The Sixteenth Book
CHAP. I.
How Sir Gawaine was nigh weary of the quest of the Sangreal, and of his marvellous dream.
When Sir Gawaine was departed from his fellowship, he rode long without any adventure. For he found not the tenth part of adventure as he was wont to do. For Sir Gawaine rode from Whitsunday unto Michaelmas, and found none adventure that pleased him. So on a day it befell Gawaine met with Sir Ector de Maris, and either made great joy of other, that it were marvel to tell. And so they told every each other, and complained them greatly that they could find none adventure.
Truly, said Sir Gawaine unto Sir Ector, I am nigh weary of this quest, and loth I am to follow further in strange countries. One thing marvelleth me, said Sir Ector, I have met with twenty knights, fellows of mine, and all they complain as I do. I marvel, said Sir Gawaine, where that Sir Launcelot your brother is. Truly, said Sir Ector, I cannot hear of him, nor of Sir Galahad, Percivale, nor Sir Bors. Let them be, said Sir Gawaine, for they four have no peers. And if one thing were not in Sir Launcelot, he had no fellow of none earthly man; but he is as we be, but if he took more pain upon him. But and these four be met together, they will be loth that any man meet with them; for, and they fail of the Sancgreal, it is in waste of all the remnant to recover it. Thus as Ector and Gawaine rode more than eight days. And on a Saturday they found an old chapel, the which was wasted that there seemed no man thither repaired, and there they alight, and set their spears at the door, and in they entered into the chapel, and there made their orisons a great while, and then set them down in the sieges of the chapel. And as they spake of one thing and other, for heaviness they fell on sleep, and there befell them both marvellous adventures. Sir Gawaine him seemed he came into a meadow full of herbs and flowers. And there he saw a rack of bulls an hundred and fifty, that were proud and black, save three of them were all white, and one had a black spot, and the other two were so fair and so white that they might be no whiter. And these three bulls which were so fair were tied with two strong cords. And the remnant of the bulls said among them, Go we hence to seek better pasture. And so some went, and some came again; but they were so lean that they might not stand upright; and of the bulls that were so white, that one came again, and no more. But when this white bull was come again among these other, there arose up a great cry for lack of wind that failed them; and so they departed, one here and another there. This vision befell Sir Gawaine that night.
CHAP. II.
Of the vision of Sir Ector, and how he justed with Sir Uwaine les Avoutres, his sworn brother.
But to Sir Ector de Maris befell another vision, the contrary. For it seemed him that his brother Sir Launcelot and he alight out of a chair and lept upon two horses, and the one said to the other, Go we seek that we shall not find. And him thought that a man beat Sir Launcelot and despoiled him, and clothed him in another array, the which was all full of knots, and set him upon an ass. And so he rode till he came to the fairest well that ever he saw, and Sir Launcelot alight, and would have drunk of that well. And when he stooped to drink of the water, the water sank from him. And when Sir Launcelot saw that, he turned and went thither as the head came from. And in the meanwhile he trowed that himself and Sir Ector rode till that they came to a rich man’s house, where there was a wedding. And there he saw a king, the which said, Sir knight, here is no place for you: and then he turned again unto the chair that he came from. Thus within a while both Gawaine and Ector awaked, and either told other of their vision, the which marvelled them greatly. Truly, said Ector, I shall never be merry till I hear tidings of my brother Launcelot.
Now as they sat thus talking, they saw an hand shewing unto the elbow, and was covered with red samite, and upon that hung a bridle not rich, and held within the fist a great candle which burnt right clear, and so passed afore them, and entered into the chapel, and then vanished away, and they wist not where. And anon came down a voice which said, Knights full of evil faith and poor belief, these two things have failed you, and therefore ye may not come to the adventures of the Sancgreal. Then first spake Gawaine and said, Ector, have ye heard these words? Yea truly, said Sir Ector, I heard all. Now go we, said Sir Ector, unto some hermit that will tell us of our vision, for it seemeth me we labour all in vain. And so they departed and rode into a valley, and there met with a squire which rode on an hackney, and they saluted him fair. Sir, said Gawaine, can thou teach us to any hermit? Here is one in a little mountain, said the squire, but it is so rough that there may no horse go thither; and therefore ye must go on foot: there shall ye find a poor house, and there is Nacien the hermit, which is the holiest man in this country. And so they departed either from other. And then in a valley they met with a knight all armed, which proffered them to just as far as he saw them. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, sith I departed from Camelot there was none proffered me to just but once. And now, sir, said Ector, let me just with him. Nay, said Gawaine, ye shall not, but if I be beaten, it shall not forthink me then if ye go after me. And then either enbraced other to just, and came together as fast as their horses might run, and brast their shields and the mails, and the one more than the other: and Gawaine was wounded in the left side, but the other knight was smitten through the breast, and the spear came out on the other side, and so they fell both out of their saddles, and in the falling they brake both their spears. Anon Gawaine arose, and set his hand to his sword, and cast his shield afore him. But all for nought was it, for the knight had no power to arise against him. Then said Gawaine, Ye must yield you as an overcome man, or else I may slay you. Ah, sir knight, said he, I am but dead; for God’s sake, and of your gentleness, lead me here unto an abbey, that I may receive my Creator. Sir, said Gawaine, I know no house of religion hereby. Sir, said the knight, set me on an horse tofore you, and I shall teach you. Gawaine set him up in the saddle, and he lept up behind him for to sustain him, and so came to an abbey, where they were well received; and anon he was unarmed, and received his Creator. Then he prayed Gawaine to draw the truncheon of the spear out of his body. Then Gawaine asked him what he was, that knew him not? I am, said he, of king Arthur’s court, and was a fellow of the Round Table, and we were brethren sworn together, and now, Sir Gawaine, thou hast slain me, and my name is Uwaine les Avoutres, that sometime was son unto king Uriens, and was in the quest of the Sancgreal; and now forgive it thee God, for it shall ever be said that the one sworn brother hath slain the other.
CHAP. III.
How Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector came to an hermitage to be confessed, and how they told to the hermit their visions.
Alas, said Sir Gawaine, that ever this misadventure is befallen me. No force, said Uwaine, sith I shall die this death, of a much more worshipfuller man’s hands might I not die; but when ye come to the court, recommand me unto my lord king Arthur, and all those that be left onlive, and for old brotherhood think on me. Then began Gawaine to weep, and Ector also. And then Uwaine himself, and Sir Gawaine, drew out the truncheon of the spear; and anon departed the soul from the body. Then Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector buried him, as men ought to bury a king’s son, and made written upon his name, and by whom he was slain.
Then departed Gawaine and Ector, as heavy as they might for their misadventure; and so rode till that they came unto the rough mountain, and there they tied their horses, and went on foot to the hermitage. And when they were come up, they saw a poor house, and beside the chapel a little courtlage, where Nacien the hermit gathered worts, as he which had tasted none other meat of a great while. And when he saw the errant knights, he came toward them and saluted them, and they him again. Fair lords, said he, what adventure brought you hither? Sir, said Gawaine, to speak with you, for to be confessed. Sir, said the hermit, I am ready. Then they told him so much that he wist well what they were, and then he thought to counsel them if he might. Then began Gawaine first, and told him of his vision that he had had in the chapel: and Ector told him all as it is afore rehearsed. Sir, said the hermit unto Sir Gawaine, the fair meadow and the rack therein ought to be understood the Round Table, and by the meadow ought to be understood humility and patience, those be the things which be always green and quick; for men may no time overcome humility and patience, therefore was the Round Table founded, and the chivalry hath been at all times, so by the fraternity which was there that she might not be overcome. For men said she was founded in patience and in humility. At the rack ate an hundred and fifty bulls, but they ate not in the meadow, for their hearts should be set in humility and patience, and the bulls were proud and black, save only three. By the bulls is to understand the fellowship of the Round Table, which for their sin and their wickedness be black. Blackness is to say without good or virtuous works. And the three bulls which were white, save only one which was spotted;—the two white betoken Sir Galahad and Sir Percivale, for they be maidens clean and without spot; and the third that had a spot signifieth Sir Bors de Ganis, which trespassed but once in his virginity, but since he kept himself so well in chastity that all is forgiven him, and his misdeeds. And why those three were tied by the necks, they be three knights in virginity and chastity, and there is no pride smitten in them. And the black bulls which said, Go we hence, they were those which at Pentecost, at the high feast, took upon them to go in the quest of the Sancgreal without confession: they might not enter in the meadow of humility and patience. And therefore they returned into waste countries, that signifieth death, for there shall die many of them: every each of them shall slay other for sin, and they that shall escape shall be so lean that it shall be marvel to see them. And of the three bulls without spot, the one shall come again, and the other two never.
CHAP. IV.
How the hermit expounded their vision.
Then spake Nacien unto Ector. Sooth it is that Launcelot and ye came down of one chair: the chair betokeneth mastership and lordship, which ye came down from. But ye two knights, said the hermit, ye go to seek that ye shall never find, that is the Sancgreal. For it is the secret thing of our Lord Jesu Christ. What is to mean, that Sir Launcelot fell down off his horse:—he hath left pride, and taken him to humility, for he hath cried mercy loud for his sin, and sore repented him, and our Lord hath clothed him in His clothing, which is full of knots, that is the hair which he weareth daily. And the ass that he rode upon is a beast of humility. For God would not ride upon no steed, nor upon no palfrey. So in ensample that an ass betokeneth meekness, that thou sawest Sir Launcelot ride on in thy sleep: and the well where as the water sank from him when he should have taken thereof, and when he saw he might not have it, he returned thither from whence he came, for the well betokeneth the high grace of God, the more men desire it to take it, the more shall be their desire. So when he came nigh the Sancgreal, he meeked him that he held him not a man worthy to be so nigh the holy vessel, for he had been so defouled in deadly sin by the space of many years, yet when he kneeled to drink of the well, there he saw great providence of the Sancgreal. And for he had served so long the devil, he shall have vengeance four and twenty days long, for that he hath been the devil’s servant four and twenty years. And then soon after he shall return unto Camelot out of this country, and he shall say a part of such things as he hath found.
Now will I tell you what betokeneth the hand with the candle and the bridle; that is to understand the Holy Ghost, where charity is ever, and the bridle signifieth abstinence. For when she is bridled in Christian man’s heart, she holdeth him so short that he falleth not in deadly sin. And the candle which sheweth clearness and sight, signifieth the right way of Jesu Christ. And when he went, and said, Knights of poor faith and of wicked belief,—these three things failed, charity, abstinence, and truth, therefore ye may not attain that high adventure of the Sancgreal.
CHAP. V.
Of the good counsel that the hermit gave to him.
Certes, said Gawaine, soothly have ye said, that I see it openly. Now I pray you, good man and holy father, tell me why we met not with so many adventures as we were wont to do, and commonly have the better. I shall tell you gladly, said the good man: The adventure of the Sancgreal, which ye and many other have undertaken the quest of it, and find it not, the cause is, for it appeareth not to sinners. Wherefore marvel not though ye fail thereof, and many other. For ye be an untrue knight, and a great murderer, and to good men signifieth other things than murder. For I dare say, as sinful as Sir Launcelot hath been, sith that he went into the quest of the Sancgreal he slew never man, nor nought shall till that he come unto Camelot again. For he hath taken upon him for to forsake sin. And were not that he is not stable, but by his thought he is likely to turn again, he should be next to achieve it, save Galahad his son. But God knoweth his thought, and his unstableness, and yet shall he die right an holy man; and no doubt he hath no fellow of no earthly sinful man. Sir, said Gawaine, it seemeth me by your words, that for our sins it will not avail us to travail in this quest. Truly, said the good man, there be an hundred such as ye be, that never shall prevail but to have shame. And when they had heard these voices, they commanded him unto God.
Then the good man called Gawaine, and said, It is long time passed sith that ye were made knight, and never since thou servedst thy Maker, and now thou art so old a tree, that in thee there is neither life nor fruit; wherefore bethink thee that thou yield unto our Lord the bare rind, sith the fiend hath the leaves and the fruit. Sir, said Gawaine, and I had leisure I would speak with you, but my fellow here, Sir Ector, is gone, and abideth me yonder beneath the hill. Well, said the good man, thou were better to be counselled. Then departed Gawaine, and came to Ector, and so took their horses, and rode till they came to a foster’s house which harboured them right well. And on the morn they departed from their host, and rode long or they could find any adventure.
CHAP. VI.
How Sir Bors met with an hermit, and how he was confessed to him, and of his penance enjoined to him.
When Bors was departed from Camelot, he met with a religious man riding on an ass, and Sir Bors saluted him. Anon the good man knew him that he was one of the knights errant that was in the quest of the Sancgreal. What are ye? said the good man. Sir, said he, I am a knight that fain would be counselled in the quest of the Sancgreal: for he shall have much earthly worship that may bring it to an end. Certes, said the good man, that is sooth, for he shall be the best knight of the world, and the fairest of all the fellowship. But wit you well, there shall none attain it but by cleanness, that is, pure confession. So rode they together till that they came to an hermitage. And there he prayed Bors to dwell all that night with him: and so he alight, and put away his armour, and prayed him that he might be confessed; and so they went into the chapel, and there he was clean confessed: and they eat bread, and drank water, together. Now, said the good man, I pray thee that thou eat none other, till that thou sit at the table where the Sancgreal shall be. Sir, said he, I agree me thereto; but how wit ye that I shall sit there? Yes, said the good man, that know I, but there shall be but few of your fellows with you. All is welcome, said Sir Bors, that God sendeth me. Also, said the good man, instead of a shirt, and in sign of chastisement, ye shall wear a garment; thereof I pray you do off all your clothes and your shirt, and so he did. And then he took him a scarlet coat, so that should be instead of his shirt, till he had fulfilled the quest of the Sancgreal. And the good man found him in so marvellous a life, and so stable, that he marvelled, and felt that he was never corrupt in fleshly lusts, but in one time that he begat Elian le Blank. Then he armed him, and took his leave, and so departed. And so a little from thence he looked up into a tree, and there he saw a passing great bird upon an old tree, and it was passing dry, without leaves, and the bird sat above, and had birds, the which were dead for hunger. So smote he himself with his beak, the which was great and sharp. And so the great bird bled till that he died among his birds. And the young birds took the life by the blood of the great bird. When Bors saw this, he wist well it was great tokening. For when he saw the great bird arose not, then he took his horse and went his way. So by evensong, by adventure he came to a strong tower, and an high, and there was he lodged gladly.
CHAP. VII.
How Sir Bors was lodged with a lady, and how he took on him for to fight against a champion for her land.
And when he was unarmed, they led him into an high tower, where was a lady, young, lusty, and fair. And she received him with great joy, and made him to sit down by her, and so was he set to sup with flesh and many dainties. And when Sir Bors saw that, he bethought him on his penance, and bad a squire to bring him water. And so he brought him, and he made sops therein, and ate them. Ah, said the lady, I trow ye like not my meat. Yes, truly, said Sir Bors, God thank you madam, but I may eat none other meat this day. Then she spake no more as at that time, for she was loth to displease him.
Then after supper they spake of one thing and other. With that there came a squire, and said, Madam, ye must purvey you to-morn for a champion, for else your sister will have this castle, and also your lands, except ye can find a knight that will fight to-morn in your quarrel against Pridam le Noire. Then she made sorrow, and said, Ah Lord God, wherefore granted ye to hold my land, whereof I should now be disherited without reason and right. And when Sir Bors had heard her say thus, he said, I shall comfort you. Sir, said she, I shall tell you, there was here a king that hight Aniause, which held all this land in his keeping. So it mishapped he loved a gentlewoman, a great deal elder than I. So took he her all this land to her keeping, and all his men to govern, and she brought up many evil customs, whereby she put to death a great part of his kinsmen. And when he saw that, he let chase her out of this land, and betook it me, and all this land in my charge: but anon, as that worthy king was dead, this other lady began to war upon me, and hath destroyed many of my men, and turned them against me, that I have well nigh no man left me, and I have nought else but this high tower that she left me. And yet she hath promised me to have this tower, without I can find a knight to fight with her champion. Now tell me, said Sir Bors, what is that Pridam le Noire? Sir, said she, he is the most doubted man of this land.—Now may ye send her word that ye have found a knight that shall fight with that Pridam le Noire in God’s quarrel and yours. Then that lady was not a little glad, and sent word that she was provided. And that night Sir Bors had good cheer, but in no bed he would come, but laid him on the floor, nor never would do otherwise till that he had met with the quest of Sancgreal.
CHAP. VIII.
Of a vision which Sir Bors had that night, and how he fought and overcame his adversary.
And anon as he was asleep, him befell a vision, that there came to him two birds, the one as white as a swan, and the other was marvellous black, but it was not so great as the other, but in the likeness of a raven. Then the white bird came to him, and said, And thou wouldst give me meat and serve me, I should give thee all the riches of the world, and I shall make thee as fair and as white as I am. So the white bird departed, and there came the black bird to him, and said, And thou wilt serve me to-morrow, and have me in no despite, though I be black, for wit thou well that more availeth my blackness, than the other’s whiteness. And then he departed. And he had another vision: him thought that he came to a great place, which seemed a chapel, and there he found a chair set on the left side, which was worm-eaten and feeble. And on the right hand were two flowers like a lily, and the one would have taken the other’s whiteness, but a good man parted them, that the one touched not the other, and then out of every flower came out many flowers, and fruit great plenty. Then him thought the good man said, Should not he do great folly, that would let these two flowers perish for to succour the rotten tree, that it fell not to the earth? Sir, said he, it seemeth me that this wood might not avail. Now keep thee, said the good man, that thou never see such adventure befall thee. Then he awaked and made a sign of the cross in the midst of the forehead, and so rose and clothed him, and there came the lady of the place, and she saluted him, and he her again, and so went to a chapel, and heard their service. And there came a company of knights that the lady had sent for, to lead Sir Bors unto battle. Then asked he his arms. And when he was armed, she prayed him to take a little morsel to dine. Nay, madam, said he, that shall I not do, till I have done my battle, by the grace of God. And so he lept upon his horse, and departed all the knights and men with him. And as soon as these two ladies met together, she which Bors should fight for, complained her, and said, Madam, ye have done me wrong to bereave me of my lands that king Aniause gave me, and full loth I am there should be any battle. Ye shall not choose, said the other lady, or else your knight withdraw him. Then there was the cry made, which party had the better of those two knights, that this lady should enjoy all the land. Now departed the one knight here, and the other there. Then they came together with such force that they pierced their shields and their hauberks, and the spears flew in pieces, and they wounded either other sore. Then hurtled they together so that they fell both to the earth, and their horses betwixt their legs. And anon they arose, and set hands to their swords, and smote each one other upon the heads, that they made great wounds and deep, that the blood went out of their bodies. For there found Sir Bors greater defence in that knight more than he wend. For that Pridam was a passing good knight, and he wounded Sir Bors full evil, and he him again. But ever this Sir Pridam held the stour in like hard. That perceived Sir Bors, and suffered him till he was nigh attaint, and then he ran upon him more and more, and the other went back for dread of death. So in his withdrawing he fell upright, and Sir Bors drew his helm so strongly that he rent it from his head, and gave him great strokes with the flat of his sword upon the visage, and bade him yield him, or he should slay him. Then he cried him mercy, and said, Fair knight, for God’s love slay me not, and I shall ensure thee never to war against thy lady, but be alway toward her. Then Bors let him be. Then the old lady fled with all her knights.
CHAP. IX.
How the lady was restored to her lands by the battle of Sir Bors, and of his departing, and how he met Sir Lionel taken and beaten with thorns, and also of a maid which should have been dishonoured.
So then came Bors to all those that held lands of his lady, and said he should destroy them but if they did such service unto her as belonged to their lands. So they did their homage, and they that would not were chased out of their lands. Then befell that young lady to come to her estate again, by the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de Ganis. So when all the country was well set in peace, then Sir Bors took his leave and departed, and she thanked him greatly, and would have given him great riches, but he refused it. Then he rode all that day till night, and came to an harbour, to a lady which knew him well enough, and made of him great joy. Upon the morn, as soon as the day appeared, Bors departed from thence, and so rode into a forest unto the hour of mid-day, and there befell him a marvellous adventure. So he met at the departing of the two ways two knights, that led Lionel his brother all naked, bounden upon a strong hackney, and his hands bounden tofore his breast: and every each of them held in his hand thorns, wherewith they went beating him so sore that the blood trailed down more than in an hundred places of his body, so that he was all blood tofore and behind, but he said never a word, as he which was great of heart; he suffered all that ever they did to him as though he had felt none anguish. Anon Sir Bors dressed him to rescue him that was his brother: and so he looked upon the other side of him, and saw a knight which brought a fair gentlewoman, and would have set her in the thickest place of the forest, for to have been the more surer out of the way from them that sought him. And she, which was nothing assured, cried with an high voice, Saint Mary, succour your maid!
And anon she espied where Sir Bors came riding. And when she came nigh him, she deemed him a knight of the Round Table, whereof she hoped to have some comfort; and then she conjured him, by the faith that he owed unto Him in whose service thou art entered in, and for the faith ye owe unto the high order of knighthood, and for the noble king Arthur’s sake, that I suppose that made thee knight, that thou help me, and suffer me not to be shamed of this knight!
When Bors heard her say thus, he had so much sorrow there he nist not what to do. For if I let my brother be in adventure he must be slain, and that would I not for all the earth. And if I help not the maid, she is shamed for ever, and also she shall lose her honour, the which she shall never get again. Then lift he up his eyes, and said weeping, Fair sweet Lord Jesu Christ, whose liege man I am, keep Lionel my brother, that these knights slay him not; and for pity of you, and for Mary’s sake, I shall succour this maid.
CHAP. X.
How Sir Bors left to rescue his brother, and rescued the damsel; and how it was told him that Lionel was dead.
Then dressed he him unto the knight the which had the gentlewoman, and then he cried, Sir knight, let your hand off that maiden, or ye be but dead. And then he set down the maiden and was armed at all pieces, save he lacked his spear. Then he dressed his shield, and drew out his sword, and Bors smote him so hard that it went through his shield and haberjon on the left shoulder; and through great strength he beat him down to the earth; and at the pulling out of Bors’ spear there he swooned.
Then came Bors to the maid, and said, How seemeth it you? Of this knight ye be delivered at this time. Now Sir, said she, I pray you lead me there as this knight had me.—So shall I do gladly: and took the horse of the wounded knight, and set the gentlewoman upon him, and so brought her as she desired. Sir knight, said she, ye have better sped than ye weened, for if ye had not saved me five hundred men should have died for it.—What knight was he that had you in the forest?—By my faith, said she, he is my cousin. So wot I never with what craft the fiend enchafed him, for yesterday he took me from my father privily; for I nor none of my father’s men mistrusted him not. And if he had shamed me, he should have died for the sin, and his body shamed and dishonoured for ever. Thus as she stood talking with him, there came twelve knights seeking after her, and anon she told them all how Bors had delivered her; then they made great joy, and besought him to come to her father, a great lord, and he should be right welcome. Truly, said Bors, that may not be at this time, for I have a great adventure to do in this country. So he commended them unto God, and departed. Then Sir Bors rode after Lionel his brother by the trace of their horses. Thus he rode seeking a great while. Then he overtook a man clothed in a religious clothing, and rode on a strong black horse, blacker than a bery, and said, Sir knight, what seek you? Sir, said he, I seek my brother, that I saw within a while beaten with two knights. Ah Bors, discomfort you not, nor fall into no vain hope, for I shall tell you tidings such as they be; for truly he is dead. Then shewed he him a new slain body, lying in a bush, and it seemed him well that it was the body of Lionel. And then he made such a sorrow that he fell to the earth all in a swoon, and lay a great while there. And when he came to himself he said, Fair brother, sith the company of you and me is parted, shall I never have joy in my heart; and now He which I have taken unto my Master, He be my help. And when he had said thus, he took his body lightly in his arms, and put it upon the bow of his saddle. And then he said to the man, Canst thou tell me unto some chapel, where that I may bury this body? Come on, said he, here is one fast by. And so long they rode till they saw a fair tower, and afore it there seemed an old feeble chapel. And then they alight both, and put him into a tomb of marble.
