thereas this knight had me. So shall I do gladly: and
took the horse of the wounded knight, and set the
gentlewoman upon him, and so brought her as she desired. Sir
knight, said she, ye have better sped than ye weened, for an
I had lost my maidenhead, five hundred men should have died
for it. What knight was he that had you in the forest? By my
faith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I never with what
engine the fiend enchafed him, for yesterday he took me from
my father privily; for I, nor none of my father's men,
mistrusted him not, and if he had had my maidenhead he
should have died for the sin, and his body shamed and
dishonoured for ever. Thus as she stood talking with him
there came twelve knights seeking after her, and anon she
told them all how Bors had delivered her; then they made
great joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great
lord, and he should be right welcome. Truly, said Bors, that
may not be at this time, for I have a great adventure to do
in this country. So he commended them unto God and departed.
Then Sir Bors rode after Lionel, his brother, by the
trace of their horses, thus he rode seeking a great while.
Then he overtook a man clothed in a religious clothing; and
rode on a strong black horse blacker than a berry, and said:
Sir knight, what seek you? Sir, said he, I seek my brother
that I saw within a while beaten with two knights. Ah, Bors,
discomfort you not, nor fall into no wanhope; for I shall
tell you tidings such as they be, for truly he is dead. Then
showed he him a new slain body lying in a bush, and it
seemed him well that it was the body of Lionel, and then he
made such a sorrow that he fell to the earth all in a swoon,
and lay a great while there. And when he came to himself he
said: Fair brother, sith the company of you and me is
departed shall I never have joy in my heart, and now He
which I have taken unto my master, He be my help. And when
he had said thus he took his body lightly in his arms, and
put it upon the arson of his saddle. And then he said to the
man: Canst thou tell me unto some chapel where that I may
bury this body? Come on, said he, here is one fast by; and
so long they rode till they saw a fair tower, and afore it
there seemed an old feeble chapel. And then they alighted
both, and put him into a tomb of marble.
CHAPTER XI. How Sir Bors told his dream to a priest,
which he had dreamed, and of the counsel that the priest
gave to him.
NOW leave we him here, said the good man, and go we to
our harbour till to-morrow; we will come here again to do
him service. Sir, said Bors, be ye a priest? Yea forsooth,
said he. Then I pray you tell me a dream that befell to me
the last night. Say on, said he. Then he began so much to
tell him of the great bird in the forest, and after told him
of his birds, one white, another black, and of the rotten
tree, and of the white flowers. Sir, I shall tell you a part
now, and the other deal to-morrow. The white fowl betokeneth
a gentlewoman, fair and rich, which loved thee paramours,
and hath loved thee long; and if thou warn her love she
shall go die anon, if thou have no pity on her. That
signifieth the great bird, the which shall make thee to warn
her. Now for no fear that thou hast, ne for no dread that
thou hast of God, thou shalt not warn her, but thou wouldst
not do it for to be holden chaste, for to conquer the loos
of the vain glory of the world; for that shall befall thee
now an thou warn her, that Launcelot, the good knight, thy
cousin, shall die. And therefore men shall now say that thou
art a manslayer, both of thy brother, Sir Lionel, and of thy
cousin, Sir Launcelot du Lake, the which thou mightest have
saved and rescued easily, but thou weenedst to rescue a maid
which pertaineth nothing to thee. Now look thou whether it
had been greater harm of thy brother's death, or else to
have suffered her to have lost her maidenhood. Then asked he
him: Hast thou heard the tokens of thy dream the which I
have told to you? Yea forsooth, said Sir Bors, all your
exposition and declaring of my dream I have well understood
and heard. Then said the man in this black clothing: Then is
it in thy default if Sir Launcelot, thy cousin, die. Sir,
said Bors, that were me loath, for wit ye well there is
nothing in the world but I had liefer do it than to see my
lord, Sir Launcelot du Lake, to die in my default. Choose ye
now the one or the other, said the good man.
