The Eleventh Book
CHAP. I.
How Sir Launcelot rode on his adventure, and how he holpe a dolorous lady from her pain, and how that he fought with a dragon.
Now leave we Sir Tristram de Liones, and speak we of Sir Launcelot du Lake, and Sir Galahad, Sir Launcelot’s son, how he was born, and in what manner, as the book of French rehearseth. Afore the time that Sir Galahad was born, there came in an hermit unto king Arthur, upon Whitsunday, as the knights sat at the Table Round. And when the hermit saw the siege perilous, he asked the king and all the knights why that siege was void. Sir Arthur and all the knights answered, There shall never none sit in that siege but one, but if he be destroyed. Then, said the hermit, wot ye what is he? Nay, said Arthur and all the knights, we wot not who is he that shall sit therein. Then wot I, said the hermit, for he that shall sit there is unborn, and this same year he shall be born that shall sit there in that siege perilous, and he shall win the Sangreal. When this hermit had made this mention he departed from the court of king Arthur. And then after this feast Sir Launcelot rode on his adventures, till on a time by adventure he passed over the bridge of Corbin, and there he saw the fairest tower that ever he saw, and thereunder was a fair town full of people, and all the people, men and women, cried at once. Welcome Sir Launcelot du Lake, the flower of all knighthood, for by thee all we shall be holpen out of danger. What mean ye, said Sir Launcelot, that ye cry so upon me? Ah, fair knight, said they all, here is within this tower a dolorous lady that hath been there in pains many winters: for ever she boileth in scalding water. And but late, said all the people, Sir Gawaine was here, and he might not help her, and so he left her in pain. So may I, said Sir Launcelot, leave her in pain as well as Sir Gawaine did. Nay, said the people, we know well that it is Sir Launcelot that shall deliver her. Well, said Launcelot, then show me what I shall do. Then they brought Sir Launcelot into the tower. And when he came to the chamber there as this lady was, the doors of iron unlocked and unbolted. And so Sir Launcelot went into the chamber that was as hot as any stew, and there Sir Launcelot took the fairest lady by the hand that ever he saw, and she was naked as a needle, and by enchantment queen Morgan le Fay and the queen of Northgalis had put her there in that pains because she was called the fairest lady of that country. And there she had been five years, and never might she be delivered out of her great pains unto the time the best knight of the world had taken her by the hand. Then the people brought her clothes. And when she was arrayed, Sir Launcelot thought she was the fairest lady of the world, but if it were queen Guenever. Then this lady said to Sir Launcelot, Sir, if it please you will ye go with me hereby into a chapel that we may give loving and thanking to God? Madam, said Sir Launcelot, cometh on with me, I will go with you. So when they came there, and gave thankings to God, all the people, both learned and lay, gave thankings unto God and him, and said, Sir knight, since ye have delivered this lady, ye shall deliver us from a serpent that is here in a tomb. Then Sir Launcelot took his shield, and said, Bring me thither, and what I may do unto the pleasure of God and you, I will do. So when Sir Launcelot came thither, he saw written upon the tomb letters of gold that said thus: Here shall come a libbard of king’s blood and he shall slay this serpent, and this libbard shall engender a lion in this foreign country, the which lion shall pass all other knights. So then Sir Launcelot lift up the tomb, and there came out an horrible and a fiendly dragon spitting fire out of his mouth. Then Sir Launcelot drew out his sword and fought with the dragon long, and at last with great pain Sir Launcelot slew that dragon. Therewithal came king Pelles, the good and noble knight, and saluted Sir Launcelot, and he him again. Fair knight, said the king, what is your name? I require you of your knighthood tell me.
CHAP. II.
How Sir Launcelot came to Pelles, and of the Sangreal, and of Elaine, king Pelles’ daughter.
Sir, said Launcelot, wit you well my name is Sir Launcelot du Lake. And my name is, said the king, Pelles, king of the foreign country, and cousin nigh unto Joseph of Arimathie. And then either of them made much of other, and so they went into the castle to take their repast. And anon there came in a dove at a window, and in her mouth there seemed a little censer of gold. And therewithal there was such a savour as all the spicery of the world had been there. And forthwithal there was upon the table all manner of meats and drinks that they could think upon. So came in a damsel passing fair and young, and she bare a vessel of gold betwixt her hands, and thereto the king kneeled devoutly, and said his prayers, and so did all that were there. Then said Sir Launcelot, What may this mean? This is, said the king, the richest thing that any man hath living. And when this thing goeth about, the Round Table shall be broken. And wit thou well, said the king, this is the holy Sancgreal that ye have here seen. So the king and Sir Launcelot led their life the most part of that day. And fain would king Pelles have found the mean to have had Sir Launcelot to love his daughter fair Elaine, and for this intent: the king knew well that Sir Launcelot should have a child by his daughter, the which should be named Sir Galahad, the good knight, by whom all the foreign country should be brought out of danger, and by him the holy Graale should be achieved. Then came forth a lady that hight dame Brisen, and she said unto the king, Sir, wit ye well, Sir Launcelot loveth no lady in the world but all only queen Guenever, and therefore work ye by counsel, and I shall make him to see your daughter Elaine, and he shall not wit but that he seeth queen Guenever. Oh, fair lady, dame Brisen, said the king, hope ye to bring this about? Sir, said she, upon pain of my life let me deal. For this Brisen was one of the greatest enchantresses that was that time in the world living.
Then anon by dame Brisen’s wit she made one to come to Sir Launcelot that he knew well. And this man brought him a ring from queen Guenever like as it had come from her, and such one as she was wont for the most part to wear. And when Sir Launcelot saw that token, wit ye well he was never so fain. Where is my lady? said Sir Launcelot. She is in the castle of Case, said the messager, but five mile hence. Then Sir Launcelot thought to be there the same night. And then this Brisen, by the commandment of king Pelles, let send Elaine to this castle with twenty-five knights unto the castle of Case. Then Sir Launcelot rode unto that castle, and there anon he was received worshipfully with such people to his seeming as were about queen Guenever. So when Sir Launcelot was alight, then dame Brisen brought him a cup full of wine, and as soon as he had drank that wine he was so assotted that he wend that maiden Elaine had been queen Guenever. Wit ye well that Sir Launcelot was glad, and so was that lady Elaine, for well she knew that of them should be born Sir Galahad, that should prove the best knight of the world. And then Sir Launcelot remembered him, and he arose up and went to the window.
CHAP. III.
How Sir Launcelot was displeased when he knew that he had been deceived, and how Galahad was born.
And anon as he had unshut the window, the enchantment was gone, then he knew himself that he had been deceived. Alas, said he, that I have lived so long; now am I shamed. So then he gat his sword in his hand, and said, Thou traitress, who art thou? thou shalt die right here of my hands. Then this fair lady, Elaine, kneeled down afore Sir Launcelot and said, Fair courteous knight, come of king’s blood, I require you have mercy upon me; and as thou art renowned the most noble knight of the world, slay me not, for I shall have a son by thee that shall be the most noblest knight of the world. Ah, false traitress, said Sir Launcelot, why hast thou betrayed me? Anon tell me what thou art. Sir, she said, I am Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles. Well, said Sir Launcelot, I will forgive you this deed. And therewith he took her up in his arms and kissed her, for she was as fair a lady, and thereto young, and as wise as any was that time living. Truly, said Sir Launcelot, I may not blame this to you, but her that made this enchantment upon me, as between you and me; and I may find her, that same lady Brisen, she shall lose her head for witchcraft, for there was never knight deceived so as I am. And so Sir Launcelot armed him, and took his leave mildly at that lady, young Elaine, and so he departed. Then she said, My lord Sir Launcelot, I beseech you see me as soon as you may, for I have obeyed me unto the prophecy that my father told me, and by his commandment to fulfil this prophecy I have given the greatest riches and the fairest flower that ever I had, and that is my maiden love and faith, and therefore, gentle knight, owe me your good will. And so Sir Launcelot arrayed him, and was armed, and took his leave mildly of that young lady Elaine, and so he departed, and rode till he came to the castle of Corbin where her father was. And as soon as her time came she was delivered of a fair child, and they christened him Galahad. And wit ye well that child was well kept and well nourished, and he was named Galahad, because Sir Launcelot was so named at the fontain stone; and after that, the Lady of the lake confirmed him Sir Launcelot du Lake. Then after this lady was delivered and churched there came a knight unto her, his name was Sir Bromel la Pleche, the which was a great lord, and he had loved that lady long, and he evermore desired her to wed her, and so by no means she could put him off, till on a day she said to Sir Bromel, Wit thou well, sir knight, I will not love you, for my love is set upon the best knight of the world. Who is he? said Sir Bromel. Sir, said she, it is Sir Launcelot du Lake that I love, and none other, and therefore woo me no longer. Ye say well, said Sir Bromel, and since ye have told me so much, ye shall have but little joy of Sir Launcelot, for I shall slay him wheresoever I meet him. Sir, said the lady Elaine, do to him no treason. Wit ye well, my lady, said Bromel, and I promise you this twelvemonth I shall keep the bridge of Corbin for Sir Launcelot’s sake, that he shall neither come nor go unto you but I shall meet with him.