CHAP. XI.
How Sir Bors told his dream to a priest which he had dreamed, and of the counsel that the priest gave to him.
Now leave we him here, said the good man, and go we to harbour till to-morrow, we will come here again to do him service. Sir, said Bors, be ye a priest? Yea, forsooth, said he.—Then I pray you tell me a dream that befell to me the last night.—Say on, said he. Then he began so much to tell him of the great bird in the forest: and after told him of his birds, one white, another black; and of the rotten tree, and of the white flowers. Sir, said the priest, I shall tell you a part now, and the other deal to-morrow. The white fowl betokeneth a gentlewoman, fair and rich, which loveth thee, and hath loved thee long; and if thou refuse her love, she shall go die anon, if thou have no pity on her. That signifieth the great bird, the which shall make thee for to refuse her. Now, for no fear nor for no dread that thou hast of God, thou shalt not refuse her, but thou wouldest not do it for to be holden chaste, for to conquer the praise of the vain-glory of the world; for that shall befall thee now, and thou refuse her, that Launcelot, the good knight thy cousin, shall die. And therefore men shall now say that thou art a manslayer, both of thy brother Sir Lionel, and of thy cousin Sir Launcelot du Lake, the which thou mightest have saved and rescued full easily. But thou weenedst to rescue a maid, which pertained nothing to thee. Now look thou whether it had been greater harm of thy brother’s death, or else to have suffered her for to have lost her honour. Then asked he him, Hast thou heard the tokens of thy dream, the which I have told to you? Yea forsooth, said Sir Bors, all your exposition and declaring of my dream I have well understood and heard. Then said the man in this black clothing, Then is it in thy default if Sir Launcelot thy cousin die. Sir, said Bors, that were me loth; for wit ye well there is nothing in the world but I had lever do it than to see my lord Sir Launcelot du Lake to die in my default. Choose ye now the one or the other, said the good man. And then he led Sir Bors into an high tower, and there he found knights and ladies. Those ladies said he was welcome, and so they unarmed him. And when he was in his doublet, men brought him a mantle furred with ermine, and put it about him, and then they made him such cheer that he had forgotten all his sorrow and anguish, and only set his heart in these delights and dainties, and took no more thought for his brother Sir Lionel, neither of Sir Launcelot du Lake his cousin. And anon came out of a chamber to him the fairest lady that ever he saw, and more richer beseen than ever he saw queen Guenever, or any other estate. Lo! said they, Sir Bors, here is the lady unto whom we all owe our service, and I trow she be the richest lady, and the fairest of all the world, and the which loveth you best above all other knights, for she will have no knight but you. And when he understood that language, he was abashed. Not for then she saluted him, and he her; and then they sat down together, and spake of many things, insomuch that she besought him to be her love, for she had loved him above all earthly men, and she should make him richer than ever was man of his age. When Sir Bors understood her words he was right evil at ease, which in no manner would not break chastity, so wist not he how to answer her.
CHAP. XII.
How the devil in a woman’s likeness would have tempted Sir Bors, and how by God’s grace he escaped.
Alas! said she, Bors, shall ye not do my will? Madam, said Sir Bors, there is no lady in this world whose will I will fulfil as of this thing, for my brother lieth dead which was slain right late. Ah, Bors, said she, I have loved you long for the great beauty I have seen in you, and great hardiness I have heard of you, that needs ye must give me your love, and, therefore, I pray you grant it me. Truly, said he, I shall not do it in no manner of wise. Then she made him such sorrow as though she would have died. Well, Bors, said she, unto this have ye brought me nigh to mine end. And therewith she took him by the hand, and bade him behold her,—And ye shall see how I shall die for your love. Ah, said then he, that shall I never see. Then she departed, and went up into a high battlement, and led with her twelve gentlewomen: and when they were above, one of the gentlewomen cried and said, Ah, Sir Bors, gentle knight, have mercy on us all, and suffer my lady to have her will: and if ye do not, we must suffer death with our lady, for to fall down off this high tower. And if ye suffer us thus to die for so little a thing, all ladies and gentlewomen will say of you dishonour. Then looked he upward: they seemed all ladies of great estate and richly and well beseen. Then had he of them great pity: not for that he was un-counselled within himself, that lever he had they all had lost their souls than he is: and with that they fell adown all at once unto the earth. And when he saw that, he was all abashed, and had thereof great marvel. With that he blessed his body and his visage; and anon he heard a great noise and a great cry, as though all the fiends of hell had been about him, and therewith he saw neither tower, ne lady, ne gentlewoman, nor no chapel where he brought his brother to. Then held he up both his hands to the heaven, and said, Fair Father God, I am grievously escaped. And then he took his arms and his horse, and rode on his way. Then he heard a clock smite on his right hand, and thither he came to an abbey on his right hand, closed with high walls, and there was let in. Then they supposed that he was one of the quest of the Sancgreal. So they led him into a chamber, and unarmed him. Sirs, said Sir Bors, if there be any holy man in this house, I pray you let me speak with him. Then one of them led him unto the abbot, which was in a chapel. And then Sir Bors saluted him, and he him again. Sir, said Bors, I am a knight errant, and told him all the adventure which he had seen. Sir knight, said the abbot, I wot not what ye be, for I wend never that a knight of your age might have been so strong in the grace of our Lord Jesu Christ. Not for then ye shall go unto your rest, for I will not counsel you this day, it is too late, and to-morrow I shall counsel you as I can.
CHAP. XIII.
Of the holy communication of an abbot to Sir Bors, and how the abbot counselled him.
And that night was Sir Bors served richly, and on the morn early he heard mass, and the abbot came to him and bad him good morrow, and Bors to him again. And then he told him he was a fellow of the quest of the Sancgreal, and how he had charge of the holy man to eat bread and water. Then [said the abbot] our Lord Jesu Christ shewed Him unto you, in the likeness of a soul that suffered great anguish for us since He was put upon the cross, and bled His heart blood for mankind: there was the token and the likeness of the Sancgreal that appeared afore you, for the blood that the great fowl bled revived the chickens from death to life. And by the bare tree is betokened the world, which is naked and without fruit, but if it come of our Lord. Also the lady for whom ye fought for, and king Aniause, which was lord there tofore, betokeneth Jesu Christ, which is the King of the world; and that ye fought with the champion for the lady, this it betokeneth: for when ye took the battle for the lady, by her ye shall understand the new law of Jesu Christ and holy Church; and by the other lady ye shall understand the old law and the fiend, which all day warreth against holy Church, therefore ye did your battle with right. For ye be Jesu Christ’s knights, therefore ye ought to be defenders of holy Church. And by the black bird might ye understand the holy Church, which saith I am black, but he is fair. And by the white bird might men understand the fiend. And I shall tell you how the swan is white without forth, and black within; it is hypocrisy which is without yellow or pale, and seemeth without forth the servants of Jesu Christ, but they be within so horrible of filth and sin, and beguile the world evil. Also when the fiend appeared to thee in likeness of a man of religion, and blamed thee that thou left thy brother for a lady, so led thee where thou seemed thy brother was slain, but he is yet on live, and all was for to put thee in error, and bring thee unto vain hope and lechery, for he knew thou were tender hearted, and all was for thou shouldest not find the blessed adventure of the Sancgreal. And the third fowl betokeneth the strong battle against the fair ladies which were all devils. Also the dry tree, and the white lily:—the dry tree betokeneth thy brother Sir Lionel, which is dry without virtue, and therefore many men ought to call him the rotten tree, and the worm-eaten tree, for he is a murderer and doth contrary to the order of knighthood. And the two white flowers signify two maidens, the one is a knight which was wounded the other day, and the other is the gentlewoman which ye rescued; and why the other flower drew nigh the other, that was the knight which would have dishonoured her, and himself both. And, Sir Bors, ye had been a great fool, and in great peril, to have seen those two flowers perish for to succour the rotten tree, for and they had sinned together they had been damned: and for that ye rescued them both, men might call you a very knight and servant of Jesu Christ.
CHAP. XIV.
How Sir Bors met with his brother Sir Lionel, and how Sir Lionel would have slain Sir Bors.
Then went Sir Bors from thence, and commended the abbot unto God. And then he rode all that day, and harboured with an old lady. And on the morn he rode to a castle in a valley, and there he met with a yeoman going a great pace toward a forest. Say me, said Sir Bors, canst thou tell me of any adventure? Sir, said he, here shall be under this castle a great and a marvellous tournament. Of what folks shall it be? said Sir Bors. The earl of Plains (said he) shall be on the one party, and the lady’s nephew of Hervin on the other party. Then Bors thought to be there, if he might meet with his brother Sir Lionel, or any other of his fellowship which were in the quest of the Sancgreal. And then he turned to an hermitage that was in the entry of the forest. And when he was come thither, he found there Sir Lionel his brother, which sat all armed at the entry of the chapel door, for to abide there harbour till on the morn that the tournament shall be. And when Sir Bors saw him he had great joy of him, that was it marvel to tell of his joy. And then he alight off his horse and said, Fair sweet brother, when came ye hither? Anon as Sir Lionel saw him he said, Ah Bors, ye may not make none avaunt, but, as for you, I might have been slain; when ye saw two knights leading me away, beating me, ye left me to succour a gentlewoman, and suffered me in peril of death: for never erst ne did no brother to another so great an untruth. And for that misdeed now I ensure you but death, for well have ye deserved it; therefore keep thee from henceforward, and that shall ye find as soon as I am armed. When Sir Bors understood his brother’s wrath, he kneeled down to the earth, and cried him mercy, holding up both his hands, and prayed him to forgive him his evil will. Nay, said Lionel, that shall never be, and I may have the higher hand, that I make mine avow to God: thou shalt have death for it, for it were pity ye lived any longer. Right so he went in, and took his harness, and mounted upon his horse, and came tofore him and said, Bors, keep thee from me, for I shall do to thee as I would to a felon or a traitor, for ye be the untruest knight that ever came out of so worthy an house as was king Bors de Ganis, which was our father; therefore start upon thy horse, and so shall ye be most at your advantage. And but if ye will, I will run upon thee there as ye stand upon foot, and so the shame shall be mine and the harm yours; but of that shame reck I nought. When Sir Bors saw that he must fight with his brother or else to die, he nist not what to do. Then his heart counselled him not thereto, in as much as Lionel was born or he, wherefore he ought to bear him reverence; yet kneeled he down afore Lionel’s horse feet, and said, Fair sweet brother, have mercy upon me and slay me not, and have in remembrance the great love which ought to be between us twain. What Sir Bors said to Lionel he recked not, for the fiend had brought him in such a will that he should slay him. Then when Lionel saw he would none other, and that he would not have risen to give him battle, he rushed over him, so that he smote Bors with his horse feet upward to the earth, and hurt him so sore that he swooned of distress, the which he felt in himself to have died without confession. So when Lionel saw this, he alight off his horse, to have smitten off his head. And so he took him by the helm, and would have rent it from his head. Then came the hermit running unto him, which was a good man and of great age, and well had he heard all the words that were between them, and so fell down upon Sir Bors.
CHAP. XV.
How Sir Colgrevance fought against Sir Lionel for to save Sir Bors, and how the hermit was slain.
Then he said to Lionel, Ah, gentle knight, have mercy upon me and on thy brother, for if thou slay him thou shalt be dead of sin, and that were sorrowful; for he is one of the worthiest knights of the world, and of the best conditions. So God me help, said Lionel, Sir priest, but if ye flee from him I shall slay you, and he shall never the sooner be quit. Certes, said the good man, I had lever ye slay me than him, for my death shall not be great harm, not half so much as of his. Well, said Lionel, I am agreed; and set his hand to his sword, and smote him so hard that his head went backward. Not for that he restrained him of his evil will, but took his brother by the helm, and unlaced it to have stricken off his head, and had slain him without fail, but so it happed, Colgrevance, a fellow of the Round Table, came at that time thither, as our Lord’s will was. And when he saw the good man slain, he marvelled much what it might be. And then he beheld Lionel would have slain his brother, and knew Sir Bors which he loved right well. Then start he down and took Lionel by the shoulders, and drew him strongly aback from Bors, and said, Lionel, will ye slay your brother, the worthiest knight of the world one? and that should no good man suffer. Why, said Sir Lionel, will ye let me? therefore if ye intermit you in this, I shall slay you, and him after. Why, said Colgrevance, is this sooth, that ye will slay him? Slay him will I, said he, who so say the contrary; for he hath done so much against me that he hath well deserved it; and so ran upon him, and would have smitten him through the head; and Sir Colgrevance ran betwixt them and said, And ye be so hardy to do so mote, we two shall meddle together. When Lionel understood his words, he took his shield afore him, and asked him what he was; and he told him Colgrevance, one of his fellows. Then Lionel defied him, and gave him a great stroke through the helm. Then he drew his sword, for he was a passing good knight, and defended him right manfully. So long endured the battle that Sir Bors rose up all anguishly, and beheld Sir Colgrevance, the good knight, fight with his brother for his quarrel. Then was he full sorry and heavy, and thought, if Colgrevance slew him that was his brother he should never have joy, and if his brother slew Colgrevance the shame should ever be his. Then would he have risen to have departed them but he had not so much might to stand on foot: so he abode him so long till Colgrevance had the worse, for Sir Lionel was of great chivalry and right hardy, for he had pierced the hauberk and the helm, that he abode but death. For he had lost much of his blood, that it was marvel that he might stand upright. Then beheld he Sir Bors, which sat dressing him upward, and said, Ah Bors, why come ye not to cast me out of peril of death, wherein I have put me to succour you, which were right now nigh the death? Certes, said Lionel, that shall not avail you, for none of you shall bear other’s warrant, but that ye shall die both of my hand. When Bors heard that, he did so much he rose and put on his helm. Then perceived he first the hermit priest which was slain, then made he a marvellous sorrow upon him.
CHAP. XVI.
How Sir Lionel slew Sir Colgrevance, and how after he would have slain Sir Bors.
Then oft Colgrevance cried upon Sir Bors, Why will ye let me die here for your sake? if it please you that I die for you the death, it will please me the better for to save a worthy man. With that word Sir Lionel smote off the helm from his head. Then Colgrevance saw that he might not escape; then he said, Fair sweet Jesu, that I have misdone have mercy upon my soul; for such sorrow that my heart suffereth for goodness, and for alms deed that I would have done here, be to me aligement of penance unto my soul’s health. At these words Lionel smote him so sore that he bare him to the earth. So when he had slain Colgrevance, he ran upon his brother as a fiendly man, and gave him such a stroke that he made him stoop; and he, that was full of humility, prayed him, for God’s love to leave this battle: For and it befell, fair brother, that I slew you, or ye me, we should be dead of that sin. Never God me help but if I have on you mercy, and I may have the better hand. Then drew Bors his sword, all weeping, and said, Fair brother, God knoweth mine intent. Ah, fair brother, ye have done full evil this day to slay such an holy priest, the which never trespassed. Also ye have slain a gentle knight, and one of our fellows. And well wot ye that I am not afeard of you greatly, but I dread the wrath of God; and this is an unkindly war, therefore God shew miracle upon us both. Now God have mercy upon me, though I defend my life against my brother. With that Bors lift up his hand, and would have smitten his brother.
CHAP. XVII.
How there came a voice which charged Sir Bors to touch not him, and of a cloud that came between them.
And then he heard a voice that said, Flee, Bors, and touch him not, or else thou shalt slay him. Right so alight a cloud betwixt them in likeness of a fire, and a marvellous flame, that both their two shields burnt. Then were they sore afraid, that they fell both to the earth, and lay there a great while in a swoon. And when they came to themselves, Bors saw that his brother had no harm: then he held up both his hands, for he dread God had taken vengeance upon him. With that he heard a voice say, Bors, go hence and bear thy brother no longer fellowship, but take thy way anon right to the sea, for Sir Percivale abideth thee there. Then he said to his brother, Fair sweet brother, forgive me, for God’s love, all that I have trespassed unto you. Then he answered, God forgive it thee, and I do gladly. So Sir Bors departed from him, and rode the next way to the sea. And at the last, by fortune he came to an abbey which was nigh the sea. That night Bors rested him there, and in his sleep there came a voice to him, and bad him go to the sea; then he start up, and made a sign of the cross in the midst of his forehead, and took his harness, and made ready his horse, and mounted upon him. And at a broken wall he rode out, and rode so long till that he came to the sea. And on the strand he found a ship covered all with white samite. And he alight, and betook him to Jesu Christ. And as soon as he entered into the ship, the ship departed into the sea, and went so fast that him seemed the ship went flying, but it was soon dark, so that he might know no man, and so he slept till it was day. Then he awaked, and saw in the midst of the ship a knight lie, all armed save his helm. Then knew he that it was Sir Percivale of Wales, and then he made of him right great joy. But Sir Percivale was abashed of him, and he asked him what he was. Ah, fair sir, said Bors, know ye me not? Certes, said he, I marvel how ye came hither, but if our Lord brought you hither himself: then Sir Bors smiled, and did off his helm. Then Percivale knew him, and either made great joy of other, that it was marvel to hear. Then Bors told him how he came into the ship, and by whose admonishment. And either told other of their temptations, as ye have heard toforehand. So went they downward in the sea, one while backward another while forward, and every each comforted other, and oft were in their prayers. Then said Sir Percivale, We lack nothing but Galahad the good knight.
And thus endeth the syxteenth book whiche is of syre Gawayne, Ector de marys, and syre Bors de ganys and sir percyual.
And here foloweth the seuententh book which is of the noble knyghte syre Galahad.
The Seventeenth Book
CHAP. I.
How Sir Galahad fought at a tournament, and how he was known of Sir Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris.
Now saith this story, when Galahad had rescued Percivale from the twenty knights, he rode then into a vast forest, wherein he rode many journeys, and he found many adventures, the which he brought to an end, whereof the story maketh here no mention. Then he took his way to the sea on a day, and it befell as he passed by a castle where was a wonder tournament, but they without had done so much that they within were put to the worse, yet were they within good knights enough. When Galahad saw that those within were at so great a mischief that men slew them at the entry of the castle, then he thought to help them, and put a spear forth, and smote the first that he fell to the earth, and the spear brake to pieces. Then he drew his sword, and smote there as they were thickest, and so he did wonderful deeds of arms, that all they marvelled. Then it happed that Gawaine and Sir Ector de Maris were with the knights without; but when they espied the white shield with the red cross, the one said to the other, Yonder is the good knight Sir Galahad the haut prince: now he should be a great fool which should meet with him to fight. So by adventure he came by Sir Gawaine, and he smote him so hard that he clave his helm, and the coif of iron unto his head, so that Gawaine fell to the earth: but the stroke was so great, that it slanted down to the earth, and carved the horse shoulder in two. When Ector saw Gawaine down, he drew him aside, and thought it no wisdom for to abide him, and also for natural love, that he was his uncle. Thus through his great hardiness he beat aback all the knights without. And then they within came out and chased them all about. But when Galahad saw there would none turn again, he stole away privily, so that none wist where he was become. Now by my head, said Gawaine to Ector, now are the wonders true that were said of Launcelot du Lake, that the sword which stuck in the stone should give me such a buffet that I would not have it for the best castle in this world, and soothly now it is proved true, for never before had I such a stroke of man’s hand. Sir, said Ector, me seemeth your quest is done. And yours is not done, said Gawaine, but mine is done; I shall seek no further. Then Gawaine was borne into a castle, and unarmed him, and laid him in a rich bed, and a leech found that he might live, and to be whole within a month. Thus Gawaine and Ector abode together. For Sir Ector would not away till Gawaine were whole. And the good knight Galahad rode so long till he came that night to the castle of Carboneck; and it befell him thus that he was benighted in an hermitage. So the good man was fain when he saw he was a knight errant. Then when they were at rest, there came a gentlewoman knocking at the door, and called Galahad, and so the good man came to the door to wit what she would. Then she called the hermit, Sir Ulfin, I am a gentlewoman that would speak with the knight that is with you. Then the good man awaked Galahad, and bad him arise, and speak with a gentlewoman that seemeth hath great need of you. Then Galahad went to her, and asked her what she would. Galahad, said she, I will that ye arm you, and mount upon your horse, and follow me, for I shall shew you within these three days the highest adventure that ever any knight saw. Anon Galahad armed him, and took his horse and commended him to God, and bad the gentlewoman go, and he would follow there as she liked.
CHAP. II.
How Sir Galahad rode with a damsel, and came to the ship whereas Sir Bors and Sir Percivale were in.
So she rode as fast as her palfrey might bear her, till that she came to the sea the which was called Collibe. And at the night they came unto a castle in a valley, was closed with a running water, and with strong walls and high. And so she entered into the castle with Galahad, and there had he great cheer, for the lady of that castle was the damsel’s lady. So when he was unarmed, then said the damsel, Madam, shall we abide here all this day? Nay, said she, but till he hath dined, and till he hath slept a little. So he eat and slept a while, till that the maid called him, and armed him by torchlight. And when the maid was horsed, and he both, the lady took Galahad a fair child and rich, and so they departed from the castle, till they came to the sea-side, and there they found the ship where Bors and Percivale were in, the which cried on the ship’s board, Sir Galahad, ye be welcome, we have abiden you long. And when he heard them, he asked them what they were. Sir, said she, leave your horse here, and I shall leave mine; and took their saddles and their bridles with them, and made a cross on them, and so entered into the ship. And the two knights received them both with great joy, and every each knew other. And so the wind arose, and drove them through the sea in a marvellous place. And within a while it dawned. Then did Galahad off his helm and his sword, and asked of his fellows from whence came that fair ship. Truly, said they, ye wot as well as we, but of God’s grace. And then they told every each to other of all their hard adventures, and of their great temptation. Truly, said Galahad, ye are much bounden to God, for ye have escaped great adventures: and had not the gentlewoman been I had not come here; for as for you, I wend never to have found you in these strange countries. Ah, Galahad, said Bors, if Launcelot your father were here then were we well at ease, for then me seemeth we failed nothing. That may not be, said Galahad, but if it please our Lord. By then the ship went from the land of Logris, and by adventure it arrived up betwixt two rocks passing great and marvellous, but there they might not land, for there was a swallow of the sea, save there was another ship, and upon it they might go without danger. Go we thither, said the gentlewoman, and there shall we see adventures, for so is our Lord’s will. And when they came thither, they found the ship rich enough, but they found neither man nor woman therein. But they found in the end of the ship two fair letters written, which said a dreadful word and a marvellous:—Thou man which shall enter into this ship, beware thou be in steadfast belief, for I am Faith; and therefore beware how thou enterest, for and thou fail I shall not help thee. Then said the gentlewoman, Percivale, wot ye what I am? Certes, said he, nay, to my witting. Wit you well, said she, that I am thy sister, which am daughter of king Pellinore. And therefore wit ye well ye are the man in the world that I most love. And if ye be not in perfect belief of Jesu Christ, enter not in no manner of wise, for then should ye perish in the ship, for he is so perfect he will suffer no sin in him. When Percivale understood that she was his very sister, he was inwardly glad, and said, Fair sister, I shall enter therein, for if I be a mis-creature, or an untrue knight, there shall I perish.