And then he led Sir Bors into an high tower, and there he
found knights and ladies: those ladies said he was welcome,
and so they unarmed him. And when he was in his doublet men
brought him a mantle furred with ermine, and put it about
him; and then they made him such cheer that he had forgotten
all his sorrow and anguish, and only set his heart in these
delights and dainties, and took no thought more for his
brother, Sir Lionel, neither of Sir Launcelot du Lake, his
cousin. And anon came out of a chamber to him the fairest
lady than ever he saw, and more richer beseen than ever he
saw Queen Guenever or any other estate. Lo, said they, Sir
Bors, here is the lady unto whom we owe all our service, and
I trow she be the richest lady and the fairest of all the
world, and the which loveth you best above all other
knights, for she will have no knight but you. And when he
understood that language he was abashed. Not for then she
saluted him, and he her; and then they sat down together and
spake of many things, in so much that she besought him to be
her love, for she had loved him above all earthly men, and
she should make him richer than ever was man of his age.
When Bors understood her words he was right evil at ease,
which in no manner would not break chastity, so wist not he
how to answer her.
CHAPTER XII. How the devil in a woman's likeness would
have had Sir Bors to have lain by her, and how by God's
grace he escaped.
ALAS, said she, Bors, shall ye not do my will? Madam,
said Bors, there is no lady in the world whose will I will
fulfil as of this thing, for my brother lieth dead which was
slain right late. Ah Bors, said she, I have loved you long
for the great beauty I have seen in you, and the great
hardiness that I have heard of you, that needs ye must lie
by me this night, and therefore I pray you grant it me.
Truly, said he, I shall not do it in no manner wise. Then
she made him such sorrow as though she would have died. Well
Bors, said she, unto this have ye brought me, nigh to mine
end. And therewith she took him by the hand, and bade him
behold her. And ye shall see how I shall die for your love.
Ah, said then he, that shall I never see.
Then she departed and went up into an high battlement,
and led with her twelve gentlewomen; and when they were
above, one of the gentlewomen cried, and said: Ah, Sir Bors,
gentle knight have mercy on us all, and suffer my lady to
have her will, and if ye do not we must suffer death with
our lady, for to fall down off this high tower, and if ye
suffer us thus to die for so little a thing all ladies and
gentlewomen will say or you dishonour. Then looked he
upward, they seemed all ladies of great estate, and richly
and well beseen. Then had he of them great pity; not for
that he was uncounselled in himself that liefer he had they
all had lost their souls than he his, and with that they
fell adown all at once unto the earth. And when he saw that,
he was all abashed, and had thereof great marvel. With that
he blessed his body and his visage. And anon he heard a
great noise and a great cry, as though all the fiends of
hell had been about him; and therewith he saw neither tower,
nor lady, nor gentlewoman, nor no chapel where he brought
his brother to. Then held he up both his hands to the
heaven, and said: Fair Father God, I am grievously escaped;
and then he took his arms and his horse and rode on his way.
Then he heard a clock smite on his right hand; and
thither he came to an abbey on his right hand, closed with
high walls, and there was let in. Then they supposed that he
was one of the quest of the Sangreal, so they led him into a
chamber and unarmed him. Sirs, said Sir Bors, if there be
any holy man in this house I pray you let me speak with him.
Then one of them led him unto the Abbot, which was in a
chapel. And then Sir Bors saluted him, and he him again.
Sir, said Bors, I am a knight-errant; and told him all the
adventure which he had seen. Sir Knight, said the Abbot, I
wot not what ye be, for I weened never that a knight of your
age might have been so strong in the grace of our Lord Jesu
Christ. Not for then ye shall go unto your rest, for I will
not counsel you this day, it is too late, and to-morrow I
shall counsel you as I can.
CHAPTER XIII. Of the holy communication of an Abbot to
Sir Bors, and how the Abbot counselled him.
AND that night was Sir Bors served richly; and on the
morn early he heard mass, and the Abbot came to him, and
bade him good morrow, and Bors to him again. And then he
told him he was a fellow of the quest of the Sangreal, and
how he had charge of the holy man to eat bread and water.
