Copyright, 1891, by J. B. Lippincott Company.

Copyright, 1904, by J. B. Lippincott Company.

Copyright, 1908, by J. B. Lippincott Company.

CONWAY CASTLE.

[Pg i]

CONTENTS TO VOLUME II.

[Pg iii]

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

[Pg 9]

KING ARTHUR

AND THE

KNIGHTS OF THE ROUND TABLE.

BOOK VIII.

TRISTRAM AND ISOLDE AT JOYOUS GARD

CHAPTER I.

THE TREACHERY OF KING MARK.

The story of Tristram’s valorous deeds, and of
the high honor in which he was held at Camelot,
in good time came to Cornwall, where it filled King
Mark’s soul with revengeful fury, and stirred the
heart of La Belle Isolde to the warmest love. The
coward king, indeed, in his jealous hatred of his
nephew, set out in disguise for England, with murderous
designs against Tristram should an opportunity
occur.

Many things happened to him there, and he was
brought into deep disgrace, but the story of his
adventures may be passed over in brief review, lest
the reader should find it wearisome.

Not far had he ridden on English soil before he
met with Dinadan, who, in his jesting humor, soon[Pg 10]
played him a merry trick. For he arrayed Dagonet,
the king’s fool, in a suit of armor, which he made
Mark believe was Lancelot’s. Thus prepared, Dagonet
rode to meet him and challenged him to a
joust. But King Mark, on seeing what he fancied
was Lancelot’s shield, turned and fled at headlong
speed, followed by the fool and his comrades with
hunting cries and laughter till the forest rang with
the noise.

Escaping at length from this merry chase, the
trembling dastard made his way to Camelot, where
he hoped some chance would arise to aid him in his
murderous designs on Tristram. But a knight of
his own train, named Sir Amant, had arrived there
before him, and accused him of treason to the king,
without telling who he was.

“This is a charge that must be settled by wager
of battle,” said King Arthur. “The quarrel is
between you; you must decide it with sword and
spear.”

In the battle that followed, Sir Amant, by
unlucky fortune, was run through, and fell from his
horse with a mortal wound.

“Heaven has decided in my favor,” cried King
Mark. “But here I shall no longer stay, for it
does not seem a safe harbor for honest knights.”

He thereupon rode away, fearing that Dinadan
would reveal his name. Yet not far had he gone
before Lancelot came in furious haste after him.

ST. MICHAEL’S MOUNT, CORNWALL.

“Turn again, thou recreant king and knight,”
he loudly called. “To Arthur’s court you must
return, whether it is your will or not. We know
you, villain. Sir Amant has told your name and[Pg 11]
purpose; and, by my faith, I am strongly moved
to kill you on the spot.”

“Fair sir,” asked King Mark, “what is your
name?”

“My name is Lancelot du Lake. Defend yourself,
dog and dastard.”

On hearing this dreaded name, and seeing Lancelot
riding upon him with spear in rest, King
Mark tumbled like a sack of grain from his saddle
to the earth, crying in terror, “I yield me, Sir
Lancelot! I yield me!” and begging piteously
for mercy.

“Thou villain!” thundered Lancelot, “I would
give much to deal thee one buffet for the love of
Tristram and Isolde. Mount, dog, and follow me.”

Mark hastened to obey, and was thus brought like
a slave back to Arthur’s court, where he made such
prayers and promises that in the end the king
forgave him, but only on condition that he would
enter into accord with Tristram, and remove from
him the sentence of banishment. All this King
Mark volubly promised and swore to abide by,
though a false heart underlay his fair words. But
Tristram gladly accepted the proffered truce with
his old enemy, for his heart burned with desire to
see his lady love again.

Soon afterwards Dinadan, with Dagonet and his
companions, came to court, and great was the
laughter and jesting at King Mark when they told
the story of his flight from Arthur’s fool.

“This is all very well for you stay-at-homes,”
cried Mark; “but even a fool in Lancelot’s armor
is not to be played with. As it was, Dagonet paid[Pg 12]
for his masquerade, for he met a knight who
brought him like a log to the ground, and all these
laughing fellows with him.”

“Who was that?” asked King Arthur.

“I can tell you,” said Dinadan. “It was Sir
Palamides. I followed him through the forest, and
a lively time we had in company.”

“Aha! then you have had adventures.”

“Rare ones. We met a knight before Morgan
le Fay’s castle. You know the custom there, to
let no knight pass without a hard fight for it.
This stranger made havoc with the custom, for
he overthrew ten of your sister’s knights, and killed
some of them. He afterwards tilted with Palamides
for offering to help him, and gave that
doughty fellow a sore wound.”

“Who was this mighty champion? Not Lancelot
or Tristram?” asked the king, looking around.

“On our faith we had no hand in it,” they both
answered.

“It was the knight next to them in renown,”
answered Dinadan.

“Lamorak of Wales?”

“No less. And, my faith, a sturdy fellow he is.
I left him and Palamides the best of friends.”

“I hope, then, to see the pair of them at next
week’s tournament,” said the king.

Alas for Lamorak! Better for him far had he
kept away from that tournament. His gallant
career was near its end, for treachery and hatred
were soon to seal his fate. This sorrowful story
it is now our sad duty to tell.

Lamorak had long loved Margause, the queen[Pg 13]
of Orkney, Arthur’s sister and the mother of Gawaine
and his brethren. For this they hated him,
and with treacherous intent invited their mother
to a castle near Camelot, as a lure to her lover.
Soon after the tournament, at which Lamorak won
the prize of valor, and redoubled the hatred of
Gawaine and his brothers by overcoming them in
the fray, word was brought to the victorious knight
that Margause was near at hand and wished to
see him.

With a lover’s ardor, he hastened to the castle
where she was, but, as they sat in the queen’s apartment
in conversation, the door was suddenly flung
open, and Gaheris, one of the murderous brethren,
burst in, full armed and with a naked sword in his
hand. Rushing in fury on the unsuspecting lovers,
with one dreadful blow he struck off his mother’s
head, crimsoning Lamorak with her blood. He
next assailed Lamorak, who, being unarmed, was
forced to fly for his life, and barely escaped.

The tidings of this dread affair filled the land
with dismay, and many of the good knights of
Arthur’s court threatened reprisal. Arthur himself
was full of wrath at the death of his sister. Yet
those were days when law ruled not, but force was
master, and retribution only came from the strong
hand and the ready sword. This was Lamorak’s
quarrel, and the king, though he vowed to protect
him from his foes, declared that the good knight
of Wales must seek retribution with his own hand.

He gained death, alas! instead of revenge, for
his foes proved too vigilant for him, and overcame
him by vile treachery. Watching his movements,[Pg 14]
they lay in ambush for him at a difficult place,
and as he was passing, unsuspicious of danger, they
set suddenly upon him, slew his horse, and assailed
him on foot.

Gawaine, Mordred, and Gaheris formed this ambush,
for the noble-minded Gareth had refused to
take part in their murderous plot; and with desperate
fury they assaulted the noble Welsh knight,
who, for three hours, defended himself against their
utmost strength. But at the last Mordred dealt
him a death-blow from behind, and when he fell
in death the three murders hewed him with their
swords till scarce a trace of the human form was
left.

Thus perished one of the noblest of Arthur’s
knights, and thus was done one of the most villanous
deeds of blood ever known in those days of
chivalrous war.

Before the death of Lamorak another event happened
at Arthur’s court which must here be told,
for it was marvellous in itself, and had in it the
promise of wondrous future deeds.

One day there came to the court at Camelot a
knight attended by a young squire. When he had
disarmed he went to the king and asked him to
give the honor of knighthood to his squire.

“What claim has he to it?” asked the king.
“Of what lineage is he?”

“He is the youngest son of King Pellinore, and
brother to Sir Lamorak. He is my brother also;
for my name is Aglavale, and I am of the same
descent.”

“What is his name?”

“Percivale.”[Pg 15]

“Then for my love of Lamorak, and the love I
bore your father, he shall be made a knight to-morrow.”

So when the morrow dawned, the king ordered
that the youth should be brought into the great
hall, and there he knighted him, dealing him the
accolade with his good sword Excalibur.

And so the day passed on till the dinner-hour,
when the king seated himself at the head of the
table, while down its sides were many knights of
prowess and renown. Percivale, the new-made
knight, was given a seat among the squires and
the untried knights, who sat at the lower end of
the great dining-table.

But in the midst of their dinner an event of
great strangeness occurred. For there came into
the hall one of the queen’s maidens, who was of
high birth, but who had been born dumb, and in
all her life had spoken no word. Straight across
the hall she walked, while all gazed at her in mute
surprise, till she came to where Percivale sat.
Then she took him by the hand, and spoke in a
voice that rang through the hall with the clearness
of a trumpet,—

“Arise, Sir Percivale, thou noble knight and
warrior of God’s own choosing. Arise and come
with me.”

He rose in deep surprise, while all the others
sat in dumb wonder at this miracle. To the Round
Table she led him, and to the right side of the seat
perilous, in which no knight had hitherto dared
to sit.

[Pg 16]“Fair knight, take here your seat;” she said.
“This seat belongs to you, and to none other, and
shall be yours until a greater than you shall come.”

This said, she departed and asked for a priest.
Then was she confessed and given the sacrament,
and forthwith died. But the king and all his court
gazed with wonder on Sir Percivale, and asked
themselves what all this meant, and for what great
career God had picked out this youthful knight,
for such a miracle no man there had ever seen
before.

Meanwhile, King Mark had gone back to Cornwall,
and with him went Sir Tristram, at King
Arthur’s request, though not till Arthur had made
the Cornish king swear on Holy Scripture to do
his guest no harm, but hold him in honor and
esteem.

Lancelot, however, was full of dread and anger
when he heard what had occurred, and he told
King Mark plainly that if he did mischief to Sir
Tristram he would slay him with his own hands.

“Bear this well in mind, sir king,” he said,
“for I have a way of keeping my word.”

“I have sworn before King Arthur to treat him
honorably,” answered Mark. “I, too, have a way
of keeping my word.”

“A way, I doubt not,” said Lancelot, scornfully;
“but not my way. Your reputation for truth needs
mending. And all men know for what you came
into this country. Therefore, take heed what you
do.”

Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print copyright 1897 by Curtis and Cameron.

THE ROUND TABLE OF KING ARTHUR.

Then Mark and Tristram departed, and soon
after they reached Cornwall a damsel was sent[Pg 17]
to Camelot with news of their safe arrival, and
bearing letters from Tristram to Arthur and Lancelot.
These they answered and sent the damsel
back, the burden of Lancelot’s letter being, “Beware
of King Fox, for his ways are ways of wiles.”

They also sent letters to King Mark, threatening
him if he should do aught to Tristram’s injury.
These letters worked harm only, for they roused
the evil spirit in the Cornish king’s soul, stirring
him up to anger and thirst for revenge. He
thereupon wrote to Arthur, bidding him to meddle
with his own concerns, and to take heed to his wife
and his knights, which would give him work enough
to do. As for Sir Tristram, he said that he held
him to be his mortal enemy.

He wrote also to Queen Guenever, his letter being
full of shameful charges of illicit relations with
Sir Lancelot, and dishonor to her lord, the king.
Full of wrath at these vile charges, Guenever took
the letter to Lancelot, who was half beside himself
with anger on reading it.

“You cannot get at him to make him eat his
words,” said Dinadan, whom Lancelot took into
his confidence. “And if you seek to bring him to
terms with pen and ink, you will find that his villany
will get the better of your honesty. Yet there
are other ways of dealing with cowardly curs.
Leave him to me; I will make him wince. I will
write a mocking lay of King Mark and his doings,
and will send a harper to sing it before him at his
court. When this noble king has heard my song I
fancy he will admit that there are other ways of
gaining revenge besides writing scurrilous letters.”

[Pg 18]A stinging lay, indeed, was that which Dinadan
composed. When done he taught it to a harper
named Eliot, who in his turn taught it to other
harpers, and these, by the orders of Arthur and
Lancelot, went into Wales and Cornwall to sing
it everywhere.

Meanwhile King Mark’s crown had been in great
danger. For his country had been invaded by an
army from Session, led by a noted warrior named
Elias, who drove the forces of Cornwall from the
field and besieged the king in his castle of Tintagil.
And now Tristram came nobly to the rescue. At
the head of the Cornish forces he drove back the
besiegers with heavy loss, and challenged Elias to
a single combat to end the war. The challenge was
accepted, and a long and furious combat followed,
but in the end Elias was slain, and the remnant
of his army forced to surrender.

This great service added to the seeming accord
between Tristram and the king, but in his heart
Mark nursed all his old bitterness, and hated him
the more that he had helped him. His secret fury
soon found occasion to flame to the surface. For at
the feast which was given in honor of the victory,
Eliot, the harper, appeared, and sang before the
king and his lords the lay that Dinadan had made.

This was so full of ridicule and scorn of King
Mark that he leaped from his seat in a fury of
wrath before the harper had half finished.

“Thou villanous twanger of strings!” he cried.
“What hound sent you into this land to insult me
with your scurrilous songs?”

“I am a minstrel,” said Eliot, “and must obey[Pg 19]
the orders of my lord. Sir Dinadan made this
song, if you would know, and bade me sing it here.”

“That jesting fool!” cried Mark, in wrath.
“As for you, fellow, you shall go free through
minstrels’ license. But if you lose any time in
getting out of this country you may find that Cornish
air is not good for you.”

The harper took this advice and hastened away,
bearing letters from Tristram to Lancelot and
Dinadan. But King Mark turned the weight of
his anger against Tristram, whom he believed had
instigated this insult, with the design to set all the
nobles of his own court laughing at him. And
well he knew that the villanous lay would be sung
throughout the land, and that he would be made
the jest of all the kingdom.

“They have their sport now,” he said. “Mine
will come. Tristram of Lyonesse shall pay dearly
for this insult. And all that hold with him shall
learn that King Mark of Cornwall is no child’s
bauble to be played with.”

The evil-minded king was not long in putting
his project in execution. At a tournament which
was held soon afterwards Tristram was badly
wounded, and King Mark, with great show of
sorrow, had him borne to a castle near by, where
he took him under his own care as nurse and leech.

Here he gave him a sleeping draught, and had
him borne while slumbering to another castle, where
he was placed in a strong prison cell, under the
charge of stern keepers.

The disappearance of Tristram made a great stir
in the kingdom. La Belle Isolde, fearing treachery,[Pg 20]
went to a faithful knight named Sir Sadok, and
begged him to try and discover what had become
of the missing knight. Sadok set himself diligently
to work; and soon learned that Tristram was held
captive in the castle of Lyonesse. Then he went
to Dinas, the seneschal, and others, and told them
what had been done, at which they broke into open
rebellion against King Mark, and took possession
of all the towns and castles in the country of Lyonesse,
filling them with their followers.

But while the rebellious army was preparing to
march on Tintagil, and force King Mark to set
free his prisoner, Tristram was delivered by the
young knight Sir Percivale, who had come thither
in search of adventures, and had heard of King
Mark’s base deed. Great was the joy between these
noble knights, and Tristram said,—

“Will you abide in these marches, Sir Percivale?
If so, I will keep you company.”

“Nay, dear friend, I cannot tarry here. Duty
calls me into Wales.”

But before leaving Cornwall he went to King
Mark, told him what he had done, and threatened
him with the revenge of all honorable knights if
he sought again to injure his noble nephew.

“What would you have me do?” asked the king.
“Shall I harbor a man who openly makes love to
my wife and queen?”

“Is there any shame in a nephew showing an
open affection for his uncle’s wife?” asked Percivale.
“No man will dare say that so noble a warrior
as Sir Tristram would go beyond the borders
of sinless love, or will dare accuse the virtuous[Pg 21]
lady La Belle Isolde of lack of chastity. You have
let jealousy run away with your wisdom, King
Mark.”

So saying, he departed; but his words had little
effect on King Mark’s mind. No sooner had Percivale
gone than he began new devices to gratify his
hatred of his nephew. He sent word to Dinas, the
seneschal, under oath, that he intended to go to the
Pope and join the war against the infidel Saracens,
which he looked upon as a nobler service than that
of raising the people against their lawful king.

So earnest were his professions that Dinas believed
him and dismissed his forces, but no sooner
was this done than King Mark set aside his oath
and had Tristram again privately seized and
imprisoned.

This new outrage filled the whole realm with
tumult and rebellious feeling. La Belle Isolde was
at first thrown into the deepest grief, and then her
heart swelled high with resolution to live no longer
with the dastard who called her wife. Tristram
at the same time privately sent her a letter, advising
her to leave the court of her villanous lord, and
offering to go with her to Arthur’s realm, if she
would have a vessel privately made ready.

The queen thereupon had an interview with Dinas
and Sadok, and begged them to seize and imprison
the king, since she was resolved to escape from his
power.

Furious at the fox-like treachery of the king,
these knights did as requested, for they formed a
plot by which Mark was privately seized, and they
imprisoned him secretly in a strong dungeon. At[Pg 22]
the same time Tristram was delivered, and soon
sailed openly away from Cornwall with La Belle
Isolde, gladly shaking the dust of that realm of
treachery from his feet.

In due time the vessel touched shore in King
Arthur’s dominions, and gladly throbbed the heart
of the long-unhappy queen as her feet touched
that free and friendly soil. As for Tristram, never
was lover fuller of joy, and life seemed to him to
have just begun.

Not long had they landed when a knightly chance
brought Lancelot into their company. Warm indeed
was the greeting of those two noble companions,
and glad the welcome which Lancelot gave
Isolde to English soil.

“You have done well,” he said, “to fly from that
wolf’s den. There is no noble knight in the world
but hates King Mark and will honor you for leaving
his palace of vile devices. Come with me, you shall
be housed at my expense.”

Then he rode with them to his own castle of
Joyous Gard, a noble stronghold which he had won
with his own hands. A royal castle it was, garnished
and provided with a richness which no king
or queen could surpass. Here Lancelot bade them
use everything as their own, and charged all his
people to love and honor them as they would himself.

“Joyous Gard is yours as long as you will honor
it by making it your home,” he said. “As for me,
I can have no greater joy than to know that my
castle is so nobly tenanted, and that Tristram of
Lyonesse and Queen Isolde are my honored guests.”

Leaving them, Lancelot rode to Camelot, where
he told Arthur and Guenever of what had happened,
much to their joy and delight.

“By my crown,” cried Arthur, joyfully, “the
coming of Tristram and Isolde to my realm is no
everyday event, and is worthy of the highest honor.
We must signalize it with a noble tournament.”

Then he gave orders that a stately passage-at-arms
should be held on May-day at the castle of
Lonazep, which was near Joyous Gard. And word
was sent far and near that the knights of his own
realm of Logris, with those of Cornwall and North
Wales, would be pitted against those of the rest of
England, of Ireland and Scotland, and of lands
beyond the seas.

[Pg 23]

CHAPTER II.

HOW TRISTRAM BEFOOLED DINADAN.

Never were two happier lovers than Tristram
and Isolde at Joyous Gard. Their days were spent
in feasting and merriment, Isolde’s heart overflowing
with joy to be free from the jealousy of her ill-tempered
spouse, and Tristram’s to have his lady
love to himself, far from treacherous plots and
murderous devices.

Every day Tristram went hunting, for at that
time men say he was the best courser at the chase
in the world, and the rarest blower of the horn
among all lovers of sport. From him, it is said,[Pg 24]
came all the terms of hunting and hawking, the
distinction between beasts of the chase and vermin,
all methods of dealing with hounds and with
game, and all the blasts of the chase and the recall,
so that they who delight in huntsmen’s sport will
have cause to the world’s end to love Sir Tristram
and pray for his soul’s repose.

Yet Isolde at length grew anxious for his welfare,
and said,—

“I marvel that you ride so much to the chase
unarmed. This is a country not well known to
you, and one that contains many false knights,
while King Mark may lay some plot for your
destruction. I pray you, my dear love, to take more
heed to your safety.”

This advice seemed timely, and thereafter Tristram
rode in armor to the chase, and followed by
men who bore his shield and spear. One day, a
little before the month of May, he followed a hart
eagerly, but as the animal led him by a cool woodland
spring, he alighted to quench his thirst in the
gurgling waters.

Here, by chance, he met with Dinadan, who had
come into that country in search of him. Some
words of greeting passed between them, after which
Dinadan asked him his name, telling his own. This
confidence Tristram declined to return, whereupon
Dinadan burst out in anger.

MARRIAGE OF SIR TRISTRAM.

“You value your name highly, sir knight,” he
said. “Do you design to ride everywhere under
a mask? Such a foolish knight as you I saw but
lately lying by a well. He seemed like one asleep,
and no word could be got from him, yet all the time[Pg 25]
he grinned like a fool. The fellow was either an
idiot or a lover, I know not which.”

“And are not you a lover?” asked Tristram.

“Marry, my wit has saved me from that craft.”

“That is not well said,” answered Tristram.
“A knight who disdains love is but half a man,
and not half a warrior.”

“I am ready to stand by my creed,” retorted
Dinadan. “As for you, sirrah, you shall tell me
your name, or do battle with me.”

“You will not get my name by a threat, I
promise you that,” said Tristram. “I shall not
fight till I am in the mood; and when I do, you
may get more than you bargain for.”

“I fear you not, coward,” said Dinadan.

“If you are so full of valor, here is your man,”
said Tristram, pointing to a knight who rode along
the forest aisle towards them. “He looks ready
for a joust.”

“On my life, it is the same dull-plate knave I
saw lying by the well, neither sleeping nor waking,”
said Dinadan.

“This is not the first time I have seen that covered
shield of azure,” said Tristram. “This knight
is Sir Epinegris, the son of the king of Northumberland,
than whom the land holds no more
ardent lover, for his heart is gone utterly out to the
fair daughter of the king of Wales. Now, if you
care to find whether a lover or a non-lover is the
better knight, here is your opportunity.”

“I shall teach him to grin to more purpose,”
said Dinadan. “Stand by and you shall see.”

Then, as the lover approached, he cried,—

[Pg 26]“Halt, sir knight, and make ready to joust, as
is the custom with errant knights.”

“Let it be so, if you will,” answered Epinegris.
“Since it is the custom of you knight-errant to
make a man joust whether he will or no, I am your
man.”

“Make ready, then, for here is for you.”

Then they spurred their horses and rode together
at full speed, Dinadan breaking his spear,
while Epinegris struck him so shrewd a blow that
he rolled upon the earth.

“How now?” cried Tristram. “It seems to
me that the lover has best sped.”

“Will you play the coward?” queried Dinadan.
“Or will you, like a good knight, revenge me?”

“I am not in the mood,” answered Tristram.
“Take your horse, Sir Dinadan, and let us get
away from here, where hard blows are more plentiful
than soft beds.”

“Defend me from such fellowship as yours!”
roared Dinadan. “Take your way and I will take
mine. We fit not well together.”

“I might give you news of Sir Tristram.”

“Sir Tristram, if he be wise, will seek better
company. I can do without your news, as I have
had to do without your help,” and he rode on in
high dudgeon.

“Farewell, then,” cried Tristram, laughing. “It
may happen we shall soon meet again.”

Tristram rode back in much amusement to Joyous
Gard, but on coming near he heard in the neighboring
town a great outcry.

“What means this noise?” he asked.

[Pg 27]“Sir,” he was told, “a knight of the castle has
just been slain by two strangers, and for no other
cause than saying that Sir Lancelot was a better
knight than Sir Gawaine.”

“Who would dispute that?” said Tristram. “It
is a small cause for the death of a good man, that
he stands for his lord’s fame.”

“But what remedy have we?” said the towns-men.
“If Lancelot had been here, these fellows
would soon have been called to a reckoning. But,
alas, he is away.”

“I may do something in his service,” answered
Tristram. “If I take his place, I must defend his
followers.”

Thereupon he sent for his shield and spear, and
rode in pursuit of the two knights, whom he overtook
before they had gone far.

“Turn, sir dastards,” he cried, “and amend your
misdeeds.”

“What amends wish you?” asked one of the
knights. “We are ready with spear and sword to
make good whatever we have done.”

He rode against Tristram, but was met so sturdily
in mid career that he was thrust over his horse’s
tail. Then the other rode against him, and was
served in the same rough manner.

They rose as quickly as they could, drew their
swords, and challenged him to battle on foot.

“You shall tell me your names,” he said, sternly.
“I warn you that if it comes to sword-play you
will find more than your match. Yet you may
have that in your lineage which will keep you from
my hands, however much you deserve punishment
for your evil deeds.”

[Pg 28]“As for our names, we dread not to tell them.
We are Agravaine and Gaheris, brothers to the good
knight Gawaine, and nephews of King Arthur.”

“For Arthur’s sake, then, I must let you pass
unscathed. Yet it is a crying shame that men of
such good blood as you should play the part of
murderers. You slew among you a better knight
than the best of your kin, Lamorak de Galis, and
I would to God I had been by at that time.”