CHAP. III.
How Sir Galahad entered into the ship, and of a fair bed therein, with other marvellous things, and of a sword.
In the mean while Galahad blessed him and entered therein, and then next the gentlewoman, and then Sir Bors and Sir Percivale. And when they were therein, it was so marvellous fair and rich that they marvelled. And in the midst of the ship was a fair bed, and Sir Galahad went thereto, and found there a crown of silk. And at the feet was a sword rich and fair, and it was drawn out of the sheath half a foot and more, and the sword was of divers fashions, and the pommel was of stone, and there was in him all manner of colours that any man might find, and every each of the colours had divers virtues, and the scales of the haft were of two ribs of divers beasts. The one beast was a serpent, which was conversant in Calidone, and is called the serpent of the fiend. And the bone of him is of such a virtue, that there is no hand that handleth him shall never be weary nor hurt: and the other beast is a fish, which is not right great, and haunteth the flood of Eufrates; and that fish is called Ertanax, and his bones be of such a manner of kind, that who that handleth them shall have so much will that he shall never be weary, and he shall not think on joy nor sorrow that he hath had, but only that thing that he beholdeth before him. And as for this sword there shall never man begripe it at the handle but one, but he shall pass all other. In the name of God, said Percivale, I shall essay to handle it. So he set his hand to the sword, but he might not begripe it. By my faith, said he, now have I failed. Bors set his hand thereto and failed. Then Galahad beheld the sword, and saw the letters like blood, that said, Let see who shall assay to draw me out of my sheath, but if he be more hardier than other, and who that draweth me, wit ye well that he shall never fail of shame of his body, or to be wounded to the death. By my faith, said Galahad, I would draw this sword out of the sheath, but the offending is so great, that I shall not set my hand thereto. Now sir, said the gentlewoman, wit ye well that the drawing of this sword is forbidden to all men, save all only unto you. Also this ship arrived in the realm of Logris, and that time was deadly war between king Labor, which was father unto the maimed king, and king Hurlame, which was a Saracen. But then was he newly christened, so that men held him afterwards one of the wittiest men of the world. And so upon a day it befell that king Labor and king Hurlame had assembled their folk upon the sea, where this ship was arrived, and there king Hurlame was discomfit, and his men slain, and he was afeard to be dead, and fled to his ship, and there found this sword, and drew it, and came out and found king Labor, the man in the world of all Christendom in whom was then the greatest faith. And when king Hurlame saw king Labor, he dressed this sword, and smote him upon the helm so hard, that he clave him and his horse to the earth with the first stroke of his sword. And it was in the realm of Logris; and so befell great pestilence and great harm to both realms. For sithen increased neither corn nor grass, nor well nigh no fruit, nor in the water was no fish, wherefore men call it the lands of the two marches, the waste land, for that dolorous stroke. And when king Hurlame saw this sword so carving, he turned again to fetch the scabbard: and so came into this ship, and entered, and put up the sword in the sheath. And as soon as he had done it, he fell down dead afore the bed. Thus was the sword proved, that none ne drew it but he were dead or maimed. So lay he there till a maiden came into the ship, and cast him out, for there was no man so hardy of the world to enter into that ship for the defence.
CHAP. IV.
Of the marvels of the sword and of the scabbard.
And then beheld they the scabbard; it seemed to be of a serpent’s skin. And thereon were letters of gold and silver. And the girdle was but poorly to come to, and not able to sustain such a rich sword, and the letters said: He which shall wield me, ought to be more harder than any other, if he bear me as truly as I ought to be borne. For the body of him which I ought to hang by, he shall not be shamed in no place while he is gird with this girdle, nor never none be so hardy to do away this girdle for it ought not to be done away, but by the hands of a maid, and that she be a king’s daughter, and queen’s, and she must be a maid all the days of her life, both in will and in deed; and if she break her virginity, she shall die the most villainous death that ever did any woman. Sir, said Percivale, turn this sword, that we may see what is on the other side. And it was red as blood, with black letters as any coal, which said, He that shall praise me most, most shall he find me to blame at a great need, and to whom I should be most debonair shall I be most felon, and that shall be at one time. Fair brother, said she to Percivale, it befell about a forty year after the passion of Jesu Christ, that Nacien, the brother-in-law of king Mordrains, was borne into a town more than fourteen days’ journey from his country, by the commandment of our Lord, into an isle, into the parts of the west, that men call the Isle of Turnance. So befell it that he found this ship at the entry of a rock, and he found the bed, and this sword, as we have heard now. Not for then he had not so much hardiness to draw it: and there he dwelled an eight days, and at the ninth day there fell a great wind which departed him out of the isle, and brought him to another isle by a rock, and there he found the greatest giant that ever man might see. Therewith came that horrible giant to slay him, and then he looked about him, and might not fly, and he had nothing to defend him with. So he ran to his sword, and when he saw it naked he praised it much, and then he shook it, and therewith he brake it in the midst. Ah, said Nacien, the thing I most praised ought I now most to blame. And therewith he threw the pieces of his sword over his bed. And after he lept over the board to fight with the giant, and slew him. And anon he entered into the ship again, and the wind arose, and drove him through the sea, that by adventure he came to another ship where king Mordrains was, which had been tempted full evil with a fiend in the port of perilous rock. And when that one saw the other they made great joy of other, and either told other of their adventure, and how the sword failed him at his most need. When Mordrains saw the sword he praised it much,—but the breaking was not to do but by wickedness of thyselfward, for thou art in some sin:—and there he took the sword, and set the pieces together, and they soldered as fair as ever they were tofore; and there he put the sword in the sheath, and laid it down on the bed. Then heard they a voice that said, Go out of this ship a little while, and enter into the other, for dread ye fall in deadly sin; for, and ye be found in deadly sin, ye may not escape but perish. And so they went into the other ship. And as Nacien went over the board, he was smitten with a sword on the right foot, that he fell down noseling to the ship’s board, and therewith he said, O God, how am I hurt. And then there came a voice and said, Take thou that for thy forfeit that thou didst in drawing of this sword, therefore thou receivest a wound, for thou were never worthy to handle it, as the writing maketh mention. In the name of God, said Galahad, ye are right wise of these works.
CHAP. V.
How king Pelles was smitten through both thighs because he drew the sword, and other marvellous histories.
Sir, said she, there was a king that hight Pelles the maimed king. And while he might ride, he supported much Christendom, and holy Church. So upon a day he hunted in a wood of his which lasted unto the sea, and at the last he lost his hounds and his knights, save only one: and there he and his knight went till that they came toward Ireland, and there he found the ship. And when he saw the letters and understood them, yet he entered, for he was right perfect of his life: but his knight had none hardiness to enter, and there found he this sword, and drew it out as much as ye may see. So therewith entered a spear, wherewith he was smitten him through both the thighs, and never sith might he be healed, nor nought shall tofore we come to him. Thus, said she, was king Pelles, your grandsire, maimed for his hardiness. In the name of God, damsel, said Galahad. So they went toward the bed to behold all about it, and above the head there hung two swords. Also there were two spindles which were as white as any snow, and other that were as red as blood, and other above green as any emerald: of these three colours were the spindles, and of natural colour within, and without any painting. These spindles, said the damsel, were when sinful Eve came to gather fruit, for which Adam and she were put out of paradise, she took with her the bough on which the apple hung on. Then perceived she that the branch was fair and green, and she remembered her the loss which came from the tree. Then she thought to keep the branch as long as she might. And for she had no coffer to keep it in, she put it in the earth. So by the will of our Lord the branch grew to a great tree within a little while, and was as white as any snow, branches, boughs, and leaves, that was a token a maiden planted it. But after the tree which was white became green as any grass, and all that came out of it. And in the same time there was Abel begotten; thus was the tree long of green colour. And so it befell many days after, under the same tree Cain slew Abel, whereof befell great marvel. For anon as Abel had received the death under the green tree, it lost the green colour and became red, and that was in tokening of the blood. And anon all the plants died thereof, but the tree grew and waxed marvellously fair, and it was the fairest tree and the most delectable that any man might behold and see, and so died the plants that grew out of it tofore the time that Abel was slain under it. So long endured the tree till that Solomon king David’s son reigned, and held the land after his father. This Solomon was wise, and knew all the virtues of stones and trees, and so he knew the course of the stars, and many other diverse things.
This Solomon had an evil wife, where through he wend that there had never been no good woman, and so he despised them in his books. So answered a voice him once, Solomon, if heaviness come to a man by a woman, ne reck thou never. For yet shall there come a woman whereof there shall come greater joy unto man an hundred times more than this heaviness giveth sorrow, and that woman shall be born of thy lineage. Then when Solomon heard these words, he held himself but a fool, and the truth he perceived by old books. Also the Holy Ghost shewed him the coming of the glorious Virgin Mary. Then asked he of the voice if it should be in the end of his lineage. Nay, said the voice, but there shall come a man which shall be a maid, and the last of your blood, and he shall be as good a knight as duke Josua thy brother-in-law.
CHAP. VI.
How Solomon took David’s sword by the counsel of his wife, and of other matters marvellous.
Now have I certified thee of that thou stoodst in doubt. Then was Solomon glad that there should come any such of his lineage, but ever he marvelled and studied who that should be, and what his name might be. His wife perceived that he studied, and thought that she would know it at some season, and so she waited her time, and asked of him the cause of his studying, and there he told her altogether how the voice told him. Well, said she, I shall let make a ship of the best wood and most durable that men may find. So Solomon sent for all the carpenters of the land and the best. And when they had made the ship, the lady said to Solomon, Sir, said she, since it is so that this knight ought to pass all other knights of chivalry which have been tofore him, and shall come after him, moreover I shall tell you, said she, ye shall go into our Lord’s temple, whereas is king David’s sword, your father, the which is the marvellousest and sharpest that ever was taken in any knight’s hand. Therefore take that, and take off the pommel, and thereto make ye a pommel of precious stones, that it be so subtilly made that no man perceive it but that they be all one. And after make there an hilt so marvellously and wonderly that no man may know it. And after make a marvellous sheath. And when ye have made all this, I shall let make a girdle thereto, such as shall please me. All this king Solomon did let make as she devised, both the ship and all the remnant. And when the ship was ready in the sea to sail, the lady let make a great bed, and marvellous rich, and set her upon the bed’s head covered with silk, and laid the sword at the feet, and the girdles were of hemp, and therewith the king was angry. Sir, wit ye well, said she, that I have none so high a thing which were worthy to sustain so high a sword, and a maid shall bring other knights thereto, but I wot not when it shall be, nor what time. And there she let make a covering to the ship, of cloth of silk that should never rot for no manner of weather. Yet went that lady, and made a carpenter to come to the tree which Abel was slain under. Now, said she, carve me out of this tree as much wood as will make me a spindle. Ah, madam, said he, this is the tree the which our first mother planted. Do it, said she, or else I shall destroy thee. Anon as he began to work there came out drops of blood, and then would he have left, but she would not suffer him, and so he took away as much wood as might make a spindle, and so she made him to take as much of the green tree, and of the white tree. And when these three spindles were shapen, she made them to be fastened upon the ceiling of the bed. When Solomon saw this, he said to his wife, Ye have done marvellously, for though all the world were here right now, they could not devise wherefore all this was made, but our Lord himself, and thou that hast done it wotest not what it shall betoken. Now let it be, said she, for ye shall hear tidings sooner than ye ween.
Now shall ye hear a wonderful tale of king Solomon and his wife.
CHAP. VII.
A wonderful tale of king Solomon and his wife.
That night lay Solomon before the ship with little fellowship. And when he was on sleep, him thought there came from heaven a great company of angels, and alight into the ship, and took water which was brought by an angel in a vessel of silver, and sprinkled all the ship. And after he came to the sword and drew letters on the hilt. And after went to the ship’s board, and wrote there other letters, which said: Thou man that wilt enter within me, beware that thou be full within the faith, for I ne am but faith and belief. When Solomon espied these letters he was abashed, so that he durst not enter, and so drew him aback, and the ship was anon shoven in the sea, and he went so fast that he lost sight of him within a little while. And then a little voice said, Solomon, the last knight of thy lineage shall rest in this bed. Then went Solomon and awaked his wife, and told her of the adventures of the ship.
Now saith the history, that a great while the three fellows beheld the bed and the three spindles. Then they were at certain that they were of natural colours, without painting. Then they lift up a cloth which was above the ground, and there they found a rich purse by seeming. And Percivale took it, and found therein a writ, and so he read it, and devised the manner of the spindles, and of the ship, whence it came, and by whom it was made. Now, said Galahad, where shall we find the gentlewoman that shall make new girdles to the sword. Fair sir, said Percivale’s sister, dismay you not, for by the leave of God I shall let make a girdle to the sword, such one as shall belong thereto. And then she opened a box, and took out girdles which were seemly wrought with golden threads, and upon that were set full precious stones, and a rich buckle of gold. Lo lords, said she, here is a girdle that ought to be set about the sword. And wit ye well the greatest part of this girdle was made of my hair, which I loved well while that I was a woman of the world. But as soon as I wist that this adventure was ordained me, I clipped off my hair and made this girdle in the name of God. Ye be well found, said Sir Bors, for certes you have put us out of great pain, wherein we should have entered ne had your tidings been. Then went the gentlewoman and set it on the girdle of the sword. Now, said the fellowship, what is the name of the sword, and what shall we call it? Truly, said she, the name of the sword is, the sword with the strange girdles, and the sheath, mover of blood; for no man that hath blood in him shall never see the one part of the sheath which was made of the tree of life. Then they said to Galahad, In the name of Jesu Christ, and pray you that ye gird you with this sword, which hath been desired so much in the realm of Logris. Now let me begin, said Galahad, to gripe this sword for to give you courage: but wit ye well it belongeth no more to me then it doth to you. And then he griped about it with his fingers a great deal. And then she girt him about the middle with the sword:—Now reck I not though I die, for now I hold me one of the blessed maidens of the world, which hath made the worthiest knight of the world. Damsel, said Galahad, ye have done so much that I shall be your knight all the days of my life. Then they went from that ship, and went to the other. And anon the wind drove them into the sea a great pace, but they had no victual: but it befell that they came on the morn to a castle that men call Carteloise, that was in the marches of Scotland. And when they had passed the port, the gentlewoman said, Lords, here be men arriven that, and they wist that ye were of king Arthur’s court, ye should be assailed anon. Damsel, said Galahad, he that cast us out of the rock shall deliver us from them.
CHAP. VIII.
How Galahad and his fellows came to a castle, and how they were fought withal, and how they slew their adversaries, and other matters.
So it befell, as they spake thus there came a squire by them, and asked what they were. And they said they were of king Arthur’s house. Is that sooth? said he. Now by my head, said he, ye be ill arrayed; and then turned he again unto the cliff fortress. And within a while they heard a horn blow. Then a gentlewoman came to them, and asked them of whence they were, and they told her. Fair lords, said she, for God’s love turn again if ye may, for ye be come unto your death. Nay, they said, we will not turn again, for He shall help us in whose service we be entered in. Then as they stood talking, there came knights well armed, and bad them yield them, or else to die. That yielding, said they, shall be noyous to you; and therewith they let their horses run, and Sir Percivale smote the foremost to the earth, and took his horse and mounted thereupon, and the same did Galahad. Also Sir Bors served another so. For they had no horses in that country, for they left their horses when they took their ship in other countries. And so when they were horsed then began they to set upon them. And they of the castle fled into the strong fortress, and the three knights after them, into the castle, and so alight on foot, and with their swords slew them down, and gat into the hall. Then when they beheld the great multitude of people they had slain, they held themselves great sinners. Certes, said Bors, I ween and God had loved them that we should not have had power to have slain them thus but they have done so much against our Lord that he will not suffer them to reign no longer. Say ye not so, said Galahad, for if they misdid against God the vengeance is not ours, but to Him which hath power thereof. So came there out of a chamber a good man which was a priest, and bear God’s body in a cup. And when he saw them which lay dead in the hall, he was all abashed. And Galahad did off his helm and kneeled down, and so did his two fellows. Sir, said they, have ye no dread of us, for we be of king Arthur’s court. Then asked the good man how they were slain so suddenly; and they told it him. Truly, said the good man, and ye might live as long as the world might endure, never might ye have done so great an alms-deed as this. Sir, said Galahad, I repent me much, inasmuch as they were christened. Nay, repent you not, said he, for they were not christened, and I shall tell you how that I wot of this castle. Here was lord earl Hernox not but one year, and he had three sons good knights of arms, and a daughter the fairest gentlewoman that men knew. So those three knights loved their sister so sore that they burnt in love, and so they dishonoured her, maugre her head. And for she cried to her father, they slew her, and took their father and put him in prison, and wounded him nigh to the death, but a cousin of hers rescued him. And then did they great untruth: they slew clerks and priests, and made beat down chapels, that our Lord’s service might not be served nor said; and this same day their father sent to me for to be confessed and houseled, but such shame had never man as I had this day with the three brethren: but the earl bad me suffer, for he said they should not long endure, for three servants of our Lord should destroy them: and now it is brought to an end. And by this ye may wit that our Lord is not displeased with your deeds. Certes, said Galahad, and it had not pleased our Lord, never should we have slain so many men in so little a while. And then they brought the earl Hernox out of prison into the midst of the hall, that knew Galahad anon, and yet he saw him never afore but by revelation of our Lord.
CHAP. IX.
How the three knights, with Percivale’s sister, came into the waste forest, and of an hart and four lions and other things.
Then began he to weep right tenderly, and said, Long have I abiden your coming, but for God’s love hold me in your arms, that my soul may depart out of my body in so good a man’s arms as ye be. Gladly, said Galahad. And then one said on high that all heard, Galahad, well hast thou avenged me on God’s enemies. Now behoveth thee to go to the maimed king as soon as thou mayest, for he shall receive by thee health which he hath abiden so long. And therewith the soul departed from the body. And Galahad made him to be buried as he ought to be.
Right so departed the three knights, and Percivale’s sister with them. And so they came into a waste forest, and there they saw afore them a white hart, which four lions led. Then they took them to assent for to follow after, for to know whither they repaired; and so they rode after, a great pace, till that they came to a valley, and thereby was an hermitage where a good man dwelled; and the hart and the lions entered also. So when they saw all this, they turned to the chapel, and saw the good man in a religious weed, and in the armour of our Lord, for he would sing mass of the Holy Ghost, and so they entered in and heard mass. And at the secrets of the mass, they three saw the hart become a man, the which marvelled them, and set him upon the altar in a rich siege, and saw the four lions were changed, the one to the form of a man, the other to the form of a lion, and the third to an eagle, and the fourth was changed unto an ox. Then took they their siege where the hart sat, and went out through a glass window, and there was nothing perished nor broken, and they heard a voice say, In such a manner entered the son of God in the womb of a maid, Mary. And when they heard these words, they fell down to the earth, and were astonied, and therewith was a great clearness. And when they were come to themselves again, they went to the good man, and prayed him that he would say them truth. What thing have ye seen? said he: and they told him all that they had seen. Ah, lords, said he, ye be welcome, now wot I well ye be the good knights the which shall bring the Sancgreal to an end; for ye be they unto whom our Lord shall shew great secrets. And well ought our Lord be signified to an hart; for the hart when he is old he waxeth young again in his white skin: right so cometh again our Lord from death to life, for he lost earthly flesh, that was the deadly flesh which he had taken in the womb of the blessed virgin Mary; and for that cause appeared our Lord as a while hart without spot. And the four that were with him is to understand the four evangelists, which set in writing a part of Jesu Christ’s deeds that he did some time when he was among you an earthly man. For wit ye well never erst might no knight know the truth, for, ofttimes or this, our Lord shewed him unto good men and unto good knights in likeness of an hart. But I suppose from henceforth ye shall see no more. And then they joyed much, and dwelled there all that day. And upon the morrow, when they had heard mass they departed, and commended the good man to God. And so they came to a castle, and passed by. So there came a knight armed after them, and said, Lords, hark what I shall say to you.
CHAP. X.
How they were desired of a strange custom, the which they would not obey; and how they fought and slew many knights.
This gentlewoman that ye lead with you is a maid? Sir, said she, a maid I am. Then he took her by the bridle and said, By the holy cross ye shall not escape me tofore ye have yielden the custom of this castle. Let her go, said Percivale; ye be not wise, for a maid in what place she cometh is free. So in the meanwhile there came out a ten or twelve knights armed, out of the castle, and with them came gentlewomen which held a dish of silver, and then they said, This gentlewoman must yield us the custom of this castle. Sir, said a knight, what maid passeth hereby shall give this dish full of blood of her right arm. Blame have ye, said Galahad, that brought up such customs, and I ensure you of this gentlewoman ye shall fail while that I live. Truly, said Sir Percivale, I had lever be slain. And I also, said Sir Bors. By my truth, said the knight, then shall ye die, for ye may not endure against us, though ye were the best knights of the world. Then let them run each to other, and the three fellows beat the ten knights, and then set their hands to their swords, and beat them down and slew them. Then there came out of the castle well a threescore knights armed. Fair lords, said the three fellows, have mercy upon yourselves, and have not ado with us. Nay, fair lords, said the knights of the castle, we counsel you to withdraw you, for ye are the best knights of the world, and therefore do no more, for ye have done enough. We will let you go with this harm, but we must needs have the custom. Certes, said Galahad, for nought speak ye. Well, said they, will ye die? We be not yet come thereto, said Galahad. Then began they to meddle together, and Galahad drew his sword with the strange girdles, and smote on the right hand and on the left hand, and slew what that ever abode him, and did such marvels that there was none that saw him but they wend he had been none earthly man but a monster. And his two fellows halp him passing well, and so they held the journey every each in like hard, till it was night. Then must they needs part. So came a good knight and said to the three fellows, If ye will come in to night, and take such harbour as here is, ye shall be right welcome, and we shall ensure you by the faith of our bodies, as we are true knights, to leave you in such estate to-morrow as we find you, without any falsehood. And as soon as ye know of the custom we dare say ye will accord. Therefore, for God’s love, said the gentlewoman, go thither, and spare not for me. Go we, said Galahad, and so they entered into the castle. And when they were alight, they made great joy of them. So within a while the three knights asked the custom of the castle, and wherefore it was. What it is, said they, we will say you sooth.
CHAP. XI.
How Sir Percivale’s sister bled a dish full of blood for to heal a lady; wherefore she died; and how that the body was put in a ship.