Then [said the Abbot]: Our Lord Jesu Christ showed him unto
you in the likeness of a soul that suffered great anguish
for us, since He was put upon the cross, and bled His
heart-blood for mankind: there was the token and the
likeness of the Sangreal that appeared afore you, for the
blood that the great fowl bled revived the chickens from
death to life. And by the bare tree is betokened the world
which is naked and without fruit but if it come of Our Lord.
Also the lady for whom ye fought for, and King Aniause which
was lord there-to-fore, betokeneth Jesu Christ which is the
King of the world. And that ye fought with the champion for
the lady, this it betokeneth: for when ye took the battle
for the lady, by her shall ye understand the new law of Jesu
Christ and Holy Church; and by the other lady ye shall
understand the old law and the fiend, which all day warreth
against Holy Church, therefore ye did your battle with
right. For ye be Jesu Christ's knights, therefore ye ought
to be defenders of Holy Church. And by the black bird might
ye understand Holy Church, which sayeth I am black, but he
is fair. And by the white bird might men understand the
fiend, and I shall tell you how the swan is white
without-forth, and black within: it is hypocrisy which is
without yellow or pale, and seemeth without-forth the
servants of Jesu Christ, but they be within so horrible of
filth and sin, and beguile the world evil. Also when the
fiend appeared to thee in likeness of a man of religion, and
blamed thee that thou left thy brother for a lady, so led
thee where thou seemed thy brother was slain, but he is yet
alive; and all was for to put thee in error, and bring thee
unto wanhope and lechery, for he knew thou were tender
hearted, and all was for thou shouldst not find the blessed
adventure of the Sangreal. And the third fowl betokeneth the
strong battle against the fair ladies which were all devils.
Also the dry tree and the white lily: the dry tree
betokeneth thy brother Lionel, which is dry without virtue,
and therefore many men ought to call him the rotten tree,
and the worm-eaten tree, for he is a murderer and doth
contrary to the order of knighthood. And the two white
flowers signify two maidens, the one is a knight which was
wounded the other day, and the other is the gentlewoman
which ye rescued; and why the other flower drew nigh the
other, that was the knight which would have defouled her and
himself both. And Sir Bors, ye had been a great fool and in
great peril for to have seen those two flowers perish for to
succour the rotten tree, for an they had sinned together
they had been damned; and for that ye rescued them both, men
might call you a very knight and servant of Jesu Christ.
CHAPTER XIV. How Sir Bors met with his brother Sir
Lionel, and how Sir Lionel would have slain Sir Bors.
THEN went Sir Bors from thence and commended the Abbot
unto God. And then he rode all that day, and harboured with
an old lady. And on the morn he rode to a castle in a
valley, and there he met with a yeoman going a great pace
toward a forest. Say me, said Sir Bors, canst thou tell me
of any adventure? Sir, said he, here shall be under this
castle a great and a marvellous tournament. Of what folks
shall it be? said Sir Bors. The Earl of Plains shall be in
the one party, and the lady's nephew of Hervin on the other
party. Then Bors thought to be there if he might meet with
his brother Sir Lionel, or any other of his fellowship,
which were in the quest of the Sangreal. And then he turned
to an hermitage that was in the entry of the forest.
And when he was come thither he found there Sir Lionel,
his brother, which sat all armed at the entry of the chapel
door for to abide there harbour till on the morn that the
tournament shall be. And when Sir Bors saw him he had great
joy of him, that it were marvel to tell of his joy. And then
he alighted off his horse, and said: Fair sweet brother,
when came ye hither? Anon as Lionel saw him he said: Ah
Bors, ye may not make none avaunt, but as for you I might
have been slain; when ye saw two knights leading me away
beating me, ye left me for to succour a gentlewoman, and
suffered me in peril of death; for never erst ne did no
brother to another so great an untruth. And for that misdeed
now I ensure you but death, for well have ye deserved it;
therefore keep thee from henceforward, and that shall ye
find as soon as I am armed. When Sir Bors understood his
brother's wrath he kneeled down to the earth and cried him
mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to forgive
him his evil will. Nay, said Lionel, that shall never be an
I may have the higher hand, that I make mine avow to God,
thou shalt have death for it, for it were pity ye lived any
longer.