“You would have gone the same road,” said
Gaheris.

“Not without more knights to do it than you
had in your murderous crew.”

With these words he turned from them and rode
back towards Joyous Gard. When he had gone they
regained their horses, and feeling themselves safe
in the saddle their courage returned.

“Let us pursue this boaster,” they said, “and
see if he fares so much better than Lamorak.”

They did so, and when they came near Tristram,
who was jogging slowly along, Agravaine cried,—

“Turn, traitor knight!”

“Traitor in your teeth!” cried Tristram, in a
rage. “I let you off too cheaply, it seems.” And
drawing his sword, he turned upon Agravaine and
smote him so fiercely on the helm that he fell
swooning from his horse, with a dangerous wound.

Then he turned to Gaheris and dealt him a blow
that in like manner tumbled him from his saddle
to the earth. This done, Tristram turned and rode
into the castle, leaving them like dead men in the
road.

Here he told La Belle Isolde of his several adventures.[Pg 29]
When he spoke of Dinadan, she asked,—

“Was it not he that made the song about King
Mark?”

“The same,” answered Tristram. “He is the
greatest jester at Arthur’s court, but a good knight
withal, and I know no man whom I like better as
a comrade.”

“Why did you not bring him with you?”

“No need of that. He is seeking me through
this country, and there is no fear that he will give
up the search lightly.”

As they spoke, a servant came and told Tristram
that a knight-errant had entered the town, and
described the device on his shield.

“That is our man now,” said Tristram. “That
is Dinadan. Send for him, Isolde, and you shall
hear the merriest knight and the maddest talker
that you ever spoke with. I pray you to make
him heartily welcome, for he is a cherished friend
of mine.”

Then Isolde sent into the town with a message
to Dinadan, begging that he would come to the
castle and rest a while there, at a lady’s wish.

“That will I, with a good will,” answered Dinadan.
“I were but a churl else.”

He hastened to mount and ride to the castle,
and here he was shown to a chamber where he laid
aside his armor. Then he was brought into the
presence of La Belle Isolde, who courteously bade
him welcome.

“Whence, come you, and what name do you
bear?” she asked.

“Madam,” he answered, “I am from King[Pg 30]
Arthur’s court, and am one of the small fry of
Round Table Knights. My name is Dinadan.”

“And why came you hither?”

“I am seeking my old friend and comrade, Sir
Tristram, who I am told has made his way to this
country.”

“That I cannot answer for,” said Isolde. “He
may and he may not be here. Sir Tristram will
be found where love leads him.”

“I warrant me that. Your true lover has no
will of his own, but is led like an ox, with a ring
in his nose. I marvel what juice of folly gets
into the pates of these lovers to make them so mad
about the women.”

“Why, sir,” said Isolde, “can it be that you are
a knight and no lover? I fancy that there can
be no true man-of-arms who seeks not by his deeds
to win the smiles of the fair.”

“They who care to be fed on smiles are welcome
to them, but I am not made of that fashion,” answered
Dinadan. “The joy of love is too short,
and the sorrow thereof too long, to please my
fancy.”

“Say you so? Yet near here but to-day was the
good knight Sir Bleoberis, he who fought with three
knights at once for a maiden’s sake, and won her
before the king of Northumberland.”

“I know him for a worthy fellow,” said Dinadan,
“as are all of Lancelot’s kindred. Yet he has
crotchets in his head, like all that crew.”

“Now, I pray you,” said Isolde, “will you not
do me the grace to fight for my love with three
knights that have done me great wrong? As you[Pg 31]
are a knight of King Arthur’s, you can never say
me nay in such a duty.”

“Can I not?” cried Dinadan. “This much I
will say, madam, that you are as fair a sample of
womankind as ever I saw, and much more beautiful
than is my lady Queen Guenever. And yet, heaven
defend me, I will not fight for you against three
knights; and would not, were you Helen of Troy
herself.”

At these words, and the odd grimace which he
made, La Belle Isolde burst into a merry peal of
laughter, and broke out with,—

“I know you better than you fancy, Sir Dinadan.
And well you keep up your credit of being a
merry fellow. You are very welcome to my castle,
good sir.”

They had much more of gameful conversation
together, and Dinadan was treated with all honor,
and slept serenely at the castle that night. But
Tristram took good care to keep out of his sight.

Early the next day Tristram armed himself and
prepared to ride away, saying to the Lady Isolde
that he would contrive to meet with Dinadan, and
would ride with him to Lonazep, where the tournament
was to be held. He promised also to make
arrangements to provide her with a good place from
which to see the passage-at-arms. Then he departed,
accompanied by two squires, who bore his
shield and a brace of great and long spears.

Shortly afterwards Dinadan left the castle, bidding
a merry adieu to the lady, and rode so briskly
forward that he soon overtook Tristram. He knew
him at sight for his yesterday’s comrade, and made
a sour grimace at beholding him.

[Pg 32]“So,” he said, “here again is my easy-going
friend, who wears his armor for a holiday parade.
You shall not get off so lightly to-day, fellow.
You shall joust with me, despite your head.”

“Faith, I am not eager,” said Tristram, “but a
wilful man will have his way; so let us have it
over, if fight we must.”

Then they rode at each other, and Dinadan broke
a spear on Tristram’s shield, but Tristram purposely
missed him.

Dinadan now bade him draw his sword.

“Not I,” he answered. “What makes you so
warlike? I am not in the humor to fight.”

“You shame all knights by your cowardice.”

“So far as that goes, it troubles me little,” said
Tristram. “Suppose, my good sir, you take me
under your protection. Though I bear arms I shall
gladly accept the patronage of so worthy a knight
as you.”

“The devil deliver me of you!” cried Dinadan.
“You are a fellow of goodly build, and sit your
horse like a warrior; but heaven knows if you have
blood or water in your veins. What do you propose
to do with those great spears that your squire
carries?”

“I shall give them to some good knight at the
tournament. If you prove the best there, you are
welcome to them.”

As they thus conversed they saw a knight-errant
in the road before them, who sat with spear in rest
as if eager to joust.

“Come,” said Tristram, “since you are so
anxious for a fight, yonder is your man.”

[Pg 33]“Shame betide you for a dastard,” cried Dinadan.
“Fight him yourself. You can’t get more
than a fall.”

“Not so. That knight seems a shrewish fellow.
It will need a stronger hand than mine to manage
him.”

“Good faith, then, here’s to teach you a lesson,”
said Dinadan, and he rode fiercely against the other
knight, with the unlucky result that he was thrust
from his horse, and fell headlong to the earth.

“What did I tell you?” said Tristram. “You
had better have taken a lesson from my prudence,
and let that good fellow alone.”

“The fiends take you, coward!” cried Dinadan,
as he started to his feet and drew his sword.
“Come, sir knight, you are my better on horseback,
let us have it out on foot.”

“Shall it be in love or in anger?” said the other.

“Let it be in love. I am saving all my anger
for this do-nothing who came with me.”

“Then I pray you to tell me your name.”

“Folks call me Dinadan.”

“Ah, and I am your comrade Gareth. I will
not fight with an old friend like Dinadan.”

“Nor I with you, by my faith!” cried Dinadan,
seizing Gareth’s hand and giving it a warm pressure.
“Beaumains is safe from my spear. Here
is a chap now, if you want to try your skill; but
if you can get him to fight you must first learn the
art of converting a coward into a man of valor.”

Tristram laughed quietly at this, and bided his
time. Nor was there long to wait, for just then a[Pg 34]
well-armed knight rode up, on a sturdy horse, and
put his spear in rest as he approached.

“Now, my good sirs,” said Tristram, “choose
between yourselves which will joust with yonder
knight; for I warn you that I will keep clear of
him.”

“Faith, you had better,” said Gareth. “Leave
him to me.”

And he rode against the knight but with such
ill-fortune that he was thrust over his horse’s croup.

“It is your turn now,” said Tristram to Dinadan.
“Honor requires that you should avenge your comrade
Gareth.”

“Honor does, eh? Then reason does not, and
I always weigh reason against honor. He has overturned
a much bigger fellow than I, and with your
kind permission I will not stir up that hornet.”

“Aha, friend Dinadan, your heart fails you after
all your boasting. Very well, you shall see what
the coward can do. Make ready, sir knight.”

Then Tristram rode against the victorious knight,
and dealt him so shrewd a buffet that he was thrust
from his horse.

Dinadan looked at this in amazement. Was this
the fellow that professed cowardice and begged protection?
“The cunning rogue,” he said to himself,
“has been making game of me. The rascal! where
has he learned the art of turning my weapons on
myself?”

The dismounted knight rose to his feet in anger,
and drawing his sword, challenged Tristram to a
fight on foot.

“First, tell me your name?” asked Tristram.

[Pg 35]“My name is Palamides.”

“And what knight hate you most?”

“I hate Sir Tristram to the death. If we meet,
one of us must die.”

“You need not go far to seek him. I am Tristram
de Lyonesse. Now do your worst.”

At this Dinadan started, and struck his hand
sturdily on his knee, like one who has had a shock
of surprise. Nor was Palamides less astonished,
and he stood before Tristram like one in a sudden
revulsion of feeling.

“I pray you, Sir Tristram,” he said, “to forgive
my ill-will and my unkind words. You are a noble
knight and worthy of the love of all honorable
warriors. I repent my truculent temper towards
you, and, if I live, will rather do you service than
assail you.”

“I know your valor well,” answered Tristram,
“and that it is anything but fear makes you speak
so. Therefore I thank you much for your kind
words. But if you have any shreds of ill-will
towards me I am ready to give you satisfaction.”

“My wits have been astray,” answered Palamides.
“There is no just reason why we should be at odds,
and I am ready to do you knightly service in all
things you may command.”

“I take you at your word,” cried Tristram, as he
grasped Palamides by the hand. “I have never
been your enemy, and know none whom I would
rather have as a friend.”

“Would you?” cried Dinadan. “And would
have me as your fool, mayhap? By my knightly
faith, you have made a sweet butt of me! I came
into this country for your sake, and by the advice
of Sir Lancelot, though he would not tell me where
to find you. By Jove’s ears, I never thought to
find you masquerading as a milk-brained coward.”

“He could have told you,” said Tristram, “for
I abode within his own castle. As for my little
sport, friend Dinadan, I cry you mercy.”

“Faith, it is but one of my own jests, turned
against me,” said Dinadan, with a merry laugh.
“I am pinked with my own dart. I forgive you,
old comrade; but I vow I did not know you had
such a jolly humor.”

“It comes to one in your company,” said Tristram,
laughing. “The disease is catching.”

And so the four knights rode gayly onward, conversing
much as they went, and laying their plans
for the tournament.

[Pg 36]

CHAPTER III.

ON THE ROAD TO LONAZEP.

The four knights rode onward in company until
they came in sight of the castle of Lonazep, where
they saw striking preparations for the tournament.
For not less than four hundred tents and pavilions
covered the plain outside the great circle of the lists,
and war-horses and knights in armor were there in
hundreds.

“Truly,” said Tristram, “this is the royalest[Pg 37]
show that I ever saw.”

“You forget,” answered Palamides. “It had its
equal at the Castle of Maidens, where you won the
prize.”

“And in that tournament which Galahalt of the
Long Isles held in Surluse there was as great a
gathering,” said Dinadan.

“I was not there; who won the prize?” asked
Tristram.

“Lancelot du Lake, and the next after him was
the noble knight Lamorak de Galis.”

“A noble fellow, indeed, I never met his better,
save Sir Lancelot. His murder was shameful, and
were they not the nephews of my lord Arthur that
slew him, by my faith they should die the death.
And this without prejudice to you, Sir Gareth.”

“Say what you will on that point; I am with
you,” answered Gareth. “Though my own brothers
did that bloody work, I hold not with them.
None of them love me, as you well know, and I have
left their company as murderers. Had I been by
when Lamorak was killed there might have been
another tale to tell.”

“Truly that is well said of you,” rejoined Tristram.
“I would rather have been there than to
have all the gold between here and Rome.”

“And I also,” said Palamides. “It is a burning
disgrace to the Round Table fellowship that such
a knight should have been ambushed and slain on
his way from a passage-at-arms where he had won
the prize of valor.”

“Out on such treason!” cried Tristram. “The
tale of it makes my blood run cold.”

[Pg 38]“And mine as well,” said Gareth. “I can never
love or respect my brothers again for that ruthless
deed.”

“Yet to speak of it is useless,” said Palamides.
“His life is gone; we cannot bring it back again.”

“There lies the pity,” said Dinadan. “No matter
how good and noble a man may be, when he
stops breathing all else stops with him. By good
luck, though, the same rule holds with villains and
cowards. As for Gawaine and his brothers, except
you, Sir Gareth, they hate the best knights of the
Round Table, and Lancelot and his kindred above
all. Only that Lancelot is well aware of this, they
might draw him into as deadly a trap as they drew
poor Lamorak.”

“Come, come, remember that Gareth is their
brother,” said Palamides. “Let us change the subject.
Here is this tournament,—what part shall
we play here? My advice is that we four hold
together against all that may assail us.”

“That is not my counsel,” said Tristram. “By
their pavilions we may count on some four hundred
knights, and doubtless many of them worthy ones.
If we play the game of four against all comers
we are likely to find ourselves borne down by numbers.
Many good knights have lost the game by
taking too great odds. Manhood is of little avail
if it be not tempered by wisdom. If you think it
best we may try it, and see what we can do in
company, but, as a rule, I prefer to fight for my own
hand.”

As they thus talked they rode away from Lonazep,
and in due time came to the banks of the Humber,[Pg 39]
where they were surprised by a loud and grievous
cry that seemed full of doleful meaning. Looking
over the waters they saw approaching before the
wind a vessel richly draped with red silk. Not long
had they waited when it came to the shore, at a
point close by where they stood.

Seeing this strange thing and hearing the doleful
cries which came from the vessel, the knights gave
their horses in care of their squires, and approached
on foot, Tristram boarding the vessel. When he
reached the deck he saw there a bed with rich silken
coverings, on which lay a dead knight, armed save
the head, which was crimsoned with blood. And
through great gaps in his armor deadly wounds
could be seen.

“What means this?” said Tristram. “How
came this knight by his death?”

As he spoke he saw that a letter lay in the dead
knight’s hand.

“Master mariners,” he asked of those on board
the vessel, “what does this strange thing signify?”

“Sir knight,” they answered, “by the letter
which the dead knight bears you may learn how
and for what cause he was slain, and what name
he bore. Yet first heed well this warning: No
man must take and read that letter unless he be a
knight of proved valor, and faithfully promises
to revenge the murder of this good warrior.”

“There be those among us able to revenge him,”
answered Tristram. “And if he shall prove to have
been foully treated his death shall not go unredressed.”

Therewith he took the letter from the knight’s[Pg 40]
hand and opened it. Thus it read,—

“I, Hermance, king and lord of the Red City,
request of all knights-errant and all noble knights
of Arthur’s court, that they find one knight who
will fight for my sake with two false brethren, whom
I brought up from nothingness and who have
feloniously and treacherously slain me. And it is
my will and desire that the valiant knight who
avenges my death shall become lord of my Red
City and all my castles.”

“Sir,” said the mariners, “the king and knight
that lies here dead was a man of great virtue and
noble prowess, and one who loved all knights-errant,
and, above all, those of King Arthur’s court.”

“It is a piteous case, truly,” said Tristram. “I
would fain take the enterprise in hand myself, but
that I have made a solemn promise to take part
in this great tournament. It was for my sake in
especial that my lord Arthur made it, and I cannot
in honor and courtesy fail to attend it. Therefore
I am not free to undertake any adventure which
may keep me from the lists.”

“I pray you, dear sir,” said Palamides, who had
followed Tristram into the vessel, “to put this
enterprise into my hands. I promise to achieve
it worthily or to die in the effort.”

“Be it so,” said Tristram. “You may go if you
will. But first I wish your promise to return so
as to be with me at the tournament this day week,
if possible.”

“That promise I freely give. If I be alive and
unhurt, and my task be not too arduous and long,
I shall be with you by that day.”

[Pg 41]This said, Tristram left the vessel, leaving Palamides
in it, and he, with Gareth and Dinadan, stood
watching it as the mariners hoisted its sails and it
glided swiftly away over long Humber. Not till
it was out of sight did they return to their horses,
and look about them.

As they did so they beheld near them a knight,
who came up unarmed save a sword, and saluted
them with all courtesy.

“Fair sirs,” he said, “I pray you, as knights-errant,
to come and see my castle, and take such
fare as you may find there. This I heartily
request.”

“That shall we willingly do, and thank you for
your courtesy,” they answered, and rode with him
to his castle, which was near by.

Here they entered a richly-furnished hall, and,
having laid off their armor, took their seats at a
well-laden table. But when the host saw Tristram’s
face, he knew him, and first grew pale and then
angry of countenance.

“Sir, mine host,” said Tristram, on seeing this
threatening aspect, “what is wrong with you, I
pray?”

“I know you, Tristram de Lyonesse,” answered
the knight, hotly. “You slew my brother. Honor
demands that I shall not seek revenge here, but I
give you warning that I will kill you when I meet
you outside my castle.”

“I have no knowledge of you or your brother,”
answered Tristram. “But no man can say that I
ever killed any one except in fair and open fight.
If I have done as you say I stand ready to make
what amends are in my power.”

[Pg 42]“I desire no amends,” rejoined the knight.
“But I warn you to keep from me.”

Tristram at this rose from the table and asked
for his arms, his companions following him. Seeking
their horses they rode away, but they had not
gone far from the castle when Dinadan saw a knight
following them, who was well armed, but bore no
shield.

“Take care of yourself, Sir Tristram,” he said.
“Yonder comes our host to call you to account.”

“Then I must abide him as I may,” answered
Tristram.

Soon the knight came up, and, loudly bidding
Tristram to be on his guard, he rode furiously upon
him with couched spear. But his valor went beyond
his strength, for he was hurled over his horse’s
croup.

Not content with this, he rose, mounted again,
and driving his horse at full speed upon Tristram,
struck him two hard blows on the helm.

“Sir knight,” said Tristram, “I pray you leave
off this sport. I do not care to harm you after
having just eaten at your table, but beg you not
to try my patience too far.”

The furious assailant would not cease, however,
and continued his assaults until Tristram was
provoked to anger. In the end he returned the
knight a blow with the full strength of his mighty
arm, so fierce a buffet, indeed, that the blood burst
out from the breathing holes of his helm, and he
fell to the earth and lay there like one dead.

THE ASSAULT OF SIR TRISTRAM.

“I hope I have not killed him,” said Tristram.
“I did not think to strike the man so hard a blow,[Pg 43]
but I am not a log to stand at rest and let him
whet his sword on.”

Leaving the fallen knight to the care of his squire,
they rode on; but not far had they gone when
they saw coming towards them two well-armed and
well-horsed knights, each with a good following of
servants. One of these was Berrant le Apres, he
who was called the king with the hundred knights,
and the other Sir Segwarides, both men of might
and renown.

When they came up the king looked at Dinadan,
who, through sport, had put on Tristram’s helmet.
This he recognized as one he had seen before with
the queen of Northgalis, whom he loved. She had
given it to La Belle Isolde, and she to Tristram.

“Sir knight,” asked Berrant, “whence had you
that helm?”

“Not from you, I fancy. What have you to say
to it?”

“That I will have a tilt with you, for the love
of her who once owned it. Therefore, defend
yourself.”

So they drew asunder, and rode at each other
with all the speed of their horses. But Dinadan,
good knight as he was, was no match for the tough
and hardy warrior before him, and was sent, horse
and all, to the ground.

“I fancy I have something to say about the helmet
now,” said Berrant, grimly. “Go take it off
him, and keep it,” he ordered his servant.

“What will you do?” cried Tristram. “Hands
off, fellow. Touch not that helm.”

“To what intent do you meddle, sir knight?”
demanded Berrant.

[Pg 44]“To this intent, that the helm is mine. Nor
will you get it from me till you buy it at a dearer
price.”

“Do you mean that as a challenge?” asked Berrant.
“Be it so, then; make ready.”

Together they rode with all speed, but with a
change of fortune, for Berrant found himself thrust
over the tail of his horse. In a moment he was
on his feet, sprang briskly to his saddle, and, riding
in anger upon Tristram, struck at him fiercely with
his sword.

Tristram was not taken unawares, but in an
instant had his sword in hand. A fierce combat
followed, for the king with the hundred knights
was a warrior of tough sinews and tried valor,
but at the last he received such a buffet on the helm
that he fell forward on his horse’s neck, stunned
and helpless.

“By my faith, that helmet has proved unlucky
for two of us,” said Dinadan. “It brought me
a tumble, and now, sir king, you owe it a buzzing
head-piece.”

“Who will joust with me?” asked Segwarides.

“It is your right,” said Gareth to Dinadan, “but
I pray you let me have it.”

“You are heartily welcome to it. One tumble
a day is enough for my weak appetite,” answered
Dinadan. “I make you a free present of the
opportunity.”

“That is no fair exchange,” said Tristram.
“The joust is yours by right.”

“But not by choice,” rejoined Dinadan. “Good
faith, sir bruiser, I have lived long enough to know[Pg 45]
when I have had my share, and that is a lesson
it would pay many of you battle-hungry knights
to learn.”

Then Gareth and Segwarides rode together, the
result being that Gareth and his horse went in a
heap to the earth.

“Now,” said Tristram, “the joust is yours.”

“But the appetite is lacking,” said Dinadan.
“I have even less stomach for it than before.”

“Then will I try him.”

With these words Tristram challenged Segwarides,
who received a sore fall in the joust that
followed. Then the three knights rode on, leaving
their late antagonists the worse in heart and limb
for the encounter.

They continued their ride till they reached Joyous
Gard. Here Gareth courteously declined to
enter the castle, but Tristram would not hear of
his departure, and made him alight and enter as
his guest. So they disarmed and had good cheer,
with La Belle Isolde as their hostess.

But Dinadan, when he came into the presence of
Isolde, roundly cursed the hour that he had been
persuaded to wear Tristram’s helm, and told her of
how he had been mocked by his comrade knight.

Much laughing and jesting at Dinadan followed,
but this was a game in which he was quite able
to hold his own, however he might lack with sword
and spear. For Arthur’s court held no other so
witty of tongue and merry of heart. And thus
in jest and feast they passed the hours happily
away.

[Pg 46]

CHAPTER IV.

HOW PALAMIDES FARED AT THE RED CITY.

Leaving Tristram and his companions to their
merry talk in Joyous Gard, we must now return
to Palamides. The ship into which he had entered
sailed far along the Humber, until in time it reached
the open sea. It continued its course through the
sea-waves till it came to a part of the coast where
stood a stately castle.

All day and night they had sailed, and it was
now early in the morning, before day-dawn. Palamides
was sound asleep in the vessel’s cabin when
the mariners came to call him.

“Sir knight,” they said, “you must arise. We
have reached a castle, which you must enter.”

“I am at your command,” he replied.

Rising, he armed himself quickly, and then blew
a loud call upon a horn which the mariners gave
him.

At the ringing music of that bugle-blast the
sleeping castle seemed to stir into life. Soon many
eyes could be seen looking from the windows, and
ere long the walls were crowded with knights, who
called to Palamides as with one voice, “Welcome,
fair sir, to this castle.”

The day had now fully dawned, and Palamides
entered the castle, where a crowd of knights came
to greet him, and led him to a stately dining-hall,
where an abundant breakfast awaited him. But
as he ate he heard much lamentation, and saw many[Pg 47]
whose eyes were wet with tears.

“What means this?” he asked. “I love not
such sorrow, and would fain know what gives rise
to it.”

“We mourn here daily,” answered a knight
named Sir Ebel, “and for this cause. We had a
king named Hermance, who was lord of the Red
City, and in every way a noble and generous monarch.
And he loved nothing in the world so much
as the knights-errant of King Arthur’s court, together
with the sports of jousting, hunting, and all
knightly diversions. A king so kind of heart as he
was never before known in this country, and we shall
ever be filled with sorrow for his loss. Yet he acted
unwisely, and is himself at fault for his death.”

“Tell me how he was slain and by whom,”
asked Palamides.