CHAP. IV.
How Sir Bors came to dame Elaine, and saw Galahad, and how he was fed with the Sangreal.
Then, as it befel by fortune and adventure, Sir Bors de Ganis, that was nephew unto Sir Launcelot, came over that bridge, and there Sir Bromel and Sir Bors justed, and Sir Bors smote Sir Bromel such a buffet that he bare him over his horse croup. And then Sir Bromel, as an hardy knight, pulled out his sword and dressed his shield, to do battle with Sir Bors. And then Sir Bors alight and avoided his horse, and there they dashed together many sad strokes, and long thus they fought, till at the last Sir Bromel was laid to the earth, and there Sir Bors began to unlace his helm to slay him. Then Sir Bromel cried Sir Bors’ mercy, and yielded him. Upon this covenant thou shalt have thy life, said Sir Bors, so thou go unto Sir Launcelot upon Whitsunday that next cometh, and yield thee unto him as knight recreant. I will do it, said Sir Bromel: and that he sware upon the cross of the sword, and so he let him depart. And Sir Bors rode unto king Pelles that was within Corbin. And when the king and Elaine his daughter wist that Sir Bors was nephew unto Sir Launcelot, they made him great cheer. Then said dame Elaine, We marvel where Sir Launcelot is, for he came never here but once. Marvel not, said Sir Bors, for this half year he hath been in prison with queen Morgan le Fay, king Arthur’s sister. Alas, said dame Elaine, that me repenteth. And ever Sir Bors beheld that child in her arms, and ever him seemed it was passing like Sir Launcelot. Truly, said dame Elaine, wit ye well this is his child. Then Sir Bors wept for joy, and he prayed to God it might prove as good a knight as his father was. And so came in a white dove, and she bare a little censer of gold in her mouth, and there was all manner of meats and drinks, and a maiden bare that Sancgreal, and she said openly, Wit you well Sir Bors that this child is Galahad, that shall sit in the siege perilous, and achieve the Sancgreal, and he shall be much better than ever was Sir Launcelot du Lake, that is his own father. And then they kneeled down and made their devotions, and there was such a savour as all the spicery in the world had been there. And when the dove took her flight, the maiden vanished with the Sancgreal as she came. Sir, said Sir Bors unto king Pelles, this castle may be named the castle adventurous, for here be many strange adventures. That is soth, said the king. For well may this place be called the adventurous place, for there come but few knights here that go away with any worship; be he never so strong, here he may be proved, and but late Sir Gawaine the good knight gat but little worship here. For I let you wit, said king Pelles, here shall no knight win no worship but if he be of worship himself, and of good living, and that loveth God, and dreadeth God, and else he getteth no worship here, be he never so hardy. That is a wonderful thing, said Sir Bors. What ye mean in this country I wot not, for ye have many strange adventures, and therefore I will lie in this castle this night. Ye shall not do so, said king Pelles, by my counsel, for it is hard and ye escape without a shame. I shall take the adventure that will befal me, said Sir Bors. Then I counsel you, said the king, to be confessed clean. As for that, said Sir Bors, I will be shriven with a good will. So Sir Bors was confessed, and for all women Sir Bors was a virgin, save for one, that was the daughter of king Brangoris, and their child hight Helin, and save for her Sir Bors was a pure maiden. And so he was led unto bed in a fair large chamber, and many doors were shut about the chamber. When Sir Bors espied all those doors, he avoided all the people, for he might have nobody with him; but in no wise Sir Bors would unarm him, but so he laid him down upon the bed. And right so he saw come in a light that he might well see a spear great and long, that came straight upon him pointling, and to Sir Bors seemed that the head of the spear burnt like a taper. And anon, or Sir Bors wist, the spear head smote him into the shoulder an hand breadth in deepness, and that wound grieved Sir Bors passing sore. And then he laid him down again for pain, and anon therewithal came a knight armed with his shield on his shoulder, and his sword in his hand, and he bad Sir Bors, Arise sir knight, and fight with me. I am sore hurt, he said, but yet I shall not fail thee. And then Sir Bors start up and dressed his shield, and then they lashed together mightily a great while. And at the last Sir Bors bare him backward, until that he came unto a chamber door, and there that knight went into that chamber, and rested him a great while. And when he had reposed him he came out freshly again, and began new battle with Sir Bors mightily and strongly.
CHAP. V.
How Sir Bors made Sir Pedivere to yield him, and of marvellous adventures that he had, and how he achieved them.
Then Sir Bors thought he should no more go into that chamber to rest him, and so Sir Bors dressed him betwixt the knight and that chamber door, and there Sir Bors smote him down, and then that knight yielded him. What is your name? said Sir Bors. Sir, said he, my name is Pedivere of the Straight Marches. So Sir Bors made him to swear at Whitsunday next coming to be at the court of king Arthur and yield him there as a prisoner, as an overcome knight by the hands of Sir Bors. So thus departed Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches. And then Sir Bors laid him down to rest, and then he heard and felt much noise in that chamber; and then Sir Bors espied that there came in, he wist not whether at the doors or windows, shot of arrows and of quarels, so thick that he marvelled, and many fell upon him and hurt him in the bare places. And then Sir Bors was ware where came in an hideous lion; so Sir Bors dressed him unto the lion, and anon the lion bereft him of his shield, and with his sword Sir Bors smote off the lion’s head.
Right so Sir Bors forthwithal saw a dragon in the court, passing horrible, and there seemed letters of gold written in his forehead; and Sir Bors thought that the letters made a signification of king Arthur. Right so there came an horrible libard and an old, and there they fought long, and did great battle together. And at the last the dragon spit out of his mouth as it had been an hundred dragons, and lightly all the small dragons slew the old dragon, and tare him all to pieces. Anon withal there came an old man into the hall, and he sat him down in a fair chair, and there seemed to be two adders about his neck, and then the old man had an harp, and there he sang an old song, how Joseph of Aramathie came into this land. Then when he had sung, the old man bad Sir Bors—Go from thence, for here shall ye have no more adventures, and full worshipfully have ye done, and better shall ye do hereafter. And then Sir Bors seemed that there came the whitest dove with a little golden censer in her mouth; and anon therewithal the tempest ceased and passed that afore was marvellous to hear. So was all that court full of good savours. Then Sir Bors saw four children bearing four fair tapers, and an old man in the midst of the children with a censer in his one hand, and a spear in his other hand, and that spear was called the spear of vengeance.
CHAP. VI.
How Sir Bors departed; and how Sir Launcelot was rebuked of queen Guenever, and of his excuse.