There is in this castle a gentlewoman which we and this castle is hers, and many other. So it befell many years agone there fell upon her a malady. And when she had lain a great while, she fell into a measle, and of no leech she could have no remedy. But at the last an old man said, and she might have a dish full of blood of a maid and a clean virgin in will and in work, and a king’s daughter, that blood should be her health, and for to anoint her withal: and for this thing was this custom made. Now, said Percivale’s sister, Fair knights, I see well that this gentlewoman is but dead. Certes, said Galahad, and if ye bleed so much, ye may die. Truly, said she, and I die for to heal her, I shall get me great worship and soul’s health, and worship to my lineage, and better is one harm than twain. And therefore there shall be no more battle, but to-morn I shall yield you your custom of this castle. And then there was great joy, more than there was tofore. For else had there been mortal war upon the morn; notwithstanding she would none other, whether they would or nold. That night were the three fellows eased with the best, and on the morn they heard mass, and Sir Percivale’s sister bad bring forth the sick lady. So she was, the which was evil at ease. Then said she, Who shall let me blood? So one came forth and let her blood, and she bled so much that the dish was full. Then she lift up her hand and blessed her. And then she said to the lady, Madam, I am come to the death, for to make you whole; for God’s love pray for me. With that she fell in a swoon. Then Galahad and his two fellows start up to her, and lift her up, and stanched her, but she had bled so much that she might not live. Then she said, when she was awaked, Fair brother Percivale, I die for the healing of this lady. So I require you that ye bury not me in this country, but as soon as I am dead put me in a boat at the next haven, and let me go as adventure will lead me; and as soon as ye three come to the city of Sarras, there to achieve the holy Graile, ye shall find me under a tower arrived, and there bury me in the spiritual place, for I say you so much, there Galahad shall be buried, and ye also, in the same place. Then Percivale understood these words, and granted it her, weeping. And then said a voice, Lords and fellows, to-morrow at the hour of prime ye three shall depart every each from other, till the adventure bring you to the maimed king. Then asked she her Saviour, and as soon as she had received him the soul departed from the body. So the same day was the lady healed, when she was anointed withal. Then Sir Percivale made a letter of all that she had holpen them as in strange adventures, and put it in her right hand, and so laid her in a barge, and covered it with black silk; and so the wind arose, and drove the barge from the land, and all knights beheld it, till it was out of their sight.
Then they drew all to the castle, and so forthwith there fell a sudden tempest, and a thunder, lightning, and rain, as all the earth would have broken. So half the castle turned up so down. So it passed evensong or the tempest was ceased. Then they saw afore them a knight armed and wounded hard in the body and in the head, that said, Oh God, succour me, for now it is need! After this knight came another knight and a dwarf which cried to them afar, Stand, ye may not escape. Then the wounded knight held up his hands to God, that he should not die in such tribulation. Truly, said Galahad, I shall succour him for His sake that he calleth upon. Sir, said Bors, I shall do it, for it is not for you, for he is but one knight. Sir, said he, I grant. So Sir Bors took his horse, and commended him to God, and rode after to rescue the wounded knight.
Now turn we to the two fellows.
CHAP. XII.
How Galahad and Percivale found in a castle many tombs of maidens that had bled to death.
Now saith the story that all night Galahad and Percivale were in a chapel in their prayers, for to save Sir Bors. So on the morrow they dressed them in their harness toward the castle, to wit what was fallen of them therein. And when they came there, they found neither man nor woman that he ne was dead by the vengeance of our Lord. With that they heard a voice that said, This vengeance is for blood shedding of maidens. Also they found at the end of the chapel a churchyard, and therein might they see a threescore fair tombs, and that place was so fair and so delectable that it seemed them there had been none tempest. For there lay the bodies of all the good maidens which were martyred for the sick lady’s sake. Also they found the names of every each, and of what blood they were come, and all were of kings’ blood, and twelve of them were kings’ daughters. Then they departed, and went into a forest. Now, said Percivale unto Galahad, we must depart; so pray we our Lord that we may meet together in short time. Then they did off their helms, and kissed together, and wept at their departing.
CHAP. XIII.
How Sir Launcelot entered into the ship where Sir Percivale’s sister lay dead; and how he met with Sir Galahad his son.
Now saith the history, that when Launcelot was come to the water of Mortoise, as it is rehearsed before, he was in great peril, and so he laid him down and slept, and took the adventure that God would send him.
So when he was asleep, there came a vision unto him and said, Launcelot, arise up, and take thine armour, and enter into the first ship that thou shalt find. And when he had heard these words, he start up and saw great clearness about him. And then he lift up his hand and blessed him, and so took his arms, and made him ready; and so by adventure he came by a strand, and found a ship, the which was without sail or oar. And as soon as he was within the ship, there he felt the most sweetness that ever he felt; and he was fulfilled with all thing that he thought on or desired. Then said he, Fair sweet Father Jesu Christ, I wot not in what joy I am, for this joy passeth all earthly joys that ever I was in. And so in this joy he laid him down to the ship’s board, and slept till day. And when he awoke, he found there a fair bed, and therein lying a gentlewoman dead, the which was Sir Percivale’s sister. And as Launcelot devised her, he espied in her right hand a writ, the which he read, the which told him all the adventures that ye have heard tofore, and of what lineage she was come. So with this gentlewoman Sir Launcelot was a month and more. If ye would ask how he lived, He that fed the people of Israel with manna in the desert, so was he fed. For every day, when he had said his prayers, he was sustained with the grace of the Holy Ghost. So on a night he went to play him by the water side, for he was somewhat weary of the ship. And then he listened, and heard an horse come, and one riding upon him. And when he came nigh he seemed a knight. And so he let him pass, and went there as the ship was, and there he alight, and took the saddle and the bridle and put the horse from him, and went into the ship. And then Launcelot dressed unto him and said, Ye be welcome. And he answered and saluted him again, and asked him, What is your name? for much my heart giveth unto you. Truly, said he, my name is Launcelot du Lake. Sir, said he, then be ye welcome, for ye were the beginner of me in this world. Ah, said he, are ye Galahad? Yea forsooth, said he. And so he kneeled down and asked him his blessing, and after took off his helm and kissed him. And there was great joy between them, for there is no tongue can tell the joy that they made either of other, and many a friendly word spoken between, as kind would, the which is no need here to be rehearsed. And there every each told other of their adventures and marvels that were befallen to them in many journeys, sith that they departed from the court. Anon as Galahad saw the gentlewoman dead in the bed, he knew her well enough, and told great worship of her, and that she was the best maid living, and it was great pity of her death. But when Launcelot heard how the marvellous sword was gotten, and who made it, and all the marvels rehearsed afore, then he prayed Galahad his son that he would shew him the sword, and so he did. And anon he kissed the pommel, and the hilts, and the scabbard. Truly, said Launcelot, never erst knew I of so high adventures done, and so marvellous and strange. So dwelled Launcelot and Galahad within that ship half a year, and served God daily and nightly with all their power. And often they arrived in isles far from folk, where there repaired none but wild beasts; and there they found many strange adventures and perilous, which they brought to an end. But because the adventures were with wild beasts, and not in the quest of the Sancgreal, therefore the tale maketh here no mention thereof, for it would be too long to tell of all those adventures that befell them.
CHAP. XIV.
How a knight brought unto Sir Galahad an horse, and bad him come from his father Sir Launcelot.
So after, on a Monday, it befell that they arrived in the edge of a forest, tofore a cross, and then saw they a knight, armed all in white, and was richly horsed, and led in his right hand a white horse. And so he came to the ship, and saluted the two knights on the high Lord’s behalf, and said, Galahad, sir, ye have been long enough with your father, come out of the ship, and start upon this horse, and go where the adventures shall lead thee in the quest of the Sancgreal. Then he went to his father, and kissed him sweetly, and said, Fair sweet father, I wot not when I shall see you more, till I see the body of Jesu Christ. I pray you, said Launcelot, pray ye to the high Father that He hold me in his service. And so he took his horse; and there they heard a voice, that said, Think for to do well, for the one shall never see the other before the dreadful day of doom. Now, son Galahad, said Launcelot, since we shall depart, and never see other, I pray to the high Father to preserve both me and you both. Sir, said Galahad, no prayer availeth so much as yours. And therewith Galahad entered into the forest. And the wind arose, and drove Launcelot more than a month throughout the sea, where he slept but little, but prayed to God that he might see some tidings of the Sancgreal. So it befell on a night, at midnight he arrived afore a castle, on the back side, which was rich and fair. And there was a postern opened towards the sea, and was open without any keeping, save two lions kept the entry; and the moon shone clear. Anon Sir Launcelot heard a voice that said, Launcelot, go out of this ship, and enter into the castle, where thou shalt see a great part of thy desire. Then he ran to his arms, and so armed him, and so he went to the gate, and saw the lions. Then set he hand to his sword, and drew it. Then there came a dwarf suddenly, and smote him on the arm so sore that the sword fell out of his hand. Then heard he a voice say, Oh man of evil faith and poor belief, wherefore trowest thou more on thy harness than in thy Maker? for He might more avail thee than thine armour, in whose service thou art set. Then said Launcelot, Fair Father Jesu Christ, I thank thee of thy great mercy, that thou reprovest me of my misdeed. Now see I well that ye hold me for your servant. Then took he again his sword, and put it up in his sheath, and made a cross in his forehead, and came to the lions, and they made semblant to do him harm. Notwithstanding he passed by them without hurt, and entered into the castle to the chief fortress, and there were they all at rest. Then Launcelot entered in so armed, for he found no gate nor door but it was open. And at the last he found a chamber whereof the door was shut, and he set his hand thereto to have opened it, but he might not.
CHAP. XV.
How Sir Launcelot was tofore the door of the chamber wherein the holy Sancgreal was.
Then he enforced him mickle to undo the door. Then he listened, and heard a voice which sang so sweetly that it seemed none earthly thing; and him thought the voice said, Joy and honour be to the Father of Heaven! Then Launcelot kneeled down tofore the chamber, for well wist he that there was the Sancgreal within that chamber. Then said he, Fair sweet Father Jesu Christ, if ever I did thing that pleased the Lord, for thy pity have me not in despite for my sins done aforetime, and that thou shew me something of that I seek! And with that he saw the chamber door open, and there came out a great clearness, that the house was as bright as all the torches of the world had been there. So came he to the chamber door, and would have entered. And anon a voice said to him, Flee Launcelot, and enter not, for thou oughtest not to do it: and if thou enter thou shalt forthink it. Then he withdrew him aback right heavy. Then looked he up in the midst of the chamber, and saw a table of silver, and the holy vessel covered with red samite, and many angels about it, whereof one held a candle of wax burning, and the other held a cross, and the ornaments of an altar. And before the holy vessel he saw a good man clothed as a priest, and it seemed that he was at the sacring of the mass. And it seemed to Launcelot that above the priest’s hands there were three men, whereof the two put the youngest by likeness between the priest’s hands, and so he lift it up right high, and it seemed to shew so to the people. And then Launcelot marvelled not a little, for him thought that the priest was so greatly charged of the figure, that him seemed that he should fall to the earth. And when he saw none about him that would help him, then came he to the door a great pace, and said, Fair Father Jesu Christ, ne take it for no sin though I help the good man, which hath great need of help. Right so entered he into the chamber, and came toward the table of silver; and when he came nigh he felt a breath that him thought it was intermeddled with fire, which smote him so sore in the visage that him thought it burnt his visage; and therewith he fell to the earth, and had no power to arise, as he that was so araged that had lost the power of his body, and his hearing, and his saying. Then felt he many hands about him, which took him up and bare him out of the chamber door, without any amending of his swoon, and left him there seeming dead to all people. So upon the morrow, when it was fair day, they within were arisen, and found Launcelot lying afore the chamber door. All they marvelled how that he came in. And so they looked upon him, and felt his pulse, to wit whether there were any life in him; and so they found life in him, but he might neither stand, nor stir no member that he had; and so they took him by every part of the body, and bare him into a chamber, and laid him in a rich bed, far from all folk, and so he lay four days. Then the one said he was on live, and the other said nay. In the name of God, said an old man, for I do you verily to wit he is not dead, but he is so full of life as the mightiest of you all, and therefore I counsel you that he be well kept till God send him life again.
CHAP. XVI.
How Sir Launcelot had lain fourteen days and as many nights as a dead man, and other divers matters.
In such manner they kept Launcelot four and twenty days, and also many nights, that ever he lay still as a dead man; and at the twenty-fifth day befell him after midday that he opened his eyes. And when he saw folk he made great sorrow and said, Why have ye awaked me? for I was more at ease than I am now. Oh Jesu Christ, who might be so blessed that might see openly thy great marvels of secretness there where no sinner may be. What have ye seen? said they about him. I have seen, said he, so great marvels that no tongue may tell, and more than any heart can think, and had not my son been here afore me I had seen much more. Then they told him how he had lain there four and twenty days and nights. Then him thought it was punishment for the twenty-four years that he had been a sinner, wherefore our Lord put him in penance four and twenty days and nights. Then looked Sir Launcelot before him, and saw the hair which he had borne nigh a year, for that he forethought him right much that he had broken his promise unto the hermit, which he had avowed to do. Then they asked him how it stood with him. Forsooth, said he, I am whole of body, thanked be our Lord; therefore, sirs, for God’s love tell me where that I am? Then said they all that he was in the castle of Carbonek. Therewith came a gentlewoman, and brought him a shirt of small linen cloth, but he changed not there, but took the hair to him again. Sir, said they, the quest of the Sancgreal is achieved right now in you, that never shall ye see of the Sancgreal no more than ye have seen. Now I thank God, said Launcelot, of His great mercy, of that I have seen, for it sufficeth me, for, as I suppose, no man in this world hath lived better than I have done to achieve that I have done. And therewith he took the hair, and clothed him in it, and above that he put a linen shirt, and after a robe of scarlet, fresh and new. And when he was so arrayed, they marvelled all, for they knew him that he was Launcelot, the good knight. And then they said all, O my lord Sir Launcelot, be that ye? And he said, Truly I am he. Then came word to king Pelles, that the knight that had lain so long dead was Sir Launcelot; then was the king right glad, and went to see him. And when Launcelot saw him come, he dressed him against him, and there made the king great joy of him. And there the king told him tidings, that his fair daughter was dead. Then Launcelot was right heavy of it, and said, Sir, me forthinketh the death of your daughter, for she was a full fair lady, fresh and young. And well I wot she bare the best knight that is now on earth, or that ever was since God was born. So the king held him there four days. And on the morrow he took his leave at king Pelles, and at all the fellowship that were there, and thanked them of the great labour. Right so as they sat at dinner in the chief hall, then was it so befallen that the Sancgreal had fulfilled the tables with all manner of meats that any heart might think. So as they sat, they saw all the doors and windows of the place were shut without man’s hand, whereof they were all abashed, and none wist what to do. And then it happed suddenly a knight came to the chief door, and knocked, and cried, Undo the door; but they would not. And ever he cried, Undo, but they would not. And at the last it annoyed them so much, that the king himself arose, and came to a window where the knight called. Then he said, Sir knight, ye shall not enter at this time, while the Sancgreal is here, and therefore go into another. For certes ye be none of the knights of the quest, but one of them which hath served the fiend, and hast left the service of our Lord. And he was passing wroth at the king’s words. Sir knight, said the king, sin ye would so fain enter, say me of what country ye be? Sir, said he, I am of the realm of Logris, and my name is Ector de Maris, and brother unto my lord Sir Launcelot. Truly, said the king, me forthinketh of that I have said, for your brother is here within. And when Ector de Maris understood that his brother was there, for he was the man in the world that he most dread and loved, and then he said, Alas, now doubleth my sorrow and shame, full truly said the good man of the hill unto Gawaine and to me of our dreams. Then went he out of the court as fast as his courser might run, and so through out the castle.
CHAP. XVII.
How Sir Launcelot returned towards Logris, and of other adventures which he saw in the way.
Then king Pelles came to Sir Launcelot, and told him tidings of his brother, whereof he was sorry that he wist not what to do. So Sir Launcelot departed, and took his armour, and said that he would go see the realm of Logris—which I have not seen in a twelvemonth. And therewith commended the king to God, and so rode through many realms. And at the last he came to a white abbey, and there they made him that night great cheer. And on the morn he arose and heard mass, and afore an altar he found a rich tomb which was newly made, and then he took heed, and saw the sides written with letters of gold, which said, Here lieth king Bagdemagus of Gore, the which king Arthur’s nephew slew:—and named him Sir Gawaine. Then was not he a little sorry, for Launcelot loved him much more than any other, and had it been any other than Gawaine he should not have escaped from death to life:—said to himself, Alas, this is a great hurt to king Arthur’s court, the loss of such a man. And then he departed, and came to the abbey where Galahad did the adventure of the tombs, and wan the white shield with the red cross, and there had he great cheer all that night. And on the morn he turned unto Camelot, where he found king Arthur and the queen. But many of the knights of the Round Table were slain and destroyed, more than half. And so three were come home, Ector, Gawaine, and Lionel, and many other that need not to be rehearsed. And all the court was passing glad of Sir Launcelot; and the king asked him many tidings of his son Galahad. And there Launcelot told the king of his adventures that had befallen him since he departed. And also he told him of the adventures of Galahad, Percivale, and Bors, which that he knew by the letter of the dead damsel, and as Galahad had told him. Now, God would, said the king, that they were all three here. That shall never be, said Launcelot, for two of them shall ye never see, but one of them shall come again.
Now leave we this story, and speak we of Galahad.
CHAP. XVIII.
How Galahad came to king Mordrains, and of other matters and adventures.
Now saith the story that Galahad rode many journeys in vain. And at the last he came to the abbey where king Mordrains was, and when he heard that, he thought he would abide to see him. And upon the morn, when he had heard mass, Galahad came unto king Mordrains, and anon the king saw him, the which had lain blind of long time. And then he dressed him against him, and said, Galahad, the servant of Jesu Christ, whose coming I have abiden so long, now embrace me, and let me rest on thy breast, so that I may rest between thine arms, for thou art a clean virgin above all knights, as the flower of the lily, in whom virginity is signified, and thou art the rose, the which is the flower of all good virtue, and in colour of fire. For the fire of the Holy Ghost is taken so in thee, that my flesh, which was all dead of oldness, is become young again. When Galahad heard his words, then he embraced him and all his body. Then said he, Fair Lord Jesu Christ, now I have my will, now I require thee in this point that I am in, thou come and visit me. And anon our Lord heard his prayer. Therewith the soul departed from the body. And then Galahad put him in the earth as a king ought to be: and so departed, and came into a perilous forest, where he found the well the which boiled with great waves, as the tale telleth tofore. And as soon as Galahad set his hand thereto it ceased, so that it burnt no more, and the heat departed: for that it burnt it was a sign of lust; but that heat might not abide his pure virginity. And this was taken in the country for a miracle, and so ever after was it called Galahad’s well. Then by adventure he came into the country of Gore, and into the abbey where Sir Launcelot had been toforehand, and found the tomb of king Bagdemagus (but was founder thereof Joseph of Armathie’s son) and the tomb of Simeon where Launcelot had failed. Then he looked into a croft under the minster, and there he saw a tomb which burnt full marvellously. Then asked he the brethren what it was? Sir, said they, a marvellous adventure that may not be brought unto none end, but by him that passeth of bounty and of knighthood all them of the Round Table. I would, said Galahad, that ye would lead me thereto. Gladly, said they: and so led him till a cave; and he went down upon steps and came nigh the tomb, and then the flaming failed and the fire staunched, the which many a day had been great. Then came there a voice that said, Much are ye beholden to thank our Lord, the which hath given you a good hour, that ye may draw out the souls of earthly pain, and to put them into the joys of paradise. I am of your kindred, the which have dwelled in this heat this three hundred winter and four and fifty, to be purged of the sin that I did against Joseph of Armathie. Then Galahad took the body in his arms, and bear it into the minster. And that night lay Galahad in the abbey: and on the morn he gave him service, and put him in the earth, afore the high altar.
CHAP. XIX.
How Sir Percivale and Sir Bors met with Sir Galahad, and how they came to the castle of Carbonek, and other matters.
So departed he from thence, and commended the brethren to God. And so he rode five days till that he came to the maimed king, and ever followed Percivale the five days, asking where he had been, and so one told him how the adventures of Logris were achieved. So on a day it befell that they came out of a great forest, and there they met at travers with Sir Bors, the which rode alone. It is no need to tell if they were glad, and them he saluted, and they yielded him honour and good adventure; and every each told other. Then said Bors, It is more than a year and a half that I ne lay ten times where men dwelled, but in wild forests and in mountains, but God was ever my comfort.
Then rode they a great while till that they came to the castle of Carbonek. And when they were entered within the castle king Pelles knew them. Then there was great joy, for they wist well by their coming that they had fulfilled the quest of the Sancgreal. Then Eliazar, king Pelles’ son, brought afore them the broken sword wherewith Joseph was stricken through the thigh. Then Bors set his hand thereto, if he might have soldered it again, but it would not be. Then he took it to Percivale, but he had no more power thereto than he. Now have ye it again, said Percivale to Galahad, for and it be ever achieved by one bodily man, ye must do it. And then took he the pieces and set them together, and they seemed that they had never been broken, and as well as it had been first forged. And when they within espied that the adventure of the sword was achieved, then they gave the sword to Bors, for it might not be better set, for he was a good knight, and a worthy man. And a little afore even the sword arose great and marvellous, and was full of great heat, that many men fell for dread. And anon alight a voice among them, and said, They that ought not to sit at the table of Jesu Christ arise, for now shall very knights be fed. So they went thence all save king Pelles and Eliazar his son, the which were holy men, and a maid which was his niece. And so these three fellows and they three were there; no more. Anon they saw knights all armed come in at the hall door, and did off their helms and their arms, and said unto Galahad, Sir, we have hied right much for to be with you at this table, where the holy meat shall be parted. Then said he, Ye be welcome: but of whence be ye? So three of them said they were of Gaul, and other three said they were of Ireland, and the other three said they were of Denmark. So as they sat thus, there came out a bed of tree of a chamber, the which four gentlewomen brought, and in the bed lay a good man sick, and a crown of gold upon his head; and there in the midst of the place they set him down, and went again their way. Then he lift up his head and said, Galahad, knight, ye be welcome, for much have I desired your coming, for in such pain and in such anguish I have been long. But now I trust to God the term is come that my pain shall be allayed, that I shall pass out of this world, so as it was promised me long ago. Therewith a voice said, There be two among you that be not in the quest of the Sancgreal, and therefore depart ye.
CHAP. XX.
How Galahad and his fellows were fed of the holy Sangreal, and how our Lord appeared to them, and other things.
Then king Pelles and his son departed. And therewithal beseemed them that there came a man and four angels from heaven, clothed in likeness of a bishop, and had a cross in his hand, and these four angels bare him up in a chair, and set him down before the table of silver whereupon the Sancgreal was, and it seemed that he had in midst of his forehead letters that said, See ye here Joseph the first bishop of Christendom, the same which our Lord succoured in the city of Sarras, in the spiritual place. Then the knights marvelled, for that bishop was dead more than three hundred year tofore. Oh knights, said he, marvel not, for I was sometime an earthly man. With that they heard the chamber door open, and there they saw angels, and two bare candles of wax, and the third a towel, and the fourth a spear which bled marvellously, that three drops fell within a box which he held with his other hand. And they set the candles upon the table, and the third the towel upon the vessel, and the fourth the holy spear even upright upon the vessel. And then the bishop made semblant as though he would have gone to the sacring of the mass. And then he took an ubbly, which was made in likeness of bread; and at the lifting up there came a figure in likeness of a child, and the visage was as red and as bright as any fire, and smote himself into the bread, so that they all saw it, that the bread was formed of a fleshly man, and then he put it into the holy vessel again. And then he did that longed to a priest to do to a mass. And then he went to Galahad and kissed him, and bad him go and kiss his fellows, and so he did anon. Now, said he, servants of Jesu Christ, ye shall be fed afore this table with sweet meats, that never knights tasted. And when he had said, he vanished away; and they set them at the table in great dread, and made their prayers. Then looked they, and saw a man come out of the holy vessel, that had all the signs of the passion of Jesu Christ, bleeding all openly, and said, My knights and my servants and my true children, which be come out of deadly life into spiritual life, I will now no longer hide me from you, but ye shall see now a part of my secrets and of my hid things: now hold and receive the high meat which ye have so much desired. Then took he himself the holy vessel, and came to Galahad, and he kneeled down and there he received his Saviour, and after him so received all his fellows; and they thought it so sweet that it was marvellous to tell. Then said he to Galahad, Son, wotest thou what I hold betwixt my hands? Nay, said he, but if ye will tell me. This is, said he, the holy dish wherein I ate the lamb on Sher-thursday. And now hast thou seen that thou most desiredst to see, but yet hast thou not seen it so openly as thou shalt see it in the city of Sarras, in the spiritual place. Therefore thou must go hence, and bear with thee this holy vessel, for this night it shall depart from the realm of Logris, that it shall never be seen more here, and wotest thou wherefore? for he is not served nor worshipped to his right, by them of this land, for they be turned to evil living, therefore I shall disherit them of the honour which I have done them. And therefore go ye three to-morrow unto the sea, where ye shall find your ship ready, and with you take the sword with the strange girdles, and no more with you, but Sir Percivale and Sir Bors. Also I will that ye take with you of the blood of this spear, for to anoint the maimed king, both his legs and all his body, and he shall have his health. Sir, said Galahad, why shall not these other fellows go with us?—For this cause, for right as I departed mine apostles, one here and another there, so I will that ye depart. And two of you shall die in my service, but one of you shall come again, and tell tidings. Then gave he them his blessing and vanished away.