“In this wise it came to pass,” answered Ebel.
“He brought up, in pure charity, two children,
who are now strong knights. And to them he gave
all his trust and confidence, in default of those
of his own blood. These two men governed him
completely, and, through him, his lands and people,
for they took the best of care that none of his kindred
should come into power. He was so free and
trustful, and they so politic and deceitful, that they
ruled him as though they were the kings and he the
subject. When the lords of our king’s blood saw
that he had fallen into this dotage they left the court
in disgust, and sought their livelihood elsewhere.
This it proved not wise to do, for when these villains
found that all the king’s kindred had left the
realm they schemed to have more power still; for,[Pg 48]
as the old saw says, ‘Give a churl rule in part, and
he will not be content till he has it all.’ It is the
instinct of the base-born to destroy gentlemen-born,
if the power be put in their hands, and all rulers
should take warning by the fate of King Hermance.
In the end our king, by the advice of these traitors,
rode into the forest here by, to chase the red deer.
When he had become warm from the hunt he
alighted to drink at a woodland spring, and, while
he was bent over the water, one of these villains
thrust him through the body with a spear. They
then fled from the spot, thinking he was dead.
Shortly after they had gone, fortune brought me
to the spot, where I found my lord still alive, but
mortally hurt, and learned from him his story.
Knowing that we had no knights able to revenge
him on his murderers, I had him brought to the
water, and put into the ship alive, and the letter
which he bore in his hand I wrote from his own
words. Then he died, and, as he had ordered,
the ship set sail up the Humber, bound for the realm
of Logris, where it was hoped that some valiant
Knight of the Round Table would take this adventure
on himself.”

“Truly your doleful tale grieves me sorely,”
said Palamides. “I saw the letter you speak of.
It was read to me by one of the best knights upon
the earth, and it is by his command I am here. I
came to revenge your king, and I shall never be
at ease till I meet with and punish his murderers.”

“You have my hearty thanks and best wishes,”
said Ebel. “Since you accept this adventure, you
must enter the ship again, and sail forward till[Pg 49]
you reach the Delectable Isle, which is near by the
Red City. We shall await here your return. If
you speed well this castle is yours. King Hermance
built it for the two traitors, but we hold it against
them, and they threaten us sorely unless we yield
it.”

“Look that you keep it, whatsoever may come
to me,” said Palamides. “For if fortune decides
that I am to be slain in this quest, I trust that one
of the best knights in the world will come to
revenge me; either Tristram de Lyonesse or Lancelot
du Lake.”

Then Palamides entered the ship and sailed away
towards the Red City. But as he came near it,
and landed on the coast, another ship touched shore
near by, from which came a goodly knight, with his
shield on his shoulder and his hand on his sword.

“Sir knight, what seek you here?” he asked
Palamides. “If you have come to revenge King
Hermance you must yield this quest to me, for
it was mine before it was yours, and I shall yield
it to no man.”

“You speak like a true knight,” said Palamides.
“But when the letter was taken from the dead
king’s hand there was nothing known of any champion
for him, and so I promised to revenge him.
And this I must and shall do, lest I win shame
instead of honor.”

“You have right on your side,” said the knight.
“What I propose is this. I will fight with you;
and he who proves the better knight shall have
the quest.”

“That fits with my fancy,” said Palamides; “for[Pg 50]
from what I hear no second-rate champion can
watch this pair of villains.”

With this they advanced their shields and drew
their swords, and began a stern and well-contested
combat. For more than an hour the fight between
them continued, but at the end of this time Palamides
seemed stronger and better-winded than at
the beginning, and he finally dealt his opponent a
blow that brought him to his knees. Then the
discomfited combatant cried out,—

“Knight, hold your hand.”

Palamides let fall his sword at this request.

“You are the better of us two, and more worthy
of this battle,” said the knight. “But fain would
I know your name.”

“My name is Palamides. I am a Knight of the
Round Table, and one well known in Arthur’s
realm.”

“In good faith it is, and much beyond that
realm,” answered the knight. “I know only three
living men besides yourself who are fitted for this
task, and they are Lancelot, Tristram, and my
cousin Lamorak. As for me, my name is Hermind,
and I am brother to the murdered King Hermance.”

“I shall do my best to revenge your brother,”
said Palamides. “If I am slain, I commend you
to Lancelot or Tristram. As for Lamorak, he will
never strike blow again.”

“Alas, what mean you?”

“That he has been murdered—waylaid and slain
treacherously by Gawaine and his brothers, except
Sir Gareth, the best of them all.” And he told the[Pg 51]
story of the death of Lamorak, much to the grief
and indignation of his hearer.

Then Palamides took ship again, and sailed on
till he came to the Delectable Isle. Meanwhile
Hermind made all haste to the Red City, where
he told of the arrival of the famous knight Palamides
and of his combat with him. The people
were filled with joy at these tidings, and quickly
sent a messenger to the two brethren, bidding them
to make ready, as a knight had come who would
fight them both. The messenger found them at a
castle near by, and delivered his message.

“Who is this champion?” they asked. “Is it
Lancelot or any of his blood?”

“No.”

“If it were, we would not fight. But we care
for no one else.”

“It is a good knight though, Sir Palamides, a
Saracen by birth, and still unchristened.”

“He had best have been christened before he
came here, for it will be too late when we have
done with him. Let him know that we will be
at the Red City in two days, and will give him
all the fighting he is likely to want for the rest
of his life.”

When Palamides came to the city he was received
with the greatest joy, and the more so when
the people saw what a handsome and well-built
man he was, neither too young nor too old, with
clean and powerful limbs, and no defect of body.

At the time appointed there came to the city the
two brethren, Helius and Helake by name, both of
them strong and valiant men, of great prowess in[Pg 52]
war, false as they were at heart. And with them
they brought forty knights, to guard them against
any treachery from the Red City, for they knew
well that it was filled with their enemies.

The lists had already been prepared, and at the
appointed hour Palamides entered full armed, and
confronted his antagonists boldly.

“Are you the two brethren Helius and Helake,
who slew your king by treason?” he asked.

“We are the men who slew King Hermance,”
they replied. “And bear in mind, Sir Saracen,
we are able to stand by our deeds, and will handle
you so before you depart that you will wish you
had been christened before you came so far.”

“I trust to God I shall die a better Christian
than either of you,” Palamides replied. “And
you had best kill me if you get the chance, for I
vow not to spare you.”

As he spoke the trumpet sounded, and, reining
back their horses, they rode against each other with
terrific speed. Palamides directed his spear against
Helake, and struck him so mighty a blow that the
spear pierced through his shield and hauberk, and
for a fathom’s length through his breast, hurling
him dead to the earth. As for Helius, he held up
his spear in pride and presumption, and rode by
Palamides without touching him.

But when he saw his brother stretched in death
on the earth his assurance changed to doubt, and
rage drove the pride from his heart. “Help thyself,
villain!” he cried, and rushed upon Palamides
before he could prepare to encounter him, striking
him a blow with his spear that bore him from his[Pg 53]
saddle to the earth. Then he forced his horse over
him backward and forward before the dismounted
champion could regain his feet.

As he came again, the fallen knight reached up
and caught the horse by the bridle, dragging himself
by its aid to his feet. Then, as the animal
reared, he pressed so strongly upon it that it toppled
backward to the ground, the rider barely saving
himself from being crushed beneath his fallen horse.
But he was on his feet in an instant, and, sword in
hand, struck Palamides a blow on the helm that
brought him down to one knee.

Before he could repeat the blow the gallant Saracen
was on his feet and had drawn his trenchant
blade, with which he attacked his antagonist in
turn. A fierce and deadly combat succeeded, the
two knights hurtling together like two wild boars,
now both hurled grovelling to the earth, now on
foot again and hewing at each other with the
strength of giants.

Thus for two hours they fought, without time
for rest or a moment’s space to recover breath.
At the end of that time Palamides grew faint and
weary from the violence of his efforts, but Helius
seemed as strong as ever, and redoubling his strokes
he drove back the Saracen knight step by step,
over all the field. At this the people of the city
were filled with fear, while the party of Helius
shouted with triumph.

“Alas!” cried the citizens, “that this noble
knight should be slain for our king’s sake.”

While they thus bewailed his threatened fate and
the seeming victory of their tyrant, Helius showered[Pg 54]
so many vigorous blows on his weakened foe that
it was a wonder he kept his feet. But when he
saw how the common people wept for him his heart
was filled with a sense of shame, while a glow of
fury burned like fire in his veins.

“Fie on you for a dastard, Palamides!” he said
to himself. “Why hang you your head so like a
whipped hound?”

Then, with a new spirit burning hotly within
him, and fresh strength animating his limbs, he
lifted his drooping shield and turned on Helius
with lion-like fury, smiting him a vigorous blow
on the helm, which he followed quickly by others.
This violent onset was too much for the strained
strength of the false knight, and he retreated in
dismay, while the sword of Palamides fell with ever
more and more might. At length came so mighty
a blow that he was hurled like a log to the earth.
The victorious Saracen gave him no time to recover,
but sprang upon him like a fury, tore the
helm from his head, and with a final stroke smote
the head from his body.

Then he rose and stood leaning upon his sword,
hardly able to bear himself on his feet, while from
all the people of the city went up loud shouts of
joy and congratulation.

“Palamides, the conqueror! Palamides, our deliverer!
Palamides, our king!” they shouted,
while one adorned his brows with a wreath of laurel,
and others tore off his armor and applied ointments
to his bleeding limbs.

“Fair friends, your crown is not for me,” he
said. “I have delivered you from your tyrants,
but you must choose some other king, as I am
under promise to return with all speed to my lord
King Arthur at the castle of Lonazep.”

This decision filled them with grief, but they
brought him to the city and treated him with all
the honor which they could bestow upon him. And
as he persisted in his refusal of the crown, they
proffered him a third part of their goods if he
would remain with them. All this he declined,
and in a short time departed, bearing with him a
thousand good wishes and prayers for success and
fortune.

He was received with like joy and congratulation
at the castle, Sir Ebel warmly pressing him
to change his decision and remain as their king.
To this Palamides would by no means consent,
and after a day’s stay he took ship again, and
sailed up the Humber to the castle of Lonazep.

SIR TRISTRAM AT JOYOUS GARD.

[Pg 55]

CHAPTER V.

THE TOURNAMENT AT LONAZEP.

When Palamides learned that Tristram was not
at Lonazep, he tarried not there, but crossed the
Humber, and sought him at Joyous Gard. Here
he found lodgings in the town, and word was
quickly brought to Tristram that a knight-errant
had come.

[Pg 56]“What manner of man is he? and what sign does
he bear?” he asked.

The messenger described his armor and appearance.

“That is Palamides,” said Dinadan. “The
brave fellow is already back, and victorious, I
doubt not.”

“It looks that way, indeed. Go and bid him
welcome to Joyous Gard,” said Tristram.

So Dinadan went to Palamides, and joyfully
greeted him, listening eagerly to the story of his
exploits, and congratulating him on his signal success.
He remained with him that night, and in
the morning they were visited by Tristram and
Gareth before they had arisen.

Many were the warm congratulations which Tristram
gave Palamides on his noble achievement,
and after they had breakfasted he invited him to
ride into the fields and woods, that they might
repose under the cool shelter of the forest. Here
they alighted by a refreshing spring, and as they
sat conversing an armed knight came riding towards
them.

“Who are those knights that are lodged in Joyous
Gard?” he asked.

“That I cannot say,” answered Tristram.

“At any rate you can tell me who you are. You
are not knights-errant, I fancy, since you ride
unarmed.”

“Whether we be or no, we prefer not to tell our
names.”

“You are not courteous, sir knight, and this is
the way I pay discourtesy,” said the stranger.[Pg 57]
“Guard yourself, or you shall die by my hands.”

Then, spear in hand, he rode on Sir Tristram,
with brutal intent to run him through. But Palamides
sprang up hastily, and smote the knight’s
horse so fierce a blow with his clinched fist that
horse and man fell together to the earth. He then
drew his sword to slay him.

“Let the dog go,” said Tristram. “He is but
a fool, and it were a shame to slay him for his
folly. Take the fellow’s spear from him, though.
It is a weapon he has not learned the use of.”

The knight rose groaning, and when he had
regained his saddle he again requested their names.

“My name is Tristram de Lyonesse, and this
knight’s name is Palamides. Would you know
more?”

“No, by my faith!” cried the other, and, hastily
putting spurs to his horse, he rode away as
fast as the animal would carry him.

Hardly had he gone when a knight, who bore
a bended shield of azure, came riding up at a
furious gallop.

“My fair sirs,” he asked, “has a knight passed
here bearing a shield with a case of red over it?”

“Yes. We but now had some trouble with such
a fellow. Who is he?”

“And you let him escape? That was ill-advised,
fair sirs. He is the falsest rogue and the greatest
foe to knights-errant living. His name is Breuse
Sans Pité.”

“And I had him under my sword!” cried Palamides.
“Fool I was to let him go.”

“If I overtake him there will be another story[Pg 58]
to tell,” answered the knight, as he spurred onward
on the track of the fugitive.

Then the four friends mounted and rode leisurely
back towards Joyous Gard, much conversing as they
went. When they reached the castle Palamides
wished not to enter, but Tristram insisted on it,
and, taking him by the hand, led him in.

When Palamides saw La Belle Isolde, whom he
had not met for years, but for whom his love burned
as warmly as ever, he was so ravished with joy
that he could scarcely speak. And when they were
at dinner he could not eat a morsel, but sat like a
dumb man, scarcely venturing to raise his eyes to
Isolde’s lovely countenance.

Poorly he slept that night, and with many
dreams of her he loved. When morning broke they
all prepared to ride to Lonazep. Tristram took
with him three squires, and Queen Isolde had three
gentlewomen, all attired with great richness.
These, with the other knights and their squires,
and valets to bear their shields and spears, formed
their train.

Not far had they gone before they saw on the
road before them a group of knights. Chief of
these was the knight Galihodin, who was attended
by twenty companions.

“Fair fellows,” said Galihodin, “yonder come
four knights escorting a richly-attired lady. What
say you? shall we take her from them?”

“That is not the best counsel,” said one.

“At any rate, it is my counsel,” answered Galihodin.
“We shall show them that we have the
right of the road.” And he sent a squire to them,[Pg 59]
asking them if they would joust, or else lose their
lady.

“We are but four,” said Tristram. “Tell your
lord to come with three of his comrades, and win
her if he can.”

“Let me have this joust,” said Palamides. “I
will undertake them all four.”

“As you will,” said Tristram. “Go tell your
lord that this one knight will encounter him and
any three of his fellows.”

The squire departed with his challenge, and in
a trice Galihodin came riding forward spear in
rest. Palamides encountered him in mid career,
and smote him so hard a blow that he had a terrible
fall to the earth, and his horse with him.
His three comrades were served in the same summary
manner, while Palamides still bore an unbroken
spear. At this unlooked-for result six
knights rode out from the opposite party with
purpose of revenge on the victor.

“Hold your hands,” cried Galihodin. “Let not
one of you touch this noble knight, who has proved
himself a man of worth. And I doubt if the whole
of you could handle him.”

When Palamides saw that the field was yielded
to him he rode back to Sir Tristram.

“Well and worshipfully have you done,” said
Tristram. “No man could have surpassed you.”

Onward they rode again, and in a little while
after met four knights in the highway, with spears
in rest. These were Gawaine and three companions.
This joust also Tristram gave to Palamides, and
he served these four as he had served the others,[Pg 60]
leaving them all unhorsed in the road. For the
presence of La Belle Isolde gave the strength of
ten men to the arm of her lover, the Saracen.

They now continued their route without molestation,
and in good time reached the spot where
Tristram had ordered his pavilions to be set up.
Here were now many more pavilions than they
had seen on their previous visit, and a great array
of knights, who had been gathering for many
days, for far and wide had spread the news of the
great tournament.

Leaving Palamides and Gareth at the pavilions
with Queen Isolde, Tristram and Dinadan rode to
Lonazep to learn what was afoot, Tristram riding
on the Saracen knight’s white horse. As they
came into the castle the sound of a great bugle-blast
met their ears, and many knights crowded
forward.

“What means the blast?” asked Tristram.

“Sir,” answered a knight, “it comes from the
party who hold against King Arthur at this tournament.
These are the kings of Ireland, of Surluse,
of Listinoise, of Northumberland, of North Wales,
and of other countries. They are calling a council
to decide how they shall be governed in the lists.”

Tristram thereupon followed them to their council,
and listened to the debate. He then sought
his horse again, and rode by where King Arthur
stood surrounded by a press of knights. Among
those were Galihodin and Gawaine, who said to the
king: “That knight in the green harness, with
the white horse, is a man of might, whoever he
be. To-day he overthrew us both, with six of our
fellows.”

[Pg 61]“Who can he be?” said the king, and he called
Tristram to him, and requested to know his name.

“I beg pardon, my liege lord,” answered Tristram,
“and pray that you will hold me excused
from revealing my name at this time,” and he
turned his horse and rode away.

“Go after him, Sir Griflet,” said the king.
“Tell him that I wish to speak with him apart.”

Griflet rode to Tristram and told him the king’s
wish, and the two returned in company.

“Fair sir,” said the king, “what is the cause
that you withhold your name?”

“I have an excellent reason, but beg that you
will not press me for it.”

“With which party do you hold?”

“Truly, my lord, that I cannot say. Where my
heart draws or my fancy bids I will go. To-morrow
you shall see which side I take. To-day
I know not myself.”

Leaving the king, he rode back to where his
pavilions were set. When the morning dawned he
and his three companions armed themselves all in
green and rode to the lists. Here young knights
had begun to joust, and, seeing this, Gareth asked
leave of Tristram to break a spear.

“Go in and do your best if you care to play with
beginners,” said Tristram, laughing.

But Gareth found himself encountered by a
nephew of the king with the hundred knights,
who had some of his uncle’s tough fibre, and both
got ugly falls, and lay on the ground till they
were helped up by their friends. Then Tristram
and Palamides rode with Gareth back to the pavilions,[Pg 62]
where they removed their helmets. When
Isolde saw Gareth all bruised in the face, she
asked him what ailed him.

“Madam, I had a hard buffet, and gave another,
but none of my fellows would rescue me.”

“Only unproved knights are yet in the field,”
said Palamides. “The man that met you, though,
was a strong and well-trained knight, Sir Selises
by name, so you have no dishonor. Rest here and
get yourself in condition for to-morrow’s work.”

“I shall not fail you if I can bestride my horse,”
said Gareth.

“What party is it best for us to join to-morrow?”
asked Tristram.

“Against King Arthur, is my advice,” said Palamides.
“Lancelot and many other good men will
be on his side, and the more men of prowess we
meet the more honor we will win.”

“Well and knightly spoken,” said Tristram.
“Hard blows is what we court. Your counsel is
well given.”

“So think we all,” said the others.

On the morrow, when day had broken, they
arrayed themselves in green trappings, with shields
and spears of green, while Isolde and her three
damsels wore dresses of the same color. For the
ladies Tristram found seats in a bay window of a
priory which overlooked the field, and from which
they could see all that took place. This done, they
rode straight to the party of the king of Scots.

When Arthur saw this he asked Lancelot who
were these knights and the queenly lady who came
with them.

[Pg 63]“That I cannot say for certain. Yet if Tristram
and Palamides be in this country then it is
they and La Belle Isolde.”

Then Arthur turned to Kay and said,—

“Go to the hall and see how many Knights of
the Round Table are missing, and bring me word.”

Kay did so, and found by the roll of knights
that ten were wanting,—Tristram, Dinadan, and
eight others.

“Then I dare say,” remarked Arthur, “that
some of these are here to-day against us.”

The tournament began with a combat in which
two knights, cousins to Gawaine, named Sir Edward
and Sir Sadok, rode against the king of Scots
and the king of North Wales and overthrew them
both. This Palamides saw, and in return he
spurred upon these victorious knights and hurled
both of them from their saddles.

“What knight is that in green?” asked Arthur.
“He is a mighty jouster.”

“You will see him do better yet,” said Gawaine.
“It was he that unhorsed me and seven others
two days ago.”

As they stood talking Tristram rode into the
lists on a black horse, and within a few minutes
he smote down four knights of Orkney, while
Gareth and Dinadan each unhorsed a good knight.

“Yonder is another fellow of marvellous arm,”
said Arthur; “that green knight on the black
horse.”

“He has not begun his work yet,” said Gawaine.
“It is plain that he is no common man.”

And so it proved, for Sir Tristram pushed fiercely[Pg 64]
into the press, rescued the two kings who had been
unhorsed, and did such mighty work among the
opposing party that all who saw him marvelled to
behold one man do so many valiant deeds. Nor
was the career of Palamides less marvellous to the
spectators.

King Arthur, who watched them both with admiring
eyes, likened Tristram to a furious lion,
and Palamides to a maddened leopard, and Gareth
and Dinadan, who seconded them strongly, to eager
wolves. So fiercely did Tristram rage, indeed,
among the knights of Orkney that at length they
withdrew from the field, as no longer able to face
him.

Then loud went up the cry of the heralds and
the common people,—

“The green knight has beaten all Orkney!”
And the heralds took account that not less than fifty
knights had been smitten down by the four champions
in green.

“This will not do,” said Arthur. “Our party
will be overmatched if these fellows rage on at
such a rate. Come, Lancelot, you and Hector and
Bleoberis must try your hands, and I will make a
fourth.”

“Let it be so,” answered Lancelot. “Let me
take him on the black horse, and Bleoberis him on
the white. Hector shall match him on the gray
horse” (Sir Gareth).

“And I,” said Arthur, “will face the knight on
the grizzled steed” (Sir Dinadan).

With this conversation they armed and rode to
the lists. Here Lancelot rode against Tristram and[Pg 65]
smote him so hard a blow that horse and man
went to the earth, while his three companions met
with the same ill fortune from their new antagonists.

This disaster raised a cry throughout the lists:
“The green knights are down! Rescue the green
knights! Let them not be held prisoners!” For
the understanding was that any unhorsed knight
not rescued by his own strength or by his fellows
should be held as prisoner.

Then the king of North Wales rode straight to
Tristram, and sprang from his horse, crying,—

“Noble knight, I know not of what country
you are, but beg you to take my horse, for you
have proved yourself worthier to bestride it than
I am.”

“Many thanks,” said Tristram. “I shall try
and do you as welcome a turn. Keep near us, and
I may soon win you another horse.”

Then he sprang to the saddle, and meeting with
King Arthur struck him so fierce a sword-blow
on the helm that he had no power to keep his
saddle.

“Here is the horse promised you,” cried Tristram
to the king of North Wales, who was quickly
remounted on King Arthur’s horse.

Then came a hot contest around the king, one
party seeking to mount him again and the other
to hold him prisoner. Palamides thrust himself,
on foot, into the press, striking such mighty blows
to the right and left that the whole throng were
borne back before him. At the same time Tristram
rode into the thickest of the throng of knights[Pg 66]
and cut a way through them, hurling many of them
to the earth.

This done, he left the lists and rode to his pavilion,
where he changed his horse and armor; he
who had gone forth as a green knight coming back
to the fray as a red one.

When Queen Isolde saw that Tristram was unhorsed,
and lost sight of him in the press, she wept
greatly, fearing that some harm had come to him.
But when he rode back she knew him in an instant,
despite his red disguise, and her heart swelled
anew with joy as she saw him with one spear smite
down five knights. Lancelot, too, now knew him,
and withdrew from the lists lest he should encounter
him again.

All this time Tristram’s three friends had not
been able to regain their saddles, but now he drove
back the press and helped them again to horse,
and, though they knew him not in his new array,
they aided him with all their knightly prowess.

When Isolde, at her window, saw what havoc her
chosen knight was making, she leaned eagerly forth
and laughed and smiled in delight. This Palamides
saw, and the vision of her lovely and smiling
countenance filled his soul so deeply with love’s
rejoicing that there seemed to flow into him the
strength and spirit of ten men, and, with a shout
of knightly challenge, he pressed forward, smiting
down with spear and sword every man he encountered.
For his heart was so enamoured by the
vision of that charming face that Tristram or
Lancelot would then have had much ado to stand
before him.

[Pg 67]“Truly Palamides is a noble warrior,” said
Tristram, when he beheld this. “I never saw him
do such deeds as he has done this day, nor heard
of his showing such prowess.”

“It is his day,” said Dinadan, simply. But to
himself he said, “If you knew for whose love he
does these valorous deeds, you would soon be in
the field against him.”

“It is a crying pity that so brave a knight should
be a pagan,” said Tristram.

“It is my fancy,” said Dinadan to himself,
“that you may thank Queen Isolde for what you
have seen; if she had not been here to-day that
shouting throng would not be giving Palamides
the palm of the tourney.”

At this juncture Lancelot came again into the
field, and hearing the outcry in favor of Palamides
he set his spear in rest and spurred upon him.
Palamides, seeing this, and having no spear, coolly
awaited Lancelot, and as he came up smote his
spear in two with a sword-stroke. Then he rushed
upon him and struck his horse so hard a blow in
the neck that the animal fell, bearing his rider to
the ground.

Loud and fierce was the outcry then: “Palamides
the Saracen has smitten Sir Lancelot’s horse!
It is an unknightly deed!”

And Hector de Maris, seeing his brother Lancelot
thus unfairly dismounted, rushed upon Palamides
in a rage, and bore him from his horse with
a mighty spear-thrust.