Now, said that old man to Sir Bors, go ye to your cousin Sir Launcelot, and tell him of this adventure, the which had been most convenient for him of all earthly knights, but sin is so foul in him he may not achieve such holy deeds; for, had not been his sin, he had passed all the knights that ever were in his days. And tell thou Sir Launcelot, of all worldly adventures he passeth in manhood and prowess all other, but in these spiritual matters he shall have many his better. And then Sir Bors saw four gentlewomen coming by him poorly beseen, and he saw where that they entered into a chamber where was great light, as it were a summer light, and the women kneeled down afore an altar of silver with four pillars, and as it had been a bishop kneeled down afore that table of silver. And as Sir Bors looked over his head, he saw a sword like silver, naked, hoving over his head, and the clearness thereof smote so in his eyes that at that time Sir Bors was blind, and there he heard a voice that said, Go hence, thou Sir Bors, for as yet thou art not worthy for to be in this place. And then he went backward to his bed till on the morn. And on the morn king Pelles made great joy of Sir Bors, and then he departed and rode to Camelot, and there he found Sir Launcelot du Lake, and told him of the adventures he had seen with king Pelles at Corbin. So the noise sprang in king Arthur’s court that Sir Launcelot had a child by Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles, wherefore queen Guenever was wroth and gave many rebukes to Sir Launcelot, and called him false knight. And then Sir Launcelot told the queen all, and how he was made to meet her by enchantment, in likeness of the queen. So the queen held Sir Launcelot excused. And, as the book saith, king Arthur had been in France, and had made war upon the mighty king Claudas, and had won much of his lands; and when the king was come again he let cry a great feast, that all lords and ladies of all England should be there, but if it were such as were rebellious against him.
CHAP. VII.
How dame Elaine, Galahad’s mother, came in great estate unto Camelot, and how Sir Launcelot behaved him there.
And when dame Elaine, the daughter of king Pelles, heard of this feast, she went to her father, and required him that he would give her leave to ride to that feast. The king answered, I will well ye go thither; but in any wise, as ye love me and will have my blessing, that ye be well beseen in the richest wise; and look that ye spare not for no cost; ask, and ye shall have all that you needeth. Then, by the advice of dame Brisen her maiden, all thing was apparelled unto the purpose, and there was never no lady more richlier beseen. So she rode with twenty knights and ten ladies and gentlewomen to the number of an hundred horses. And when she came to Camelot, king Arthur and queen Guenever said, and all the knights, that dame Elaine was the fairest and the best beseen lady that ever was seen in that court.
And anon as king Arthur wist that she was come, he met her and saluted her, and so did the most part of all the knights of the Round Table, both Sir Tristram, Sir Bleoberis, and Sir Gawaine, and many more that I will not rehearse. But when Sir Launcelot saw her he was so ashamed, and that because he drew his sword on her, that he would not salute her nor speak to her, and yet Sir Launcelot thought she was the fairest woman that ever he saw in his life days. But when dame Elaine saw Sir Launcelot that would not speak to her, she was so heavy that she wend her heart would have to-brast. For wit ye well, out of measure she loved him. And then Elaine said unto her woman dame Brisen, The unkindness of Sir Launcelot slayeth me near. Ah peace, madam, said dame Brisen, I will undertake that he shall come to you, and ye would hold you still. That were me lever, said dame Elaine, than all the gold that is above the earth. Let me deal, said dame Brisen. So when Elaine was brought unto queen Guenever, either made other good cheer by countenance, but nothing with hearts. But all men and women spake of the beauty of dame Elaine, and of her great riches. Then the queen commanded that dame Elaine should sleep in a chamber nigh unto her chamber, and all under one roof. And so it was done as the queen had commanded. Then the queen sent for Sir Launcelot, and bid him come to her, or else, I am sure, said the queen, that ye will go to your lady, dame Elaine, by whom ye had Galahad. Ah, madam, said Sir Launcelot, never say ye so; for that was against my will. Then, said the queen, look that ye come to me when I send for you. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, I shall not fail you, but I shall be ready at your commandment. This bargain was soon done and made between them, but dame Brisen knew it by her crafts, and told it to her lady dame Elaine. Alas, said she, how shall I do. Let me deal, said dame Brisen, for I shall bring him by the hand, even to you, and he shall ween that I am queen Guenever’s messager. Now well is me, said dame Elaine, for all the world I love not so much as I do Sir Launcelot.
CHAP. VIII.
How dame Brisen by enchantment brought Sir Launcelot to dame Elaine, and how queen Guenever rebuked him.
So then dame Brisen came to Sir Launcelot and said, Sir Launcelot du Lake, my lady queen Guenever awaiteth upon you. O my fair lady, said Sir Launcelot, I am ready to go with you where ye will have me. So Sir Launcelot took his sword in his hand, and then dame Brisen took him by the finger and led him unto her lady, dame Elaine; and then she departed and left them together. Wit ye well the lady was glad, and so was Sir Launcelot, for he wend that it was the queen. Then queen Guenever sent one of her women unto Sir Launcelot; and when she came there, she found Sir Launcelot was away: so she came to the queen and told her all. Alas, said the queen, where is that false knight become? Then the queen was nigh out of her wit, and then she writhed and weltered as a mad woman; and at the last the queen met with Sir Launcelot, and thus she said, False traitor knight that thou art, look thou never abide in my court, and not so hardy, thou false traitor knight that thou art, that ever thou come in my sight. Alas, said Sir Launcelot: and therewith he took such an heartly sorrow at her words that he fell down to the floor in a swoon. And therewithal queen Guenever departed. And when Sir Launcelot awoke of his swoon he lept out at a bay window into a garden, and there with thorns he was all to-scratched in his visage and his body, and so he ran forth he wist not whither, and was wild wood as ever was man; and so he ran two year, and never man might have grace to know him.
CHAP. IX.
How dame Elaine was commanded by queen Guenever to avoid the court, and how Sir Launcelot became mad.
Now turn we unto queen Guenever and to the fair lady Elaine. When dame Elaine heard the queen so to rebuke Sir Launcelot, and also she saw how he swooned, and how he lept out at a bay window, then she said unto queen Guenever, Madam, ye are greatly to blame for Sir Launcelot, for now ye have lost him; for I saw and heard by his countenance that he is mad for ever. Alas, madam, ye do great sin, and to yourself great dishonour, for ye have a lord of your own, and therefore it is your part to love him; for there is no queen in this world hath such another king as ye have. And if ye were not, I might have the love of my lord Sir Launcelot; and cause I have to love him, for I am his, and by him I have borne a fair son, and his name is Galahad, and he shall be in his time the best knight of the world. Dame Elaine, said the queen, I charge you and command you to avoid my court; and for the love ye owe unto Sir Launcelot discover not his counsel, for and ye do it will be his death. As for that, said dame Elaine, I dare undertake he is marred for ever, and that have ye made, for ye nor I are like to rejoice him; for he made the most piteous groans when he lept out at yonder bay window that ever I heard man make. Alas! said fair Elaine, and alas! said the queen Guenever, for now I wot well we have lost him for ever. So on the morn dame Elaine took her leave to depart, and she would no longer abide. Then king Arthur brought her on her way with more than an hundred knights through a forest. And by the way she told Sir Bors de Ganis all how it betid, and how Sir Launcelot lept out at a bay window araged out of his wit. Alas, said Sir Bors, where is my lord Sir Launcelot become? Sir, said Elaine, I wot never. Alas, said Sir Bors, betwixt you both ye have destroyed that good knight. As for me, said dame Elaine, I said never nor did never thing that should in any wise displease him; but with the rebuke that queen Guenever gave him I saw him swoon to the earth; and when he awoke he took his sword in his hand, and lept out at a window, with the grisliest groan that ever I heard man make. Now farewell, dame Elaine, said Sir Bors, and hold my lord Arthur with a tale as long as ye can, for I will turn again unto queen Guenever and give her a heat: and I require you as ever ye will have my service, make good watch, and espy if ever ye may see my lord Sir Launcelot. Truly, said fair Elaine, I shall do all that I may do, for as fain would I know and wit where he is become as you or any of his kin, or queen Guenever, and cause great enough have I thereto as well as any other. And wit ye well, said fair Elaine to Sir Bors, I would lose my life for him rather than he should be hurt: but alas, I cast me never for to see him; and the chief causer of this is dame Guenever. Madam, said dame Brisen, the which had made the enchantment before betwixt Sir Launcelot and her, I pray you heartily let Sir Bors depart and hie him with all his might, as fast as he may, to seek Sir Launcelot. For I warn you he is clean out of his mind, and yet he shall be well holpen, and but by miracle. Then wept dame Elaine, and so did Sir Bors de Ganis, and so they departed; and Sir Bors rode straight unto queen Guenever, and when she saw Sir Bors she wept as she were wood. Fie on your weeping, said Sir Bors, for ye weep never but when there is no boot. Alas, said Sir Bors, that ever Sir Launcelot’s kin saw you. For now have ye lost the best knight of our blood, and he that was all our leader and our succour. And I dare say and make it good, that all kings, christian nor heathen, may not find such a knight, for to speak of his nobleness and courtesy with his beauty and his gentleness. Alas, said Sir Bors, what shall we do that be of his blood? Alas, said Ector de Maris. Alas, said Lionel.