CHAP. XXI.
How Galahad anointed with the blood of the spear the maimed king, and other adventures.
And Galahad went anon to the spear which lay upon the table, and touched the blood with his fingers, and came after to the maimed king, and anointed his legs. And therewith he clothed him anon, and start upon his feet out of his bed as an whole man, and thanked our Lord that he had healed him. And that was not to the world-ward, for anon he yield him to a place of religion of white monks, and was a full holy man. That same night, about midnight came a voice among them, which said, My sons and not my chieftains, my friends and not my warriors, go ye hence, where ye hope best to do, and as I bad you.—Ah, thanked be thou, Lord, that thou wilt vouchsafe to call us thy sinners. Now may we well prove that we have not lost our pains.
And anon in all haste they took their harness and departed. But the three knights of Gaul, one of them hight Claudine, king Claudas’ son, and the other two were great gentlemen. Then prayed Galahad to every each of them, that if they come to king Arthur’s court, that they should salute my lord Sir Launcelot my father, and of them of the Round Table, and prayed them if that they came on that part that they should not forget it. Right so departed Galahad, Percivale, and Bors with him. And so they rode three days, and then they came to a rivage, and found the ship whereof the tale speaketh of tofore. And when they came to the board, they found in the midst the table of silver which they had left with the maimed king, and the Sancgreal, which was covered with red samite. Then were they glad to have such things in their fellowship, and so they entered, and made great reverence thereto, and Galahad fell in his prayer long time to our Lord, that, at what time he asked, that he should pass out of this world: so much he prayed, till a voice said to him, Galahad, thou shalt have thy request, and when thou askest the death of thy body thou shalt have it, and then shalt thou find the life of the soul. Percivale heard this, and prayed him of fellowship that was between them, to tell him wherefore he asked such things. That shall I tell you, said Galahad: the other day when we saw a part of the adventures of the Sancgreal, I was in such a joy of heart that I trow never man was that was earthly, and therefore I wot well when my body is dead my soul shall be in great joy to see the blessed Trinity every day, and the majesty of our Lord Jesu Christ. So long were they in the ship that they said to Galahad, Sir, in this bed ought ye to lie, for so saith the scripture. And so he laid him down and slept a great while. And when he awaked he looked afore him, and saw the city of Sarras. And as they would have landed, they saw the ship wherein Percivale had put his sister in. Truly, said Percivale, in the name of God, well hath my sister holden us covenant. Then took they out of the ship the table of silver, and he took it to Percivale and to Bors to go tofore, and Galahad came behind, and right so they went to the city, and at the gate of the city they saw an old man crooked. Then Galahad called him, and bad him help to bear this heavy thing. Truly, said the old man, it is ten year ago that I might not go but with crutches. Care thou not, said Galahad, and arise up and shew thy good will. And so he assayed, and found himself as whole as ever he was. Then ran he to the table, and took one part against Galahad. And anon arose there great noise in the city, that a cripple was made whole by knights marvellous that entered into the city. Then anon after, the three knights went to the water, and brought up into the palace Percivale’s sister, and buried her as richly as a king’s daughter ought to be. And when the king of the city, which was cleped Estorause, saw the fellowship, he asked them of whence they were, and what thing it was that they had brought upon the table of silver. And they told him the truth of the Sancgreal, and the power which that God had set there. Then the king was a tyrant, and was come of the line of paynims, and took them, and put them in prison in a deep hole.
CHAP. XXII.
How they were fed with the Sangreal while they were in prison, and how Galahad was made king.
But as soon as they were there, our Lord sent them the Sancgreal, through whose grace they were alway fulfilled while that they were in prison. So at the year’s end it befell that this king Estorause lay sick, and felt that he should die. Then he sent for the three knights, and they came afore him, and he cried them mercy of that he had done to them, and they forgave it him goodly, and he died anon. When the king was dead, all the city was dismayed, and wist not who might be their king. Right so as they were in counsel, there came a voice among them, and bad them choose the youngest knight of them three to be their king, for he shall well maintain you and all yours. So they made Galahad king by all the assent of the whole city, and else they would have slain him. And when he was come to behold the land, he let make about the table of silver a chest of gold and of precious stones that covered the holy vessel, and every day early the three fellows would come afore it and make their prayers. Now at the year’s end, and the self day after Galahad had borne the crown of gold, he arose up early, and his fellows, and came to the palace, and saw tofore them the holy vessel, and a man kneeling on his knees, in likeness of a bishop, that had about him a great fellowship of angels, as it had been Jesu Christ himself. And then he arose and began a mass of Our Lady. And when he came to the sacrament of the mass, and had done, anon he called Galahad, and said to him, Come forth, the servant of Jesu Christ, and thou shalt see that thou hast much desired to see. And then he began to tremble right hard, when the deadly flesh began to behold the spiritual things. Then he held up his hands toward heaven, and said, Lord, I thank thee, for now I see that that hath been my desire many a day. Now, blessed Lord, would I not longer live, if it might please thee Lord. And therewith the good man took our Lord’s body betwixt his hands, and proffered it to Galahad, and he received it right gladly and meekly. Now, wotest thou what I am? said the good man. Nay, said Galahad.—I am Joseph of Armathie, which our Lord hath sent here to thee to bear thee fellowship. And wotest thou wherefore that he hath sent me more than any other? For thou hast resembled me in two things, in that thou hast seen the marvels of the Sancgreal, and in that thou hast been a clean maiden, as I have been and am. And when he had said these words, Galahad went to Percivale and kissed him, and commanded him to God. And so he went to Sir Bors and kissed him, and commanded him to God, and said, Fair lord, salute me to my lord Sir Launcelot, my father, and as soon as ye see him bid him remember of this unstable world. And therewith he kneeled down tofore the table and made his prayers, and then suddenly his soul departed to Jesu Christ, and a great multitude of angels bare his soul up to heaven, that the two fellows might well behold it. Also the two fellows saw come from heaven an hand, but they saw not the body; and then it came right to the vessel, and took it and the spear, and so bare it up to heaven. Sithen was there never man so hardy to say that he had seen the Sancgreal.
CHAP. XXIII.
Of the sorrow that Percivale and Bors made when Galahad was dead; and of Percivale how he died, and other matters.
When Percivale and Bors saw Galahad dead, they made as much sorrow as ever did two men: and if they had not been good men they might lightly have fallen in despair. And the people of the country and of the city were right heavy. And then he was buried. And as soon as he was buried, Sir Percivale yielded him to an hermitage out of the city, and took a religious clothing; and Bors was alway with him, but never changed he his secular clothing, for that he purposed him to go again into the realm of Logris. Thus a year and two months lived Sir Percivale in the hermitage a full holy life, and then passed out of this world. And Bors let bury him by his sister and by Galahad in the spiritualties. When Bors saw that he was in so far countries as in the parts of Babylon, he departed from Sarras, and armed him, and came to the sea, and entered into a ship, and so it befell him in good adventure he came into the realm of Logris. And he rode so fast till he came to Camelot where the king was. And then was there great joy made of him in the court, for they wend all he had been dead, forasmuch as he had been so long out of the country. And when they had eaten, the king made great clerks to come afore him, that they should chronicle of the high adventures of the good knights. When Bors had told him of the adventures of the Sancgreal, such as had befallen him and his three fellows, that was Launcelot, Percivale, Galahad and himself. There Launcelot told the adventures of the Sancgreal that he had seen. All this was made in great books, and put in almeries at Salisbury. And anon Sir Bors said to Sir Launcelot, Galahad your own son saluted you by me, and after you king Arthur, and all the court, and so did Sir Percivale: for I buried them with mine own hands in the city of Sarras. Also, Sir Launcelot, Galahad prayeth you to remember of this uncertain world, as ye behight him when ye were together more than half a year. This is true, said Launcelot; now I trust to God his prayer shall avail me. Then Launcelot took Sir Bors in his arms, and said, Gentle cousin, ye are right welcome to me, and all that ever I may do for you and for yours, ye shall find my poor body ready at all times whiles the spirit is in it, and that I promise you faithfully, and never to fail. And wit ye well, gentle cousin Sir Bors, that ye and I will never depart in sunder whilst our lives may last. Sir, said he, I will as ye will.
Thus endeth thistory of the Sancgreal that was breuely drawen oute of Frensshe in to Englysshe, the whiche is a story cronycled for one of the truest and the holyest that is in thys world, the which is the xvii book.
And here foloweth the eyghtenth book.
The Eighteenth Book
CHAP. I.
Of the joy of king Arthur and the queen had of the achievement of the Sangreal; and how Launcelot fell to his old love again.
So after the quest of the Sancgreal was fulfilled, and all knights that were left on live were come again unto the Table Round, as the book of the Sancgreal maketh mention, then was there great joy in the court, and in especial king Arthur and queen Guenever made great joy of the remnant that were come home, and passing glad was the king and the queen of Sir Launcelot and of Sir Bors. For they had been passing long away in the quest of the Sancgreal. Then, as the book saith, Sir Launcelot began to resort unto queen Guenever again, and forgat the promise and the perfection that he made in the quest. For, as the book saith, had not Sir Launcelot been in his privy thoughts and in his mind so set inwardly to the queen, as he was in seeming outward to God, there had no knight passed him in the quest of the Sancgreal: but ever his thoughts were privily on the queen, and so they loved together more hotter than they did toforehand, that many in the court spake of it, and in especial Sir Agravaine, Sir Gawaine’s brother, for he was ever open mouthed. So befell that Sir Launcelot had many resorts of ladies and damsels, that daily resorted unto him, that besought him to be their champion. And in all such matters of right Sir Launcelot appealed him daily to do for the pleasure of our Lord Jesu Christ. And ever as much as he might he withdrew him from the company and fellowship of queen Guenever, for to eschew the slander and noise: wherefore the queen waxed wroth with Sir Launcelot, and upon a day she called Sir Launcelot unto her chamber, and said thus: Sir Launcelot, I see and feel daily that thy love beginneth to slake, for thou hast no joy to be in my presence, but ever thou art out of this court, and quarrels and matters thou hast now adays for ladies and gentlewomen, more than ever thou were wont to have aforehand. Ah, madam, said Launcelot, in this ye must hold me excused for divers causes. One is, I was but late in the quest of the Sancgreal, and I thank God, of his great mercy, and never of my deserving, that I saw in that my quest as much as ever saw any sinful man, and so was it told me. And if I had not had my privy thoughts to return to your love again as I do, I had seen as great mysteries as ever saw my son Galahad, or Percivale, or Sir Bors, and therefore, madam, I was but late in that quest. Wit ye well, madam, it may not be yet lightly forgotten the high service in whom I did my diligent labour. Also, madam, wit ye well that there be many men speak of our love in this court, and have you and me greatly in a wait, as Sir Agravaine, and Sir Mordred: and, madam, wit ye well, I dread them more for your sake than for any fear that I have of them myself, for I may happen to escape and rid myself in a great need, where ye must abide all that will be said unto you. And then if that ye fall in any distress through wilful folly, then is there none other remedy or help but by me and my blood. And wit ye well, madam, the boldness of you and me will bring us to great shame and slander, and that were me loth to see you dishonoured. And that is the cause that I take upon me more for to do for damsels and maidens than ever I did tofore, that men should understand my joy and my delight is my pleasure to have ado for damsels and maidens.
CHAP. II.
How the queen commanded Sir Launcelot to avoid the court, and of the sorrow that Launcelot made.
All this while the queen stood still, and let Sir Launcelot say what he would. And when he had all said, she brast out on weeping, and so she sobbed and wept a great while: and when she might speak, she said, Launcelot, now I well understand that thou art a false recreant knight, and lovest and holdest other ladies, and by me thou hast disdain and scorn. For wit thou well, she said, now I understand thy falsehood, and therefore shall I never love thee no more, and never be thou so hardy to come in my sight; and right here I discharge thee this court, that thou never come within it, and I forfend thee my fellowship, and upon pain of thy head that thou see me no more. Right so Sir Launcelot departed with great heaviness, that hardly he might sustain himself for great dole making. Then he called Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel, and told them how the queen had forfend him the court, and so he was in will to depart into his own country. Fair sir, said Sir Bors de Ganis, ye shall not depart out of this land by mine advice; ye must remember in what honour ye are renowned, and called the noblest knight of the world, and many great matters ye have in hand, and women in their hastiness will do oftimes that sore repenteth them, and therefore by mine advice ye shall take your horse, and ride to the good hermitage here beside Windsor, that sometime was a good knight, his name is Sir Brasias, and there shall ye abide till I send you word of better tidings. Brother, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well I am full loth to depart out of this realm, but the queen hath defended me so highly that me seemeth she will never be my good lady as she hath been. Say ye never so, said Sir Bors, for many times or this time she hath been wroth with you, and after it she was the first that repented it. Ye say well, said Launcelot, for now will I do by your counsel, and take mine horse and my harness, and ride to the hermit Sir Brasias, and there will I repose me until I hear some manner of tidings from you. But, fair brother, I pray you get me the love of my lady queen Guenever, and ye may. Sir, said Sir Bors, ye need not to move me of such matters, for well ye wot I will do what I may to please you. And then the noble knight Sir Launcelot departed with right heavy cheer, suddenly, that none earthly creature wist of him, nor where he was become, but Sir Bors. So when Sir Launcelot was departed, the queen made no manner of sorrow in shewing, to none of his blood, nor to none other: but, wit ye well, inwardly, as the book saith, she took great thought, but she bare it out with a proud countenance, as though she felt nothing nor danger.
CHAP. III.
How at a dinner that the queen made there was a knight poisoned, which Sir Mador laid on the queen.
And then the queen let make a privy dinner in London unto the knights of the Round Table. And all was for to show outward that she had as great joy in all other knights of the Table Round as she had in Sir Launcelot. All only at that dinner she had Sir Gawaine and his brethren, that is to say, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, Sir Gareth, and Sir Mordred. Also there was Sir Bors de Ganis, Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis de Ganis, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Lionel, Sir Palamides, Sir Safere his brother, Sir La Cote Male Taile, Sir Persant, Sir Ironside, Sir Brandiles, Sir Kay le Seneschal, Sir Mador de la Porte, Sir Patrise, a knight of Ireland, Aliduk, Sir Astomore, and Sir Pinel le Savage, the which was cousin to Sir Lamorak de Galis, the good knight that Sir Gawaine and his brethren slew by treason. And so these four and twenty knights should dine with the queen in a privy place by themselves, and there was made a great feast of all manner of dainties. But Sir Gawaine had a custom that he used daily at dinner and at supper, that he loved well all manner of fruit, and in especial apples and pears. And therefore, whosoever dined or feasted Sir Gawaine would commonly purvey for good fruit for him; and so did the queen for to please Sir Gawaine, she let purvey for him of all manner of fruit, for Sir Gawaine was a passing hot knight of nature. And this Pinel hated Sir Gawaine because of his kinsman Sir Lamorak de Galis, and therefore for pure envy and hate Sir Pinel enpoisoned certain apples, for to enpoison Sir Gawaine. And so this was well unto the end of the meat: and so it befell by misfortune a good knight named Patrise, cousin unto Sir Mador de la Porte, to take a poisoned apple. And when he had eaten it he swelled so till he brast, and there Sir Patrise fell down suddenly dead among them. Then every knight lept from the board ashamed and araged for wrath, nigh out of their wits. For they wist not what to say: considering queen Guenever made the feast and dinner, they all had suspicion unto her. My lady, the queen, said Gawaine, wit ye well, madam, that this dinner was made for me: for all folks that know my conditions understand that I love well fruit, and now I see well I had near been slain; therefore, madam, I dread lest ye will be shamed. Then the queen stood still, and was sore abashed, that he nist not what to say. This shall not so be ended, said Sir Mador de la Porte, for here have I lost a full noble knight of my blood, and therefore upon this shame and despite I will be revenged to the utterance. And there openly Sir Mador appealed the queen of the death of his cousin Sir Patrise. Then stood they all still, that none of them would speak a word against him. For they had a great suspicion unto the queen because she let make that dinner. And the queen was so abashed that she could none other ways do but wept so heartily that she fell in a swoon. With this noise and cry came to them king Arthur. And when he wist of that trouble, he was a passing heavy man.
CHAP. IV.
How Sir Mador appeached the queen of treason, and there was no knight would fight for her at the first time.
And ever Sir Mador stood still afore the king, and ever he appealed the queen of treason: for the custom was such that time that all manner of shameful death was called treason. Fair lords, said king Arthur, me repenteth of this trouble, but the case is so I may not have ado in this matter, for I must be a rightful judge, and that repenteth me that I may not do battle for my wife: for, as I deem, this deed came never by her, and therefore I suppose she shall not be all distained, but that some good knight shall put his body in jeopardy, rather than she shall be burnt in a wrong quarrel. And therefore, Sir Mador, be not so hasty, for it may happen she shall not be all friendless, and therefore desire thou thy day of battle, and she shall purvey her of some good knight that shall answer you, or else it were to me great shame, and to all my court. My gracious lord, said Sir Mador, ye must hold me excused, for though ye be our king in that degree, ye are but a knight as we are, and ye are sworn unto knighthood as well as we, and therefore I beseech you that ye be not displeased. For there is none of the four and twenty knights that were bidden to this dinner but all they have great suspicion unto the queen. What say ye all, my lords? said Sir Mador. Then they answered by and by that they could not excuse the queen, for why she made the dinner, and either it must come by her or by her servants. Alas, said the queen, I made this dinner for a good intent, and never for none evil; so Almighty God help me in my right as I was never purposed to do such evil deeds, and that I report me unto God. My lord the king, said Sir Mador, I require you, as ye be a righteous king, give me a day that I may have justice. Well, said the king, I give the day this day fifteen days, that thou be ready armed on horseback in the meadow beside Westminster. And if it so fall that there be any knight to encounter with you, there mayest thou do the best, and God speed the right. And if it so fall that there be no knight at that day, then must my queen be burnt, and there shall she be ready to have her judgment. I am answered, said Sir Mador; and every knight went where it liked him. So when the king and the queen were together, the king asked the queen how this case befell? The queen answered, So God me help I wot not how, nor in what manner. Where is Sir Launcelot? said king Arthur, and he were here, he would not grudge to do battle for you. Sir, said the queen, I wot not where he is, but his brother and his kinsmen deem that he is not within this realm. That me repenteth, said king Arthur, for and he were here he would soon stint this strife. Then I will counsel you, said the king, and unto Sir Bors—That ye will do battle for her for Sir Launcelot’s sake,—and upon my life he will not refuse you. For well I see, said the king, that none of these four and twenty knights that were with you at your dinner, where Sir Patrise was slain, will do battle for you, nor none of them will say well of you, and that shall be great slander for you in this court. Alas, said the queen, and I may not do withal, but now I miss Sir Launcelot, for and he were here he would put me soon to my heart’s ease. What aileth you, said the king, ye cannot keep Sir Launcelot on your side? For, wit ye well, said the king, who that hath Sir Launcelot upon his party hath the most man of worship in the world upon his side. Now go your way, said the king unto the queen, and require Sir Bors to do battle for you for Sir Launcelot’s sake.
CHAP. V.
How the queen required Sir Bors to fight for her, and how he granted upon condition; and how he warned Sir Launcelot thereof.
So the queen departed from the king, and sent for Sir Bors into her chamber. And when he was come, she besought him of succour. Madam, said he, what would ye that I did, for I may not with my worship have ado in this matter, because I was at the same dinner, for dread that any of those knights would have me in suspicion. Also madam, said Sir Bors, now miss ye Sir Launcelot, for he would not have failed you neither in right nor in wrong, as ye have well proved when ye have been in danger, and now ye have driven him out of this country, by whom ye and all we were daily worshipped by. Therefore, madam, I marvel me how ye dare for shame require me to do any thing for you, in so much ye have chased him out of your country, by whom we were borne up and honoured. Alas, fair knight, said the queen, I put me wholly in your grace, and all that is done amiss I will amend as ye will counsel me. And therewith she kneeled down upon both her knees, and besought Sir Bors to have mercy upon her,—or I shall have a shameful death, and thereto I never offended. Right so came king Arthur, and found the queen kneeling afore Sir Bors. Then Sir Bors pulled her up, and said, Madam, ye do to me great dishonour. Ah, gentle knight, said the king, have mercy upon my queen, courteous knight, for I am now in certain she is untruly defamed. And therefore, courteous knight, said the king, promise her to do battle for her: I require you, for the love of Sir Launcelot. My lord, said Sir Bors, ye require me the greatest thing that any man may require me; and wit ye well, if I grant to do battle for the queen I shall wrath many of my fellowship of the Table Round; but as for that, said Bors, I will grant my lord, for my lord Sir Launcelot’s sake, and for your sake, I will at that day be the queen’s champion, unless that there come by adventure a better knight than I am to do battle for her. Will ye promise me this, said the king, by your faith? Yea sir, said Sir Bors, of that will I not fail you, nor her both, but if that there come a better knight than I am, and then shall he have the battle. Then was the king and the queen passing glad, and so departed, and thanked him heartily. So then Sir Bors departed secretly upon a day, and rode unto Sir Launcelot, there as he was with the hermit Sir Brasias, and told him of all their adventure. Ah, said Sir Launcelot, this is come happily as I would have it, and therefore I pray you make you ready to do battle, but look that ye tarry till ye see me come, as long as ye may. For I am sure Mador is an hot knight, when he is enchafed, for the more ye suffer him, the hastier will he be to battle. Sir, said Bors, let me deal with him; doubt ye not ye shall have all your will. Then departed Sir Bors from him, and came to the court again. Then was it noised in all the court that Sir Bors should do battle for the queen: wherefore many knights were displeased with him, that he would take upon him to do battle in the queen’s quarrel, for there were but few knights in the court but they deemed the queen was in the wrong, and that she had done that treason. So Sir Bors answered thus unto his fellows of the Table Round: Wit ye well, my fair lords, it were shame to us all, and we suffered to see the most noble queen of the world to be shamed openly, considering her lord and our lord is the man of most worship in the world, and most christened, and he hath ever worshipped us all, in all places. Many answered him again:—As for our most noble king Arthur, we love him and honour him as well as ye do; but as for queen Guenever we love her not, because she is a destroyer of good knights. Fair lords, said Sir Bors, me seemeth ye say not as ye should say, for never yet in my days knew I never, nor heard say, that ever she was a destroyer of any good knight: but at all times, as far as I ever could know, she was always a maintainer of good knights, and always she hath been large and free of her goods to all good knights, and the most bounteous lady of her gifts and her good grace that ever I saw or heard speak of. And therefore it were shame, said Sir Bors, to us all to our most noble king’s wife, and we suffered her to be shamefully slain. And wit ye well, said Sir Bors, I will not suffer it, for I dare say so much, the queen is not guilty of Sir Patrise’s death, for she owed him never none ill will, nor none of the four and twenty knights that were at that dinner; for I dare say for good love she bad us to dinner, and not for no mal-engine; and that I doubt not shall be proved hereafter: for howsoever the game goeth, there was treason among us. Then some said to Sir Bors, We may well believe your words. And so some of them were well pleased, and some were not so.