“Take heed to yourself, sirrah,” cried Lancelot,
springing towards him sword in hand. “You have[Pg 68]
done me a sorry deed, and by my knightly honor
I will repay you for it.”

“I humbly beg your pardon, noble sir,” answered
Palamides. “I have done so much this
day that I have no power or strength left to withstand
you. Forgive me my hasty and uncourteous
deed, and I promise to be your knight while I
live.”

“You have done marvellously well indeed,” said
Lancelot. “I understand well what power moves
you. Love is a mighty mistress, and if she I love
were here to-day you should not bear away the honor
of the field, though you have nobly won it. Beware
that Tristram discovers not your love, or you may
repent it. But I have no quarrel with you, and
will not seek to take from you the honor of the
day.”

So Lancelot suffered Palamides to depart, and
mounted his own horse again, despite twenty
knights who sought to hinder him. Lancelot, Tristram,
and Palamides did many more noble deeds
before that day’s end, and so great became the
medley at length that the field seemed a dense mass
of rearing and plunging horses and struggling
knights.

At length Arthur bade the heralds to blow to
lodging and the fray ended. And since Palamides
had been in the field from first to last, without once
withdrawing, and had done so many, noble and
valiant deeds, the honor and the prize for the
day were unanimously voted him, a judgment which
Arthur and the kings of his counsel unanimously
confirmed.

[Pg 69]But when Palamides came to understand that
the red knight who had rescued him was Sir Tristram
his heart was glad, for all but Dinadan fancied
he had been taken prisoner. Much was the talk
upon the events of the day, and great the wonder of
king and knights at the remarkable valor of the
Saracen knight.

“And yet I well know,” said Lancelot, “that
there was a better knight there than he. And
take my word for it, this will be proved before the
tournament ends.”

This also thought Dinadan, and he rallied his
friend Tristram with satirical tongue.

“What the fiend has ailed you to-day?” he
asked. “Palamides grew in strength from first
to last, but you have been like a man asleep, or a
coward knight.”

“I was never called coward before,” said Tristram,
hotly. “The only fall I got was from Lancelot,
and him I hold as my better, and for that
matter the better of any man alive.”

But Dinadan kept up his railing accusations till
the growing anger of Tristram warned him to desist.
Yet this was all from friendship, not from
spite, for he wished to stir up his friend to do his
best in the lists the coming day, and not permit
the Saracen again to carry off the prize.

[Pg 70]

CHAPTER VI.

THE SECOND DAY OF THE TOURNAMENT.

When the next morning dawned, Tristram, Palamides,
and Gareth, with La Belle Isolde and her
ladies, all arrayed as before in green, took horse
at an early hour, and rode into the fresh forest.
But Dinadan was left still asleep in bed. As they
passed the castle at a little distance, it chanced
that King Arthur and Lancelot saw them from an
upper window.

“Yonder rideth the fairest lady of the world,”
said Lancelot, “always excepting your queen, Guenever.”

“Who is it?” asked Arthur.

“It is La Belle Isolde, Cornwall’s queen and
Tristram’s lady-love.”

“By my troth, I should like to see her closer,”
said the king. “Let us arm and mount, and ride
after them.”

This they did, and in a short time were on the
track of the gay cavalcade they had seen.

“Let us not be too hasty,” warned Lancelot.
“There are some knights who resent being intruded
on abruptly; particularly if in the company of
ladies.”

“As for that, we must take our chances,” said
Arthur. “If they feel aggrieved I cannot help
it, for I am bent on seeing Queen Isolde.”

Seeing Tristram and his companions just in advance,
Arthur rode briskly up and saluted Isolde[Pg 71]
courteously, saying, “God save you, fair lady.”

“Thanks for your courtesy, sir knight,” she
replied.

Then Arthur looked upon her charming countenance,
freshened by the morning air, and thought
in his mind that Lancelot had spoken but the truth,
and that no more beautiful lady lived. But at this
moment Palamides rode up.

“Sir knight, what seek you here?” he asked.
“It is uncourteous to come on a lady so suddenly.
Your intrusion is not to our liking, and I bid you
to withdraw.”

Arthur paid no heed to these words, but continued
to gaze upon Isolde, as one stricken with
admiration. Seeing this, Palamides flamed into
anger, and spurred fiercely upon the king, with
spear in rest, smiting him from his horse.

“Here is an awkward business,” said Lancelot
to himself. “If I ride down Palamides I shall
have Tristram on me; and the pair of them would
be too much for me. This comes from too head-strong
a will. But whether I live or die I must
stand by my lord and king.” Then riding forward,
he called to Palamides, “Keep thee from me!”

Fierce was the onset with which they met, but it
ended in Lancelot’s favor, for Palamides was flung
from his saddle and had a hard fall.

When Tristram saw this he called to Lancelot,
“Be on your guard, sir knight. You have unhorsed
my comrade, and must joust with me.”

“I have no dread of that,” said Lancelot; “and
yet I did but avenge my lord, who was unhorsed
unwarily and unknightly. You have no cause for[Pg 72]
displeasure; for no honorable knight could stand
by and see his friend ill-treated.”

Tristram now felt sure that it was Lancelot who
spoke, and that it was King Arthur whom Palamides
had unhorsed. He therefore laid aside his
spear and helped Palamides again to his saddle,
while Lancelot did the same for the king.

“That deed of thine was not knightly nor courteous,”
said Tristram, sternly to Palamides, after
the others had departed. “I cannot see any harm
in a knight accosting a lady gently and courteously;
nor am I pleased to have you play such masteries
before my lady. If I deem her insulted, I am quite
able myself to protect her. And if I am not mistaken,
it was King Arthur you assailed so rudely,
and the other was Lancelot du Lake. You may yet
have to pay for your violence.”

“I cannot think,” said Palamides, “that the
great Arthur would ride thus secretly arrayed as
a poor knight-errant.”

“Then you know him not,” said Tristram. “No
knight living is fonder of adventure. King Arthur
is always ready to take his part as an errant knight,
nor does he bear malice against those who may
overthrow him when in disguise. I tell you, Palamides,
that our king is the true model of knightly
honor, and that the best of us might learn from
him.”

“If it were he I am sorry,” said Palamides. “I
may have been over-hasty. But a thing that is
done cannot be undone, and I must abide the consequences.”

Then Tristram sent Isolde to her lodging in the[Pg 73]
priory, from which she might behold the tournament,
and made ready to enter the lists.

Fierce was the shock of the first encounter of the
knights, and the three champions in green began
the day with many deeds of might.

“How feel you?” asked Tristram of Palamides.
“Are you able to repeat yesterday’s work?”

“Hardly,” was the reply. “I am weary and
sore yet from my hard labors.”

“I am sorry for that, as I shall miss your aid.”

“Trust not to me,” answered Palamides. “I
have not much work left in me.”

“Then I must depend on you,” said Tristram
to Gareth. “We two should be able to make our
mark. Keep near me and rescue me if I get in
trouble, and I will do the same for you.”

“I shall not fail you,” was the reply.

Leaving them, Palamides rode off by himself,
and, pushing into the thickest press of the men
of Orkney, did such deeds of arms that Tristram
looked on in amazement.

“Is that his soreness and weariness?” he asked.
“I fancy he is weary of my company, and wishes
to win all the honor to his own hand.”

“That is what Dinadan meant yesterday when
he called you coward,” said Gareth. “He but
wished to stir you to anger so that Palamides should
not rob you of credit.”

“By my faith, if Palamides bears me ill will and
envy I shall show him what a knight of Cornwall
can do. He has gained the acclamations of the
crowd already. He has left our company and we
owe him no courtesy. You shall see me rob him
of his honors.”

[Pg 74]Then Tristram rode into the thickest of the press,
and laid about him with such might that all eyes
were turned upon him, and men began to say,
“There is a greater than Palamides come into the
field.”

“Is it not as I told you?” said Lancelot to
Arthur. “I said you would this day see the Saracen
distanced.”

“It is true enough,” answered Arthur. “Palamides
has not such strength of arm.”

“It is Tristram himself you look upon.”

“That I can well believe,” said Arthur. “Such
knights as he do not grow like mushrooms in every
field.”

The noise from the other part of the lists now
drew the attention of Palamides, and when he saw
what puissant deeds his late comrade was doing
he wept for spite, for he saw that the honor of that
day was not for him.

Seeing to what straits their party was put,
Arthur and Lancelot and many other knights now
armed and rode into the field, and by their aid so
changed the tide of victory that the other side was
driven quite back, until Tristram and Gareth stood
alone, bravely abiding all who came upon them.
But Lancelot and his kinsmen kept purposely away
from them.

“See,” said Lancelot to Arthur, “how Palamides
hovers yonder like one in a dream, sick, I
fancy, from envy of Tristram.”

“Then he is but a fool,” said the king. “He
is not and never was the match of Tristram. I
am glad to see the fellow repaid for the way he
served me this morning.”

[Pg 75]As they stood thus conversing, Tristram withdrew
quietly from the lists, his going noted only
by Isolde and Palamides, who kept their eyes upon
him. He rode back to his pavilions, where he
found Dinadan still asleep, his slumbers not broken
by all the uproar of the tournament.

“As I am a living man, here is a lusty sleeper,”
cried Tristram. “Wake, Dinadan. The day is
half spent and the field half won, and here you are
still a-bed.”

At this Dinadan sprang hastily up and rubbed
his eyes.

“I dreamt of wars and jousts,” he said. “And,
i’ faith, I like that way the best, for one gets all
the good of the fight and is safe from sore limbs
and aching bones. But what’s to do?”

“Get on your harness and ride with me to the
field. You will find something there to waken
you up.”

Dinadan, as he armed, noted Tristram’s battered
shield, and remarked,—

“I slept both well and wisely, it seems. If I
had been there I must have followed you, from
shame if not from courage. And by the looks of
your shield I would have been worse battered than
I was yesterday. Why did you not let me sleep
out the balance of it, friend Tristram?”

“A truce with your jests. Come, we must to
the field again.”

“How now, is there a new deal in the game?
Yesterday you did but dream; to-day you seem
awake.”

Meanwhile Tristram had changed his armor, and[Pg 76]
now was attired all in black.

“You have more fight in you than you had
yesterday, that is sure,” said Dinadan. “Did I stir
up your sleeping spirit?”

“It may be so,” said Tristram, smiling. “Keep
well up to me, and I shall make you a highway
through the press. If you see me overmatched,
do what you can to aid me.”

When ready they took their horses and rode back
to the lists, where Isolde and Palamides noted their
entrance. When the Saracen saw that Tristram
was disguised, a new fancy came into his scheming
brain. Leaving the lists, he rode to where a knight
sat sorely wounded under a tree outside. Him
he prayed for an exchange of armor, saying that
his own was too well known in the field, and that
he wished for a disguise.

“That is very true,” said the knight, as he recognized
the green armor. “You have made your
array somewhat too well known. You are welcome
to my arms, if they will be of use to you. They
will gain more credit in your hands than they
have won in mine.”

Palamides thereupon exchanged armor with
him, and, taking his shield, which shone like silver,
rode into the field. He now joined the party of
King Arthur, and rode spitefully against Tristram,
who had just struck down three knights. They
met with such force that both spears splintered to
their hands, though neither lost his seat. Then
they dashed eagerly together with drawn swords
and fought with the courage and fury of two lions.
But Tristram wondered much what knight this[Pg 77]
was that faced him so valiantly, and grew angry
as he felt that he was wasting in this single combat
the strength he wished to treasure up for the day’s
work.

La Belle Isolde, who had watched Palamides
from her window, had seen him change his armor
with the wounded knight. And when his treacherous
purpose came to her mind she wept so heartily
and was so deeply disturbed that she swooned away.

At this juncture in the fray Lancelot rode again
into the field, and when the knights of Arthur’s
party saw him the cry went up. “Return, return,
here comes Sir Lancelot du Lake!”

And some said to him, “Sir Lancelot, yonder
knight in the black harness is your man. He is
the best of our opponents, and has nearly overcome
the good knight with the silver shield.”

At this Lancelot rode between the combatants,
and cried to Palamides,—

“Let me have this battle; you need repose.”

Palamides knew Lancelot, and readily gave way,
hoping through his mighty aid to gain revenge
upon his rival. Then Lancelot fell upon Tristram,
and, unknowing who he was, dealt him blows that
would have stunned a less hardy fighter. Tristram
returned them but feebly, for he knew well
with whom he fought. And Isolde, who saw it
all, was half out of her mind with grief.

Dinadan now told Gareth who the knight in
black armor was, and said, “Lancelot will get the
better of him, for one is weary and the other fresh,
and Tristram is not fighting with his old vim.
Let us to his aid.”

[Pg 78]“I am with you,” said Gareth. “Yonder fellow
with the silver shield is waiting to fall on Tristram,
if he can to advantage. It is our business to give
our friend what help we can.”

Then they rode in, and Gareth struck Lancelot
a sword-blow that made his head swim, while Dinadan
followed with a spear-thrust that bore horse
and man together to the earth.

“Why do you this?” cried Tristram, angrily.
“It is not a knightly act, and does not that good
knight any dishonor. I was quite his match without
you.”

Then Palamides came to Lancelot’s aid, and a
close medley of fighting began, in which Dinadan
was unhorsed and Tristram pulled Palamides from
his saddle, and fell with him. Dinadan now sprang
up and caught Tristram’s horse by the bridle, calling
out, with purpose to end the fight,—

“My lord Sir Tristram, take your horse.”

“What is this?” cried Lancelot. “What have
I done? Sir Tristram, why came you here disguised?
Surely I would not have drawn sword
on you, had I known you.”

“Sir,” said Tristram, “this is not the first honor
you have done me.”

Then they mounted their horses again, while
the people on one side gave Lancelot the honor
of the fray, and those on the other side gave it to
Tristram.

“The honor is not mine,” said Lancelot. “He
has been longer in the field, and has smitten down
many more knights; so I give my voice for Sir
Tristram, and pray to all my lords and fellows to
do the same.”

[Pg 79]This was the verdict of the judges, and the prize
of that day’s tourney was by all voted to the noble
Sir Tristram.

Then the trumpets blew to lodging, and the
knights left the field, while Queen Isolde was conducted
to her pavilion. But her heart burned hot
with wrath against Palamides, all whose treachery
she had seen. As Tristram rode forward with
Gareth and Dinadan, Palamides joined them, still
disguised.

“Sir knight,” said Tristram, “you are not of
our party, and your company is not welcome. So
begone.”

“Not I,” he answered. “One of the best knights
in the world bade me keep fellowship with you,
and till he relieve me from that service I must obey
him.”

“Ha, Palamides, I know you now!” said Tristram.
“But, by my faith, I did not know you before,
for I deemed you a worthy knight and not a
traitor. I could have handled you well enough,
but you brought Lancelot to your aid against me.”

“Are you my lord, Sir Tristram?” said Palamides,
in a tone of surprise.

“That you know, well enough.”

“How should I know it any more than you knew
me? I deemed you the king of Ireland, for you
bear his arms.”

“I won them in battle, from his champion Sir
Marhaus,” said Tristram.

“Sir,” answered Palamides, “I fancied you had
joined Lancelot’s party, and that caused me to turn
to the same side.”

[Pg 80]“If that be so, I forgive you,” said Tristram.

But when they reached the pavilion and had disarmed
and washed, and were come to table, Isolde
grew red with wrath on seeing Palamides.

“You traitor and felon!” she cried, “how dare
you thrust yourself into this goodly company? You
know not how falsely he has treated you, my lord
Tristram. I saw it all. He watched you when you
rode to your tent and donned the black armor.
Then he changed armor with a wounded knight and
rode back and wilfully changed sides, and drew
sword upon you. I saw it all, my lord, and I
impeach him of treason.”

“Madam,” said Palamides, calmly, “you may
say what you will. I cannot in courtesy deny you.
Yet by my knighthood I declare I knew not Sir
Tristram.”

“I will take your excuse,” said Tristram,
“though it seems a lame one. You spared me little
in the field, but all that I have pardoned.”

At this, Isolde held down her head in despite
and said no more.

While they were still at table two knights rode
to the pavilions, and entered in full armor.

“Fair sirs,” said Tristram, “is this courtesy, to
come upon us thus armed at our meal?”

“We come with no ill intent,” said one, “but as
your friends, Sir Tristram.”

“I am come,” said the other, “to greet you as a
friend and comrade, and my companion is eager
to see and welcome La Belle Isolde.”

“Then remove your helms, that I may see what
guests I have.”

[Pg 81]“That we do, willingly.”

No sooner were their helmets off than Tristram
sprang hastily to his feet.

“Madam, arise,” he cried; “this is none less
than my lord King Arthur; and this my very dear
friend Sir Lancelot.”

Then the king and queen kissed, and Lancelot
and Tristram warmly embraced, while deep joy
filled all hearts there. At the request of Isolde the
visitors removed their armor and joined them at
their meal.

“Many is the day that I have longed to see you,”
said Arthur to Isolde, “for much praise have I
heard of you, and not without warrant. For a
nobler match for beauty and valor than you and
Sir Tristram the world does not hold.”

“We thank you heartily,” replied Tristram and
Isolde. “Such praise from King Arthur is the
highest honor that men’s lips could give.”

Then they talked of other things, but mainly of
the tournament.

“Why were you against us?” asked Arthur.
“You are a Knight of the Round Table, and have
fought to-day against your own.”

“Here is Dinadan, and your own nephew Gareth.
You must blame them for that,” said Tristram,
smiling.

“You may lay all the blame on my shoulders,
if Tristram wishes it,” said Gareth.

“Not on mine, then,” said Dinadan. “Mine
are only broad enough to carry my own sins. It
was this unhappy Tristram brought us to the tournament,
and I owe to him a whole body full of[Pg 82]
aches and pains as it is, without taking any of his
sins in my sack, to boot.”

At this the king and Lancelot laughed heartily,
and the more so at the sour grimace with which
Dinadan ended.

“What knight was he with the shield of silver
that held you so short?” asked Arthur.

“Here he sits,” said Tristram.

“What! was it Palamides?”

“None less than he,” said Isolde.

“That was not a courteous action.”

“Sir,” said Palamides, “Tristram was so disguised
that I knew him not.”

“That may well be,” said Lancelot, “for I knew
him no better.”

“However it be, we are friends again,” said
Tristram, “and I hope will continue so.”

And so the evening passed, till the time came
for Arthur and Lancelot to take their leave.

That night Palamides slept not for the pain
and envy that burned in his heart. But when his
friends entered his chamber in the morning they
found him fast asleep, with his cheeks stained with
tears.

“Say nothing,” said Tristram. “The poor fellow
has been deeply wounded by the rebuke that
I and Isolde gave him. Lay no heavier load upon
his heart.”

[Pg 83]

CHAPTER VII.

THE WOES OF TWO LOVERS.

Early on the third morning of the tournament
the knights of Tristram’s party were up and armed,
they now being all arrayed in red, as was also
Isolde and her maidens. And rare was the show
they made as they rode gayly to the priory, where
they left Isolde and her maidens to occupy their
proper seats. As the knights turned thence towards
the field they heard three loud bugle-blasts, and saw
the throng of armed knights press eagerly forward,
while already from the listed space came the thunder
of hoofs and the cries of combatants.

Into the field they rode, Palamides in advance,
and such havoc did he make in the opposing ranks
that shouts of approval went up from all the seats.
But Tristram now rode forward at the full speed
of his great war-horse, hurled Kay the seneschal
from his saddle, smote down three other knights
with the same spear, and then, drawing his sword,
laid about him like a roused giant.

Quickly changed the cry from Palamides. “O
Tristram! O Tristram!” shouted the throng of
spectators, and the deeds of this new champion
threw those of the former victor into the shade.

Gareth and Dinadan also nobly aided the two
champions, rousing the admiration of Arthur and
Lancelot by their gallantry, and the four knightly
comrades soon cleared a wide space in the ranks
before them.

[Pg 84]“Come,” said Arthur, “we must to the rescue,
or our side will be driven from the field before the
day is an hour old. See how the others crowd in on
Tristram’s steps, like wolves to the prey.”

Then he and Lancelot hastily armed and sought
the field, where they quickly fought their way into
the thickest press of the tumult. Tristram, not
knowing them, rode upon them and thrust King
Arthur from his horse, and when Lancelot rushed
to his rescue he was surrounded with such an eager
host that he was pulled from his saddle to the
ground.

Seeing this, the kings of Ireland and Scotland,
with their knights, rushed forward to take Lancelot
and Arthur prisoners. But they counted without
their host, for the dismounted knights laid about
them like angry lions, driving back all who came
near them. Of all that passed in that hot turmoil
it were too much to say. Many a knight there did
deeds of great prowess, and Arthur and Lancelot
being mounted again, strewed the earth with fallen
knights, Lancelot that day unhorsing thirty warriors.
Yet the other side held so firmly together
that, with all their ardent labor, Arthur and his
party were overmatched.

At this juncture, Tristram turned to his companions
and said,—

“My good comrades, I begin to fancy that we are
to-day on the wrong side. King Arthur’s party is
overborne more by numbers than valor, for I must
say I never saw so few men do so well. It would
be a shame for us, who are Knights of the Round[Pg 85]
Table, to see our lord Arthur and our good comrade
Lancelot dishonored. I am in the humor to
change sides, and help our king and liege lord.”

“We are with you in that,” cried Gareth and
Dinadan. “We have been fighting against the
grain these three days.”

“Do as you will,” said Palamides. “I shall not
change my hand in the midst of the fray.”

“As you will,” said Tristram. “You are your
own master. Speed well in your way, and we will
do our best in ours.”

Then he, Gareth, and Dinadan drew out of the
press and rode round to Arthur’s side, where they
lent such noble aid that the fortune of the field
quickly changed, and the opposing party began to
give ground. As for Palamides, King Arthur
struck him so fierce a blow that he was hurled from
his horse, while Tristram and Lancelot unhorsed
all before them. Such havoc did they make, indeed,
that the party of the opposing kings was soon in
full flight from the field, bearing Palamides, who
wept for rage and grief, with them.

Then rarely sounded the trumpets, and loudly
shouted the spectators, while the names of Tristram
and Lancelot were in every mouth, some voting
one the prize, some the other. But neither of these
good comrades would have it alone, so that in the
end it was divided between them.

When evening drew near, and the knights had
all withdrawn to their pavilions, Palamides rode
up to that of Sir Tristram, in company with the
kings of Wales and Scotland. Here he drew up
his horse, praying his companions to wait a while[Pg 86]
while he spoke to the knight within. Then he cried
loudly at the entrance,—

“Where are you, Tristram of Lyonesse?”

“Is that you, Palamides?” answered the knight.
“Will you not dismount and join us?”

“I seek better company, sir traitor,” cried Palamides,
in tones that trembled with fury. “I hate
you now as much as I once esteemed you, and bear
this in mind, if it were daylight as it is night,
I would slay you with my own hands. You shall
die yet for this day’s deeds.”

“You blame me wrongly, Palamides,” said Tristram,
mildly. “If you had done as I advised you
would have won honor instead of disgrace. Why
come you here seeking to lay your own fault on
me? Since you give me such broad warning, I
shall be well on my guard against you.”

“Well you may, sir dastard, for I love you not,”
and, fiercely spurring his horse, the hot-blooded
Saracen joined his kingly companions.

When the next day dawned the festive array
which had long spread bustle and splendor round
Lonazep broke up, and knights and ladies rode
off in all directions through the land, to carry far
and wide the story of the wondrous deeds of valor
that had been performed at the great tournament.
Tristram and his two comrades, with Hector de
Maris and Bleoberis, escorted La Belle Isolde to
Joyous Gard, where for seven days the guests were
nobly entertained, with all the sports and mirthfulness
that could be devised. King Arthur and
his knights drew back to Camelot, and Palamides
rode onward with the two kings, his heart torn with[Pg 87]
mingled sorrow and despair. Not alone was he
in grief for his disgrace in the field, under the
eyes of her he loved, but was full as sorrowful
for the hot words he had spoken in his wrath to
Tristram, who had been so kind and gentle to him
that his heart was torn to think how falsely and
treacherously he had requited him.

His kingly companions would have had him stay
with them, but he could not be persuaded, so the
king of Ireland presented him with a noble courser,
and the king of Scotland with valuable gifts, and
he rode his way, still plunged in a grief that was
almost despair. Noon brought him to a forest
fountain, beside which lay a wounded knight, who
sighed so mournfully that the very leaves on the
trees seemed to sigh in echo.

“Why mourn you so, fair knight?” asked Palamides,
mildly. “Or if you care not to tell, at least
let me lie beside you and join my moans to yours,
for I dare say I have a hundredfold deeper cause
for grief, and we may ease our hearts by mutual
complaints.”

“What is your name, gentle sir?”

“Such as I am, for better or worse, men call
me Palamides, son to King Astlabor.”