CHAP. X.
What sorrow queen Guenever made for Sir Launcelot, and how he was sought by knights of his kin.
And when the queen heard them say so, she fell to the earth in a dead swoon. And then Sir Bors took her up, and roused her, and when she was awaked she kneeled afore the three knights, and held up both her hands, and besought them to seek him, and spare not for no goods but that he be founden, for I wot he is out of his mind. And Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel departed from the queen, for they might not abide no longer for sorrow. And then the queen sent them treasure enough for their expenses, and so they took their horses and their armour, and departed. And then they rode from country to country, in forests and in wildernesses and in wastes, and ever they laid watch as well both at forests and at all manner of men as they rode, to hearken and enquire after him, as he that was a naked man in his shirt, with a sword in his hand. And thus they rode nigh a quarter of a year, endlong and overthwart, in many places, forests and wildernesses, and ofttimes were evil lodged for his sake, and yet for all their labour and seeking could they never hear word of him. And wit you well these three knights were passing sorry. Then at the last Sir Bors and his fellows met with a knight, that hight Sir Melion de Tartare. Now, fair knight, said Sir Bors, whither be ye away? for they knew either other aforetime. Sir, said Sir Melion, I am in the way toward the court of king Arthur. Then we pray you, said Sir Bors, that ye will tell my lord Arthur, and my lady queen Guenever, and all the fellowship of the Round Table, that we cannot in no wise hear tell where Sir Launcelot is become. Then Sir Melion departed from them, and said that he would tell the king and the queen and all the fellowship of the Round Table, as they had desired him. So when Sir Melion came to the court of king Arthur, he told the king and the queen and all the fellowship of the Round Table, what Sir Bors had said of Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Gawaine, Sir Uwaine, Sir Sagramor le Desirous, Sir Aglovale, and Sir Percivale de Galis, took upon them by the great desire of king Arthur, and in especial by the queen, to seek throughout all England, Wales, and Scotland, to find Sir Launcelot. And with them rode eighteen knights more to bear them fellowship. And wit ye well they lacked no manner of spending: and so were they three and twenty knights.
Now turn we to Sir Launcelot, and speak we of his care and woe and what pain he there endured, for cold, hunger, and thirst he had plenty. And thus as these noble knights rode together, they by one assent departed, and then they rode by two, by three, and by four, and by five; and ever they assigned where they should meet. And so Sir Aglovale and Sir Percivale rode together unto their mother that was a queen in those days. And when she saw her two sons, for joy she wept tenderly. And then she said, Ah, my dear sons, when your father was slain he left me four sons, of the which now be twain slain; and for the death of my noble son Sir Lamorak shall my heart never be glad. And then she kneeled down upon her knees tofore Aglovale and Sir Percivale, and besought them to abide at home with her. Ah, sweet mother, said Sir Percivale, we may not; for we be come of king’s blood of both parties, and therefore, mother, it is our kind to haunt arms and noble deeds. Alas, my sweet sons, then she said, for your sakes I shall lose my liking and joy, and then wind and weather I may not endure, what for the death of your father king Pellinore, that was shamefully slain by the hands of Sir Gawaine and his brother Sir Gaheris, and they slew him not manly, but by treason. Ah, my dear sons, this is a piteous complaint for me of your father’s death, considering also the death of Sir Lamorak, that of knighthood had but few fellows. Now, my dear sons, have this in your mind. Then there was but weeping and sobbing in the court when they should depart, and she fell in swooning in midst of the court.
CHAP. XI.
How a servant of Sir Aglovale’s was slain, and what vengeance Sir Aglovale and Sir Percivale did therefore.
And when she was awaked she sent a squire after them with spending enough. And so when the squire had overtaken them, they would not suffer him to ride with them, but sent him home again to comfort their mother, praying her meekly of her blessing. And so this squire was benighted, and by misfortune he happened to come unto a castle where dwelled a baron. And so when the squire was come into the castle, the lord asked him from whence he came, and whom he served? My lord, said the squire, I serve a good knight that is called Sir Aglovale. The squire said it to good intent, weening unto him to have been more forborne for Sir Aglovale’s sake than if he had said he had served the queen, Aglovale’s mother. Well, my fellow, said the lord of that castle, for Sir Aglovale’s sake thou shalt have evil lodging, for Aglovale slew my brother, and therefore thou shalt die on part of payment. And then that lord commanded his men to have him away, and so pulled him out of the castle, and there they slew him without mercy. Right so on the morn came Sir Aglovale and Sir Percivale riding by a church-yard, where men and women were busy, and beheld the dead squire, and they thought to bury him. What is there, said Sir Aglovale, that ye behold so fast? A good man start forth and said, Fair knight, here lieth a squire slain shamefully this night. How was he slain, fair fellow? said Sir Aglovale. My fair sir, said the man, the lord of this castle lodged this squire this night, and because he said he was servant unto a good knight that is with king Arthur, his name is Sir Aglovale, therefore the lord commanded to slay him, and for this cause is he slain. Gramercy, said Sir Aglovale, and ye shall see his death revenged lightly, for I am that same knight for whom this squire was slain. Then Sir Aglovale called unto him Sir Percivale, and bad him alight lightly, and so they alight both, and betook their horses to their men, and so they went on foot into the castle. And all so soon as they were within the castle gate Sir Aglovale bad the porter, Go thou unto thy lord and tell him that I am Sir Aglovale, for whom this squire was slain this night. Anon the porter told this to his lord, whose name was Goodewin: anon he armed him, and then he came into the court and said, Which of you is Sir Aglovale? Here I am, said Aglovale: for what cause slewest thou this night my mother’s squire? I slew him, said Sir Goodewin, because of thee; for thou slewest my brother Sir Gawdelin. As for thy brother, said Sir Aglovale, I avow it, I slew him, for he was a false knight and a betrayer of ladies and of good knights; and for the death of my squire thou shalt die. I defy thee, said Sir Goodewin. Then they lashed together as eagerly as it had been two lions: and Sir Percivale he fought with all the remnant that would fight. And within a while Sir Percivale had slain all that would withstand him; for Sir Percivale dealt so his strokes that were so rude that there durst no man abide him. And within a while Sir Aglovale had Sir Goodewin at the earth, and there he unlaced his helm and strake off his head. And then they departed and took their horses. And then they let carry the dead squire unto a priory, and there they interred him.
CHAP. XII.
How Sir Percivale departed secretly from his brother, and how he loosed a knight bound with a chain, and of other things.