CHAP. VI.
How at the day Sir Bors made him ready for to fight for the queen; and when he should fight how another discharged him.
The day came on fast until the even that the battle should be. Then the queen sent for Sir Bors, and asked him how he was disposed. Truly madam, said he, I am disposed in likewise as I promised you; that is for to say, I shall not fail you, unless by adventure there come a better knight than I am, to do the battle for you: then, madam, am I discharged of my promise. Will ye, said the queen, that I tell my lord Arthur thus? Do as it shall please you, madam. Then the queen went unto the king, and told him the answer of Sir Bors. Have ye no doubt, said the king, of Sir Bors, for I call him now one of the best knights of the world, and the most profitablest man. And thus it past on until the morn. And the king and the queen, and all manner of knights that were there at that time, drew them unto the meadow beside Westminster, where the battle should be. And so when the king was come with the queen, and many knights of the Round Table, then the queen was put there in the constable’s ward, and a great fire made about an iron stake, that, and Sir Mador de la Porte had the better, she should be burnt. Such custom was used in those days, that neither for favour, neither for love, nor affinity, there should be none other but righteous judgment, as well upon a king as upon a knight, and as well upon a queen as upon another poor lady. So in this meanwhile came in Sir Mador de la Porte, and took his oath afore the king, That the queen did this treason until his cousin Sir Patrise, and unto his oath he would prove it with his body, hand for hand, who that would say the contrary. Right so came in Sir Bors de Ganis, and said, that as for queen Guenever, she is in the right, and that will I make good with my hands, that she is not culpable of this treason that is put upon her. Then make thee ready, said Sir Mador, and we shall prove whether thou be in the right or I. Sir Mador, said Sir Bors, wit thou well I know you for a good knight: not for then I shall not fear so greatly, but I trust to God I shall be able to withstand your malice: but thus much have I promised my lord Arthur, and my lady the queen, that I shall do battle for her in this case to the uttermost, unless that there come a better knight than I am, and discharge me. Is that all, said Sir Mador, either come thou off and do battle with me, or else say nay. Take your horse, said Sir Bors, and, as I suppose, ye shall not tarry long, but ye shall be answered. Then either departed to their tents, and made them ready to horseback as they thought best. And anon Sir Mador came into the field with his shield on his shoulder, and his spear in his hand. And so rode about the place, crying unto king Arthur, Bid your champion come forth and he dare! Then was Sir Bors ashamed, and took his horse and came to the lists’ end. And then was he ware where came from a wood there fast by a knight, all armed upon a white horse, with a strange shield of strange arms, and he came riding all that he might run. And so he came to Sir Bors, and said, Fair knight, I pray you be not displeased, for here must a better knight than ye are have this battle; therefore I pray you withdraw you. For wit ye well I have had this day a right great journey, and this battle ought to be mine, and so I promised you when I spake with you last, and with all my heart I thank you of your good will. Then Sir Bors rode unto king Arthur, and told him how there was a knight come that would have the battle for to fight for the queen. What knight is he? said the king. I wot not, said Sir Bors, but such covenant he made with me to be here this day. Now my lord, said Sir Bors, here am I discharged.
CHAP. VII.
How Sir Launcelot fought against Sir Mador for the queen, and how he overcame Sir Mador and discharged the queen.
Then the king called to that knight, and asked him if he would fight for the queen. Then he answered to the king, Therefore came I hither, and therefore, Sir king, he said, tarry me no longer, for I may not tarry. For anon as I have finished this battle I must depart hence, for I have ado many matters elsewhere. For wit you well, said that knight, this is dishonour to you all knights of the Round Table, to see and know so noble a lady, and so courteous a queen, as queen Guenever is, thus to be rebuked and shamed amongst you. Then they all marvelled what knight that might be that so took the battle upon him, for there was not one that knew him, but if it were Sir Bors. Then said Sir Mador de la Porte unto the king, Now let me wit with whom I shall have ado withal. And then they rode to the lists’ end, and there they couched their spears, and ran together with all their mights. And Sir Mador’s spear brake all to pieces, but the other’s spear held, and bare Sir Mador’s horse and all backward to the earth a great fall. But mightily and suddenly he avoided his horse, and put his shield afore him, and then drew his sword, and bad the other knight alight and do battle with him on foot. Then that knight descended from his horse lightly like a valiant man, and put his shield afore him, and drew his sword, and so they came eagerly unto battle, and either gave other many great strokes, tracing and traversing, rasing and foining, and hurtling together with their swords, as it were wild boars. Thus were they fighting nigh an hour, for this Sir Mador was a strong knight, and mightily proved in many strong battles. But at last this knight smote Sir Mador groveling upon the earth, and the knight stept near him to have pulled Sir Mador flatling upon the ground; and therewith suddenly Sir Mador arose, and in his rising he smote that knight through the thick of the thighs, that the blood ran out fiercely. And when he felt himself so wounded, and saw his blood, he let him arise upon his feet; and then he gave him such a buffet upon the helm that he fell to the earth flatling, and therewith he strode to him for to have pulled off his helm off his head. And then Sir Mador prayed that knight to save his life, and so he yielded him as overcome, and released the queen of his quarrel. I will not grant thee thy life, said that knight, only that thou freely release the queen for ever, and that no mention be made upon Sir Patrise’s tomb that ever queen Guenever consented to that treason. All this shall be done, said Sir Mador, I clearly discharge my quarrel for ever. Then the knights parters of the lists took up Sir Mador and led him to his tent. And the other knight went straight to the stair foot where sat king Arthur, and by that time was the queen come to the king, and either kissed other heartily. And when the king saw that knight, he stooped down to him and thanked him, and in likewise did the queen: and the king prayed him to put off his helmet, and to repose him, and to take a sop of wine, and then he put off his helm to drink, and then every knight knew him that it was Sir Launcelot du Lake. Anon as the king wist that, he took the queen in his hand, and went unto Sir Launcelot, and said, Sir, grant mercy of your great travail that ye have had this day for me and for my queen. My lord, said Sir Launcelot, wit ye well I ought of right ever to be in your quarrel, and in my lady the queen’s quarrel to do battle, for ye are the man that gave me the high honour of knighthood, and that day my lady your queen did me great worship, and else I had been shamed; for that same day ye made me knight through my hastiness I lost my sword, and my lady your queen found it, and lapped it in her train, and gave me my sword when I had need thereto, and else had I been shamed among all knights. And therefore, my lord Arthur, I promised her at that day ever to be her knight in right or in wrong. Grant mercy, said king Arthur, for this journey, and wit ye well, said the king, I shall acquit your goodness. And ever the queen beheld Sir Launcelot, and wept so tenderly that she sank almost to the ground for sorrow that he had done to her so great goodness, where she shewed him great unkindness. Then the knights of his blood drew unto him, and there either of them made great joy of other. And so came all the knights of the Table Round that were there at that time, and welcomed him. And then Sir Mador was had to leech-craft, and Sir Launcelot was healed of his wound. And then there was made great joy and mirths in that court.
CHAP. VIII.
How the truth was known by the maiden of the lake, and of divers other matters.
And so it befell that the damsel of the lake, her name was Nimue, the which wedded the good knight Sir Pelleas, and so she came to the court, for ever she did great goodness unto king Arthur, and to all his knights, through her sorcery and enchantments. And so when she heard how the queen was an angered for the death of Sir Patrise, then she told it openly that she was never guilty, and there she disclosed by whom it was done, and named him Sir Pinel, and for what cause he did it. There it was openly disclosed, and so the queen was excused, and the knight Pinel fled into his country. Then was it openly known that Sir Pinel enpoisoned the apples at the feast, to that intent to have destroyed Sir Gawaine, because Sir Gawaine and his brethren destroyed Sir Lamorak de Galis, to the which Sir Pinel was cousin unto. Then was Sir Patrise buried in the church of Westminster, in a tomb, and thereupon was written, Here lieth Sir Patrise of Ireland, slain by Sir Pinel le Savage, that enpoisoned apples to have slain Sir Gawaine, and by misfortune Sir Patrise eat one of those apples, and then suddenly he brast. Also there was written upon the tomb, that queen Guenever was appealed of treason of the death of Sir Patrise by Sir Mador de la Porte, and there was made mention how Sir Launcelot fought with him for queen Guenever, and overcame him in plain battle. All this was written upon the tomb of Sir Patrise, in excusing of the queen. And then Sir Mador sued daily and long to have the queen’s good grace. And so by the means of Sir Launcelot he caused him to stand in the queen’s grace, and all was forgiven. Thus it passed forth till our Lady day, Assumption. Within a fifteen days of that feast the king let cry a great justs and a tournament that should be at that day at Camelot, that is Winchester. And the king let cry that he and the king of Scots would just against all that would come against them. And when this cry was made, thither came many knights. So there came thither the king of Northgalis, and king Anguish of Ireland, and the king with the hundred knights, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince, and the king of Northumberland, and many other noble dukes and earls of divers countries. So king Arthur made him ready to depart to these justs, and would have had the queen with him: but at that time she would not, she said, for she was sick and might not ride at that time. That me repenteth, said the king, for this seven year ye saw not such a fellowship together, except at Whitsuntide when Galahad departed from the court. Truly, said the queen to the king, ye must hold me excused. I may not be there, and that me repenteth. And many deemed the queen would not be there because of Sir Launcelot du Lake, for Sir Launcelot would not ride with the king; for he said that he was not whole of the wound the which Sir Mador had given him. Wherefore the king was heavy and passing wroth, and so he departed towards Winchester with his fellowship. And so by the way the king lodged in a town called Astolat, that is now in English called Gilford, and there the king lay in the castle. So when the king was departed, the queen called Sir Launcelot unto her, and said, Sir Launcelot ye are greatly to blame, thus to hold you behind my lord: what trow ye, what will your enemies and mine say and deem? nought else but see how Sir Launcelot holdeth him ever behind the king, and so doth the queen, for that they would be together; and thus will they say, said the queen to Sir Launcelot, have ye no doubt thereof.
CHAP. IX.
How Sir Launcelot rode to Astolat, and received a sleeve to bear upon his helm at the request of a maid.
Madam, said Sir Launcelot, I allow your wit, it is of late come sin ye were wise, and therefore, madam, as at this time I will be ruled by your counsel, and this night I will take my rest, and to-morrow by time will take my way toward Winchester. But wit you well, said Sir Launcelot to the queen, that at that justs I will be against the king and all his fellowship. Ye may there do as ye list, said the queen, but by my counsel ye shall not be against your king and your fellowship, for therein be full many hardy knights of your blood, as ye wot well enough, it needeth not to rehearse them. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, I pray you that ye be not displeased with me, for I will take the adventure that God will send me. And so upon the morn early Sir Launcelot heard mass, and brake his fast, and so took his leave of the queen, and departed. And then he rode so much until he came to Astolat, that is Gilford; and there it happed him in the eventide he came to an old baron’s place, that hight Sir Bernard of Astolat. And as Sir Launcelot entered into his lodging, king Arthur espied him as he did walk in a garden beside the castle, how he took his lodging, and knew him full well. It is well, said king Arthur unto the knights that were with him in that garden beside the castle, I have now espied one knight that will play his play at the justs to the which we be gone toward, I undertake he will do marvels. Who is that, we pray you tell us, said many knights that were there at that time. Ye shall not wit for me, said the king, at this time. And so the king smiled, and went to his lodging. So when Sir Launcelot was in his lodging, and unarmed him in his chamber, the old baron and hermit came unto him, making his reverence, and welcomed him in the best manner; but the old knight knew not Sir Launcelot. Fair sir, said Sir Launcelot to his host, I would pray you to lend me a shield that were not openly known, for mine is well known. Sir, said his host, ye shall have your desire, for me seemeth ye be one of the likeliest knights of the world, and therefore I shall shew you friendship. Sir, wit you well I have two sons which were but late made knights, and the eldest hight Sir Tirre, and he was hurt that same day that he was made knight, that he may not ride, and his shield ye shall have, for that is not known, I dare say, but here and in no place else. And my youngest son hight Sir Lavaine, and if it please you he shall ride with you unto that justs, and he is of his age strong and wight. For much my heart giveth unto you that ye should be a noble knight, therefore, I pray you tell me your name, said Sir Bernard. As for that, said Sir Launcelot, ye must hold me excused as at this time, and if God give me grace to speed well at the justs I shall come again and tell you. But I pray you, said Sir Launcelot, in any wise let me have your son Sir Lavaine with me, and that I may have his brother’s shield. Also this shall be done, said Sir Bernard.
This old baron had a daughter that time that was called that time the fair maid of Astolat. And ever she beheld Sir Launcelot wonderfully. And, as the book saith, she cast such a love unto Sir Launcelot that she could never withdraw her love, wherefore she died; and her name was Elaine le Blank. So thus as she came to and fro, she was so hot in her love that she besought Sir Launcelot to wear upon him at the justs a token of hers. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, and if I grant you that, ye may say I do more for your love than ever I did for lady or damsel. Then he remembered him that he would go to the justs disguised, and for because he had never afore that time borne no manner of token of no damsel, then he bethought him that he would bear one of her, that none of his blood thereby might know him. And then he said, Fair maiden, I will grant you to wear a token of yours upon my helmet, and therefore what it is shew it me. Sir, she said, it is a red sleeve of mine, of scarlet well embroidered with great pearls. And so she brought it him. So Sir Launcelot received it and said, Never did I erst so much for no damsel. And then Sir Launcelot betook the fair maiden his shield in keeping, and prayed her to keep that until that he came again. And so that night he had merry rest and great cheer. For ever the damsel Elaine was about Sir Launcelot, all the while she might be suffered.
CHAP. X.
How the tourney began at Winchester, and what knights were at the justs, and other things.
So upon a day on the morn, king Arthur and all his knights departed; for their king had tarried there three days to abide his noble knights. And so when the king was riden, Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine made them ready for to ride, and either of them had white shields, and the red sleeve Sir Launcelot let carry with him. And so they took their leave at Sir Bernard the old baron, and at his daughter the fair maiden of Astolat. And then they rode so long till they came to Camelot, that time called Winchester. And there was great press of kings, dukes, earls, and barons, and many noble knights. But there Sir Launcelot was lodged privily, by the means of Sir Lavaine, with a rich burgess, that no man in that town was ware what they were. And so they sojourned there till our Lady day, Assumption, as the great feast should be. So then trumpets blew unto the field, and king Arthur was set on high upon a scaffold, to behold who did best. But, as the French book saith, king Arthur would not suffer Sir Gawaine to go from him, for never had Sir Gawaine the better and Sir Launcelot were in the field; and many times was Sir Gawaine rebuked when Launcelot came into any justs disguised. Then some of the kings, as king Anguish of Ireland and the king of Scotland, were that time turned upon the side of king Arthur. And then on the other party was the king of Northgalis, and the king with the hundred knights, and the king of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince. But these three kings and this duke were passing weak to hold against king Arthur’s party: for with him were the noblest knights of the world. So then they withdrew them either party from other, and every man made him ready in his best manner to do what he might. Then Sir Launcelot made him ready, and put the red sleeve upon his head, and fastened it fast; and so Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of Winchester privily, and rode until a little leaved wood, behind the party that held against king Arthur’s party, and there they held them still till the parties smote together. And then came in the king of Scots and the king of Ireland on Arthur’s party: and against them came the king of Northumberland; and the king with the hundred knights smote down the king of Northumberland, and the king with the hundred knights smote down king Anguish of Ireland. Then Sir Palamides, that was on Arthur’s party, encountered with Sir Galahalt, and either of them smote down other, and either party halp their lords on horseback again. So there began a strong assail upon both parties. And then there came in Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor le Desirous, Sir Dodinas le Savage, Sir Kay le Seneschal, Sir Griflet le Fise de Dieu, Sir Mordred, Sir Meliot de Logris, Sir Ozanna le Cure Hardy, Sir Safere, Sir Epinogris, and Sir Galleron of Galway. All these fifteen knights were knights of the Table Round. So these with more others came in together, and beat on back the king of Northumberland, and the king of North Wales. When Sir Launcelot saw this, as he hoved in a little leaved wood, then he said unto Sir Lavaine, See yonder is a company of good knights, and they hold them together as boars that were chafed with dogs. That is truth, said Sir Lavaine.
CHAP. XI.
How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine entered in the field against them of king Arthur’s court, and how Launcelot was hurt.
Now, said Sir Launcelot, and ye will help me a little, ye shall see yonder fellowship which chaseth now these men in our side, that they shall go as fast backward as they went forward. Sir, spare not, said Sir Lavaine, for I shall do what I may. Then Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine came in at the thickest of the press, and there Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Brandiles, Sir Sagramor. Sir Dodinas, Sir Kay, Sir Griflet, and all this he did with one spear. And Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Lucan le Buttelere, and Sir Bedivere. And then Sir Launcelot gat another spear, and there he smote down Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred, and Sir Meliot de Logris. And Sir Lavaine smote down Ozanna le Cure Hardy: and then Sir Launcelot drew his sword, and there he smote on the right hand and on the left hand, and by great force he unhorsed Sir Safere, Sir Epinogris, and Sir Galleron. And then the knights of the Table Round withdrew them aback, after they had gotten their horses as well as they might. O mercy, said Sir Gawaine, what knight is yonder, that doth so marvellous deeds of arms in that field? I wot what he is, said king Arthur. But as at this time I will not name him. Sir, said Sir Gawaine, I would say it were Sir Launcelot, by his riding and his buffets that I see him deal: but ever me seemeth it should not be he, for that he beareth the red sleeve upon his head, for I wist him never bear token, at no justs, of lady nor gentlewoman. Let him be said king Arthur, he will be better known and do more or ever he depart. Then the party that were against king Arthur were well comforted, and then they held them together, that beforehand were sore rebuked. Then Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel, called unto them the knights of their blood, as Sir Blamor de Ganis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Aliduke, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Bellangere le Beuse, so these nine knights of Sir Launcelot’s kin thrust in mightily, for they were all noble knights. And they, of great hate and despite that they had unto him, thought to rebuke that noble knight Sir Launcelot, and Sir Lavaine, for they knew them not. And so they came hurtling together, and smote down many knights of Northgalis and of Northumberland. And when Sir Launcelot saw them fare so, he gat a spear in his hand, and there encountered with him all at once Sir Bors, Sir Ector, and Sir Lionel, and all they three smote him at once with their spears. And with force of themselves they smote Sir Launcelot’s horse to the earth. And by misfortune Sir Bors smote Sir Launcelot through the shield into the side, and the spear brake, and the head left still in his side. When Sir Lavaine saw his master lie on the ground, he ran to the king of Scots, and smote him to the earth, and by great force he took his horse and brought him to Sir Launcelot, and maugre them all he made him to mount upon that horse. And then Launcelot gat a spear in his hand, and there he smote Sir Bors horse and man to the earth, in the same wise he served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, and Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Blamor de Ganis. And then Sir Launcelot drew his sword, for he felt himself so sore and hurt that he wend there to have had his death. And then he smote Sir Bleoberis such a buffet on the helmet that he fell down to the earth in a swoon. And in the same wise he served Sir Aliduke and Sir Galihud. And Sir Lavaine smote down Sir Bellangere, that was the son of Alisander le Orphelin. And by this was Sir Bors horsed, and then he came with Sir Ector and Sir Lionel, and all they three smote with swords upon Sir Launcelot’s helmet. And when he felt their buffets, and his wound the which was so grievous, then he thought to do what he might while he might endure; and then he gave Sir Bors such a buffet that he made him bow his head passing low, and therewithal he rased off his helm, and might have slain him, and so pulled him down. And in the same wise he served Sir Ector and Sir Lionel. For, as the book saith, he might have slain them, but when he saw their visages his heart might not serve him thereto, but left them there.
And then afterward he hurled in the thickest press of them all, and did there the marvellousest deeds of arms that ever man saw or heard speak of; and ever Sir Lavaine the good knight with him. And there Sir Launcelot with his sword smote and pulled down, as the French book maketh mention, more than thirty knights, and the most party were of the Table Round. And Sir Lavaine did full well that day, for he smote down ten knights of the Table Round.
CHAP. XII.
How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed out of the field, and in what jeopardy Launcelot was.
Mercy, said Sir Gawaine to Arthur, I marvel what knight that he is with the red sleeve. Sir, said king Arthur, he will be known or he depart. And then the king blew unto lodging, and the prize was given by heralds unto the knight with the white shield, that bare the red sleeve. Then came the king with the hundred knights, the king of Northgalis, and the king of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince, and said unto Sir Launcelot, Fair knight, God thee bless, for much have ye done this day for us, therefore we pray you that ye will come with us, that ye may receive the honour and the prize as ye have worshipfully deserved it. My fair lords, said Sir Launcelot, wit you well, if I have deserved thank I have sore bought it, and that me repenteth, for I am like never to escape with my life, therefore, fair lords, I pray you that ye will suffer me to depart where me liketh, for I am sore hurt. I take none force of none honour, for I had lever to repose me than to be lord of all the world. And therewithal he groaned piteously, and rode a great gallop away-ward from them, until he came under a wood’s side; and when he saw that he was from the field nigh a mile, that he was sure he might not be seen, then he said with an high voice, O gentle knight Sir Lavaine, help me that this truncheon were out of my side, for it sticketh so sore that it nigh slayeth me. O mine own lord, said Sir Lavaine, I would fain do that might please you, but I dread me sore, and I draw out the truncheon, that ye shall be in peril of death. I charge you, said Sir Launcelot, as ye love me draw it out. And therewithal he descended from his horse, and right so did Sir Lavaine, and forthwith Sir Lavaine drew the truncheon out of his side. And he gave a great shriek, and a marvellous grisly groan, and his blood brast out nigh a pint at once, that at last he sank down, and so swooned pale and deadly. Alas, said Sir Lavaine, what shall I do? And then he turned Sir Launcelot into the wind, but so he lay there nigh half an hour as he had been dead. And so at the last Sir Launcelot cast up his eyes, and said, O Lavaine, help me that I were on my horse, for here is fast by within this two mile a gentle hermit, that sometime was a full noble knight and a great lord of possessions: and for great goodness he hath taken him to wilful poverty, and forsaken many lands, and his name is Sir Baudewin of Brittany, and he is a full noble surgeon, and a good leech. Now let see, help me up that I were there. For ever my heart giveth me that I shall never die of my cousin-german’s hands. And then with great pain Sir Lavaine halp him upon his horse; and then they rode a great gallop together, and ever Sir Launcelot bled that it ran down to the earth. And so by fortune they came to that hermitage, which was under a wood, and a great cliff on the other side, and a fair water running under it. And then Sir Lavaine beat on the gate with the butt of his spear, and cried fast, Let in for Jesu’s sake. And there came a fair child to them, and asked them what they would? Fair son, said Sir Lavaine, go and pray thy lord the hermit for God’s sake to let in here a knight that is full sore wounded, and this day tell thy lord that I saw him do more deeds of arms than ever I heard say that any man did. So the child went in lightly, and then he brought the hermit, the which was a passing good man. So when Sir Lavaine saw him, he prayed him for God’s sake of succour. What knight is he? said the hermit, is he of the house of king Arthur or not? I wot not, said Sir Lavaine, what is he, nor what is his name, but well I wot I saw him do marvellously this day, as of deeds of arms. On whose party was he? said the hermit. Sir, said Sir Lavaine, he was this day against king Arthur, and there he wan the prize of all the knights of the Round Table. I have seen the day, said the hermit, I would have loved him the worse because he was against my lord king Arthur, for sometime I was one of the fellowship of the Round Table, but I thank God now I am otherwise disposed. But where is he? let me see him. Then Sir Lavaine brought the hermit to him.