Right so he went in and took his harness, and mounted
upon his horse, and came to-fore him and said: Bors, keep
thee from me, for I shall do to thee as I would to a felon
or a traitor, for ye be the untruest knight that ever came
out of so worthy an house as was King Bors de Ganis which
was our father, therefore start upon thy horse, and so shall
ye be most at your advantage. And but if ye will I will run
upon you thereas ye stand upon foot, and so the shame shall
be mine and the harm yours, but of that shame ne reck I
nought.
When Sir Bors saw that he must fight with his brother or
else to die, he nist what to do; then his heart counselled
him not thereto, inasmuch as Lionel was born or he,
wherefore he ought to bear him reverence; yet kneeled he
down afore Lionel's horse's feet, and said: Fair sweet
brother, have mercy upon me and slay me not, and have in
remembrance the great love which ought to be between us
twain. What Sir Bors said to Lionel he rought not, for the
fiend had brought him in such a will that he should slay
him. Then when Lionel saw he would none other, and that he
would not have risen to give him battle, he rashed over him
so that he smote Bors with his horse, feet upward, to the
earth, and hurt him so sore that he swooned of distress, the
which he felt in himself to have died without confession. So
when Lionel saw this, he alighted off his horse to have
smitten off his head. And so he took him by the helm, and
would have rent it from his head. Then came the hermit
running unto him, which was a good man and of great age, and
well had heard all the words that were between them, and so
fell down upon Sir Bors.
CHAPTER XV. How Sir Colgrevance fought against Sir
Lionel for to save Sir Bors, and how the hermit was slain.
THEN he said to Lionel: Ah gentle knight, have mercy upon
me and on thy brother, for if thou slay him thou shalt be
dead of sin, and that were sorrowful, for he is one of the
worthiest knights of the world, and of the best conditions.
So God help me, said Lionel, sir priest, but if ye flee from
him I shall slay you, and he shall never the sooner be quit.
Certes, said the good man, I have liefer ye slay me than
him, for my death shall not be great harm, not half so much
as of his. Well, said Lionel, I am greed; and set his hand
to his sword and smote him so hard that his head yede
backward. Not for that he restrained him of his evil will,
but took his brother by the helm, and unlaced it to have
stricken off his head, and had slain him without fail. But
so it happed, Colgrevance a fellow of the Round Table, came
at that time thither as Our Lord's will was. And when he saw
the good man slain he marvelled much what it might be. And
then he beheld Lionel would have slain his brother, and knew
Sir Bors which he loved right well. Then stert he down and
took Lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly aback
from Bors, and said: Lionel, will ye slay your brother, the
worthiest knight of the world one? and that should no good
man suffer. Why, said Lionel, will ye let me? therefore if
ye entermete you in this I shall slay you, and him after.
Why, said Colgrevance, is this sooth that ye will slay him?
Slay him will I, said he, whoso say the contrary, for he
hath done so much against me that he hath well deserved it.
And so ran upon him, and would have smitten him through the
head, and Sir Colgrevance ran betwixt them, and said: An ye
be so hardy to do so more, we two shall meddle together.
When Lionel understood his words he took his shield afore
him, and asked him what that he was. And he told him,
Colgrevance, one of his fellows. Then Lionel defied him, and
gave him a great stroke through the helm. Then he drew his
sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended him
right manfully. So long dured the battle that Bors rose up
all anguishly, and beheld [how] Colgrevance, the good
knight, fought with his brother for his quarrel; then was he
full sorry and heavy, and thought if Colgrevance slew him
that was his brother he should never have joy; and if his
brother slew Colgrevance the shame should ever be mine. Then
would he have risen to have departed them, but he had not so
much might to stand on foot; so he abode him so long till
Colgrevance had the worse, for Lionel was of great chivalry
and right hardy, for he had pierced the hauberk and the
helm, that he abode but death, for he had lost much of his
blood that it was marvel that he might stand upright. Then
beheld he Sir Bors which sat dressing him upward and said:
Ah, Bors, why come ye not to cast me out of peril of death,
wherein I have put me to succour you which were right now
nigh the death? Certes, said Lionel, that shall not avail
you, for none of you shall bear others warrant, but that ye
shall die both of my hand. When Bors heard that, he did so
much, he rose and put on his helm. Then perceived he first
the hermit-priest which was slain, then made he a marvellous
sorrow upon him.