And when this was done, they rode into many countries, ever enquiring after Sir Launcelot, but never they could hear of him. And at the last they came to a castle that hight Cardican, and there Sir Percivale and Sir Aglovale were lodged together, and privily about midnight Sir Percivale came to Aglovale’s squire, and said, Arise and make thee ready, for ye and I will ride away secretly. Sir, said the squire, I would full fain ride with you where ye would have me, but, and my lord your brother take me, he will slay me. As for that care thou not, for I shall be thy warrant. And so Sir Percivale rode till it was afternoon, and then he came upon a bridge of stone, and there he found a knight that was bounden with a chain fast about the waist unto a pillar of stone. O fair knight, said that bounden knight, I require thee loose me of my bonds. What knight are ye? said Sir Percivale, and for what cause are ye so bounden? Sir, I shall tell you, said that knight; I am a knight of the Table Round, and my name is Sir Persides, and thus by adventure I came this way, and here I lodged in this castle at the bridge foot, and therein dwelleth an uncourteous lady, and because she proffered me to be her paramour and I refused her, she set her men upon me suddenly or ever I might come to my weapon, and thus they bound me, and here I wot well I shall die, but if some man of worship break my bands. Be ye of good cheer, said Sir Percivale, and because ye are a knight of the Round Table as well as I, I trust to God to break your bands. And therewith Sir Percivale drew out his sword, and strake at the chain with such a might that he cut a-two the chain, and through Sir Persides’ hauberk, and hurt him a little. Truly, said Sir Persides, that was a mighty stroke as ever I felt one, for had not the chain been, ye had slain me. And therewithal Sir Persides saw a knight coming out of the castle all that ever he might flying. Beware Sir, said Sir Persides, yonder cometh a man that will have ado with you. Let him come, said Sir Percivale, and so he met with that knight in the midst of the bridge, and Sir Percivale gave him such a buffet that he smote him quite from his horse, and over a part of the bridge, that had not been a little vessel under the bridge that knight had been drowned. And then Sir Percivale took the knight’s horse, and made Sir Persides to mount upon him, and so they rode unto the castle, and bad the lady deliver Sir Persides’ servants, or else he would slay all that ever he found. And so for fear she delivered them all. Then was Sir Percivale ware of a lady that stood in that tower. Ah, madam, said Sir Percivale, what use and custom is that in a lady to destroy good knights but if they will be your paramour? forsooth this is a shameful custom of a lady. And if I had not a great matter in my hand, I should foredo your evil customs. And so Sir Persides brought Sir Percivale unto his own castle, and there he made him great cheer all that night. And on the morn, when Sir Percivale had heard mass and broken his fast, he bad Sir Persides, Ride unto king Arthur, and tell the king how that ye met with me, and tell my brother Sir Aglovale how I rescued you, and bid him seek not after me, for I am in the quest to seek Sir Launcelot du Lake. And though he seek me he shall not find me, and tell him I will never see him, nor the court, till I have found Sir Launcelot. Also tell Sir Kay the seneschal, and to Sir Mordred, that I trust to God to be of as great worthiness as either of them. For tell them I shall never forget their mocks and scorns that they did to me that day that I was made knight. And tell them I will never see that court till men speak more worship of me than ever men did of any of them both. And so Sir Persides departed from Sir Percivale, and then he rode unto king Arthur, and told there of Sir Percivale. And when Sir Aglovale heard him speak of his brother Sir Percivale, he said, He departed from me unkindly. Sir, said Sir Persides, on my life he shall prove a noble knight as any now is living. And when he saw Sir Kay and Sir Mordred, Sir Persides said thus: My fair lords both, Sir Percivale greeteth you well both, and he sent you word by me that he trusteth to God or ever he come to the court again to be of as great nobleness as ever were ye both, and more men to speak of his nobleness than ever they did you. It may well be, said Sir Kay and Sir Mordred, but at that time when he was made knight he was full unlikely to prove a good knight. As for that, said king Arthur, he must needs prove a good knight, for his father and his brethren were noble knights.
CHAP. XIII.
How Sir Percivale met with Sir Ector, and how they fought long, and each had almost slain other.
And now will we turn unto Sir Percivale that rode long, and in a forest he met a knight with a broken shield and a broken helm, and as soon as either saw other readily, they made them ready to just, and so hurtled together with all the might of their horses, and met together so hard that Sir Percivale was smitten to the earth. And then Sir Percivale arose lightly and cast his shield on his shoulder and drew his sword, and bad the other knight alight, and do we battle to the uttermost. Will ye more? said that knight, and therewith he alight and put his horse from him, and then they came together an easy pace, and there they lashed together with noble swords, and sometime they stroke, and sometime they foined, and either gave other many great wounds. Thus they fought near half a day, and never rested but right little, and there was none of them both that had less wounds than fifteen, and they bled so much that it was marvel they stood on their feet. But this knight that fought with Sir Percivale was a proved knight and a wise fighting knight, and Sir Percivale was young and strong, not knowing in fighting as the other was. Then Sir Percivale spake first, and said, Sir knight, hold thy hand a while still, for we have foughten for a simple matter and quarrel over long, and therefore I require thee tell me thy name, for I was never or this time matched. Truly, said that knight, and never or this time was there never knight that wounded me so sore as thou hast done, and yet have I foughten in many battles; and now shalt thou wit that I am a knight of the Table Round, and my name is Sir Ector de Maris, brother unto the good knight Sir Launcelot du Lake. Alas, said Sir Percivale, and my name is Sir Percivale de Galis, that hath made my quest to seek Sir Launcelot; now I am siker that I shall never finish my quest, for ye have slain me with your hands. It is not so, said Sir Ector, for I am slain by your hands, and may not live; therefore I require you, said Sir Ector unto Sir Percivale, ride ye hereby to a priory, and bring me a priest that I may receive my Saviour, for I may not live. And when ye come to the court of king Arthur, tell not my brother Sir Launcelot how that ye slew me, for then he would be your mortal enemy; but ye may say that I was slain in my quest as I sought him. Alas, said Sir Percivale, ye say that thing that never will be, for I am so faint for bleeding that I may scarcely stand; how should I then take my horse?
CHAP. XIV.
How by miracle they were both made whole, by the coming of the holy vessel of Sangreal.
Then they made both great dole out of measure. This will not avail, said Percivale. And then he kneeled down and made his prayer devoutly unto Almighty Jesu; for he was one of the best knights of the world that at that time was, in whom the very faith stood most in. Right so there came by, the holy vessel of the Sancgreal with all manner of sweetness and savour, but they could not readily see who that bare that vessel, but Sir Percivale had a glimmering of the vessel, and of the maiden that bare it, for he was a perfect clean maiden. And forthwithal they both were as whole of hide and limb as ever they were in their life days; then they gave thankings to God with great mildness. O Jesu! said Sir Percivale, what may this mean that we be thus healed, and right now we were at the point of dying? I wot full well, said Sir Ector, what it is. It is an holy vessel that is borne by a maiden, and therein is a part of the holy blood of our Lord Jesus Christ, blessed might He be! but it may not be seen, said Sir Ector, but if it be by a perfect man. Truly, said Sir Percivale, I saw a damsel, as me thought, all in white, with a vessel in both her hands, and forthwithal I was whole. So then they took their horses and their harness, and amended their harness as well as they might that was broken, and so they mounted upon their horses and rode talking together. And there Sir Ector de Maris told Sir Percivale how he had sought his brother Sir Launcelot long, and never could hear witting of him:—In many strange adventures have I been in this quest. And so either told other of their adventures.
Here endeth the enleuenth booke. And here foloweth the twelfth book.
The Twelfth Book
CHAP. I.
How Sir Launcelot in his madness took a sword and fought with a knight, and after lept into 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 breeches. 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 lept 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 lept 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 meniver. 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 me seemeth, thou hast more need of sleep, and of warm clothes, than to wield that sword. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, come not too nigh; for, and thou do, wit thou well I will slay thee. And when the knight of the pavilion saw that, he start 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 blasting 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 on 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 seemeth, 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 whatsoever 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.
CHAP. II.
How Sir Launcelot was carried in a 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 an half, honestly arrayed, and fair fared 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 him two knights adventurous. The one was Breuse Sance 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 they came hurling under the castle where as Sir Launcelot lay in a window, and 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 his 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 hands, and so he lept unto Sir Breuse, and gave him such a buffet upon the head that he tumbled backward over his horse 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 strake 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 on horseback and on foot: and then Sir Launcelot was ware where one alight, and tied his horse to a tree, and leaned his spear against the tree.
CHAP. 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 lept 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 back 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 farther 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 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 meat to his hands.
CHAP. IV.
How Sir Launcelot was known by dame Elaine, and was borne into a chamber, and after healed by the Sangreal.