“Noble sir, it solaces me much to meet you. I
am Epinegris, son to the king of Northumberland.
Now repose you on this mossy bank and let us tell
our woes, and so ease somewhat our sad hearts.”

Then Palamides dismounted and laid himself beside
the wounded knight.

“This is my source of woe,” he said. “I love
the fairest queen that ever drew breath, La Belle
Isolde, Cornwall’s queen.”

[Pg 88]“That is sheer folly,” said Epinegris, “for she
loves none but Tristram de Lyonesse.”

“Know I it not? I have been in their company
this month, daily reaping sorrow. And now I
have lost the fellowship of Tristram and the love
of Isolde forever, through my envy and jealousy,
and never more shall a glad thought enter my
sorrowful heart.”

“Did she ever show you signs of love?”

“Never. She hated me, I fear. And the last
day we met she gave me such a rebuke that I will
never recover from it:—yet well I deserved it by
my unknightly acts. Many great deeds have I
done for her love, yet never shall I win a smile
from her eyes.”

“Deep is your grief, indeed,” said Epinegris,
with a heart-breaking sigh, “yet it is but a jest
to my sorrow. For my lady loved me, and I won
her with my hands. But, alas! this day I have
lost her and am left here to moan. I took her
from an earl and two knights that were with her;
but as we sat here this day, telling each other of
our loves, there came an errant knight, named
Helior de Preuse, and challenged me to fight for my
lady. You see what followed. He wounded me
so that he left me for dead and took my lady with
him. So my sorrow is deepest, for I have rejoiced
in my love, and you never have. To have and lose
is far worse than never to own.”

“That is true,” said Palamides. “But yet I
have the deepest cause for grief, for your love is
not hopeless, like mine. And I shall prove this,
for if I can find this Helior he shall be made to[Pg 89]
yield you your lady, unless he prove able to deal
with me as he has with you.”

Then he helped Epinegris on his horse and led
him to a hermitage near by, where he left him
under the care of the holy hermit. Here Palamides
stayed not long, but walked out under the
shadow of the green leaves, to be a while alone
with his woes. But not far had he gone before
he saw near him a knight, who bore a shield that
he had seen Hector de Maris wear. With him were
ten other knights, who sheltered themselves from
the noontide heat under the green leaves.

As they stood there another knight came by
whose shield was green, with a white lion in its
midst, and who led a lady on a palfrey. As he
came up, the knight who bore Sir Hector’s shield
rode fiercely after him, and bade him turn and
defend his lady.

“That I must, in knightly duty,” cried the other.

Then the two knights rode together with such
might that horses and men together were hurled
to the earth. Drawing their swords, they now
fought sturdily for the space of an hour. In the
end the knight of the white lion was stricken to
the earth and forced to beg for his life.

Palamides stood under the leaves, watching this
combat till it came to its end. Then he went to
the lady, whom he believed to be her whom he
had promised to rescue. Taking her gently by the
hand, he asked her if she knew a knight named
Epinegris.

“Alas! that ever I did,” she sadly replied.
“For his sake I have lost my liberty, and for mine
he has lost his life.”

[Pg 90]“Not so badly as that,” said Palamides. “He
is at yonder hermitage. I will take you to him.”

“Then he lives!” she cried in joy. “You fill
my heart with gladness.”

But not many steps had Palamides led her before
the victorious knight cried out in tones of fierce
anger,—

“Loose the lady, sirrah! Whither take you
her?”

“Whither I will?” answered Palamides.

“You speak largely, sir knave,” cried the knight.
“Do you fancy you can rob me of my prize so
lightly? Think it not, sirrah; were you as good
a knight as Lancelot or Tristram or Palamides,
you should not have that lady without winning
her at a dearer rate than I did.”

“If fight it is, I am ready for you,” answered
Palamides. “I promised to bring this lady to her
lover from whom yonder knight stole her, and it
will need more swords than one to make me break
my word.”

“We shall see if that be so,” said the other,
attacking him so fiercely that Palamides had much
ado to protect himself. They fought for so long
a time that Palamides marvelled much who this
knight could be that withstood him so sturdily
after his late hard battle.

“Knight,” he said, at length, “you fight like
a hero. I would know your name.”

“You shall have it for yours in return.”

“I agree to that.”

“Then, sir, my name is Safere. I am son of
King Astlobar, and brother to Palamides and Segwarides.”

[Pg 91]“Then heaven defend me for having fought you,
for I am your brother Palamides.”

At these words Safere fell upon his knees and
begged his brother’s pardon; and then they unlaced
their helms and kissed each other with tears of joy.

As they stood thus, Epinegris advanced towards
them, for he had heard the sounds of fighting, and,
wounded as he was, he came to help Palamides if
he should stand in need.

Palamides, seeing him approach, took the lady
by the hand and led her to him, and they embraced
so tenderly that all hearts there were touched.

“Fair knight and lady,” said Safere, “it would
be a cruel pity to part you, and I pray heaven to
send you joy of each other.”

“You have my sincere thanks,” said Epinegris.
“And deeper thanks has Sir Palamides for what
he has done for me this day. My castle is near by;
will you not ride there with me as a safeguard?”

“That we gladly will,” they said, and when
Epinegris had got his horse they rode with him
and the lady to the castle, where they were nobly
received and treated with the highest honor. They
had such good cheer and such enjoyment as they had
rarely before known. And never burned the flame
of love more warmly than that between Epinegris
and his rescued lady.

[Pg 92]

CHAPTER VIII.

THE RIVALRY OF TRISTRAM AND PALAMIDES.

When morning again dawned over the forest
and the smiling fields that surrounded the castle
of Epinegris, the two brothers rode out, taking
with them the blessings and prayers for good fortune
of those they left behind. But had they known
into what deadly peril they ventured they would
not for days have left those hospitable gates.

For they rode on hour by hour, until afternoon
came, and then found themselves in front of a
noble manor-house from which came to their ears
doleful sounds of woe and lamentation.

“What means this woful noise? Shall we enter
and see?” said Safere.

“Willingly,” answered Palamides.

Leaving their horses at the gates, they entered
the court-yard, where they saw an old man tremblingly
fumbling his beads. But when they came
within the hall they beheld many men weeping
and lamenting.

“Fair sirs, why make you such a moaning?”
asked Palamides.

“We weep for our lord, who is slain,” they dolefully
replied.

But one of the knights observed the new-comers
closely, and said secretly to his fellows,—

“Know you not this man? Fortune has thrown
into our hands the knight who slew our lord at
Lonazep. That tall fellow is Palamides. Let him
not go as easily as he came.”

[Pg 93]Hearing this, most of them quietly withdrew
and armed themselves, and then came suddenly
upon their visitors to the number of threescore,
crying,—

“Defend yourself, if you can, Sir Palamides.
We know you for the murderer of our lord, and
it is our duty to revenge him. Die you shall,
though you had the might of a giant.”

Palamides and his brother, finding themselves
in this desperate strait, set themselves back to
back in the midst of their assailants, and fought
like very giants, keeping their ground for two
hours, though they were attacked by twenty knights
and forty gentlemen and yeomen. But strength
cannot hold out forever against odds, and at the
end they were forced to yield, and were locked up
in a strong prison.

Within three days thereafter a court of twelve
knights sat upon the charge against them, and
found Sir Palamides guilty of their lord’s death.

Sir Safere, who was adjudged not guilty, was
given his liberty, and bidden to depart from the
castle. He parted with his brother in the deepest
woe.

“Dear brother, grieve not so greatly,” said Palamides.
“If die I must, I shall meet death
bravely. But had I dreamed of such a doom as this,
they should never have taken me alive.”

Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print copyright 1896 by Curtis and Cameron.

THE DEPARTURE.

Then Safere departed in untold sorrow, though
not without hope of rescue if he could raise a force
to storm the castle. This he had no chance to do,
for on the next morning Palamides was sent under
an escort of twelve knights to the father of the[Pg 94]
dead knight, who dwelt in a strong castle by the
sea-side, named Pelownes, where it had been decided
that the sentence should be put into execution.

Palamides was placed on a sorry old steed with
his feet bound beneath it, and, surrounded by the
guard of twelve armed knights, was taken towards
the place of death.

But through the favor of fortune their route lay
by the castle of Joyous Gard, and here they were
seen by one who knew Palamides, and who asked
him whither he was borne.

“To my death,” he answered, “for the slaying
of a knight at the tournament. Had I not left
Sir Tristram this would not have happened to me.
I pray you, recommended me to your lord and to
my lady Isolde, and beg them to forgive me my
trespasses against them. And also to my lord King
Arthur, and to all my fellows of the Round Table.”

When the yeoman heard this he rode in all haste
to Joyous Gard, where he told Tristram of what he
had seen and heard.

“To his death, you say?” cried Tristram. “And
for an accident of the tournament? Why, I and
twenty others might be served in the same manner.
I have reason to be angry with Palamides, but he
shall not die the death of a dog if I can rescue him.”

This said, he armed in all haste, and taking two
squires with him, he rode at a fast gallop towards
the castle of Pelownes, hoping to overtake the
party before they could pass its gates.

But fortune had decreed that the prisoner should
be otherwise rescued. For as the guard of knights
rode on their way they passed by a well where[Pg 95]
Lancelot had alighted to drink of the refreshing
waters.

When he saw the cavalcade approach he put on
his helmet and stood watching them as they passed.
But his heart swelled with anger when he saw Palamides
disarmed and bound in their midst, and
seemingly led to his death.

“What means this?” he cried. “What has this
knight done that deserves a shameful death?
Whatever it be, I cannot suffer him to be foully
dealt with.”

Then he mounted and rode after the twelve
knights, soon overtaking them.

“Sir knights,” he said, “whither take you that
gentleman? To ride thus bound is not befitting
for a man of his metal.”

At this the guard of knights turned their horses
and faced Lancelot.

“We counsel you not to meddle with us,” they
said, sternly. “This man has deserved death, and
to death he is adjudged.”

“I tell you, sirs, it shall not be. He is too good
a knight to die a shameful death. Defend yourselves,
then, for I will try my one hand against
your twelve, and rescue him or die in the effort.”

The knights of the guard now put their spears
in rest, and Lancelot rode upon them with such
fury that the foremost and three of those behind
him were hurled to the ground before his spear
broke. Then he drew his sword and laid about
him so shrewdly that in a little time the whole
twelve of them were stretched upon the earth, most
of them being sorely wounded. Lancelot now cut[Pg 96]
the bonds of Palamides, mounted him upon the
best of their horses, and rode back with him towards
Joyous Gard.

As they went forward they saw Sir Tristram
approaching. Lancelot knew him at sight, but was
himself unknown, because he bore a golden shield
which neither Tristram nor Palamides recognized.
He therefore mystified them for a time, and declined
to enter Joyous Gard on the plea that he had
other pressing business on hand. But when
strongly entreated, he at length consented, and
entered the castle with them.

Great was their surprise and joy when he had
unhelmed, to find that they had their host for
guest. Tristram took him in his arms, and so did
Isolde, while Palamides kneeled before him and
thanked him for his life. When Lancelot saw this
he took him by the hand and made him rise.

“Good sirs,” he said, “could I, or any knight
of worship in this land, hesitate to rescue from an
ignoble death such a knight as Palamides? Had
there been fifty instead of twelve, I fear I should
have braved them all.”

Much joy was there in Joyous Gard at the visit
of the lord of the castle, but Lancelot stayed there
but four days. Palamides, however, remained for
two months and more, his love and grief growing
deeper, till he faded away to a shadow of himself.

One day, at the end of this time, he wandered
far into the neighboring forest, and here by chance
saw the reflection of his face in a clear pool. The
wasted visage disturbed and affrighted him.

“What does this mean?” he asked himself.[Pg 97]
“Am I, who was called one of the handsomest
knights in the world, wasted to such a frightful
figure? I must leave this life, for it is idle to
grieve myself to death for that which I can never
possess.”

Then he threw himself beside the well, and from
the fulness of his heart began to make a song about
La Belle Isolde and himself, a rhyme made up of
music, love, and grief.

As chance would have it, Tristram had ridden
into the forest that day in chase of the hart. And
as he rode up and down under the green leaves the
summer air brought to his ears the sound of a
voice singing loud and clear. He rode softly
towards the sound, for he deemed that some knight-errant
lay there solacing himself with song.

When he came nigh he tied his horse to a tree
and advanced on foot. Then he became aware that
the singer was his guest Palamides, and that his
song was about La Belle Isolde, a doleful and
piteous, yet marvellously well-made song, which
the singer sang loudly and in a clear voice. Tristram
stood listening till he had heard it from
beginning to end. But at the last his anger grew
so high that he needed to restrain himself from
slaying the singer where he lay.

Remembering that Palamides was unarmed, he
resisted this impulse, and advanced slowly towards
him.

“Sir Palamides,” he said, in a gentle voice, “I
have heard your song, and learned your treason
to your host. If it were not for the shame of an
unknightly act I would deal you here the meed[Pg 98]
you have earned. How will you acquit yourself of
treachery?”

“Thus will I,” said Palamides, springing to his
feet in his surprise. “As for Queen Isolde, you
may know well that I love her above all other
ladies in the world. I loved her before you ever saw
her, as you know, and have never ceased nor shall
ever cease to love her. What honor I have won
is due for the most part to my love of her. Yet
never for a moment has she returned my love, and
I have been her knight without guerdon. Therefore
I dread not death, for I had as lief die as live.”

“Well have you uttered your treason,” said
Tristram.

“No treason is it,” said Palamides. “Love is
free to all men, and I have a right to love any
lady I will. If she return it not, no man is harmed.
Such wrong as is done I have suffered, not you,
for your love is returned and mine has brought
me but pain. Yet I shall continue to love La
Belle Isolde to the end of my days as deeply as
you can.”

That there was reason in these words Tristram
could not but have seen, had not anger blinded
his wisdom.

“None shall love my lady but myself,” he cried,
in passion. “And for what you have said I challenge
you to battle to the uttermost.”

“I can never fight in a better quarrel,” said
Palamides. “And if you slay me I can never die
by a nobler hand. Since I cannot hope for favor
from La Belle Isolde, I have as good will to die as
to live.”

[Pg 99]“Then set a day in which we shall do battle in
this cause.”

“Let it be fifteen days hence. And let the place
be in the meadow under Joyous Gard.”

“Why so long a time?” demanded Tristram.
“To-morrow will suit me better.”

“It is because I am meagre and weak, and have
fallen away to a shadow through hopeless love.
I must rest until I get my strength again before I
can face so doughty a knight.”

“So let it be, then,” said Tristram. “Yet once
before you broke a promise to meet me in battle
at the grave near Camelot.”

“What could I do?” rejoined Palamides. “I
was in prison, and could not keep my word.”

“If you had done so, there would have been no
need of a fight now,” said Tristram, as he strode
haughtily away.

Then Palamides took his horse and rode to
Arthur’s court, where he did his utmost to rest
and regain strength. When the appointed time
approached he returned, attended by four knights
and four sergeant-at-arms.

Meanwhile Tristram spent his time at the chase.
And by evil fortune, about three days before the
time of battle, a wild arrow shot by an archer at
a hart struck him in the thigh and wounded him
so deeply that he could scarcely return to Joyous
Gard.

Great was his heaviness of heart, and neither
man nor woman could bring him cheer, for it was
now impossible to keep his word with his rival;
and his heart grew full of the fancy that Palamides[Pg 100]
himself had shot that arrow, so as to prevent
him doing battle on the appointed day. But
this no knight about Tristram would believe.

When the fifteenth day came Palamides appeared
at the place fixed, with the knights and
sergeants whom he had brought with him to bear
record of the battle. One sergeant bore his helm,
a second his spear, and a third his shield. And
for two hours he rested in the field, awaiting the
approach of his antagonist.

Then, seeing that Tristram failed to come, he
sent a squire to Joyous Gard to remind him of his
challenge. When Tristram heard of this message
he had the squire brought to his chamber, and
showed him his wound.

“Tell Sir Palamides,” he said, “that were I able
to come he would not need to send for me, and
that I had rather be whole to-day than have all
King Arthur’s gold. Tell him, moreover, that as
soon as I am able I shall seek him throughout the
land, as I am a true knight; and when I find him
he shall have his fill of battle.”

This message the squire brought to his master,
who heard it with much secret satisfaction.

“I would have had hard handling of him, and
very likely have been vanquished,” he said, “for
he has not his equal in battle, unless it be Sir
Lancelot. So I am well content to give up the
fight.”

A month passed before Tristram was well. Then
he took his horse and rode from country to country
in search of Palamides, having many strange adventures
by the way, but nowhere could he meet[Pg 101]
or hear of his rival in love. But during his search
Tristram did so many valiant deeds that his fame
for the time quite overtopped that of Lancelot, so
much so that Lancelot’s kinsmen in their anger
would have waylaid and slain the valiant warrior.

For this jealousy Lancelot sternly rebuked them,
saying,—

“Bear it well in mind, that if any of you does
any harm to Sir Tristram, that man shall I slay
with my own hands. To murder a man like this
for his noble deeds! Out upon such base designs!
Far rather should you worship him for his valor
and royal prowess.”

And so time went on for the space of two years,
during which Tristram sought in vain for his
rival.

At the end of that time he came home to Joyous
Gard from one of his journeys of adventure, and
there was told by La Belle Isolde of a great feast
to be held at the court on the coming day of Pentecost,
which she counselled him strongly to attend.

Much debate passed between him and his lady-love
on this subject, for he was loth to go without
her, and she cared not to go. In the end he declared
that he would obey her wishes, but would
ride thither unarmed, save for his sword and spear.

This he did, and though she in her loving anxiety
sent after him four knights, he sent them back
within half a mile. Yet he soon had reason to
repent his rashness. For hardly had he gone a
mile farther when he came upon a wounded knight,
who told him he owed his hurt to Sir Palamides.
What to do now, Tristram knew not. Near by was[Pg 102]
the foe he had so long sought in vain, and he was
unarmed. Should he ride back for his armor, or
go on as he was?

While he stood thinking, Palamides appeared,
and knew him at sight.

“Well met, Sir Tristram!” he cried. “I have
heard much of your search for me. You have found
me now, and we shall not part till we have settled
our old scores.”

“As for that,” answered Tristram, “no Christian
can boast that I ever fled from him, nor shall
a Saracen make this boast, even if I be unarmed.”

Then he put his horse to the gallop and rode on
Palamides with such fury that his spear broke
into a hundred pieces. Throwing it away, he drew
his sword and struck Palamides six great strokes
upon the helm, while the Saracen stood unresisting,
and wondering at the folly and madness of his foe.
Then Tristram cried out in fury,—

“Coward knight, why stand you thus idly? You
dare not do battle with me, for doubt not but I can
endure all your strength and malice.”

“You know well, Sir Tristram,” answered Palamides,
“that I cannot in honor strike at your unarmed
head. If I should slay you thus, shame
would be my lot. As for your valor and hardiness,
those I shall never question.”

“You speak well,” answered Tristram.

“Tell me this,” continued Palamides. “Were
I here naked of armor, and you full armed as I
am, what would you do?”

“I shall not answer from fear, but from truthfulness.
I would bid you depart, as I could not
have ado with you.”

[Pg 103]“No more can I with you,” said Palamides,
“therefore ride on your way.”

“I shall ride or abide as I may choose,” said
Tristram. “But tell me this, Palamides: how
is it that so good a knight as you refuses to be
christened, as your brothers have long been?”

“I cannot become a Christian till a vow I made
years ago is fulfilled. I believe fully in Jesus
Christ and His mild mother Mary; but there is
one battle yet I must fight, and when that is done
I will be baptized with a good will.”

“If that is the battle with me,” said Tristram,
“you shall not long wait for it. For God defend
that through my fault you should continue a Saracen.
Yonder is a knight whom you have hurt.
Help me to put on his armor and I will aid you to
fulfil your vow.”

So they rode together to the wounded knight,
who was seated on a bank. Tristram saluted him,
and he weakly returned the salute.

“Will you tell me your name, sir knight?”
asked Tristram.

“I am Sir Galleron of Galway, and a Knight
of the Round Table.”

“I am sorry for your hurts, and beg you to lend
me your armor, for I am unarmed, and would do
battle with this knight who wounded you.”

“You shall have it with a good will. But you
must beware, for this is no common knight.”

“I know him well,” answered Tristram, “and
have an old quarrel with him.”

“Will you kindly tell me your name?”

“My name is Tristram de Lyonesse.”

[Pg 104]“Then it was idle to warn you. Well I know
your renown and worship; and Sir Palamides is
likely to have no light task.”

Tristram now took off the armor of the wounded
knight, who, as well as he could, helped him to
put it on himself. This accomplished, Tristram
mounted his horse and took in his hand Sir Galleron’s
spear.

Riding to where Palamides stood waiting, he
bade him make ready. In a minute more the two
strong knights came hurtling together like two
lions. Each smote the other in the centre of the
shield, but Palamides’s spear broke, while that of
Tristram overturned the horse of Palamides. In
a moment the unhorsed knight had sprung to his
feet and drawn his sword, while Tristram alighted,
tied his horse to a tree, and advanced to the fray.

The combat that succeeded was a hard and well-fought
one, as only it could be between two such
knights. For more than two hours it continued,
Tristram often bringing Palamides to his knees by
his mighty strokes, while Palamides cut through
Tristram’s shield and wounded him. Then, in a
fury of anger, Tristram rushed upon his rival and
hurled him to the earth. But in an instant the
agile Saracen was on his feet again, fighting with
all his old strength and skill. And so the combat
went on, hour by hour, and, hard as Tristram
fought, Palamides stood as nobly to his work, and
gave him stroke for stroke.

But, as fortune willed, in the end a fierce blow
struck the sword from Palamides’s hand, nor dare
he stoop for it, for fear of being slain. So he[Pg 105]
stood moveless, regarding it with a sorrowful heart.

“Now,” said Tristram, “I have you at advantage,
as you had me this day. But it shall never
be said that Tristram de Lyonesse killed a weaponless
knight. Therefore take your sword, and let
us make an end of this battle.”

“As for that, I am willing to end it now,” said
Palamides. “I have no wish to fight longer. Nor
can I think that my offence is such that we may
not be friends. All I have done is to love La Belle
Isolde. You will not say that I have done her
aught of dishonor by holding that she is peerless
among ladies, or by the valor which love for her
has given me. As for such offence as I have given
you, I have atoned for it this day, and no one can
say that I have not held my own like a man. But
this I will affirm, that I never before fought with
a man of your might. Therefore I beg you to forgive
me for all wrongs which I have done you, and
as my vow is now fulfilled, I stand ready to go
with you to the nearest church, there to be confessed,
and to receive baptism as a true and earnest
Christian knight.”

“I gladly forgive you all you have done against
me,” said Tristram; “the more so that you have
done it rather from love than from hatred. It fills
my heart with joy to be the means of bringing the
valiant Palamides into the Church of Christ, and
hereafter I shall hold you among my best friends.
Within a mile from here is the suffragan of Carlisle,
who will gladly give you the sacrament of baptism;
and all Christendom must rejoice to gain so noble
a convert.”

[Pg 106]Then they took their horses and helped Galleron
to his, and rode to the church, where Tristram
told the suffragan the purpose of their coming.
Proud to bring into the fold of the church so notable
a convert, the suffragan filled a great vessel with
water, and hallowed it. This done, he confessed
and baptized Sir Palamides, while Tristram and
Galleron stood as his godfathers.

Afterwards the three knights rode to Camelot,
much to the joy of the king and queen, who gladly
welcomed Tristram to their court, and were no less
glad to learn that the valiant Palamides had become
a Christian, and that the long rivalry between
him and Tristram was at an end. The great feast
of Pentecost that followed was the merriest that
had ever been held at Arthur’s court, and the merriest
that ever would be, for the breath of coming
woe and trouble was in the air, and the time was
near at hand in which that worthy fellowship of
noble knights was destined to break up in dire
disaster.

But first of all the tide of disaster came upon
Tristram the brave and Isolde the fair, as we must
now relate. The chronicles tell the story at length,
but the record of treachery and crime had always
best be short, and so we shall make that of King
Mark, the murderer.

Many years before the time to which we have
now come, King Mark’s treachery had filled Cornwall
with mischief and all the land with horror,
through a deed of frightful crime. And in thus
wise it came about. Cornwall had been invaded
by a host of Saracens, but before they could do any[Pg 107]
mischief, Prince Baldwin, King Mark’s brother,
attacked them, burned their ships, and utterly destroyed
them. Furious at heart that his brother
should win such honor, while he lay cowering with
fear in his castle, Mark invited him to Tintagil,
with his wife and child. There suddenly charging
him with treason for attacking the Saracens without
orders, he stabbed him to the heart, and would
have slain his wife and child as well had not the
lady Anglides fled for life with her child.