CHAP. XIII.
How Launcelot was brought to an hermit for to be healed of his wound, and of other matters.
And when the hermit beheld him as he sat leaning upon his saddle-bow, ever bleeding piteously, and ever the knight hermit thought that he should know him, but he could not bring him to knowledge, because he was so pale for bleeding. What knight are ye? said the hermit, and where were ye born? My fair lord, said Sir Launcelot, I am a stranger, and a knight adventurous that laboureth throughout many realms for to win worship. Then the hermit advised him better, and saw by a wound on his cheek that he was Sir Launcelot. Alas, said the hermit, mine own lord, why hide you your name from me: forsooth I ought to know you of right, for ye are the most noblest knight of the world; for well I know you for Sir Launcelot. Sir, said he, sith ye know me, help me and ye may, for God’s sake; for I would be out of this pain at once, either to death or to life. Have ye no doubt, said the hermit, ye shall live and fare right well. And so the hermit called to him two of his servants, and so he and his servants bare him into the hermitage, and lightly unarmed him and laid him in his bed. And then anon the hermit stanched his blood, and made him to drink good wine, so that Sir Launcelot was well refreshed, and knew himself. For in those days it was not the guise of hermits as is now adays. For there were none hermits in those days but that they had been men of worship and of prowess, and those hermits held great household, and refreshed people that were in distress.
Now turn we unto king Arthur, and leave we Sir Launcelot in the hermitage. So when the kings were come together on both parties, and the great feast should be holden, king Arthur asked the king of Northgalis and their fellowship where was that knight that bare the red sleeve:—Bring him before me, that he may have his laud and honour and the prize, as it is right. Then spake Sir Galahalt the haut prince and the king with the hundred knights: We suppose that knight is mischieved, and that he is never like to see you, nor none of us all, and that is the greatest pity that ever we wist of any knight. Alas, said Arthur, how may this be? is he so hurt? What is his name? said king Arthur. Truly, said they all, we know not his name, nor from whence he came, nor whither he would. Alas, said the king, these be to me the worst tidings that came to me this seven year: for I would not for all the lands I hold, to know and wit it were so that that noble knight were slain. Know ye him? said they all. As for that, said Arthur, whether I know him or know him not, ye shall not know for me what man he is, but Almighty Jesu send me good tidings of him. And so said they all. By my head, said Sir Gawaine, if it be so, that the good knight be so sore hurt, it is great damage and pity to all this land, for he is one of the noblest knights that ever I saw in a field handle a spear or a sword. And if he may be found I shall find him, for I am sure he is not far from this town. Bear you well, said king Arthur, and ye may find him, unless that he be in such a plight that he may not hold himself. Jesu defend, said Sir Gawaine, but wit I shall what he is, and I may find him. Right so, Sir Gawaine took a squire with him, upon hackneys, and rode all about Camelot within six or seven miles. But so he came again, and could hear no word of him.
Then within two days king Arthur and all the fellowship returned unto London again. And so as they rode by the way, it happed Sir Gawaine at Astolat to lodge with Sir Bernard, there as was Sir Launcelot lodged. And so as Sir Gawaine was in his chamber to repose him, Sir Bernard the old baron came unto him, and his daughter Elaine, for to cheer him, and to ask him what tidings, and who did best at that tournament of Winchester. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, there were two knights that bare two white shields; but the one of them bare a red sleeve upon his head, and certainly he was one of the best knights that ever I saw just in field. For I dare say, said Sir Gawaine, that one knight with the red sleeve smote down forty valiant knights of the Table Round, and his fellow did right well and worshipfully. Now blessed be God, said the fair maiden of Astolat, that that knight sped so well, for he is the man in the world that I first loved, and truly he shall be the last that ever I shall love. Now fair maid, said Sir Gawaine, is that good knight your love? Certainly, sir, said she, wit ye well he is my love. Then know ye his name, said Sir Gawaine. Nay, truly, said the damsel, I know not his name, nor from whence he cometh, but to say that I love him, I promise you and God that I love him. How had ye knowledge of him first? said Sir Gawaine.
CHAP. XIV.
How Sir Gawaine was lodged with the lord of Astolat, and there had knowledge that it was Sir Launcelot that bare the red sleeve.
Then she told him as ye have heard tofore, and how her father betook him her brother to do him service, and how her father lent him her brother Sir Tirre’s shield,—And here with me he left his own shield. For what cause did he so? said Sir Gawaine. For this cause, said the damsel, for his shield was too well known among many noble knights. Ah, fair damsel, said Sir Gawaine, please it you let me have a sight of that shield. Sir, said she, it is in my chamber covered with a case, and if ye will come with me, ye shall see it. Not so, said Sir Bernard, till his daughter let send for it. So when the shield was come, Sir Gawaine took off the case: and when he beheld that shield, he knew anon that it was Sir Launcelot’s shield, and his own arms. Ah, mercy, said Sir Gawaine, now is my heart more heavier then ever it was tofore. Why? said Elaine. For I have great cause, said Sir Gawaine: is that knight that owneth this shield your love? Yea truly, said she, my love he is, God would I were his love. Truly, said Sir Gawaine, fair damsel, ye have right, for, and he be your love, ye love the most honourable knight of the world, and the man of most worship. So me thought ever, said the damsel, for never, or that time, for no knight that ever I saw loved I never none erst. God grant, said Sir Gawaine, that either of you may rejoice other, but that is in a great adventure. But truly, said Sir Gawaine unto the damsel, ye may say ye have a fair grace, for why, I have known that noble knight this four and twenty year, and never or that day I nor none other knight, I dare make it good, saw nor heard say that ever he bare token or sign of no lady, gentlewoman, nor maiden, at no justs nor tournament. And therefore, fair maiden, said Sir Gawaine, ye are much beholden to him to give him thanks. But I dread me, said Sir Gawaine, that ye shall never see him in this world, and that is great pity that ever was of earthly knight. Alas, said she, how may this be? Is he slain? I say not so, said Sir Gawaine, but wit ye well, he is grievously wounded, by all manner of signs, and by men’s sight more likely to be dead then to be on live; and wit ye well he is the noble knight Sir Launcelot, for by this shield I know him. Alas, said the fair maiden of Astolat, how may this be, and what was his hurt? Truly, said Sir Gawaine, the man in the world that loved him best hurt him so, and I dare say, said Sir Gawaine, and that knight that hurt him knew the very certainty that he had hurt Sir Launcelot, it would be the most sorrow that ever came to his heart. Now, fair father, said then Elaine, I require you give me leave to ride and to seek him, or else I wot well I shall go out of my mind, for I shall never stint till that I find him and my brother Sir Lavaine. Do as it liketh you, said her father, for me right sore repenteth of the hurt of that noble knight. Right so the maid made her ready, and before Sir Gawaine making great dole. Then on the morn Sir Gawaine came to king Arthur, and told him how he had found Sir Launcelot’s shield in the keeping of the fair maiden of Astolat. All that knew I aforehand, said king Arthur, and that caused me I would not suffer you to have ado at the great justs: for I espied, said king Arthur, when he came in till his lodging, full late in the evening in Astolat. But marvel have I, said Arthur, that ever he would bear any sign of any damsel: for, or now, I never heard say nor knew that ever he bare any token of none earthly woman. By my head, said Sir Gawaine, the fair maiden of Astolat loveth him marvellously well; what it meaneth I cannot say; and she is ridden after to seek him. So the king and all came to London, and there Sir Gawaine openly disclosed to all the court that it was Sir Launcelot that justed best.
CHAP. XV.
Of the sorrow that Sir Bors had for the hurt of Launcelot; and of the anger that the queen had because Launcelot bore the sleeve.
And when Sir Bors heard that, wit ye well he was a heavy man, and so were all his kinsmen. But when queen Guenever wist that Sir Launcelot bare the red sleeve of the fair maiden of Astolat, she was nigh out of her mind for wrath. And then she sent for Sir Bors de Ganis in all the haste that might be. So when Sir Bors was come tofore the queen, then she said, Ah, Sir Bors, have ye heard say how falsely Sir Launcelot hath betrayed me? Alas, madam, said Sir Bors, I am afraid he hath betrayed himself, and us all. No force, said the queen, though he be destroyed, for he is a false traitor knight. Madam, said Sir Bors, I pray you say ye not so, for wit you well I may not hear such language of him. Why, Sir Bors, said she, should I not call him traitor, when he bare the red sleeve upon his head at Winchester, at the great justs? Madam, said Sir Bors, that sleeve-bearing repenteth me sore, but I dare say he did it to none evil intent, but for this cause he bare the red sleeve, that none of his blood should know him; for, or then, we nor none of us all never knew that ever he bare token or sign of maid, lady, ne gentlewoman. Fie on him, said the queen, yet for all his pride and boasting, there ye proved yourself his better. Nay, madam, say ye never more so, for he beat me and my fellows, and might have slain us, and he had would. Fie on him, said the queen, for I heard Sir Gawaine say before my lord Arthur, that it were marvel to tell the great love that is between the fair maiden of Astolat and him. Madam, said Sir Bors, I may not warn Sir Gawaine to say what it pleased him: but I dare say as for my lord Sir Launcelot, that he loveth no lady, gentlewoman, nor maid, but all he loveth in like much, and therefore, madam, said Sir Bors, ye may say what ye will, but wit ye well I will haste me to seek him, and find him wheresoever he be, and God send me good tidings of him. And so leave we them there, and speak we of Sir Launcelot, that lay in great peril.
So as fair Elaine came to Winchester, she sought there all about, and by fortune Sir Lavaine was ridden to play him, to enchafe his horse. And anon as Elaine saw him she knew him, and then she cried onloud until him. And when he heard her, anon he came to her; and then she asked her brother, How did my lord, Sir Launcelot? Who told you, sister, that my lord’s name was Sir Launcelot? Then she told him how Sir Gawaine by his shield knew him. So they rode together till that they came to the hermitage, and anon she alight. So Sir Lavaine brought her in to Sir Launcelot. And when she saw him lie so sick and pale in his bed, she might not speak, but suddenly she fell to the earth down suddenly in a swoon, and there she lay a great while. And when she was relieved she sighed, and said, My lord Sir Launcelot, alas, why be ye in this plight? and then she swooned again. And then Sir Launcelot prayed Sir Lavaine to take her up,—And bring her to me. And when she came to herself, Sir Launcelot kissed her, and said, Fair maiden, why fare ye thus? Ye put me to pain; wherefore make ye no more such cheer, for, and ye be come to comfort me, ye be right welcome, and of this little hurt that I have, I shall be right hastily whole, by the grace of God. But I marvel, said Sir Launcelot, who told you my name. Then the fair maiden told him all how Sir Gawaine was lodged with her father,—And there by your shield he discovered your name. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, that me repenteth, that my name is known, for I am sure it will turn unto anger. And then Sir Launcelot compassed in his mind that Sir Gawaine would tell queen Guenever how he bare the red sleeve, and for whom, that he wist well would turn unto great anger. So this maiden, Elaine, never went from Sir Launcelot, but watched him day and night, and did such attendance to him that the French book saith there was never woman did more kindlier for man than she. Then Sir Launcelot prayed Sir Lavaine to make espies in Winchester for Sir Bors if he came there, and told him by what tokens he should know him, by a wound in his forehead: For well I am sure, said Sir Launcelot, that Sir Bors will seek me, for he is the same good knight that hurt me.
CHAP. XVI.
How Sir Bors sought Launcelot and found him in the hermitage, and of the lamentation between them.
Now turn we unto Sir Bors de Ganis, that came unto Winchester to seek after his cousin, Sir Launcelot; and so when he came to Winchester, anon there were men that Sir Lavaine had made to lie in a watch for such a man; and anon Sir Lavaine had warning; and then Sir Lavaine came to Winchester, and found Sir Bors, and there he told him what he was, and with whom he was, and what was his name. Now, fair knight, said Sir Bors, I require you that ye will bring me to my lord Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir Lavaine, take your horse, and within this hour ye shall see him. And so they departed, and came to the hermitage.
And when Sir Bors saw Sir Launcelot lie in his bed, pale and discoloured, anon Sir Bors lost his countenance, and for kindness and pity he might not speak, but wept tenderly a great while. And then when he might speak he said thus: O my lord Sir Launcelot, God you bless, and send you hasty recovery; and full heavy am I of my misfortune and of mine unhappiness, for now I may call myself unhappy, and I dread me that God is greatly displeased with me, that he would suffer me to have such a shame for to hurt you, that are all our leader and all our worship, and therefore I call myself unhappy. Alas, that ever such a caitiff knight as I am should have power by unhappiness to hurt the most noblest knight of the world. Where I so shamefully set upon you and overcharged you, and where ye might have slain me, ye saved me, and so did not I: for I, and your blood, did to you our utterance. I marvel, said Sir Bors, that my heart or my blood would serve me, wherefore my lord Sir Launcelot, I ask your mercy. Fair cousin, said Sir Launcelot, ye be right welcome, and wit ye well overmuch ye say for to please me, the which pleaseth me not; for why? I have the same sought, for I would with pride have overcome you all, and there in my pride I was near slain, and that was in mine own default, for I might have given you warning of my being there. And then had I had no hurt; for it is an old said saw, there is hard battle there as kin and friends do battle either against other; there may be no mercy, but mortal war. Therefore, fair cousin, said Sir Launcelot, let this speech overpass, and all shall be welcome that God sendeth; and let us leave off this matter, and let us speak of some rejoicing: for this that is done may not be undone, and let us find a remedy how soon that I may be whole. Then Sir Bors leaned upon his bed’s side, and told Sir Launcelot how the queen was passing wroth with him, because he ware the red sleeve at the great justs. And there Sir Bors told him all how Sir Gawaine discovered it by your shield that ye left with the fair maiden of Astolat. Then is the queen wroth, said Sir Launcelot, and therefore am I right heavy, for I deserved no wrath, for all that I did was because that I would not be known. Right so excused I you, said Sir Bors, but all was in vain, for she said more largely to me than I to you now. But is this she, said Sir Bors, that is so busy about you, that men call the fair maiden of Astolat? She it is, said Sir Launcelot, that by no means I cannot put from me. Why should ye put her from you? said Sir Bors, she is a passing fair damsel, and a well beseen and well taught; and God would, fair cousin, said Sir Bors, that ye could love her, but as to that I may not, nor I dare not, counsel you. But I see well, said Sir Bors, by her diligence about you, that she loveth you entirely. That me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir Bors, she is not the first that hath lost her pain upon you, and that is the more pity. And so they talked of many more things. And so within three days or four, Sir Launcelot was big and strong again.
CHAP. XVII.
How Sir Launcelot armed him to assay if he might bear arms, and how his wound burst out again.
Then Sir Bors told Sir Launcelot how there was sworn a great tournament and justs betwixt king Arthur and the king of Northgalis, that should be on Allhallowmass day, beside Winchester. Is that truth? said Sir Launcelot, then shall ye abide with me still a little while, until that I be whole, for I feel myself right big and strong. Blessed be God, said Sir Bors. Then were they there nigh a month together; and ever this maiden Elaine did ever her diligent labour, night and day, unto Sir Launcelot, that there was never child nor wife more meeker to father and husband, than was that fair maiden of Astolat. Wherefore Sir Bors was greatly pleased with her. So upon a day, by the assent of Sir Launcelot, Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine they made the hermit to seek in woods for divers herbs. And so Sir Launcelot made fair Elaine to gather herbs for him, to make him a bath. In the mean while, Sir Launcelot made him to arm him at all pieces, and there he thought to assay his armour and his spear, for his hurt or not. And so when he was upon his horse, he stirred him fiercely, and the horse was passing lusty and fresh, because he was not laboured a month before. And then Sir Launcelot couched that spear in the rest: that courser lept mightily when he felt the spurs; and he that was upon him, the which was the noblest horse of the world, strained him mightily and stably, and kept still the spear in the rest. And therewith Sir Launcelot strained himself so straitly, with so great force, to get the horse forward, that the bottom of the wound brast, both within and without, and therewithal the blood came out so fiercely that he felt himself so feeble that he might not sit upon his horse. And then Sir Launcelot cried unto Sir Bors, Ah, Sir Bors, and Sir Lavaine, help, for I am come to mine end. And therewith he fell down on the one side to the earth, like a dead corpse. And then Sir Bors and Sir Lavaine came to him, with sorrow making out of measure. And so by fortune the maiden Elaine heard their mourning, and then she came thither. And when she found Sir Launcelot there armed in that place, she cried and wept as she had been wood, and then she kissed him, and did what she might to awake him. And then she rebuked her brother and Sir Bors, and called them false traitors, why they would take him out of his bed; then she cried, and said she would appeal them of his death. With this came the holy hermit, Sir Baudewin of Britanny; and when he found Sir Launcelot in that plight he said but little, but wit ye well he was wroth; and then he bade them, Let us have him in. And so they all bare him unto the hermitage, and unarmed him, and laid him in his bed, and evermore his wound bled piteously, but he stirred no limb of him. Then the knight hermit put a thing in his nose, and a little deal of water in his mouth, and then Sir Launcelot waked of his swoon, and then the hermit stanched his bleeding. And when he might speak, he asked Sir Launcelot why he put his life in jeopardy. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, because I wend I had been strong, and also Sir Bors told me that there should be at Allhallowmass a great justs betwixt king Arthur and the king of Northgalis, and therefore I thought to assay it myself, whether I might be there or not. Ah, Sir Launcelot, said the hermit, your heart and your courage will never be done until your last day, but ye shall do now by my counsel; let Sir Bors depart from you, and let him do at that tournament what he may, and by the grace of God, said the knight hermit, by that the tournament be done, and ye come hither again, Sir Launcelot shall be as whole as ye, so that he will be governed by me.
CHAP. XVIII.
How Sir Bors returned and told tidings of Sir Launcelot, and of the tourney, and to whom the prize was given.
Then Sir Bors made him ready to depart from Sir Launcelot; and then Sir Launcelot said, Fair cousin, Sir Bors, recommend me unto all them unto whom me ought to recommend me unto, and I pray you enforce yourself at that justs, that ye may be best, for my love, and here shall I abide you, at the mercy of God, till ye come again. And so Sir Bors departed, and came to the court of king Arthur, and told them in what place he had left Sir Launcelot. That me repenteth, said the king, but sin he shall have his life, we may all thank God. And there Sir Bors told the queen in what jeopardy Sir Launcelot was, when he would essay his horse: and all that he did, madam, was for the love of you, because he would have been at this tournament. Fie on him, recreant knight, said the queen, for wit ye well I am right sorry and he shall have his life. His life shall he have, said Sir Bors, and who that would otherwise, except you, madam, we that be of his blood should help to short their lives. But, madam, said Sir Bors, ye have been oft-times displeased with my lord Sir Launcelot, but at all times at the end ye find him a true knight. And so he departed. And then every knight of the Round Table that was there present at that time, made them ready to be at that justs at Allhallowmass. And thither drew many knights of divers countries. And as Allhallowmass drew near, thither came the king of Northgalis, and the king with the hundred knights, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince of Surluse, and thither came king Anguish of Ireland, and the king of Scots. So these three kings came on king Arthur’s party. And so that day Sir Gawaine did great deeds of arms, and began first, and the heralds numbered that Sir Gawaine smote down twenty knights. Then Sir Bors de Ganis came in the same time, and he was numbered that he smote down twenty knights. And therefore the prize was given betwixt them both, for they began first, and the longest endured.
Also Sir Gareth, as the book saith, did that day great deeds of arms, for he smote down, and pulled down, thirty knights. But when he had done these deeds he tarried not, but so departed, and therefore he lost his prize. And Sir Palamides did great deeds of arms that day, for he smote down twenty knights, but he departed suddenly; and men deemed Sir Gareth and he rode together to some manner adventure. So when this tournament was done, Sir Bors departed, and rode till he came to Sir Launcelot his cousin, and then he found him walking on his feet, and there either made great joy of other. And so Sir Bors told Sir Launcelot of all the justs, like as ye have heard. I marvel, said Sir Launcelot, that Sir Gareth, when he had done such deeds of arms, that he would not tarry. Thereof we marvelled all, said Sir Bors, for, but if it were you, or Sir Tristram, or Sir Lamorak de Galis, I saw never knight bear down so many in so little a while as did Sir Gareth. And anon as he was gone, he wist not where. By my head, said Sir Launcelot, he is a noble knight, and a mighty man, and well breathed; and if he were well assayed, said Sir Launcelot, I would deem he were good enough for any man that beareth the life; and he is a gentle knight, courteous, true, and bounteous, meek and mild, and in him is no manner of mal-engine, but plain, faithful, and true. So then they made them ready to depart from the hermit. And so upon a morn they took their horses, and Elaine le Blank with them; and when they came to Astolat, there they were well lodged, and had great cheer of Sir Bernard the old baron, and of Sir Tirre his son. And so upon the morn, when Sir Launcelot should depart, fair Elaine brought her father with her, and Sir Tirre and Sir Lavaine, and thus she said:
CHAP. XIX.
Of the great lamentation of the fair maid of Astolat when Launcelot should depart, and how she died for his love.
My lord Sir Launcelot, now I see ye will depart, now, fair knight and courteous knight, have mercy upon me, and suffer me not to die for thy love. What would ye that I did? said Sir Launcelot. I would have you to my husband, said Elaine. Fair damsel, I thank you, said Sir Launcelot, but truly, said he, I cast me never to be wedded man. Then, fair knight, said she, will ye be my love? Jesu defend me, said Sir Launcelot, for then I rewarded to your father and your brother full evil for their great goodness. Alas, said she, then must I die for your love. Ye shall not so, said Sir Launcelot, for wit ye well, fair maiden, I might have been married and I had would, but I never applied me to be married yet. But because, fair damsel, that ye love me as ye say ye do, I will, for your good will and kindness, shew you some goodness, and that is this; that wheresoever ye will beset your heart upon some good knight that will wed you, I shall give you together a thousand pound yearly, to you and to your heirs. Thus much will I give you, fair madam, for your kindness, and always while I live to be your own knight. Of all this, said the maiden, I will none, for, but if ye will wed me, or else be my lover, wit you well, Sir Launcelot, my good days are done. Fair damsel, said Sir Launcelot, of these two things ye must pardon me. Then she shrieked shrilly, and fell down in a swoon; and then women bare her into her chamber, and there she made overmuch sorrow. And then Sir Launcelot would depart; and there he asked Sir Lavaine what he would do. What should I do, said Sir Lavaine, but follow you, but if ye drive me from you, or command me to go from you? Then came Sir Bernard to Sir Launcelot, and said to him, I cannot see but that my daughter Elaine will die for your sake. I may not do withal, said Sir Launcelot, for that me sore repenteth; for I report me to yourself that my proffer is fair, and me repenteth, said Sir Launcelot, that she loveth me as she doth: I was never the causer of it, for I report me to your son, I early nor late proffered her bounty nor fair behests; and as for me, said Sir Launcelot, I dare do all that a good knight should do, that she is a true maiden, both for deed and for will; and I am right heavy of her distress, for she is a full fair maiden, good, and gentle, and well taught. Father, said Sir Lavaine, I dare make good she is pure and good as my lord Sir Launcelot hath said; but she doth as I do, for since I first saw my lord Sir Launcelot I could never depart from him, nor nought I will and I may follow him. Then Sir Launcelot took his leave, and so they departed, and came unto Winchester. And when Arthur wist that Sir Launcelot was come, whole and sound, the king made great joy of him, and so did Sir Gawaine, and all the knights of the Round Table except Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred. Also queen Guenever was wood wroth with Sir Launcelot, and would by no means speak with him, but estranged herself from him, and Sir Launcelot made all the means that he might to speak with the queen, but it would not be.