So it befel, 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 belonged 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 afternoon, 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 shewed 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 on 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 went out of the garden, and she went straight to her father, and there she took him apart by herself, and then she said, Oh 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 me seemeth 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 king Pelles commanded that all people should avoid, that none should be in that way there as 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 Sancgreal, and by force Sir Launcelot was laid by that holy vessel, and there came a holy man and uncovered 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.
CHAP. 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: Oh 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 mad man 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, where as 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, said Sir Launcelot, if this be sooth, how many there be that know of my woodness. Truly, said Elaine, no more but my father and I and dame Brisen. Now, I pray you, 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 travel, 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, for to have slain you. And all was the cause that ye and dame Brisen deceived me. 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 ye 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 this 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.
CHAP. 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 king 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 me seemeth 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 not hurt thereby? But wit thou well, and 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 enclosed 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 before her; and every day once, for any mirths that all the ladies might make him, he would once every day look towards the realm of Logris where king Arthur and queen Guenever were. And then would he fall upon a weeping as though his heart should to-brast. So it fell that time that Sir Launcelot heard of a justing fast by his castle, within three leagues. Then he called unto him a dwarf, and he bade him go unto that justing, and, or ever the knights depart, look thou make there a cry in the hearing of all the knights, that there is one knight in the Joyous Isle, that is the castle Bliant, and say that his name is Le Chevaler Mal Fet, that will just against knights that will come; and who that putteth that knight to the worse shall have a fair maid and a jerfalcon.
CHAP. VII.
Of a great tourneying in the Joyous Isle, and how Sir Percivale 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 in her hand, and Sir Percivale called unto her, and asked that lady who was in that castle. Fair knight, 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 calleth himself Le Chevaler Mal Fet. How came he into these marches? said Sir Percivale. Truly, said the damsel, 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 Sancgreal he was brought into his wit again, but he will not do battle with no knight but by undorne 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 alight, 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, and we should both do battle with him. Do ye as ye list, said Sir Ector de Maris, 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 bad the porter, Go thou to the good knight within the castle, and tell him here is come an errant knight to just with him. Sir, said the porter, ride ye within the castle, and there is a common place for justing, 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 Table Round, that sometime was your fellow!
CHAP. VIII.
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 meaned. And then thus he said, Sir knight, whatsoever thou be, I require thee upon the high order of knighthood tell me thy true name. Then he said, Truly 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, said Sir Percivale, I pray you forgive me mine offence 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.
CHAP. 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 years, 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 a child of the king’s daughter fifteen years before, 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 since it is so, I will that ye wit 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 befel 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.
CHAP. 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, 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. Truly, 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 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.
CHAP. XI.
How La Beale Isoud counselled Sir Tristram to go unto the court to the great feast of Pentecost.
Now will we leave of this matter, and speak we of Sir Tristram and of Sir Palamides, 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 befel 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 years, and all that while he had been out of his mind, and how he was holpen by the holy vessel the Sancgreal. 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, and it please you I will not be there, for through me ye be marked of many good knights, and that causeth 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. Not so, 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. Truly, 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.
CHAP. XII.
How Sir Tristram departed unarmed, and met with Sir Palamides, and how they smote each other, and how Sir Palamides 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 Palamides 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 Palamides 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 never yet Christian man that might make his boast that ever I fled from him; and wit ye well Sir Palamides, 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 Palamides, and brast his spear upon him in an hundred pieces. And forthwithal Sir Tristram drew his sword. And then he turned his horse and struck at Palamides six great strokes upon his helm, and then Sir Palamides stood still and beheld Sir Tristram, and marvelled of his woodness and of his folly. And then Sir Palamides said to himself, And Sir Tristram were armed it were hard to cease him of this battle, and if I turn again and slay him I am shamed wheresoever 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 Sir Palamides, full well thou wotest 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 wotest, said Sir Palamides 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 Palamides, 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. I put the case, said Sir Palamides, that ye were armed at all rights as well as I am, and I naked as ye be, what would ye do to me now by your true knighthood? Ah, said Sir Tristram, now I understand thee well, Sir Palamides, for now must I say my 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 Palamides, as at this time thou shouldest depart from me, for I would not have ado with thee. No more will I, said Sir Palamides, and therefore ride forth on thy way. As for that I may choose, said Sir Tristram, either to ride or to abide. But Sir Palamides, 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.
CHAP. XIII.
How that Sir Tristram gat him harness of a knight which was hurt, and how he overthrew Sir Palamides.
As for that, said Sir Palamides, I may not yet be christened, for one avow that I have made many years agone; howbeit in my heart I believe in Jesus 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 Sir Tristram, as for one battle thou shalt not seek it no longer. For God defend, said Sir Tristram, that through my default thou shouldest longer live thus a Saracen. For yonder is a knight that ye, Sir Palamides, 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 Sir Palamides, so it shall be. So they rode 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. Truly, 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, it is Sir Palamides, brother unto the good knight Sir Safere, and yet is Sir Palamides unchristened. Alas, said Sir Galleron, that is pity that so good a knight and so noble a man of arms should be unchristened. Truly, 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 Palamides was ready, and so they came hurtling together, and either smote other in the midst of their shields, and therewithal Sir Palamides’ spear brake, and Sir Tristram smote down the horse; and then Sir Palamides, as soon as he might, avoided his horse, and dressed his shield, and pulled out his sword. That saw Sir Tristram, and therewith he alight, and tied his horse to a tree.
CHAP. XIV.
How Sir Tristram and Sir Palamides 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 Palamides dread the might of Sir Tristram, and therefore he suffered him to breathe him. Thus they fought more than two hours; and often Sir Tristram smote such strokes at Sir Palamides that he made him to kneel; and Sir Palamides brake and cut away many pieces of Sir Tristram’s shield, and then Sir Palamides wounded Sir Tristram, for he was a well fighting man. Then Sir Tristram was wood wrath out of measure, and rashed upon Sir Palamides with such a might that Sir Palamides fell groveling to the earth, and therewithal he leapt up lightly upon his feet, and then Sir Tristram wounded Sir Palamides sore through the shoulder. And ever Sir Tristram fought still in like hard, and Sir Palamides failed not, but gave him many sad strokes. And at the last Sir Tristram doubled his strokes, and by fortune Sir Tristram smote Sir Palamides’ sword out of his hand, and if Sir Palamides had stooped for his sword, he had been slain. Then Palamides stood still and beheld his sword with a sorrowful heart. How now, said Sir Tristram unto Palamides, now have I thee at advantage as thou hadst 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 Palamides, I dare right well end it; but I have no great lust to fight no more, and for this cause, said Palamides, 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 baptized. 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 your 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 Palamides, and Sir Tristram and Sir Galleron were his godfathers. And then soon after they departed, riding towards 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 Palamides 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 Palamides followed the questing beast.
Here endeth the second book of syr Tristram that was drawen oute of Frensshe in to Englysshe.
But here is no rehersal of the thyrd book. And here foloweth the noble tale of the Sancgreal that called is the hooly vessel and the sygnefycacyon of the blessid blood of our lord Jhesu Cryste, blessid mote it be, the which was brought in to this land by Joseph of Armathye, therefor on al synful souls blessid lord haue thou mercy.
Explicit liber xii. Et incipit Decimustercius.
The Thirteenth Book
CHAP. I.
How at the Vigil of the feast of Pentecost entered into the hall, before king Arthur, a damsel, 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 comen 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 besweat. Then she there alight, and came before the king, and saluted him; and then he said, Damsel, God thee bless! Sir, said she, I pray you 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 Sir 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-morrow 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 into 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 thee hither, for we wend to-morrow to have found you at Camelot? Truly, said Sir Launcelot, a gentlewoman brought me hither, but I know not the cause. In the meanwhile, as they thus stood talking together, there came twelve nuns which brought with them Galahad, the which was passing fair and well made, that unneth in the world men might not find his match; and all those ladies wept. Sir, said the ladies, 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 that young squire, and saw him seemly and demure as a dove, with all manner of good features, that he wend 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-morrow 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 beauty faileth you not as any that liveth.