Mark sent after them an old knight named Sir
Sadok, with orders to bring them back to Tintagil.
But he suffered them to escape, and brought back
to the king a false tale that he had drowned the boy.

Many years now passed by, during which Baldwin’s
son, Alexander the orphan, grew up to be a
youth large of limb and strong of arm. In due
time he was made a knight, whereupon Anglides
produced the bloody doublet and shirt of her murdered
husband, which she had carefully preserved,
and laid upon the young knight the duty of revenging
his father’s death. The story of the crime had
been diligently kept from him, but he now accepted
this heavy charge with alacrity, and vowed solemnly
to devote his life to the duty of revenging his murdered
father.

News of all this was quickly brought to King
Mark, by a false knight who hoped to win favor
by turning informer.

“By my halidom,” cried Mark, “whom can I
trust? I fancied the young viper was dead years
ago. That false hound, Sadok, let him escape. As
I am a living man, he shall pay the penalty of his
treason.”

[Pg 108]Seizing a sword, he burst furiously from the
chamber, and rushed madly through the castle in
search of the knight who had deceived him. When
Sadok saw him coming, with fury in his face, he
guessed what had happened, and drew his own
sword in haste.

“King Mark,” he cried, “beware how you come
nigh me. I saved the life of Alexander, and glory
in it, for you slew his father cowardly and treacherously.
And it is my hope and prayer that the
youth may have the strength and spirit to revenge
the good Prince Baldwin on his murderer.”

“What, traitor! What, dog! Do you dare rail
thus at me?” cried the king, and in a voice of fury
he bade four knights of his following to slay the
traitor.

These knights drew their swords and advanced
in a body on Sadok; but he got the wall of them,
and fought so shrewdly that he killed the whole
four in King Mark’s presence.

Then, shaking his clinched fist at the king, he
said,—

“I would add your false body to the heap, but
that I leave you for Alexander’s revenge.”

This said, he took horse and rode briskly away,
and in all his court Mark could not find a knight
willing to pursue him, for all that held with the
king feared the old knight’s sturdy arm.

King Mark now finding his wrath of no avail,
set himself to devising some scheme of treachery
by which the danger that threatened him might be
removed. In the end he made a compact with Morgan
le Fay and the queen of Northgalis, both false[Pg 109]
sorceresses, in which they agreed to fill the land
with ladies that were enchantresses, and with
false knights like Malgrim and Breuse Sans Pité,
so that the young knight Alexander le Orphelin
should be surrounded with magic and treachery,
and without doubt be taken prisoner or slain.

Soon after his knighting, Alexander set out for
King Arthur’s court, and on the way there had
many adventures, in which he proved himself a
knight of great valor and skill. Among these was
a mighty battle with the false knight Malgrim,
whom in the end he killed.

But now Morgan le Fay sought to entrap him
by her false devices. She gave him a sleeping
draught, and had him taken in a horse-litter to a
castle of hers named La Belle Regard.

Here she cured him of his wounds by healing
salves, but not until he had promised that he would
not set foot beyond the boundaries of that castle
for a twelvemonth and a day. When he had recovered,
Alexander chafed bitterly at his confinement,
for he felt sure that the pledge had been exacted
from him to save King Mark from his vow of
revenge. Yet his word held him close prisoner.

As one day he wandered through the halls of the
castle, like a young lion in a cage,—now heavy
and sad, now burning with desire for action,—there
came to him a damsel who was cousin to Morgan
le Fay, and to whom the castle of La Belle Regard
by right belonged.

“Sir knight,” she said to him, “I find you doleful
of aspect; yet I bear tidings that should make
you merry!”

[Pg 110]“I pray you tell them to me,” he answered. “I
am here now a prisoner by promise, but must say
that time hangs very heavy on my hands.”

“You are more of a prisoner than you deem,”
she replied. “My cousin, Morgan le Fay, keeps
you here for purposes of her own which you will
scarcely find to your liking.”

“I fancy she keeps me here through an understanding
with King Mark,” he rejoined. “I have
no faith in her, but I cannot break my word of
honor.”

“Truly, fair sir,” she said, “I pity your unhappy
lot, and have a plan in mind through which you
may escape from this durance without loss of
honor.”

“Do that and I shall owe you my life’s service,”
he answered, warmly. “Tell me, dear lady, by
what means I can be freed.”

“This I may justly say, that this castle of right
belongs to me. I have been unjustly deprived of
it, and in right and honor you are my prisoner,
not Morgan’s. I have an uncle who is a powerful
nobleman, the Earl of Pase, and who hates Morgan
le Fay above all persons. I shall send to him, and
pray him for my sake to destroy this castle, which
harbors only evil customs. He will come at my
wish and set fire to the building throughout. As
for you, I shall get you out at a private postern,
and there have your horse and armor ready.”

“Truly, fair maiden, you are as wise as you are
beautiful,” he answered, in eager accents. “Release
me from imprisonment to Morgan and I will
hold myself your prisoner for life.”

[Pg 111]Then she sent to her uncle the earl, and bade
him come and burn that haunt of mischief,—a
design which he already had in mind.

When the appointed day came the Earl of Pase
sought the castle with four hundred knights, and
set fire to it in all parts, ceasing not his efforts
till there was not a stone left standing of the once
proud stronghold.

But Alexander was not willing to take this as
a release from his vow, but stationed himself within
the limits of the space where had stood the castle
of La Belle Regard, and made it known far and
wide that he would hold that ground against all
comers for a twelvemonth and a day.

Word of this knightly challenge soon came to
Arthur’s court, where was then a lady of famous
beauty and great estate, known as Alice la Belle
Pilgrim, daughter of Duke Ansirus, called the pilgrim,
since he went on a pilgrimage to Jerusalem
every third year.

When this fair maiden heard of Alexander’s
challenge, she went into the great hall of Camelot
and proclaimed in the hearing of all the knights
that whoever should overcome the champion of
La Belle Regard should wed her and be lord of
all her lands.

This done, she went to La Belle Regard, where
she set up her pavilion beside the piece of earth
held by the young knight. And as the weeks passed
by there came from all directions knights who had
heard of Alexander’s challenge and Alice’s offer,
and many a hard battle was fought. Yet from
them all Alexander came as victor.

[Pg 112]But the more he triumphed over his knightly
foes the deeper he fell captive to his fair neighbor,
for whom he grew to feel so deep a love that it
almost robbed him of his wits. Nor was his love
unrequited, for his valor and youthful beauty had
filled her heart with as ardent a passion for him
in return, and she prayed as warmly for his victory
in every combat as though he had been her chosen
champion.

And so time passed on, varied by fighting and
love-making, till one day, after Alexander had unhorsed
two knights, there came to him the lady
to whom he owed the burning of the castle, who
told Alice the whole story of what had then
occurred.

“You worked wisely and well,” answered Alice.
“Sir Alexander, indeed, has not gained much more
freedom, except it be freedom to fight. But that
is more his fault than yours.”

“Have I not?” exclaimed the young knight.
“I have gained freedom to love also; for which I
am ever beholden to this fair damsel.”

At this Alice turned away with a rosy blush,
while the maiden stood regarding them with merry
smiles.

“I have, by right, the first claim on you, Sir
Alexander,” she said. “But if this fair lady wants
you, I should be sorry to stand in love’s light. I
yield my claim in her favor.”

As they thus conversed in merry mood, three
knights rode up, who challenged Alexander to joust
for the proffered prize of the hand and estate of
Alice la Belle Pilgrim. But the three of them[Pg 113]
got such falls that they lost all desire to wed the
lady, and, like all knights whom Alexander overcame,
they were made to swear to wear no arms for
a twelvemonth and a day.

Yet love may bring weakness as well as strength,
as the young lover was to find to his cost. For
there came a day in which, as he stood looking
from his pavilion, he saw the lady Alice on horseback
outside, and so charming did she appear in
his eyes that his love for her became almost a
frenzy. So enamoured was he that all thought of
life and its doings fled from his brain, and he grew
like one demented.

While he was in this state of love-lorn blindness
the false-hearted knight Sir Mordred rode up with
purpose to joust. But when he saw that the youthful
champion was besotted with admiration of his
lady, and had no eyes or mind for aught beside, he
thought to make a jest of him, and, taking his
horse by the bridle, led him here and there, designing
to bring the lover to shame by withdrawing
him from the place he had sworn to defend.

When the damsel of the castle saw this, and
found that no words of hers would rouse Alexander
from his blind folly, she burned with indignation,
and bethought her of a sharper means of bringing
him back to his lost senses.

So she put on her armor and took a sword in her
hand, and, mounting a horse, rode upon him with
the fury of a knight, giving him such a buffet on
the helm that he thought that fire flew from his
eyes.

When the besotted lover felt this stroke he came[Pg 114]
of a sudden to his wits, and felt for his sword.
But the damsel fled to the pavilion and Mordred
to the forest, so that Alexander was left raging
there, with no foe to repay for that stinging blow.

When he came to understand how the false knight
would have shamed him, his heart burned with
wrath that Sir Mordred had escaped his hands.
But the two ladies had many a jest upon him for
the knightly stroke which the damsel had given
him on the helm.

“Good faith,” she said, “I knew not how else to
bring back his strayed wits. I fancy I would have
given him some shrewd work to do if I had chosen
to stand against him. These men think that none
but they can wear armor and wield swords. I took
pity on your champion, Alice, or it might have
gone hard with him,” and she laughed so merrily
that they could not but join her in her mirth.

After that nearly every day Alexander jousted
with knights of honor and renown, but of them all
not one was able to put him to the worse, and he
held his ground to the twelvemonth’s end, proving
himself a knight of the noblest prowess.

When the year had reached its end and his pledge
was fully kept, he departed from that place with
Alice la Belle Pilgrim, who afterwards became his
loving wife, and they lived together with great
joy and happiness in her country of Benoye.

But though he let love set aside for the time his
vow of revenge on King Mark, he did not forget
the duty that lay before him, nor did that evil-minded
king rest at ease under the knowledge that
an avenger was in the land. Many a false scheme[Pg 115]
he devised to keep Alexander from his court, and
in the end his treacherous plots proved successful,
for the young knight was murdered by some of
King Mark’s emissaries, with his father’s death
still unrevenged.

But vengeance sleeps not, and destiny had decided
that the false-hearted king should yet die in
retribution for the murder of Prince Baldwin.
Alexander left a son, who was named Bellengerus
le Beuse, and who grew up to become a valiant and
renowned knight. He it was who avenged the
slaughter of Prince Baldwin, and also of Sir Tristram,
for this noble knight was also slain by the
felonious king, as we must now tell.

Through the good services of King Arthur and
Queen Guenever, after Tristram and Isolde had
long dwelt at Joyous Gard, peace was made between
them and King Mark, and they returned
to Tintagil, where for a long time all went on in
seeming friendship and harmony.

But the false king nursed the demon of jealousy
deep within his breast, and bided his time for
revenge. At length, on a day when Tristram,
dreaming not of danger, sat harping before La
Belle Isolde, the treacherous king rushed suddenly
upon him with a naked sword in his hand and
struck him dead at her feet.

Retribution for this vile deed came quickly, for
Bellengerus was at Tintagil Castle at the time,
brought there by thirst of vengeance, and with a
heart filled with double fury by the news of this
dastardly deed, he rushed upon King Mark as he
stood in the midst of his knights and courtiers,[Pg 116]
and struck him to the heart with his father’s
avenging blade.

Then, aided by Dinas, Fergus, and others of
Tristram’s friends, he turned upon Andred and
the remainder of King Mark’s satellites, and when
the work of blood was done not one of these false-hearted
knights remained alive, and the court of
Cornwall was purged of the villany which had long
reigned there supreme.

But La Belle Isolde loved Tristram with too deep
a love to survive his death, and she fell swooning
upon the cross above his tomb and there sobbed
out her life; and she was buried by his side, that
those who had been so united in life should not be
parted in death.

Great was the grief and pity aroused throughout
England, and through all lands where knighthood
was held in honor, by this distressful event, for
never before had two such faithful lovers breathed
mortal air. And long thereafter lovers made pilgrimages
to their tomb, where many prayed fervently
for a draught from that magic goblet from
which Tristram and Isolde drank, and whose wine
of love forever after ran so warmly in their veins.

[Pg 117]

BOOK IX.

THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.

CHAPTER I.

THE ENCHANTED CASTLE OF KING PELLAM.

After many years had come and gone, and all
at the court of Arthur the king had grown older
and wiser, there came to pass a series of adventures
more marvellous than had ever been known
upon the earth before, and of a nobler kind than
mere tourneyings and joustings, being no less than
the quest of the holy vessel named the Sangreal,
in which was kept a portion of the blood of our
blessed Saviour, Jesus Christ.

And through this quest much disaster came upon
the land, and the noble fellowship of the Round
Table was broken up and destroyed, for many went
in search of the holy vessel who had lived evil
lives, and of these few came back, but most of
them died deaths of violence.

This sacred talisman—the Sangreal—had been
brought to England centuries before by Joseph of
Arimathea, a follower of our Saviour, and had
passed down from him to his descendant, King
Pellam, of Listengeise, him whom Balin struck the
dolorous stroke, and who was destined to lie in[Pg 118]
misery and pain until he should be healed of his
wound by the winner of the holy vessel.

But to tell how this perilous quest began we must
go long years back and relate a story of strange
adventures and marvellous deliverances.

For it had happened that during a feast of Whitsuntide
Lancelot du Lake left Arthur’s court at
Camelot and rode afar in search of adventures. And
after a long journey, in which many strange things
came to pass, he arrived at Listengeise, the land
of King Pellam. Here he rescued the king’s fair
daughter, Elaine, from a dismal enchantment, under
which she had long lain through the wiles of Morgan
le Fay and the queen of Northgalis, who hated
her bitterly from her renown for beauty.

After the rescue of the lady, Lancelot fought
with and killed a mighty serpent that haunted a
tomb near by, and had done much harm in the
land. Then there came to him a dignified and noble
baron, who thanked him heartily in the name of
the king, and invited him to a repast in the castle
hall.

But as they sat at table a wonderful thing took
place. For in at the open window of the hall
there flew a dove, which bore in its mouth what
seemed a little censer of gold. And from this censer
came such a rich and penetrating perfume as if
all the spicery of the world had been there, while
upon the table suddenly appeared the most delicious
of meats and drinks. Then came in a damsel,
young and beautiful, who bore in her hands a
vessel of gold, before which all who were there
kneeled and prayed devoutly.

ON THE QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.

[Pg 119]“What may all this mean?” asked Lancelot in
deep surprise.

“It has been granted you to see the most precious
and wonderful thing in the world,” answered the
noble baron. “For you have been permitted to
gaze upon the holy Sangreal. In the time to come
all Arthur’s knights shall take part in a quest for
this precious talisman, and great shall be the woe
therefrom, for through that quest the Round Table
fellowship shall be broken up and many of its
noble knights destroyed.”

But all that passed in that land is too much for
us to tell. We shall say only that the fair Elaine
came to love Lancelot dearly, but he gave her no
love in return, for all the affection of his heart
was centred upon Queen Guenever. Yet King Pellam
so desired that Lancelot should wed his fair
daughter that in the end he used enchantment, and
brought him to make her his wife when under a
magic spell, the deluded knight fancying that it
was Guenever whom he had wedded.

This delusion last not long, and when the deceived
spouse came to his senses and learned how
he had been dealt with, he broke away like a madman,
and, gaining his horse, rode wildly through
the land. And every knight-errant who dared to
joust with him was made to suffer from the fury
that burned in his blood.

Long afterwards, as chance and adventure
brought about, there came to King Pellam’s castle
Sir Bors de Ganis, Lancelot’s nephew. He was
gladly received, and treated with all the good cheer
and honor which the castle could afford. And as[Pg 120]
he sat at his repast with, the castle lords, there
came in, as it had come to Lancelot, the dove with
the censer, at which the air was filled with the
richest perfume, and the table covered with the
most delicious viands. Then entered the maiden
with the holy grail, and all fell to their prayers.

“Truly,” said Bors, “this is a strange place, and
a land full of marvels.”

“This I will say,” answered the noble baron who
sat in the king’s chair, “that of the knights who
come here few see the holy vessel, and fewer go
away with any honor. Gawaine, the good knight,
was here but lately; but he saw not what your
eyes have beheld, and he left here in shame. None
but those of a worshipful life and who love God
devoutly can behold this marvel, or sleep in this
castle without coming to harm.”

“I am in quest of adventures,” said Bors, “and
shall lie in your castle this night, come what will.
Men call me honest and virtuous, and I stand
ready to dare all perils the castle may hold.”

“I counsel you not,” said the baron. “You will
hardly escape without harm and shame.”

“Let come what will come, I am ready.”

“Then I advise you to confess, and go to your
chamber with a clean soul, for you will be sorely
tried.”

“Let it be so. Your counsel is wise.”

After Sir Bors had been confessed and received
absolution, he was led into a fair large chamber,
around which were many doors, while a bed of royal
richness stood in the middle of the floor. Here
he was left alone, and threw himself on the bed in[Pg 121]
his armor, deeming it wise to be prepared for all
that might come.

Not long had he lain there with open eyes and
alert wits, when the room was all at once brilliantly
lighted up, though whence the light came he could
not tell. And suddenly a great and long spear,
whose point burnt like a taper, shot across the
chamber without hand to guide it, and struck him
in the shoulder so fierce a blow that his armor
was pierced, and he received a wound, a hand’s-breadth
in depth, which pained him bitterly.

Quickly afterwards an armed knight strode in,
with shield on shoulder and sword in hand, who
cried in a harsh voice,—

“Arise, sir knight, and fight with me.”

“I shall not fail you,” said Bors, hot with the
pain of his wound. “I am sorely hurt, but I have
vowed boldly to dare aught that might come to me.
If that burning spear came from your hand you
shall pay dearly for it.”

With these words he sprang from the bed and
attacked the intruder, and a hard and stern battle
began, which lasted long. At the end the intruding
knight was driven backward to a chamber door,
through which he passed, leaving Bors master of
the floor.

But hardly had he rested a minute when the
defeated knight returned, as fresh as at the start,
and attacked Bors with renewed strength. Again
the battle went on fiercely. But when Bors saw his
antagonist once more retreating towards the chamber
door, he cried out,—

“Not so, my good fellow. You played that trick[Pg 122]
on me once; you shall not again. Back and defend
yourself. If you defeat me it shall be by strength,
not by magic.” And he stationed himself before
the door, and drove back his opponent with such
fury, that in a moment more he hurled him to
the floor.

“Yield, or you die!” he cried, setting his foot
on the fallen knight’s head.

“I yield,” came the answer.

“What is your name?”

“I am Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches.”

“Then, Sir Pedivere of the Straight Marches,
take yourself away. And if you have any of your
fellows behind yonder door, bid them to keep out
of this room, for I came here to sleep, not to fight.
At Whitsunday next, present yourself at King
Arthur’s court, and tell him that you have come
thither as a prisoner of Sir Bors of the sharp
sword.”

This, Sir Pedivere swore to do, and left his conqueror
to what rest he could get. But this was
little, for enchantment surrounded the daring
knight. The room suddenly became full of frightful
noises and alive with peril. Whence they came he
knew not, whether through doors or windows, but
a flight of arrows and of crossbow bolts filled the
air, whistling shrewdly past his ears, while many
of them fell upon him and pierced his flesh through
the open places in his armor.

“Who can sleep in such a den of witchcraft as
this?” he cried, in a rage, springing from the bed.
As he did so one of the doors opened, and a great
lion leaped fiercely in, with a hideous roar.

[Pg 123]“It is better to fight a lion that one can see,
than arrows which nobody shoots,” cried Bors, and
he rushed without hesitation on the dangerous
animal.

Sharp was the fight that followed, but of short
duration. The lion sprang wildly upon him, and
tore the shield from his arm, while the sharp claws
rent his flesh. But the knight retorted with a
sweeping stroke that cut off the frightful beast’s
head, and stretched its tawny body lifeless on the
floor.

Then Bors walked to the window to see whither
the arrows had come, and as he looked into the
castle court he beheld a wondrous sight. For before
his eyes stood a dragon, huge and horrible of
aspect, in whose forehead were letters of gold which
seemed to him to form King Arthur’s emblem. And
as he gazed there leaped into the court an old
and mighty leopard, which sprang upon the dragon
and engaged in desperate battle with the huge
monster.

At last the dragon spit out of its mouth a hundred
of what seemed small dragons, and these
quickly leaped upon the frightful beast and rent it
to fragments. Then all the animals disappeared,
and an old man came into the court, around whose
neck two adders wreathed their folds. In his
hand was a harp, upon which he played, while he
sang an old song telling how Joseph of Arimathea
came to that land. When his song was ended he
said to Sir Bors,—

“Go from this land, sir knight, for you shall
have no more adventures here. You have played[Pg 124]
your part well and nobly, and shall do still better
hereafter, for wondrous things are reserved for you.”

Then Bors saw a dove of whitest plumage fly
across the court with a golden censer in its mouth,
from which seemed to stream the most delicious
perfumes. And the tempest which had raged in the
sky suddenly ceased, while from the rent clouds
the full moon poured down its white light to the
earth.

Next there came into the court four children
who bore four tapers, and an old man in their midst
with a censer in one hand a spear in the other,
and that spear was called the spear of vengeance.

“Go to your cousin, Sir Lancelot,” said the old
man, “and tell him what you have seen, and that
if he had been as clean of sin as he should be, the
adventure which all this signifies would have been
his. Tell him, moreover, that though in worldly
adventures he passes all others in manhood and
prowess, there are many his betters in spiritual
worth, and that what you have seen and done this
night he was not deemed worthy of.”

Then Bors saw four meanly-dressed gentlewomen
pass through his chamber, and enter an apartment
beyond which was lit up with a light like that of
midsummer. Here they knelt before an altar of
silver with four pillars, where also kneeled a man
in the dress of a bishop. And as the knight looked
upward he beheld a naked sword hovering over his
head, whose blade shone like silver, yielding a flashing
light that blinded him as he gazed. As he
stood thus sightless, he heard a voice which said,—

“Go hence, Sir Bors, for as yet thou art not
worthy to be in this place.”

Then the door of that chamber closed, and he
went backward to his bed, where he lay and slept
undisturbed till morning dawned. But when the
regent of King Pellam learned what had happened
to his guest in the night, and how he had escaped
the perils of the enchanted chamber, he greeted him
joyfully, and said,—

“You are the first that ever endured so well
that chamber’s mysteries. And more has been
shown to your eyes than any others have seen. Go
home, worthy knight. You are chosen for great
deeds in the time to come.”

Sir Bors thereupon took his horse and rode away,
thinking long and deeply on all that had happened
to him.

[Pg 125]

CHAPTER II.

THE MARVEL OF THE FLOATING SWORD.

Many and strange were the events that followed
those we have just related, and great trouble and
woe came therefrom. For when Sir Bors returned
to Camelot and told the story of the wedding of
Lancelot and Elaine, much was the secret talk and
great the scandal. And when the news came to
Guenever’s ears she flamed with wrath.

Not long afterwards, Lancelot returned, still half
frenzied with the deception that had been practised[Pg 126]
upon him. When Guenever saw him she accused
him bitterly of being a traitor to love, and harshly
bade him leave the court, and never come again
within her sight.

This bitter reviling turned Lancelot’s frenzy to a
sudden madness. With distracted brain he leaped
from a window into a garden, and ran like a wild
man through wood and brake, heedless that his
clothes were torn and his flesh rent with thorns
and briers. Thus hotly burns despised love in the
human heart and brain, and thus it may turn the
strongest senses away and bring madness to the
clearest mind.

On learning what had passed, Bors and Hector
went to the queen, and accused her harshly of the
great wrong she had done to the noble Lancelot.
But she was already torn with remorse, and she
knelt before these noble knights, begging their forgiveness,
and praying them pitifully to seek Lancelot
and bring him back to the court.

Months passed and Lancelot returned not, nor
could he be found, though he was sought through
many lands. For he kept afar from cities and
courts, and roamed through wilds and wastes, where
he had many adventures in his madness, and did
strange and wild things.

For two years he wandered hither and thither in
frenzy, until at length he came to King Pellam’s
city of Corbin, and to the castle where dwelt the
fair Elaine. Here he was given shelter in a little
outhouse, with straw to sleep on, while every day
they threw him meat and set him drink, for none
would venture near a madman of such savage aspect.

[Pg 127]But one day as he slept, Elaine chanced to behold
him, and knew him at once for Lancelot. Telling
a trusty baron of her discovery, she had the distracted
knight borne still sleeping into a tower
chamber in which was kept the holy vessel, the
Sangreal, concealed from all eyes save those of persons
of saintly life. Lancelot was laid near this,
and when all had left the chamber a man of sanctity
entered and uncovered the vessel. Such was its
holy influence that it wrought marvellously upon
the distracted knight as he lay there asleep and
the madness passed away from his brain. When he
woke he was himself again, as whole a man in
mind and body as any that stood upon the earth.
For so healing was the virtue of that precious vessel
that it not only drove the cloud of madness from his
mind, but gave him back all his old might and
comeliness of body.