Now speak we of the fair maiden of Astolat, that made such sorrow day and night, that she never slept, eat, nor drank; and ever she made her complaint unto Sir Launcelot. So when she had thus endured a ten days, that she feebled so that she must needs pass out of this world, then she shrived her clean, and received her Creator. And ever she complained still upon Sir Launcelot. Then her ghostly father bade her leave such thoughts. Then she said, Why should I leave such thoughts? am I not an earthly woman? and all the while the breath is in my body I may complain me, for my belief is I do none offence though I love an earthly man, and I take God to my record I never loved none but Sir Launcelot du Lake, nor never shall; and a pure maiden I am for him and for all other. And since it is the sufferance of God that I shall die for the love of so noble a knight, I beseech the High Father of heaven to have mercy upon my soul, and upon mine innumerable pains that I suffered may be allegiance of part of my sins. For sweet Lord Jesu, said the fair maiden, I take thee to record, on thee I was never great offender against thy laws, but that I loved this noble knight Sir Launcelot out of measure, and of myself, good Lord, I might not withstand the fervent love wherefore I have my death. And then she called her father Sir Bernard, and her brother Sir Tirre, and heartily she prayed her father that her brother might write a letter like as she did endite it; and so her father granted her. And when the letter was written word by word like as she devised, then she prayed her father that she might be watched until she were dead,—And while my body is hot, let this letter be put in my right hand, and my hand bound fast with the letter until that I be cold, and let me be put in a fair bed, with all the richest clothes that I have about me, and so let my bed, and all my richest clothes, be laid with me in a chariot unto the next place where Thames is, and there let me be put within a barget, and but one man with me, such as ye trust to steer me thither, and that my barget be covered with black samite, over and over. Thus, father, I beseech you, let it be done. So her father granted it her faithfully, all things should be done like as she had devised. Then her father and her brother made great dole, for, when this was done, anon she died. And so when she was dead, the corpse, and the bed, all was led the next way unto Thames, and there a man, and the corpse, and all, were put into Thames, and so the man steered the barget unto Westminster, and there he rowed a great while to and fro or any espied it.
CHAP. XX.
How the corpse of the maid of Astolat arrived tofore king Arthur, and of the burying, and how Sir Launcelot offered the mass-penny.
So by fortune king Arthur and the queen Guenever were speaking together at a window; and so as they looked into Thames, they espied this black barget, and had marvel what it meant. Then the king called Sir Kay, and shewed it him. Sir, said Sir Kay, wit you well there is some new tidings. Go thither, said the king to Sir Kay, and take with you Sir Brandiles and Agravaine, and bring me ready word what is there. Then these three knights departed, and came to the barget, and went in; and there they found the fairest corpse lying in a rich bed, and a poor man sitting in the barget’s end, and no word would he speak. So these three knights returned unto the king again, and told him what they found. That fair corpse will I see, said the king. And so then the king took the queen by the hand and went thither. Then the king made the barget to be holden fast; and then the king and the queen entered, with certain knights with them. And there he saw the fairest woman lie in a rich bed, covered unto her middle with many rich clothes, and all was of cloth of gold, and she lay as though she had smiled. Then the queen espied a letter in her right hand, and told it to the king. Then the king took it, and said, Now I am sure this letter will tell what she was, and why she is come hither. Then the king and the queen went out of the barget, and so commanded a certain man to wait upon the barget. And so when the king was come within his chamber, he called many knights about him, and said that he would wit openly what was written within that letter. Then the king brake it, and made a clerk to read it; and this was the intent of the letter:—Most noble knight, Sir Launcelot, now hath death made us two at debate for your love; I was your lover, that men called the fair maiden of Astolat; therefore unto all ladies I make my moan; yet pray for my soul, and bury me at the least, and offer ye my mass-penny. This is my last request. And a clean maiden I died, I take God to witness. Pray for my soul, Sir Launcelot, as thou art peerless.—This was all the substance in the letter. And when it was read, the king, the queen, and all the knights wept for pity of the doleful complaints. Then was Sir Launcelot sent for. And when he was come, king Arthur made the letter to be read to him; and when Sir Launcelot heard it word by word, he said, My lord Arthur, wit ye well I am right heavy of the death of this fair damsel. God knoweth I was never causer of her death by my willing, and that will I report me to her own brother; here he is, Sir Lavaine. I will not say nay, said Sir Launcelot, but that she was both fair and good, and much I was beholden unto her, but she loved me out of measure. Ye might have shewed her, said the queen, some bounty and gentleness, that might have preserved her life. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, she would none other way be answered, but that she would be my wife, or else my love, and of these two I would not grant her; but I proffered her, for her good love that she shewed me, a thousand pound yearly to her and to her heirs, and to wed any manner knight that she could find best to love in her heart. For, madam, said Sir Launcelot, I love not to be constrained to love; for love must arise of the heart, and not by no constraint. That is truth, said the king, and many knights: love is free in himself, and never will be bounden; for where he is bounden he loseth himself. Then said the king unto Sir Launcelot, It will be your worship that ye oversee that she be interred worshipfully. Sir, said Sir Launcelot, that shall be done as I can best devise. And so many knights went thither to behold that fair maiden. And so upon the morn she was interred richly, and Sir Launcelot offered her mass-penny, and all the knights of the Table Round that were there at that time offered with Sir Launcelot. And then the poor man went again with the barget. Then the queen sent for Sir Launcelot, and prayed him of mercy, for why she had been wroth with him causeless. This is not the first time, said Sir Launcelot, that ye have been displeased with me causeless; but, madam, ever I must suffer you, but what sorrow I endure I take no force. So this passed on all that winter, with all manner of hunting and hawking, and justs and tourneys were many betwixt many great lords; and ever in all places Sir Lavaine gat great worship, so that he was nobly renowned among many knights of the Table Round.
CHAP. XXI.
Of great justs done all a Christmas, and of a great justs and tourney ordained by king Arthur, and of Sir Launcelot.
Thus it passed on till Christmas, and every day there was justs made for a diamond, who that justed best should have a diamond. But Sir Launcelot would not just, but if it were at a great justs cried. But Sir Lavaine justed there all that Christmas passing well, and best was praised; for there were but few that did so well. Wherefore all manner of knights deemed that Sir Lavaine should be made knight of the Round Table at the next feast of Pentecost. So at after Christmas king Arthur let call unto him many knights, and there they advised together to make a party and a great tournament and justs. And the king of Northgalis said to Arthur he would have on his party king Anguish of Ireland, and the king with the hundred knights, and the king of Northumberland, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince; and so these four kings and this mighty duke took party against king Arthur and the knights of the Table Round. And the cry was made that the day of the justs should be beside Westminster on Candlemas day, whereof many knights were glad, and made them ready to be at that justs in the freshest manner. Then queen Guenever sent for Sir Launcelot, and said thus: I warn you that ye ride no more in no justs nor tournaments, but that your kinsmen may know you. And at these justs that shall be, ye shall have of me a sleeve of gold; and I pray you, for my sake, enforce yourself there that men may speak of you worship. But I charge you as ye will have my love, that ye warn your kinsmen that ye will bear that day the sleeve of gold upon your helmet. Madam, said Sir Launcelot, it shall be done. And so either made great joy of other. And when Sir Launcelot saw his time, he told Sir Bors that he would depart, and have no more with him but Sir Lavaine, unto the good hermit that dwelled in the forest of Windsor, his name was Sir Brastias, and there he thought to repose him, and to take all the rest that he might, because he would be fresh at that day of justs. So Sir Launcelot and Sir Lavaine departed, that no creature wist where he was become, but the noble men of his blood. And when he was come to the hermitage, wit you well he had good cheer. And so daily Sir Launcelot would go to a well fast by the hermitage, and there he would lie down, and see the well spring and bubble, and sometime he slept there. So at that time there was a lady dwelled in that forest, and she was a great huntress, and daily she used to hunt, and always she bare her bow with her; and no men went never with her, but always women, and they were shooters, and could well kill a deer, both at the stalk and at the trest; and they daily bare bows and arrows, horns and wood-knives, and many good dogs they had, both for the string and for a bait. So it happed that this lady, the huntress, had baited her dogs for the bow at a barren hind, and so this barren hind took her flight over heaths and woods, and ever this lady and part of her gentlewomen coasted the hind, and checked it by the noise of the hounds, to have met with the hind at some water. And so it happed the hind came to the well whereas Sir Launcelot was sleeping and slumbering. And so when the hind came to the well, for heat she went to soil, and there she lay a great while; and the dogs came fast after, and umbecast about, for she had lost the very perfect track of the hind. Right so, there came that lady the huntress, that knew by the dog that she had that the hind was at the soil in that well. And there she came stiffly, and found the hind, and she put a broad arrow in her bow, and shot at the hind, and overshot the hind, and so, by misfortune, the arrow smote Sir Launcelot in the thick of the thigh, over the barbs. When Sir Launcelot felt himself so hurt, he hurled up woodly, and saw the lady that had smitten him. And when he saw she was a woman, he said thus, Lady, or damsel, what that thou be, in an evil time bare ye a bow, the devil made you a shooter.
CHAP. XXII.
How Launcelot after that he was hurt of a gentlewoman came to an hermit, and of other matters.
Now mercy, fair sir, said the lady, I am a gentlewoman that useth here in this forest hunting, and truly I saw you not, but as here was a barren hind at the soil in this well, and I wend to have done well, but my hand swerved. Alas, said Sir Launcelot, ye have mischieved me. And so the lady departed, and Sir Launcelot, as well as he might, pulled out the arrow, and the head abode still in his thigh; and so he went weakly to the hermitage, evermore bleeding as he went. And when Sir Lavaine and the hermit espied that Sir Launcelot was hurt, wit you well they were passing heavy: but Sir Lavaine nor the hermit wist not how he was hurt, nor by whom. And then they were wroth out of measure. Then with great pain the hermit gat out the arrow’s head out of Sir Launcelot’s thigh, and much of his blood he shed, and the wound was passing sore, and unhappily smitten; for it was in such a place that he might not sit in no saddle. Ah, mercy, said Sir Launcelot, I call myself the most unhappiest man that liveth; for ever when I would fainest have worship, there befalleth me ever some unhappy thing. Now, so heaven me help, I shall be in the field upon Candlemas day at the justs, whatsoever fall of it. So all that might be gotten to heal Sir Launcelot was had. So when the day was come, Sir Launcelot let devise that he was arrayed, and Sir Lavaine, and their horses, as though they had been Saracens. And so they departed, and came nigh to the field. The king of Northgalis with an hundred knights with him, and the king of Northumberland brought with him an hundred good knights, and king Anguish of Ireland brought with him an hundred good knights ready to just, and Sir Galahalt the haut prince brought with him an hundred good knights, and the king with the hundred knights brought with him as many; and all these were proved good knights. Then came in king Arthur’s party, and there came in the king of Scots with an hundred knights, and king Uriens of Gore brought with him an hundred good knights, and king Howel of Britanny brought with him an hundred knights. And Chalance of Clarance brought with him an hundred knights, and king Arthur himself came into the field with two hundred knights, and the most part were knights of the Table Round that were proved noble knights. And there were old knights set in scaffolds, for to judge with the queen who did best.
CHAP. XXIII.
How Sir Launcelot behaved him at the justs, and other men also.
Then they blew to the field, and there the king of Northgalis encountered with the king of Scots, and there the king of Scots had a fall, and the king of Ireland smote down king Uriens, and the king of Northumberland smote down king Howel of Britanny, and Sir Galahalt, the haut prince, smote down Chalance of Clarance. And then king Arthur was wood wroth, and ran to the king with the hundred knights, and there king Arthur smote him down, and after with that same spear king Arthur smote down three other knights. And then when his spear was broken king Arthur did passing well. And so therewithal came in Sir Gawaine, and Sir Gaheris, Sir Agravaine, and Sir Mordred, and there every each of them smote down a knight, and Sir Gawaine smote down four knights. And then there began a strong meddle, for then there came in the knights of Launcelot’s blood, and Sir Gareth and Sir Palamides with them, and many knights of the Table Round, and they began to hold the four kings and the mighty duke so hard that they were discomfit, but this duke Galahalt the haut prince was a noble knight, and by his mighty prowess of arms he held the knights of the Table Round straight enough. All this doing saw Sir Launcelot, and then he came into the field with Sir Lavaine, as it had been thunder. And then anon Sir Bors and the knights of his blood espied Sir Launcelot, and said to them all, I warn you beware of him with the sleeve of gold upon his head, for he is himself Sir Launcelot du Lake. And for great goodness Sir Bors warned Sir Gareth. I am well apayed, said Sir Gareth, that I may know him. But who is he, said they all, that rideth with him in the same array? That is the good and gentle knight Sir Lavaine, said Sir Bors. So Sir Launcelot encountered with Sir Gawaine, and there by force Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Gawaine and his horse to the earth, and so he smote down Sir Agravaine and Sir Gaheris, and also he smote down Sir Mordred, and all this was with one spear. Then Sir Lavaine met with Sir Palamides, and either met other so hard and so fiercely that both their horses fell to the earth. And then were they horsed again, and then met Sir Launcelot with Sir Palamides, and there Sir Palamides had a fall. And so Sir Launcelot, or ever he stint, as fast as he might get spears, he smote down thirty knights, and the most part of them were knights of the Table Round. And ever the knights of his blood withdrew them, and made them ado in other places where Sir Launcelot came not; and then king Arthur was wroth when he saw Sir Launcelot do such deeds, and then the king called unto him Sir Gawaine, Sir Mordred, Sir Kay, Sir Griflet, Sir Lucan the butler, Sir Bedivere, Sir Palamides, and Safere his brother; and so the king with these nine knights made them ready to set upon Sir Launcelot and upon Sir Lavaine. All this espied Sir Bors and Sir Gareth. Now I dread me sore, said Sir Bors, that my lord Sir Launcelot will be hard matched. By my head, said Sir Gareth, I will ride unto my lord Sir Launcelot for to help him, fall of him what may, for he is the same man that made me knight. Ye shall not so, said Sir Bors, by my counsel, unless that ye were disguised. Ye shall see me disguised, said Sir Gareth: and therewithal he espied a Welsh knight where he was to repose himself, and he was sore hurt afore by Sir Gawaine, and to him Sir Gareth rode, and prayed him of his knighthood to lend him his shield for his. I will well, said the Welsh knight. And when Sir Gareth had his shield, the book saith, it was green, with a maiden that seemed in it. Then Sir Gareth came driving to Sir Launcelot all that he might, and said, Knight, keep thyself, for yonder cometh king Arthur with nine noble knights with him to put you to a rebuke, and so I am come to bear you fellowship for old love ye have shewed me. Gramercy, said Sir Launcelot. Sir, said Sir Gareth, encounter ye with Sir Gawaine, and I shall encounter with Sir Palamides, and let Sir Lavaine match with the noble king Arthur. And when we have delivered them, let us three hold us sadly together. Then came king Arthur with his nine knights with him, and Sir Launcelot encountered with Sir Gawaine, and gave him such a buffet that the bow of his saddle brast, and Sir Gawaine fell to the earth. Then Sir Gareth encountered with the good knight Sir Palamides, and he gave him such a buffet that both his horse and he dashed to the earth. Then encountered king Arthur with Sir Lavaine, and there either of them smote other to the earth, horse and all, that they lay a great while. Then Sir Launcelot smote down Sir Agravaine, and Sir Gaheris, and Sir Mordred. And Sir Gareth smote down Sir Kay, Sir Safere, and Sir Griflet. And then Sir Lavaine was horsed again, and he smote down Sir Lucan the butler, and Sir Bedivere, and then there began great throng of good knights. Then Sir Launcelot hurtled here and there, and rased and pulled off helms, so that at that time there might none sit him a buffet with spear nor with sword. And Sir Gareth did such deeds of arms that all men wondered what knight he was with the green shield; for he smote down that day and pulled down more than thirty knights. And, as the French book saith, Sir Launcelot marvelled, when he beheld Sir Gareth do such deeds, what knight he might be: and Sir Lavaine pulled down and smote down twenty knights. Also Sir Launcelot knew not Sir Gareth, for, and Sir Tristram de Liones or Sir Lamorak de Galis had been alive, Sir Launcelot would have deemed he had been one of them twain. So ever as Sir Launcelot, Sir Gareth, Sir Lavaine, fought, and on the one side Sir Bors, Sir Ector de Maris, Sir Lionel, Sir Lamorak de Galis, Sir Bleoberis, Sir Galihud, Sir Galihodin, Sir Pelleas, and with more other of king Ban’s blood, fought upon another party, and held the king with the hundred knights, and also the king of Northumberland, right straight.
CHAP. XXIV.
How king Arthur marvelled much of the justing in the field, and how he rode and found Sir Launcelot.
So this tournament and this justs dured long, till it was near night, for the knights of the Round Table relieved ever unto king Arthur; for the king was wroth out of measure that he and his knights might not prevail that day. Then Sir Gawaine said to the king, I marvel where all this day Sir Bors de Ganis and his fellowship of Sir Launcelot’s blood be. I marvel all this day they be not about you. It is for some cause, said Sir Gawaine. By my head, said Sir Kay, Sir Bors is yonder all this day upon the right hand of this field, and there he and his blood done more worshipfully than we do. It may well be, said Sir Gawaine, but I dread me ever of guile, for on pain of my life, said Sir Gawaine, this knight with the red sleeve of gold is himself Sir Launcelot, I see well by his riding and by his great strokes, and the other knight in the same colour is the good young knight Sir Lavaine. Also that knight with the green shield is my brother Sir Gareth, and yet he hath disguised himself, for no man shall never make him be against Sir Launcelot, because he made him knight. By my head, said Arthur, nephew, I believe you, therefore tell me now what is your best counsel? Sir, said Sir Gawaine, ye shall have my counsel. Let blow unto lodging, for, and he be Sir Launcelot du Lake, and my brother Sir Gareth with him, with the help of that good young knight Sir Lavaine, trust me truly it will be no boot to strive with them, but if we should fall ten or twelve upon one knight, and that were no worship, but shame. Ye say truth, said the king, and for to say sooth, said the king, it were shame to us, so many as we be, to set upon them any more. For wit ye well, said the king, they be three good knights, and namely that knight with the sleeve of gold. So then they blew unto lodging; but forthwithal king Arthur let send unto the four kings, and to the mighty duke, and prayed them that the knight with the sleeve of gold depart not from them, but that the king may speak with him. Then forthwithal king Arthur alight, and unarmed him, and took a little hackney, and rode after Sir Launcelot, for ever he had a spy upon him; and so he found him among the four kings and the duke, and there the king prayed them all unto supper. And they said they would with good will. And so when they were unarmed, then king Arthur knew Sir Launcelot, Sir Lavaine, and Sir Gareth. Ah Sir Launcelot, said king Arthur, this day ye have heated me and my knights. So they went unto Arthur’s lodging all together, and there was a great feast and great revel, and the prize was given unto Sir Launcelot, and by heralds they named him that he had smitten down fifty knights, and Sir Gareth five and thirty, and Sir Lavaine four and twenty knights. Then Sir Launcelot told the king and the queen how the lady huntress shot him in the forest of Windsor in the thigh with a broad arrow, and how the wound thereof was that time six inches deep, and in like long. Also Arthur blamed Sir Gareth, because he left his fellowship and held with Sir Launcelot. My lord, said Sir Gareth, he made me a knight, and when I saw him so hard bestad, me thought it was my worship to help him, for I saw him do so much, and so many noble knights against him. And when I understood that he was Sir Launcelot du Lake I shamed to see so many knights against him alone. Truly, said king Arthur unto Sir Gareth, ye say well, and worshipfully have ye done, and to yourself great worship, and all the days of my life, said king Arthur unto Sir Gareth, wit you well I shall love you and trust you the more better. For ever, said Arthur, it is a worshipful knight’s deed to help another worshipful knight when he seeth him in a great danger, for ever a worshipful man will be loth to see a worshipful shamed, and he that is of no worship, and fareth with cowardice, never shall he shew gentleness, nor no manner of goodness, where he seeth a man in any danger, for then ever will a coward shew no mercy, and always a good man will do ever to another man as he would be done to himself. So then there were great feasts unto kings and dukes; and revel, game, and play, and all manner of nobleness was used; and he that was courteous, true, and faithful to his friend, was that time cherished.
CHAP. XXV.
How true love is likened to summer.
And thus it passed on from Candlemas until after Easter, that the month of May was come, when every lusty heart beginneth to blossom and to bring forth fruit; for like as herbs and trees bring forth fruit and flourish in May, in likewise every lusty heart, that is in any manner a lover, springeth and flourisheth in lusty deeds. For it giveth unto all lovers courage, that lusty month of May, in some thing to constrain him to some manner of thing, more in that month than in any other month, for divers causes. For then all herbs and trees renew a man and woman, and in likewise lovers call again to their mind old gentleness and old service, and many kind deeds that were forgotten by negligence. For like as winter rasure doth always arase and deface green summer, so fareth it by unstable love in man and woman. For in many persons there is no stability, for we may see all day, for a little blast of winter’s rasure, anon we shall deface and lay apart true love for little or nought, that cost much thing. This is no wisdom nor stability, but it is feebleness of nature and great disworship whosoever useth this. Therefore, like as May month flowereth and flourisheth in many gardens, so in likewise let every man of worship flourish his heart in this world, first unto God, and next unto the joy of them that he promised his faith unto, for there was never worshipful man nor worshipful woman, but they loved one better than another: and worship in arms may never be foiled, but first reserve the honour to God, and secondly the quarrel must come of thy lady: and such love I call virtuous love. But now-a-days men cannot love seven night but they must have all their desires, that love may not endure by reason; for where they be soon accorded, and hasty heat, soon it cooleth. Right so fareth love now-a-days; soon hot, soon cold. This is no stability, but the old love was not so. Men and women could love together seven years, and no wanton lusts were between them, and then was love truth and faithfulness. And lo in likewise was used love in king Arthur’s days. Wherefore I liken love now-a-days unto summer and winter. For like as the one is hot and the other cold, so fareth love now-a-days. Therefore all ye that be lovers call unto your remembrance the month of May, like as did queen Guenever. For whom I make here a little mention, that while she lived she was a true lover, and therefore she had a good end.
Explicit liber Octodecimus. And here foloweth liber xix.