CHAP. 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 undorne 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 gold letters. Here ought to sit he, and he ought to sit here. And thus they went so long until that they came to the siege perilous, where they found letters newly written of gold, that said: Four hundred winters and fifty-four 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 he accounted 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 achieve this adventure. Then made they to ordain a cloth of silk for to cover these letters in the siege perilous. Then the king bad 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, that I bethought me not of my 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 saw I sticking a sword. The king said, I will see that marvel. So all the knights went with him, and when they came unto the river, they found there a stone fleeting, as it were of red marble, and therein stack a fair and a rich sword, and in the pomell thereof were precious stones, wrought with subtil 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 these 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, for it longed not to hang by my side. Also who that assayeth to take that 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 will the adventures of the Sancgreal, that is called the holy vessel, begin.
CHAP. 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 more 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 the windows of the place shut by themself. Not for then the hall was not greatly darkened, and therewith they abashed both one and other. Then king Arthur spake first, and said, Fair fellows and lords, we have seen this day marvels, but or night I suppose we shall see greater marvels. In the mean while 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 Arimathie, whereby the marvels of this court and of strange realms shall be fully accomplished.
CHAP. 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 sendel, 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 them 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 Sancgreal shall be achieved, for there sat never none but he, but he were mischieved. Then Sir Launcelot beheld his son, and had great joy of him. Then Sir 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 he is son of Sir Launcelot and king Pelles’ daughter, 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; I report me unto all the Table Round. So when the meat was done, that the king and all were risen, the king went 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 achieve the Sancgreal, right so as Sir Launcelot hath 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 Sancgreal, and ye shall achieve 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.
CHAP. 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, said Sir Galahad, 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 Balan 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. Damsel, why say ye so? said Launcelot. I say you sooth, said the damsel, for ye were this day the best knight of the world, but who should say so now 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 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 damsel, 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 Sancgreal shall appear in thy house, and feed thee and all thy fellowship of the Round Table. So she departed and went that same way that she came.
CHAP. VI.
How King Arthur had all the knights together, for to just in the meadow beside Camelot or they departed.
Now, said the king, I am sure at this quest of the Sancgreal 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 just 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 justing. 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 jesserance, 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 the 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 thrown down many good knights of the Table Round save twain, that was Sir Launcelot and Sir Percivale.
CHAP. 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. And when she beheld him she said, Soothly, I dare well say that Sir Launcelot is his father, for never two men resembled more in likeness, therefore it is no marvel though he be of great prowess. So a lady that stood by the queen said, Madam, 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 sun-beam 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 Graile covered with white samite, but there was none might see it, nor who bare it. And there was all the hall full filled with good odours, and every knight had such meats and drinks as he best loved in this world: and when the holy Graile 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 unto 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 Graile, 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 Sancgreal, 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 party, and made such avows as Sir Gawaine had made.
Anon as king Arthur heard this he was greatly displeased, for he wist well that they might not againsay 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 of 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 forethinketh 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.
CHAP. 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 filled 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 as a great honour, and much more than if we died in any other places, for of death we be sure. 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 this 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 holden them in honour and charity. 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 Sancgreal, 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 Sir Launcelot, she said he was: as to that he said neither yea nor nay. Truly, 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 stock, 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, and 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 all were 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 taken the quest of the holy Graile, and to account them he prayed them all. Then found they by tale an hundred and fifty, and all were knights of the Round Table. And then they put on their helms, and departed, and recommanded them all wholly unto the queen, and there was weeping and great sorrow. Then the queen departed into her chamber so that no man should perceive her great sorrows. When Sir Launcelot missed the queen he went into her chamber, and when she saw him she cried aloud, O, Sir Launcelot, ye have betrayed me and put me to death, for to leave thus my lord. Ah, madam, said Sir Launcelot, 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 death upon the cross for all mankind, be to your 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 the 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 good cheer that he might. And so on the morrow they were all accorded that they should depart every each from other. And then they departed on the morrow with weeping and mourning cheer, and every knight took the way that him best liked.
CHAP. 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 even-song he came to a white abbey, and there he was received with great reverence, and led to a chamber, and then he was unarmed, and then was he ware of two knights of the Round Table, one was king Bagdemagus, and that other was Sir Uwaine. And when they saw him they went unto him and made of him great solace, and so they went to 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 that if he be mischieved or dead within three days, or else maimed for ever. Ah, sir, said king Bagdemagus, I shall bear it to-morrow for to assay this strange adventure. In the name of God, said Sir Galahad. Sir, said Bagdemagus, and I may not achieve the adventure of this shield ye shall take it upon you, for I am sure ye shall not fail. Sir, said Galahad, I agree right well thereto, for I have no shield. So on the morn they arose and heard mass. Then king 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, and therefore I counsel you knights to be well advised. Well, said king Bagdemagus, I wot well that I am not the best knight of the world, but yet shall I assay to bear it. And so he bare it out of the monastery; and then he said unto Sir Galahad, If it will please you, I pray you abide here still, till ye know how I shall speed. I shall abide you here, said Galahad. Then king Bagdemagus took with him a squire, the which should bring tidings unto Sir Galahad how he sped. Then when they had ridden a two mile, and came in a fair valley afore an hermitage, then they saw a goodly knight come from that part in white armour, horse and all, and he came as fast as his horse might run with his spear in the rest, and king Bagdemagus dressed his spear against him, and brake it upon the white knight; but the other struck him so hard that he brake the mails, and thrust 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 king Bagdemagus’s squire and said, Bear this shield unto the good knight Sir Galahad, that thou left in the abbey, and greet him well from 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 to no man but unto Galahad. And the squire went unto Bagdemagus and asked him 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.
CHAP. 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 bad that ye should bear this shield, where through great adventures should befall. Now blessed be God and fortune, said Sir 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 there as the white knight abode him by the hermitage, and every each saluted other courteously. Sir, said Galahad, by this shield been many marvels fallen. Sir, said the knight, it befell after the passion of our Lord Jesu Christ thirty-two year, that Joseph of Armathie, 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 especially against one Saracen, the which was the 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 this two met to do battle. Then Joseph, the son of Joseph of Armathie, 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, where through 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 bad 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 tofore. 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 would or nould. 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.
CHAP. 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 that he might not by no means 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 no 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 there as 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 ye 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 alight 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.—If 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 there they came from. And there men made great joy of Sir Galahad. And anon as he was alight, there was a monk brought him unto a tomb in a church-yard, where that 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.
CHAP. 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 lift 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 dare thee. 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 church-yard, 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 call me Melias de Lile, and I am the son of the king of Denmark. Now, fair sir, said Galahad, sith 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 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. Then Melias said, that ye will suffer me to ride with you in this quest of the Sancgreal 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 ere 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 there lightly 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.
CHAP. 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 subtily wrought. Also there was clothes covered upon the earth, and many delicious meats were 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 that 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 rites. 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 sued fast after him. And then he turned again unto Sir Melias, and there he alight and dressed him softly on his horse tofore him, for the truncheon of his spear was in his body, and Sir Galahad start 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 this 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.
CHAP. 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 Sancgreal. 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 high way of our Lord Jesu Christ, and the way of a 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 holy Sancgreal, that made you to be overthrown, for it may not be achieved 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 Sir Galahad: and where thou tookest the crown of gold thou sinnedst 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 Sir 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 that 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 tofore 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.
CHAP. 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 a 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 forbid 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, and 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 mayest thou trust. Then Galahad put forth his spear, and smote the foremost to the earth, that near he brake his neck. And therewith all 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 unto 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 themselves, 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 obeisance, and in great servage 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 it is called the Maidens’ Castle, for they have devoured many maidens. Now, said Sir Galahad, is she here for whom this castle was lost? Nay, 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 many other ladies. By this were the knights of the country come. And then he made them do homage and fealty to the duke’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.