Then, ashamed of his frenzy, and anxious not
to be known, Lancelot assumed the name of the
Chevalier Mal Fet, or the knight who has trespassed,
and took up his abode with Elaine and
many knights and ladies at a castle given him by
King Pellam. This stood on an island in the
midst of a deep and clear lake, which Lancelot
named the Joyous Isle. And now, filled again
with martial fervor, he made it known far and wide
that he would joust with any knights that came that
way, and that any one who should put him to the
worst would receive as a prize a jewel of worth and
a jerfalcon.

But none won the prize, though very many noble
knights jousted with the Chevalier Mal Fet.

[Pg 128]Last of all came Percivale and Hector, who had
been long in search of Lancelot. Learning the
challenge, Percivale jousted with Lancelot, and
afterwards they fought with swords. So long and
even was their combat, that a length both paused
for breath. And now Percivale, wondering who
this sturdy knight could be, told his name, and
asked for his in return. At this, Lancelot threw
away his weapon, and took his late opponent in
his arms, crying out that he was Lancelot du Lake.

Glad was the meeting between these old friends
and comrades, and richly were the new-comers entertained
in the castle. But in the end they persuaded
Lancelot to go with them to Camelot, and
the disconsolate Elaine was left to return, with
her knights and ladies, to her father’s castle.

After these events years came and went, until
many summers and winters had passed over England’s
fair isle, and age had begun to lay its hand
on those who had been young, while those who
had been children grew up and became knights
and ladies. Then came at length the time fixed
by destiny for the adventure of the Sangreal. And
thus this adventure began.

When again approached the vigil of Pentecost,
and all the fellowship of the Round Table had
come to Camelot, and the tables were set to dine,
there rode into the great hall a gentlewoman of
noble aspect, whose horse was white with sweat and
foam.

She saluted Lancelot and begged him to go with
her, though whither and for what purpose she would
not say. Stirred by his love of adventure, he armed[Pg 129]
and rode with her, and before the day’s end reached
an abbey of nuns in a secluded valley. Here, as
he stood conversing with the abbess, there came in
to him twelve nuns, bringing with them a youth
who had not yet reached manhood, but was large
and powerful of frame, and as handsome of face
as any man he had ever seen.

“Sir,” said the ladies, with weeping eyes, “we
bring you this child, whom we have long nourished,
and pray you to make him a knight; for
there is no worthier man from whom he can receive
the order of knighthood, and we hold him
worthy of your sword.”

Lancelot looked long at the young squire, and
saw that he was seemly, and demure as a dove,
and of wonderful beauty of form and features,
and his heart went out with great love for the
beautiful youth.

“What is his name?” asked Lancelot.

“We call him Galahad.”

“Comes this desire from himself?”

“It does,” said they all.

“From whom has he sprung?”

“His mother is dead. His father is a full noble
knight, as you shall soon learn.”

“Then he shall be knighted by my hand to-morrow
at the morning services, for truly he seems
worthy of it.”

That night, Lancelot’s cousins, Bors and Lionel,
stopped at the abbey, and spent there a cheery
evening with their noble kinsman. At early morn
of the next day he gave the accolade to the youth,
pronouncing him knight, and bidding Bors and[Pg 130]
Lionel to stand as his godfathers in the order of
knighthood.

“And may God make you a good man and a
noble knight,” he said. “Beauty you have now,
equal to any I have ever seen, and strength and
courage I doubt not; if you bear with these a
noble heart and an earnest mind you have the best
treasures that God can confer or man possess.”

Then, when they had broken their fast, Lancelot
said to the demure and modest young knight,—

“Fair sir, will you come with me to the court
of King Arthur?”

“I humbly beg your pardon,” said Galahad, “but
I cannot come at this time. Trust me to follow
soon.”

Then Lancelot and his cousins left the abbey
and rode to Camelot, where they arrived before
the hour of the feast. In the great hall were many
noble knights, some of them strangers, who walked
about the Round Table, reading the names in letters
of gold in the several seats, and saying,—

“Here sits Gawaine, here Lancelot, here Percivale,”
and so with the others.

At length they came to the seat perilous, in which
no man but Percivale had hitherto dared to sit,
and which he no longer occupied. To their deep
surprise they found there newly written in letters
of gold these words,—

“Four hundred and fifty-four winters after the
passion of our Lord Jesus Christ, the knight shall
come for whom this seat is held by destiny.”

“What marvellous thing is this?” cried all who
saw it. “Here is a miracle.”

[Pg 131]“In the name of God, what means it?” cried
Lancelot. “Percivale long since had warning to
leave that seat. Who shall fill it to-day, for this
is the feast of Pentecost of the four hundred and
fifty-fourth year. The year and day have come,
but where and who is the man? I advise that
these letters be hidden, till he come for whom
this seat is pre-ordained.”

Then it was ordered that the writing should be
covered with a cloth of silk; and the king bade his
guests to hasten to dinner, and forget for the time
being what they had seen.

“Sir,” said Kay, the steward, “if you go to
table now you will break your old custom, not to
sit at dinner on this day till you have seen or
heard of some adventure.”

“Very true,” said the king. “I had forgotten
my custom through this strange event.”

As they stood thus speaking, there came hastily
into the court a squire, whose eyes were big with
wonder.

“Sire, I bring you marvellous tidings,” he cried
to the king.

“What are they?” demanded Arthur.

“As I stood but now by the river, I saw floating
on its waters a great square stone, and above this
stood the hilt of a sword, whose blade was thrust
deeply into the stone.”

“A stone that floats!” said the king. “That is
strange, indeed. I must see this marvel.”

Then he, followed by all the knights, went to
the river, and saw there that the squire had spoken[Pg 132]
truly; for a great stone that seemed of red marble
floated like wood on the water, and thrust deeply
into it was a rich sword, in whose pommel were
many jewels of price. As they looked in wonder
the stone whirled inward on an eddy and came
aground at their feet. And now they saw that the
precious stones were set in letters of gold, which
none there could read. But there was a man at
the court learned in strange tongues, and he being
sent for, read these with ease, and thus interpreted
them,—

“Never shall the hand of man draw me from
this stone until he comes by whose side I am to
hang; and he shall be the best knight in the world.”

“Lay your hand on this sword and draw it,”
said the king to Lancelot. “To you it surely belongs;
for you are the best knight in the world.”

“Best of hand, mayhap, but not of heart and
life,” said Lancelot, soberly. “Certes, sir, that
sword is not for me, nor have I the hardiness to
set hand thereto. I had a vision in my last night’s
sleep, and this it told me: that he who seeks to
draw that sword, and fails therein, shall in time
receive from it a wound which shall be very long in
healing. And this more I learned, that this same
day, and with the drawing of that sword, shall
begin the marvellous quest of the holy vessel, the
Sangreal. For fate has destined that this precious
amulet shall be sought throughout the world; and
to him who finds it the greatest of earth’s honors
shall come.”

The king and all the knights heard these words
with wonder, for Lancelot spoke like one inspired.
Then Arthur turned to Gawaine.

[Pg 133]“Fair nephew,” he said, “try you this task for
my love.”

“Saving your good grace,” said Gawaine, “that
I shall not do.”

“Then, sir, seek to draw the sword at my command.”

“Your command I must obey,” said Gawaine,
“yet I dread to meddle with magic.”

Then he took the sword by the handle, and pulled
with all his might, but he could not stir it.

“I thank you,” said the king, “for the trial,
even if you have failed.”

“My lord Gawaine,” said Lancelot, “bear well
in mind, this sword shall touch you so sore that
you would give the best castle in this kingdom
not to have set your hand thereto.”

“It may be,” answered Gawaine. “Yet I could
not disobey the command of the king.”

Then the king turned to Percivale, and asked
him for his love to try the task.

“Gladly will I,” he said, “if only to bear Gawaine
fellowship.”

But pull as strongly as he would, the sword
yielded not to his hand. And there were more
there so hardy as to disregard Lancelot’s warning
and seek to draw the sword, but to no hand would
it yield.

“Try no more,” said Kay to the king. “You
have seen your marvel, and now may, with a good
appetite, go to your dinner.”

This advice seemed timely to the king, and all
went to the court, where the knights took their
seats at the Round Table, and were served by young[Pg 134]
men lately made knights. When they had been
fully served, every seat being filled save the seat
perilous, another marvellous thing happened. For
suddenly all the doors and windows of the hall shut
of themselves. Yet the room was not greatly darkened,
and men looked into one another’s faces
with abashed and frightened visages.

“Fair fellows and lords,” said the king, “this is
a day of strange events. And I doubt if we shall
not see greater before night comes, for it seems a
day set aside by the fates.”

As he spoke, there came into the hall an ancient
man, clothed all in white, but no knight knew
through which door he had entered. By the hand
he led a young knight, clad in red armor, but without
sword or shield, an empty scabbard hanging
by his side.

“Peace be with you, fair lords,” said the old
man. Then he turned to King Arthur, and said,—

“Sir, I bring with me a young knight who is of
kingly lineage, and of the kindred of Joseph of
Arimathea. By his hand many strange marvels
are destined to be accomplished.”

The king heard these words with close attention,
and answered graciously,—

“Sir, you are right welcome here, and the young
knight you bring.”

Then the old man removed the youth’s armor,
and put upon him a coat of red sendal and a mantle
that was furred with ermine. And Lancelot saw
that the young man was he whom he had knighted
that morning at the abbey.

JOSEPH OF ARIMATHEA.

But the chief wonder of the day was now to[Pg 135]
appear. For the old man said to his young companion,—

“Sir, follow me.” He led him around the table
till they came to the seat perilous, beside which
sat Lancelot. Here the old man lifted up the
silken cloth, and lo! the letters which had been
covered were gone, and new letters of gold were
visible, which read,—

“This is the seat of Galahad, the high prince.”

“Sir,” said the old man, “this seat is yours.
Long has it waited your coming.”

And he seated him therein, while all the circle
of knights looked on in wonder. Now for the first
time the young knight spoke.

“Dear sir,” he said, “you may now depart, for
you have done well what you were commanded to
do. Recommend me to my grandsire, King Pellam,
and say to him that I will come and see him
as soon as I may.”

With this the old man departed. Outside there
waited twenty noble squires, who mounted when
he came, and rode away with him. The Knights
of the Round Table marvelled greatly at all this,
and the more so on seeing that he who occupied
that chair of peril was one so tender of age, and
a youth whom no one knew, nor whence he came;
but to one another they privately said,—

“This is he by whom the Sangreal shall be
achieved; for none ever sat there before but Percivale,
and he was not long deemed worthy to
occupy that seat.”

The talk of this strange event quickly passed
through the palace, and came to the queen, who[Pg 136]
heard it with wonder. Those who brought word
said that the youth resembled Sir Lancelot.

“I must see this strange thing,” she said, and,
followed by her ladies, she entered the hall.

“It is Sir Lancelot in youth again,” she cried,
on looking the young knight in the face. “Fair
sir, tell me truly, what father had you, and what
mother.”

“King Pellam is my grandsire,” answered Galahad,
“and Elaine was my mother. As for my
father, I know him not.”

“Then do I,” cried the queen, “for he sits beside
you. Sir Lancelot is your father. You are
son unto the noblest knight that ever wore sword.”

At these words Lancelot rose up in haste, for
he had not dreamed of what was to come; and
he clasped the youth in his arms and kissed his fair
young face with a love that overflowed his heart.

“My son!” he said. “Can it be? Greatly, indeed,
have I felt drawn unto you.”

“And my heart went out to you, dear father,”
said Galahad, “from the moment I looked upon
your noble face.”

The sight of this affecting meeting filled all
hearts there with joy, and the king warmly congratulated
Lancelot on having found so worthy a
son; “for to him, I dare avow,” he said, “is destined
that great achievement of the Sangreal of
which you have this day told us.”

Then Arthur took Galahad by the hand, and
said,—

“Come with me, young sir,” and led him from
the palace to the river to show him the marvel[Pg 137]
of the stone. After them followed the knights, and
the queen and ladies of the court, all full of hope
of greater wonders yet to come.

“Sir,” said the king, “that sword floated hither
this day. Many knights of great prowess have
tried to draw it and failed.”

“That is no marvel,” said Galahad. “The sword
is not theirs, but mine. And since I knew it
awaited me I have brought no sword; but its scabbard,
as you may see, hangs by my side.”

Then he laid his hand upon the sword, and,
while all eyes opened wide with wonder, drew it
from the stone as easily as if it came from the
water only, and thrust it into the scabbard, saying
to the king,—

“It fits there better than in a floating stone.”

“God has sent it you,” said the king. “And I
doubt not he will send you a shield in as marvellous
a manner.”

“This is the sword that at one time belonged
to Balin le Savage,” said Galahad, “and with
which he killed his brother Balan, in that terrible
joust which happened many years ago. The scabbard
I wear was Balin’s scabbard, and it was Merlin
who put the sword into that stone, saying that no
hand should draw it but that of Lancelot, or his
son Galahad. Nor can any man have forgotten
the dolorous stroke which Balin dealt my grandfather
King Pellam, of which he is not yet healed,
nor shall be till I heal him. So has Merlin
prophesied.”

As they talked thus a lady on a white palfrey
was seen riding down the river side to where they[Pg 138]
stood. Reaching the group, she saluted the king
and queen, and asked if Sir Lancelot were there.

“I am here, fair lady,” he answered.

“Sad is it,” she said, while tears flowed from
her eyes, “that all your great renown is changed
since this day’s dawn.”

“Damsel, why say you this?”

“Until to-day you were the best knight in the
world,” she answered. “But he who should say
this now would speak falsely, for there has come a
better than you. And this is proved by the adventure
of the sword to which you dared not set your
hand. Remember well what I have said.”

“As touches that,” rejoined Lancelot, “I never
had the pride of being the best knight in the world,
nor do I envy my son if any worship has passed
from me to him.”

“Yet you were the greatest; and still are among
sinful men,” she persisted. “And, sir king,” she
said to Arthur, “this more I am bid to say, from
the holy lips of Nancien the hermit, that to you
shall fall to-day the greatest of honors; for this
day the Sangreal shall appear in your palace, and
feed you and all your fellowship of the Round
Table!”

With these words she turned her palfrey and
rode away as she had come, leaving all who had
heard her lost in wonder and admiration.

When they had a little got over their wonder
at what they had seen, the king gave orders that the
stone should be taken from the water, saying that
he would have it set up as a monument of those
strange events.

[Pg 139]“And as it may be long before you all come together
here again, I should like to have you joust
in the meadow of Camelot, by way of honor to this
day.”

Thus he spoke; but his real purpose was to see
Galahad proved, for he feared that if he once left
the court it might be long before he should see
him again. Then the knights put on their armor
and rode to the meadow in a gallant cavalcade.
Galahad also, at the earnest request of the king,
put on armor, but he would take no shield, though
the king and Lancelot prayed him to do so. The
most he would consent to do was to take a spear.

But noble work he did that day, meeting all
men who cared to break spears with him, so that
by the end of the joust he had thrown down many
good Knights of the Round Table. Only two of
them, Lancelot and Percivale, were able to keep
their seats against the vigorous onset of the strong
young knight.

When the jousting was at an end, the king and
knights went back to Camelot, where they attended
even-song at the great minster. Thence they proceeded
to the palace hall, where all took their seats
at the table for supper.

But as they sat eating, there came outside a
terrible crash of thunder, and a wind arose that
seemed as if it would rend the great hall from its
foundations. In the midst of this blast the hall
was lighted by a sudden gleam seven times brighter
than the midday light, in whose glare the knights
sat dumb, none daring to speak. But each looked
at the others, and it seemed to each that his fellows[Pg 140]
were fairer of visage than he had ever seen them
before.

Then the storm and the glare passed away as
suddenly as they had come, and there entered the
hall the holy grail. None there saw it, for it was
covered with white samite, but the hall was filled
with the rarest odors, and each knight saw on the
table before him the meats and drinks that he
loved best in the world.

When the holy vessel had passed through the
hall, it suddenly vanished, none knew how. And
not till then dared any man speak.

“Certes,” said the king, “we ought to thank
God devoutly for what he has shown us this day.”

“We have enjoyed the richest of perfumes, and
have before us the rarest of food,” said Gawaine;
“and we have but one thing to regret, that the
sacred vessel was so preciously covered that no eye
might behold it. But this miracle has filled my
soul with the warmest desire to see this holy thing,
and I therefore vow that to-morrow, without delay,
I shall set out in quest of the Sangreal, and shall
not return hither till I have seen it more openly,
if it take me a twelvemonth or more. If I fail
in the end, I shall return as one who is not worthy
to behold the holy vessel.”

On hearing these words the other knights arose
as one man, and repeated the vow which Gawaine
had made.

Upon this, King Arthur sprang to his feet in deep
displeasure, for there came to his mind like a
vision a host of evil consequences from this inconsiderate
vow.

“You are over-hasty, Gawaine,” he said, sharply,
“and have done me a lifelong evil with your vow.
For you have bereft me of the fairest fellowship
that ever came together in this world. When my
knights depart hence on that difficult search, well
I know that they will never all meet again in this
world, for many shall die in the quest. Therefore
it distresses me deeply, for I have loved them as I
loved my life, and I would rather have my soul
depart from my body than to lose their noble fellowship.
Long have we dwelt together in sorrow
and in joy, but I fear our happy days are at an end,
and that trouble and suffering await us in the time
to come. What God wills must be, but my heart
is sore at the thought of it.”

And men who looked upon the king could see
tears of distress and grief flowing from his eyes.

[Pg 141]

CHAPTER III.

HOW GALAHAD GOT HIS SHIELD.

When morning came the knights made ready for
their departure, amid the tears and lamentations
of ladies, and with the deep sorrow of the king and
queen. For there were a hundred and fifty of them
in all, comprising the whole fellowship of the Table
Round, and King Arthur had deep reason for his[Pg 142]
fear that he would never gather all these gallant
knights round his festal board again. And so they
mounted and rode through the streets of Camelot,
where was weeping of rich and poor, and the king
turned away and could not speak for grief, while
Queen Guenever hid herself in her chamber, to be
alone with her bitter sorrow at the going of
Lancelot.

Onward they rode in company until they came
to a castle and town that were named Vagon.
There they stopped and were well entertained by
the lord of the castle, who was a man of great hospitality.
But when morning came it was decided
between them that they should separate, each taking
his own course, so that the Sangreal might be
sought in all quarters. This they did with much
sorrow and many fervent farewells, each knight
taking the way that he liked the best, and riding
alone and afar on his perilous quest.

First must we follow the young knight Galahad,
who still rode without a shield, and who passed
onward for four days without an adventure. Near
eventide of the fourth day he came to a white abbey,
where he was received with great respect, and led
to a chamber that he might lay off his armor. And
here, to his surprise, he met with two of the goodly
company from which he had lately parted, Sir
Uwaine and King Bagdemagus.

“Sirs,” said Galahad, “what adventure brought
you hither?”

“We are told,” they replied, “that within this
place is a shield of perilous significance. For he
who bears it about his neck runs deep risk of being[Pg 143]
slain within three days, or maimed forever. Yet,”
said Bagdemagus, “I shall bear it to-morrow and
try my fortune.”

“In the name of God, try it,” said Galahad.
“Yet truly you take a great risk.”

“If I fail therein, you shall take the adventure.
I am sure you will not fail.”

“I agree to that,” said Galahad. “I have ridden
far enough without a shield.”

Then they went to supper, and afterwards to
sleep. When morning came Bagdemagus asked of
the abbot where the magic shield was, and a monk
led him behind an altar where hung a shield as
white as snow, but with a red cross in its centre.

“I hope you are well advised of what you do,”
said the monk. “No knight, unless he be the
worthiest in the world, can safely bear this shield.”

“I know well that I am not the best of knights,”
said Bagdemagus; “and yet I shall wear it and
dare the danger.”

Then he took it out of the monastery, and said
to Galahad,—

“If it please you, await me here till you learn
how I shall speed.”

“I shall await tidings,” said Galahad.

Bagdemagus now rode forward with a squire,
that he might send back tidings of his good or ill
fortune, and passed onward for two miles, when he
found himself in a valley before a hermitage.
Here he saw a stalwart knight in white armor,
horse and all, who, in seeing the red-cross shield,
rode upon him at the full speed of his charger.
Bagdemagus put his spear in rest and rode to meet[Pg 144]
him, but his spear broke on the white knight, while
he was wounded in the right shoulder and borne
from his horse, the treacherous shield refusing to
cover him. Then the victor knight alighted and
took the white shield from him, saying,—

“Sir knight, you have acted with more folly than
wisdom, for you should have known that only he
who has no peer living can safely bear this shield.”

Then he went to the squire who had come with
King Bagdemagus, and said,—

“Bear this shield to the good knight Sir Galahad,
whom you left in the abbey, and greet him
from me.”

“What shall I tell him is your name?”

“Take no heed of my name. That is not for
you to know, nor for any earthly man. Content
yourself with telling Sir Galahad that this shield
is for him, and for no other man to wear. And
may God aid him to bear it worthily and worshipfully.”

But the squire went first to Bagdemagus and
asked him if he were seriously wounded.

“Forsooth, I am,” he said. “I shall scarce
escape from death.”

The squire then conveyed him in great pain to
the hermitage, and left him in care of the hermit.
And as the chronicle tells, he lay there long, and
barely escaped with life.

Copyright 1895 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print copyright 1896 by Curtis and Cameron.

OATH OF KNIGHTHOOD.

“Sir Galahad,” said the squire, when he had
returned to the abbey, “King Bagdemagus has paid
dearly for his venture. He lies at a hermitage
sorely wounded. As for you, the knight that overthrew
him sends you greeting, and bids you to bear[Pg 145]
this shield, through which marvellous adventures
shall come to you.”

“Then blessed be God and fortune,” said Galahad.

He now resumed his arms and mounted his horse,
hanging the white shield about his neck and commending
himself to God. Uwaine offered to bear
him company, but this was not to be.

“Sir knight,” said Galahad, “I thank you for
your offer, but I must go alone, save that this squire
shall bear me fellowship.”

With these words the youthful knight rode away,
and soon came to where the white knight abode
by the hermitage. They saluted each other courteously,
and fell into a conversation in which the
white knight told Galahad the story of the magical
shield.

“In the far past time,” he said, “soon after
Joseph of Arimathea took down the body of our
Lord from the holy cross, and bore it from Jerusalem
to a city named Sarras, there was a king of
Sarras named Evelake, who was then at war with
the Saracens. This king, through the teachings of
Joseph, was converted from the old law to the new,
and for him this shield was made, in the name of
Him who died on the cross. Afterwards, when
Evelake was in battle, the shield was covered with
a cloth, which was only removed in times of deadly
peril, and then his enemies saw the figure of a man
on the cross, before which they fell back discomfited.
At times the cross of the shield would vanish away,
and at times stand out clear and bright; and such
was its virtue that a soldier whose hand was stricken[Pg 146]
off was made whole again by touching the cross.
The time came at length when Joseph left Palestine
and journeyed westward, and King Evelake with
him, till they came to Great Britain, where all the
people had been pagans, but were then converted
to the Christian faith. Soon afterwards Joseph
sickened and came near to death, and while he lay
in his bed he bade Evelake bring him the shield,
and on it he traced a red cross with his own blood.
Then he said to Evelake, ‘No man hereafter shall
bear this shield but he shall repent it, until Galahad,
the last of my lineage, shall come to seek it,
and with it he shall do marvellous deeds.’ ‘Where
shall the shield await his coming?’ asked Evelake.
‘You shall leave it in the abbey where Nancien the
hermit shall lie after his death, and thither the
knight Galahad shall come for it soon after he
receives the order of knighthood.’ This is the
story of the shield, and this day has the prediction
been fulfilled. Wear the shield worthily and well,
young knight, for much glory and renown shall
come to you through it. You are in God’s hands;
to God commend yourself.”

With these words the white knight vanished away,
and in the place where he had stood was seen but
empty air.

Then the squire, who had heard these words,
alighted and kneeled at Galahad’s feet, praying
that he would make him a knight.

“That I shall consider,” said Galahad. “But
now let us return to the abbey.”

Here Galahad drove away a fiend that had long
dwelt in a tomb near by, where it made such noise[Pg 147]
that none could venture near it. But the virtue
of the shield protected him from all harm from this
evil shape, which was forced to depart.

When morning came, he asked the young squire
his name.

“Sir,” he answered, “men call me Melias de
Lile, and I am the son of the king of Denmark.”

“Then, fair sir, since you come of kings and
queens, I shall make you a knight; and look you
that knighthood sit well on you, for you should
be a mirror of chivalry.”