CHAPTER XVI. How Sir Lionel slew Sir Colgrevance, and
how after he would have slain Sir Bors.
THEN oft Colgrevance cried upon Sir Bors: Why will ye let
me die here for your sake? if it please you that I die for
you the death, it will please me the better for to save a
worthy man. With that word Sir Lionel smote off the helm
from his head. Then Colgrevance saw that he might not
escape; then he said: Fair sweet Jesu, that I have misdone
have mercy upon my soul, for such sorrow that my heart
suffereth for goodness, and for alms deed that I would have
done here, be to me aligement of penance unto my soul's
health. At these words Lionel smote him so sore that he bare
him to the earth. So he had slain Colgrevance he ran upon
his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him such a stroke
that he made him stoop. And he that was full of humility
prayed him for God's love to leave this battle: For an it
befell, fair brother, that I slew you or ye me, we should be
dead of that sin. Never God me help but if I have on you
mercy, an I may have the better hand. Then drew Bors his
sword, all weeping, and said: Fair brother, God knoweth mine
intent. Ah, fair brother, ye have done full evil this day to
slay such an holy priest the which never trespassed. Also ye
have slain a gentle knight, and one of our fellows. And well
wot ye that I am not afeard of you greatly, but I dread the
wrath of God, and this is an unkindly war, therefore God
show miracle upon us both. Now God have mercy upon me though
I defend my life against my brother: with that Bors lift up
his hand and would have smitten his brother.
CHAPTER XVII. How there came a voice which charged Sir
Bors to touch him not, and of a cloud that came between
them.
AND then he heard a voice that said: Flee Bors, and touch
him not, or else thou shalt slay him. Right so alighted a
cloud betwixt them in likeness of a fire and a marvellous
flame, that both their two shields brent. Then were they
sore afraid, that they fell both to the earth, and lay there
a great while in a swoon. And when they came to themself,
Bors saw that his brother had no harm; then he held up both
his hands, for he dread God had taken vengeance upon him.
With that he heard a voice say: Bors, go hence, and bear thy
brother no longer fellowship, but take thy way anon right to
the sea, for Sir Percivale abideth thee there. Then he said
to his brother: Fair sweet brother, forgive me for God's
love all that I have trespassed unto you. Then he answered:
God forgive it thee and I do gladly.
So Sir Bors departed from him and rode the next way to
the sea. And at the last by fortune he came to an abbey
which was nigh the sea. That night Bors rested him there;
and in his sleep there came a voice to him and bade him go
to the sea. Then he stert up and made a sign of the cross in
the midst of his forehead, and took his harness, and made
ready his horse, and mounted upon him; and at a broken wall
he rode out, and rode so long till that he came to the sea.
And on the strand he found a ship covered all with white
samite, and he alighted, and betook him to Jesu Christ. And
as soon as he entered into the ship, the ship departed into
the sea, and went so fast that him seemed the ship went
flying, but it was soon dark so that he might know no man,
and so he slept till it was day. Then he awaked, and saw in
midst of the ship a knight lie all armed save his helm. Then
knew he that it was Sir Percivale of Wales, and then he made
of him right great joy; but Sir Percivale was abashed of
him, and he asked him what he was. Ah, fair sir, said Bors,
know ye me not? Certes, said he, I marvel how ye came
hither, but if Our Lord brought ye hither Himself. Then Sir
Bors smiled and did off his helm. Then Percivale knew him,
and either made great joy of other, that it was marvel to
hear. Then Bors told him how he came into the ship, and by
whose admonishment; and either told other of their
temptations, as ye have heard to-forehand. So went they
downward in the sea, one while backward, another while
forward, and everych comforted other, and oft were in their
prayers. Then said Sir Percivale: We lack nothing but
Galahad, the good knight.
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