CHAP. 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 sue after Sir Galahad, and so he rode to the abbey where Melias lay sick, and there Sir Melias told Sir Gawaine of the marvellous adventure that Sir Galahad did. Certes, said Sir Gawaine, I am not happy that I took not the way that he went; for, and I may meet with him, I will not depart from him lightly, for all marvellous adventures Sir Galahad achieveth. 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 together, 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 those three knights not to depart while that 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 banished 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 of 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 every each 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 Sancgreal, 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 achieve 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 before, 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 light 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 often 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 every each held as fell them by adventure.
Here leaveth the tale of Sir Gawaine and his fellows, and speak we of Sir Galahad.
CHAP. XVII.
How Sir Galahad met with Sir Launcelot and with 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 Sir 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 justs was done tofore 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, and yonder two knights had known thee as well as I do, they would not have encountered with thee. When Sir Galahad heard her say so he was sore 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 wend 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 he 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 ungirded his sword, and laid him down to sleep upon his shield tofore the cross.
CHAP. 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 on sleep, and half waking and half 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, Oh, sweet Lord, when shall this sorrow leave me? and when shall the holy vessel come by me where through 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 Sancgreal, which Sir Launcelot had seen aforetime in king Peschour’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 arise against 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 great 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, whatsoever 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 Sancgreal. Sir, said the squire, here I have brought you all your arms, save your helm and your sword, and therefore by my 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 own: and so departed they from the cross.
CHAP. 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 achieved 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 to 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 an 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 thanks 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 and God be against you.
CHAP. 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 loth to discover. For this fourteen years I never discovered one thing that I have used, and that may I now blame my shame and my misadventure. 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 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 would not, 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 toforehand. 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 wouldest thou be made soft 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 wheresoever thou camest. And now our Lord will suffer thee no longer, but that thou shalt know Him, whether thou wilt or nilt. 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 the 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 Graile 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 ye 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 sue knighthood, and so he 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 longeth unto you. And then Sir Launcelot repented him greatly.
Here leueth of the history of syr launcelot. And here foloweth of syr Percyuale de galys which is the xiiii. book.
The Fourteenth Book
CHAP. 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 tofore 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 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 on live. 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 forethinketh 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 no earthly man’s hand.
CHAP. 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 the 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 departed from your mother ye would never see her, ye found such a 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 Sancgreal should be well known. And men asked him how men might know them that should best do, and to achieve the Sancgreal? then he said there should be three white bulls that should achieve 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 libard, both of strength and hardiness. They that heard Merlin say so, said thus unto Merlin: Sithen there shall be such a knight, thou shouldst 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 german, and there may ye be lodged this night. And as he teacheth you, sue 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.
CHAP. 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 a house closed well with walls and deep ditches, and there he knocked at the gate, and was let in, and he alight, 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 perclose 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 uncovered unto his middle. 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 unto 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 Armathie, 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 always he was busy to be there as the Sancgreal 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 achieve the Sancgreal, that I may kiss him.
CHAP. 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 twenty men of arms, which bear 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 black 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, and I lent it you or any other 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 sat 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.
CHAP. 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 ask ye me that? Ah, sir, that steed he hath taken from me with strength, wherefore my lord will slay me in what place he findeth me. Well, said Sir Percivale, what wouldest thou that I did? thou seest well that I am on foot, but and 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 follow you on foot, to wit how that ye shall speed. Then Sir Percivale alight 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 past 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 doest thou here? He answered and said, 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 fetch you an horse. And so she came soon again, and brought an horse with her that was inly black. When Sir 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 lept 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 rode by a forest, and the moon shone clear. And within an hour and less, he bare him four days’ journey thence, till he came to a rough water the which roared, and his horse would have borne him into it.
CHAP. 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 boisterous, 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 burnt. 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 gave the serpent such a buffet that he had a deadly wound. When the lion saw that, he made no resemblant to fight with him, but made him all the cheer that a beast might make a man. Then Sir 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 that most believed in our Lord Jesu Christ. For in these days there were 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 that 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 shalt 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.
CHAP. 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, said he, 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 a more gentler nature than the serpent, and therefore I slew him; me seemeth 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, since 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 vision. And on the morn he rose 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 Sancgreal, and here I am in great duresse, and never like to escape out of this wilderness. Doubt not, said the good man, and 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, said the good man, 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 upon 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 saidest thou wouldest not, that was to make thee to believe on her and leave thy baptism. So he commanded Sir Percivale to depart. And so he lept 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 alway kept him fellowship, and he stroked him upon the back, and had great joy of him.
CHAP. 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 midday he saw a ship come 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 bier, 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. Damsel, 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 damsel. Ah damsel, said he, with that knight would I meet passing fain. Sir, said she, and ye will ensure me, by the faith that ye owe unto knighthood, that ye shall do my will what time I summon you, 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 to a water, the which is called Mortaise, and he drove them into that 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 eaten any meat late? Nay madam, truly I ate no meat nigh these 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, and 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 and ye will. What are ye? said Sir Percivale, that proffereth me thus great kindness. I am, said she, a gentlewoman that am disherited, which was sometime the richest woman of the world. Damsel, 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 so 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 taken from 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 war against him night and day. Therefore I know now no good knight, nor no good man, but I get them on my side and 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, and she besought you of help.
CHAP. 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, and then she called unto her a gentlewoman, and bad 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 heated more than he ought to be. With that he beheld the gentlewoman, and him thought that 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 ye 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 that ye are the knight in the world that I have most desire to. And then Sir Percivale came near to her, to proffer her love, and by adventure and grace he saw his sword lie upon the ground all 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 toforehand unto the good man. Then he made the 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,—
CHAP. 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 near 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 that all the water burnt 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 start 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 the Orient that the good man was in the day before: 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. Oh, 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 thy vision 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 fourtenthe booke, whiche is of syr percyual. And here foloweth of syre launcelot whiche is the fyftenth book.
The Fifteenth Book
CHAP. I.
How Sir Launcelot came into 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 alight, 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 winters 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 an 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 a 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.
CHAP. II.
Of a dead man, how men would have hewen 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 cloathes and the hair off his back; and then this dead man hermit said unto them, Ween ye to burn me? It shall not lie in your power, nor to perish me as much as a thread, and 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 perished; 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 truth. And then he departed with a great tempest. Then was the good man and Sir Launcelot more gladder than they were tofore. 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 Sancgreal. 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 Sancgreal? 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 Sancgreal, nor ye shall drink no wine, and that ye hear mass daily and 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 damsel, 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 aforetime 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.
CHAP. III.
Of a vision 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 a vision, 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 towards the heaven; and all they said, Fair sweet Father of heaven, come and visit us, and yield unto us every each 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 alight among them, and gave unto every each 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 vision 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, his helm, and his sword, when he slept when the Sancgreal appeared afore the cross. When Sir Launcelot saw him he saluted him 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 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 Sancgreal. And therefore I pray you to counsel me of a vision, the which I had at the cross. And so he told him all.
CHAP. IV.
How the hermit expounded to Sir Launcelot his vision, 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 thy vision betokeneth: After the passion of Jesu Christ forty years, 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 Hellias le Grose; and the fourth hight Lisais; and the fifth hight Jonas, he departed out of his country and went into Wales, and took 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, 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 of 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 by the daughter of king Pelles thou hadst 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 thy son, 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, me seemeth 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 much 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 every each shall bear his own burthen; 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.
CHAP. V.
How Sir Launcelot justed with many knights, and how he was taken.
And then he 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 divers 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 every each 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 strake 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 wend never to have borne arms: and then they all took him 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, and 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 justs 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 was he 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 alight 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 towards 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.
CHAP. VI.
How Sir Launcelot told his vision unto a woman, and how she expounded it to him.
And then he told her altogether word by word, and the truth how it befel him at the tournament. And after told her his vision, 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, since ye be set among the knights of heavenly adventures, if adventure fell the 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 for 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 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 Sancgreal. 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 chosen 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 inclinedst to that party, for boasting 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 Sancgreal unto the white knights, but thou was so feeble of good belief and faith, that thou might not abide it, for all the teaching of the good man, but anon thou turnedst unto the sinners; and that caused thy misadventure, that thou shouldest 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 vision 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 commanded 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.
Here leueth of the story of syr launcelot. And speke we of sir Gawayne, the whiche is the xvi. book.