“That shall I seek to be,” said Melias.

Then Galahad gave him the accolade as he
kneeled before him, and bade him rise a knight.

“Now, dear sir,” said Melias, “since you have
done me this high honor, it is but right that you
grant me my first request, so that it be in reason.”

“You speak justly,” said Galahad.

“I beg, then, that you let me ride with you in
the quest of the Sangreal till some adventure shall
part us.”

“That I grant willingly.”

Armor was now brought to Melias, and when it
had been girded upon him he and Galahad rode
away, and passed onward all that week without an
adventure. But on the Monday next, as they set
out from an abbey, they came to where a cross
marked a parting of the road. On the cross was
written,—

“Ye knights-errant, that ride in quest of adventures,
here lie two ways. He that takes the right-hand
road shall not leave it again, if he be a good
man and a worthy knight. He that takes the left-hand[Pg 148]
shall not lightly win fortune, for his strength
and endurance will be soon tried.”

“If you will suffer me to take the left-hand road
I should like it greatly,” said Melias. “My
strength and skill need trial.”

“It were better not. I fancy that I only should
face the danger that there confronts us.”

“Nay, my lord, I pray you let me have this
adventure.”

“Take it, then, in God’s name,” said Galahad;
“and do your duty worthily.”

So Melias rode forward and soon found himself
in a forest, through which he passed for two days,
seeing there neither man, woman, nor child. Then
he came from the forest into a broad meadow, where
stood a lodge built of green boughs. And in that
lodge was a chair, on which lay a crown of gold
wrought with rich and subtle skill. Also there
were cloths spread upon the earth, upon which
delicious meats were laid.

Melias beheld all this and thought it marvellous.
He felt no hunger, but the crown of gold roused
his covetousness, and he took it up and rode away
with it. But not far had he ridden when a knight
came after him, who said,—

“Sir knight, why have you taken that crown?
It is not yours; therefore defend yourself.”

Then Melias blessed himself, and said,—

“Fair Lord of Heaven, help and save thy new
made knight.”

Then they rode together at full speed, but
Melias’s prayer availed him naught, for the spear-head
of the other went through his hauberk, and[Pg 149]
wounded him so deeply in the left side that he
fell to the earth like a dead man. Then the victor
knight took the crown and rode away.

But with wise forethought Galahad had followed
Melias, and now rode into the valley, where
he found him in peril of death.

“Ah, Melias!” he cried, “better for you had you
taken the other way. Who has done you this
harm?”

“For God’s love, let me not die in this place!”
said Melias in reply. “Bear me to some abbey
near by, where I may be confessed and have the
rites of the church.”

“It shall be done,” said Galahad. “But where
is he who has wounded you?”

The reply came from the edge of the forest,
where Galahad heard a voice cry in stirring tones,—

“Knight, defend yourself from me.”

“Beware, sir,” warned Melias. “He it is that
has left me thus.”

“Sir knight,” said Galahad, “come on at your
peril.”

Then they rode together as fast as their horses
could run, and Galahad drove his spear through
the shoulder of his opponent, hurling him from
his horse. But in his fall the spear broke. Then,
before the young knight could turn, another knight
rode from under the leaves and broke his spear
upon him.

At this treacherous act Galahad drew his sword
in wrath, and with a keen blow smote off the left
arm of his antagonist, whom he pursued into the
forest.

[Pg 150]He soon returned, however, and took up Melias
gently, for the truncheon of the spear was in his
body, and bore him on his horse in his arms to an
abbey near at hand. Here the wounded knight
was unarmed and laid upon a bed, where the rites
of the church were administered to him.

“Sir Galahad,” he then said, “let death come
when it will, I am at peace with God.” And he
drew the truncheon of the spear from his body,
and swooned away.

But an old monk who stood there, and who was
a skilful leech, examined the wound, and said, “He
need not die. By the grace of God I hope to heal
him of this wound within seven weeks.”

This gladdened Galahad, and he remained at the
abbey three days to see how Melias should fare.
Then he asked him how it stood with him.

“I feel now as if I may live,” he answered.

“God be thanked for that,” said Galahad.
“Now must I depart, for I have much to do, and
the quest of the Sangreal will not permit long
leisure and delay.”

“Sir,” said the monk, “it is for his sin this
knight is so bitterly wounded. He took on him
the high order of knighthood without clean confession,
which was a sinful thing to do. As for
the two ways to which you came, the way on the
right betokens the highway of righteousness, and
the way on the left, which he chose, betokens that
of sinners and infidels. And when the devil saw
his presumption in taking the quest of the Sangreal
without being worthy of it, he caused his overthrow.
And when he took the crown of gold he[Pg 151]
sinned in covetousness and theft. As for you, Sir
Galahad, the two knights with whom you fought
signify the two deadly sins which abide in Sir
Melias. But they could not withstand you, for
you are without deadly sin.”

“God send I may keep so,” said Galahad. “Now
must I depart. I pray you do your utmost for
this knight.”

“My Lord Galahad,” said Melias, “I shall get
well, and shall seek you as soon as I can ride.”

“God grant you speedy health,” said Galahad,
and he left the room and sought his horse, and
rode away alone.

After he had ridden for days in various directions,
it chanced that he departed from a place
called Abblasoure, where he had heard no mass, as
was his daily custom. But ere the day was old, he
came to a mountain, on which he found a ruined
chapel, and here he kneeled before the altar, and
besought God’s counsel. And as he prayed he heard
a voice that said, “Go now, thou adventurous
knight, to the Castle of Maidens, and do away with
the wicked customs which there are kept.”

When Galahad heard this he took his horse and
rode away, full of gladness that he might thus serve
God. And not long nor far had he ridden before
he saw in a valley before him a strong castle, with
high towers and battlements and deep ditches;
and beside it ran a broad river, named the Severn.

Here he met an aged man, whom he saluted,
and asked the castle’s name.

“It is the Castle of Maidens,” said the old man.

“Then it is a cursed castle, and an abode of[Pg 152]
sin,” said Galahad. “All pity is wanting within
those walls, and evil and hardness of heart there
have their abode.”

“Then, sir knight, you would do well to turn
and leave it.”

“That shall I not,” said Galahad. “I have come
here to punish the evil-doers that there abide.”

Leaving the old man, he rode forward, and soon
met with seven fair maidens, who said to him,—

“Sir knight, you ride in folly, for you have the
water to pass.”

“And why should I not pass the water?” asked
Galahad.

He continued his ride, and next met a squire,
who said,—

“Sir knight, I bring you defiance from the
knights in the castle, who forbid you to go farther
till they learn your purpose.”

“You may tell it to them, if you will. I come
to destroy the wicked customs of this castle.”

“Sir, if you abide by that, you will have enough
to do.”

“Go now and bear them my answer.”

Then the squire returned to the castle, from
which there soon after rode seven knights, in full
armor. When they saw Galahad they cried,—

“Knight, be on your guard, for you have come
to your death.”

“What!” asked Galahad, “will you all assail me
at once?”

“That shall we; so defend yourself.”

Then Galahad rode against them and smote the
foremost such a blow that he nearly broke his neck.[Pg 153]
The others rode on him together, each striking his
shield with might. But their spears broke and
he still held his seat.

He now drew his sword, and set upon them with
such energy that, many as they were, he put them
all to flight, chasing them until they entered the
castle, and following them within its walls till they
fled from the castle by another gate.

Galahad was now met by an old man, clad in
religious costume, who said to him,—

“Sir, here are the keys of the castle.”

Then the victor ordered that all the gates should
be thrown open, and in the streets of the neighboring
town were crowds of people, crying gladly,—

“Sir knight, you are heartily welcome. Long
have we waited for the deliverance which you
bring us.”

And a gentlewoman came, who said to him,—

“These knights are fled, but they will come
again. Therefore, sir, I counsel you to send for
all the knights that hold their lands of this castle,
and make them swear to restore the old customs,
and do away with the evil practices which these
villanous knights have fostered.”

“That is good counsel,” said Galahad.

Then she brought him a horn of ivory, richly
adorned with gold, and said,—

“Blow this horn loudly. It will be heard two
miles and more from the castle, and all that hear
it will come.”

Copyright 1901 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print copyright 1902 by Curtis and Cameron.

SIR GALAHAD FIGHTING THE SEVEN SINS.

Galahad took the horn, and blew so loud a blast
that the very trees shook therewith. Then he
seated himself and waited to see what would come[Pg 154]
from the summons. As he sat there a priest came
to him and said,—

“Sir knight, for seven years these brethren have
held the castle, whose lord, Duke Lianor, they
killed, and held his daughter prisoner; and by
force they have kept all the knights of the castle
under their power, and have acted as tyrants, robbing
the common people of all they had, and taking
tribute and demanding service from all the country
round. Seven years ago the duke’s daughter said
to them, ‘You shall not hold this castle for many
years, for by one knight you shall be overcome.’
‘Say you so,’ they replied. ‘Then shall never
knight or lady pass this castle, but all that come
shall stay or lose their heads, till comes that knight
of whom you prophesy.’ Therefore this is called
the Maidens’ Castle, since its tyrants have so long
made war upon maidens.”

“Is the duke’s daughter still here?”

“No; she died three days after the castle was
taken. But her younger sister and many other
ladies are held prisoners.”

Soon afterwards the knights of the country began
to flock in, in response to the bugle-call, and glad
were they to find what had occurred. Galahad
made them do homage and fealty to the duke’s
daughter, which they did with great willingness
of heart.

And when the next day dawned great news was
brought in, for a messenger came to Galahad and
told him that the seven felon brothers had been met
by Gawaine, Gareth, and Uwaine, and all slain.

“So ends their rule and power,” said Galahad,
fervently. “It is well done, and well are all here
delivered.”

Then he commended them to God, and took his
armor and horse, and rode away amid the prayers
of those he had delivered.

[Pg 155]

CHAPTER IV.

THE TEMPTATION OF SIR PERCIVALE.

Many adventures had the other knights that set
out in search of the Sangreal, and much reproof
did many of them receive for the evil lives they
had led; but all this we cannot stop to tell, but must
confine ourselves to the deeds of a few only. As
for Sir Gawaine, he parted from Gareth and
Uwaine after they had slain the seven wicked
knights of the Castle of Maidens, and rode from
Whitsuntide to Michaelmas without an adventure.
Then came a day in which he met Sir Hector de
Maris, and glad were both at the meeting.

“Truly,” said Gawaine, “I am growing weary
of this quest.”

“And I as well,” said Hector. “And of the
twenty knights I have met from time to time, they
all complain as we do.”

“Have you met with Lancelot?”

“No, nor with Percivale, Bors, or Galahad. I
can learn nothing of these four.”

“They are well able to take care of themselves,”[Pg 156]
said Gawaine. “And if they fail to find the Sangreal,
it is waste of time for the rest of us to seek
it, for outside of them there is little virtue in the
Round Table fellowship.”

Afterwards these two knights went far in company,
and had strange dreams and visions, the
meaning of which was expounded to them by the
hermit Nancien. This holy man also reproved
Gawaine severely for his evil life, and bade both
him and his companion to give up the search for
the Sangreal, as that high achievement was not
for hands like theirs.

Soon after they met an armed knight in the
road, who proffered to joust with them. Gawaine
accepted the challenge, and rode against this unknown
opponent, dealing him so severe a blow that
he was hurled from his horse with a mortal wound.
But when they had removed his helmet, what was
their horror to find that it was their friend and
comrade, Uwaine.

“Alas!” cried Gawaine, “that such a fatal misadventure
should have befallen me! I would
sooner have died myself.”

“Thus ends my quest of the Sangreal,” said
Uwaine. “And thus will end that of many a
noble knight. Dear friends, commend me to King
Arthur, and to my fellows of the Round Table, and
sometimes think of me for old brotherhood’s sake.”

And he died in their arms, leaving them plunged
in the deepest grief, from which they were long in
recovering.

Meanwhile Lancelot and Percivale rode far in
company, and many things happened to them.[Pg 157]
While journeying through a strange region they
met an unknown knight, whom they challenged
to joust. But the event turned out little to their
satisfaction, for Lancelot was hurled to the ground,
horse and man, and Percivale received so fierce a
sword-blow that he would have been slain had not
the sword swerved.

Then the victor knight rode rapidly away, leaving
them to recover as they best could. But a
recluse near whose hut this encounter had taken
place told them that the victor was Sir Galahad.
On learning this they pursued him at all speed,
but in vain.

Percivale now turned back to question the recluse
further, but Lancelot kept on, passing through
waste and forest till he came to a stone cross at the
parting of two ways.

Near by was a ruined chapel, with broken door,
and other signs of waste and decay, if it had been
long deserted. But when he looked within he saw
to his great surprise a high altar richly dressed
with cloth of white silk, on which stood a lofty
candelabra of silver which bore six great candles,
all lighted.

Lancelot sought to enter the chapel, but try as
he would he could not pass the broken door, nor
find entrance elsewhere. Some invisible power
seemed to stand between him and admission to that
sacred place.

Then, out of heart at this ill success, he took
off his helm and sword, relieved his horse of saddle
and bridle, and lay down to sleep before the cross.
Night came upon him as he lay there, and with
the night came strange visions.

[Pg 158]For as he lay but half asleep he saw a sick knight
brought thither in a litter. This knight prayed
earnestly for aid in his affliction, and as he did so
Lancelot saw the silver candlestick come from the
chapel to the cross, and after it a table of silver
on which was the holy grail. The sick knight
crawled painfully to it on his hands and knees,
and raised himself so as to touch and kiss the
sacred vessel. No sooner had he done so than he
grew whole and sound, with all his pain and sickness
gone, and rose to his feet with his former
strength and vigor.

“Lord, I thank thee deeply,” he said; “for
through thy infinite grace I am healed of my affliction.”

Then the holy vessel returned to the chapel, and
Lancelot strove hard to rise and follow it. But
his limbs were powerless, and he lay like one chained
to the ground.

He now fell into deep slumber, and waked not
till near morning. And as he raised himself and
sat on the ground he heard a voice in the air, that
seemed to come from no earthly lips.

“Sir Lancelot,” it said, “more hard than is the
stone, more bitter than the wood, more bare than
the barren fig-tree, arise and go from hence, and
withdraw thyself from this holy place.”

Lancelot arose with a heavy heart, for the sense
of these words sank deeply within him. But when
he sought his horse and helm and sword he found
they were gone, for they had been taken by the
knight whose healing he had seen.

Deeply depressed and unhappy at this misfortune,[Pg 159]
he left the cross on foot, and wandered onward
till he came to a hermitage on a high hill.

Here he told the hermit what had happened to
him, and confessed all the evil deeds of his life,
saying that he had resolved to be a different man
from what he had been, and to live a higher life
than that of doing deeds of arms that men might
applaud.

Then the holy man gave him absolution, with
injunctions of penance, and prayed that he would
abide with him all that day. This Lancelot did,
talking much with him upon his sins, and repenting
sincerely the worldly life he had led.

Meanwhile Percivale had returned to the recluse,
and questioned her as to how he should find Galahad.

“That I cannot surely tell,” she said. “Ride
hence to a castle which is called Goothe, where he
has a cousin-german. If he can give you no tidings,
then ride straight to the castle Carbonek,
where the maimed king lies, and there you shall
hear sure tidings of him.”

Percivale, leaving her, rode onward till eventide,
and as he looked around him for shelter he heard
a clock strike loud and clear. He now perceived
before him a mansion, with lofty walls and deep
ditches. Here he knocked loudly, and was let in
without delay.

After laying off his armor, he was led to the supper
hall, where he was well served, and afterwards
spent the night in comfort. When morning dawned
he entered the chapel for the mass, and found
there a priest ready at the altar. On the right[Pg 160]
side was a pew closed with iron, and behind the
altar a rich bed, covered with cloth of silk and
gold. On this bed lay a person with covered visage,
so that he could not tell if it were man or woman.

After the service was over the occupant of the
bed sat up and threw back the covering, and then
Percivale saw that it was a man of very great age,
on whose head was a crown of gold. But his
shoulders and body to the middle were unclad, and
were covered with wounds, as were also his arms
and face.

To all seeming he might have been three hundred
years of age, for so venerable a face Percivale had
never gazed upon, and as he sat up he prayed fervently,
with joined hands. When the mass was
over the priest bore the sacrament to the sick king.
And when he had used it, he took off his crown
and commanded it to be set on the altar. Then he
lay down again.

Percivale now asked one of the attendants who
this venerable man was.

“You have heard of Joseph of Arimathea,” was
the reply, “and how he came into this land to
convert the heathen. With him came a king named
Evelake, whom he had converted in the city of
Sarras, in Palestine. This king afterwards had
an earnest desire to be where the Sangreal was, and
on one occasion he ventured so nigh it that God
was displeased with him, and struck him almost
blind. Then King Evelake prayed for mercy and
pardon, and begged that he might not die until
he who was to achieve the Sangreal should come,
that he might see him and kiss him. There answered[Pg 161]
him a voice that said: ‘Thy prayers are
heard; thou shalt not die till he has kissed thee.
And when he comes thy eyes shall be opened to see
clearly, and thy wounds shall be healed; but not
until then.’ So King Evelake has lived in this
mansion for three hundred winters, waiting for
the coming of the knight who shall heal him.
Now, sir, will you tell me what knight you are,
and if you are of the Round Table fellowship?”

“That am I, and my name is Percivale de
Galis.”

On hearing this the good man welcomed Percivale
warmly, and pressed him to remain. But
the knight replied that he could not, for his duty
led him onward.

Percivale now left the chapel, and, arming himself,
he took his horse and rode onward. And
that day more strange things happened to him than
we have space to tell. Not far had he ridden when
he met twenty men-at-arms, who bore on a bier a
dead knight. On learning that he was from King
Arthur’s court, they assailed him fiercely, killed
his horse, and would have slain him; but when he
was at the worst strait a knight in red armor came
hastily to his rescue, and rode fiercely on the
assailants.

He attacked these, indeed, with such fury that
many of them were soon stretched on the ground;
while the others fled into a thick forest, whither
they were hotly pursued by their assailant.

On seeing him thus ride away, Percivale was
deeply grieved, for he well knew his rescuer was
Galahad, and he had no horse to follow him.

[Pg 162]He went forward as fast as he could on foot, and
had not gone far when he met a yeoman riding on
a hackney, and leading a great war-horse, blacker
than any bear.

Percivale begged that he would lend him this
horse, that he might overtake a knight before him.
But this the yeoman refused, saying that the owner
of the horse would slay him if he should do so.

Not long afterwards, as Percivale sat woebegone
beneath a tree, an armed knight came riding past
on the black horse, pursued by the yeoman, who
called him robber, and moaned bitterly that his
master would kill him for the loss of his charge.

“Lend me your hackney,” said Percivale; “I
may get you your horse again.”

This the yeoman gladly did, and Percivale pursued
the robber knight, loudly bidding him to
stand and deliver.

The knight at this turned and rode fiercely upon
him, but directed his spear against the horse instead
of the rider, striking it in the breast, so that it
fell to the earth.

He now rode away, without heeding Percivale’s
angry demand that he should stop and fight it out
on foot. When the dismounted knight found that
his antagonist would not turn, he was so filled
with chagrin that he threw away his helm and
sword, and raved like one out of his wits. Thus
he continued till night came on, when he lay down
exhausted and fell into a deep slumber.

Near the midnight hour he suddenly awakened,
and saw in the road before him a woman, who
said,—

[Pg 163]“Sir Percivale, what do you here?”

“I do neither good nor ill,” he replied.

“You need a horse,” she said. “If you will
promise to do my will when I shall summon you,
I will lend you mine. You will find him no common
one.”

“I promise that,” cried Percivale. “I would
do much for a horse just now.”

“Wait, then; I shall fetch you the noblest animal
you ever bestrode.”

She departed, but quickly came again, leading
a horse of midnight blackness, and richly apparelled
for knightly service.

Percivale looked at it with admiration. He had
not hoped for so great and noble a steed as this.
Thanking her warmly, he sprang to his feet, leaped
to the saddle, and put spurs to the horse, from
whose nostrils fire seemed to glare.

Away went the black horse under the moonlight,
making such marvellous strides that it seemed to
leave the earth behind it in its magical progress.
With such wondrous speed did it go that in an
hour it had made a four days’ journey. Then it
came to the brink of a great body of water, whose
waves foamed and leaped boisterously against the
shore.

When Percivale saw the heaving waves, which
stretched far away under the moonlight, he drew
with all his force upon the rein; but the fiendish
brute which he rode heeded not his hand, but bore
him madly to the brink. Fear and doubt now
filled the knight’s mind, and with a hasty impulse
he made the sign of the cross. At this the beast[Pg 164]
roared loudly in rage, while flame a foot long
poured from its nostrils, and with a wild rear it
shook off its rider, and plunged madly into the
wild billows. And the showering drops which fell
upon Percivale from the plunge burnt like sparks
of fire.

“God be thanked that I am here alive,” cried
the knight, fervently. “I have ridden the foul
fiend in the image of a horse, and barely have I
escaped perdition.”

Then he commended himself to God, and prayed
earnestly to the Lord to save him from all such
perils and temptations. He continued in prayer
all the remainder of that night until the next day
dawned upon the earth.

When sunrise came he looked needfully about
him, anxious to learn whither he had been borne
by the unholy brute. To his surprise and alarm
he found himself in a wild waste, which was closed
in on one side by the sea, and on the other by a
range of rough and high mountains, impassable
to human feet; a land that seemed without food
or shelter, and the lurking-place of wild beasts.

He trembled with fear on seeing this, and went
forward with doubtful steps. Not far had he gone
before he saw a strange thing, for a great serpent
passed near him, bearing a young lion by the neck.
Fiercely after it came a great lion, roaring with
rage, and fell upon the serpent, which turned in
defence, so that a mighty battle was waged before
the knight.

“By my faith,” he cried, “the lion is the most
natural beast of the two, and it fights for its young.
The lion it is my duty to help.”

[Pg 165]He drew his sword with these words and struck
the serpent so fierce a stroke that it fell dead.
Then he turned his shield against the lion, but as
the latter made no show of fighting him, but fawned
upon him with every mark of joy and gratitude,
he cast down his shield and removed his helm,
and sat there stroking the neck and shoulders of
the beast.

Until noon he comforted himself with the fellowship
of the lion. Then it took up its whelp
and bore it away, leaving Percivale alone. But he
was not unhappy, for he believed fervently in God,
and prayed with all earnestness that he might be
saved from unholy things, and chosen as a champion
of right and truth.

When night came, Percivale, to his joy, saw the
lion coming towards him. It crouched at his feet
like a spaniel, and all that night the lion and the
knight slept in company, his head being pillowed
on the shoulder of the beast.

But during the night a strange dream came to
him. He seemed to see two women, one of whom
was young, and rode upon a lion, and the other
was old, and sat upon a gliding serpent. And the
younger spoke to him as follows,—

“Sir Percivale,” she said, “my lord salutes you,
and sends a warning to you to make ready, for to-morrow
you will have to fight with the strongest
champion in the world. And if overcome you
will be shamed to the world’s end.”

“Who is your lord?” he asked.

“The greatest lord in all the world,” she said;
and then suddenly vanished.

[Pg 166]Then came the lady upon the serpent, and said,—

“Sir Percivale, I have done you no harm, and
yet you have worked me injury.”

“What have I done? I have been always heedful
to offend no lady.”

“I have long nourished here a great serpent,
and yesterday you killed it for seeking its prey.
Why did you this? The lion was not in your
care.”

“I aided the lion because it was a nobler beast
than the serpent. In that I did nothing against
you.”

“You did me a great wrong, and in return for
this injury I demand that you become my man.”

“That shall I never be,” he answered.

“Beware, then, proud knight, who pride yourself
on your piety. You have robbed me of that
which I loved; take heed that I catch you not
unawares, or mine you shall be, body and soul.”

With these words she departed, and Percivale
finished his sleep without further vision. In the
morning, when he awoke, he felt feeble. And as
he rose and blessed himself he saw not far off in
the sea a ship that sailed towards him. As it came
near he perceived it to be covered within and without
with white samite, while on the deck stood an
old man dressed in a surplice like a priest.

“Sir,” said Percivale, “you are welcome.”

“God keep you,” said the old man; “whence
come you?”

“I am of King Arthur’s court, and a Knight of
the Round Table, and am in quest of the Sangreal.
But here I find myself in a wilderness, with no
hope of escape.”

[Pg 167]“Doubt not, if you be a true knight.”

“Who are you?” asked Percivale.

“I have come hither from a strange country to
comfort you,” said the old man.

“Then, sir, can you tell me what my dream
signifies?” and Percivale related what had befallen
him.

“That can I,” said the old man. “She that rode
on the lion betokens the new law of holy church,
and she came through love, to warn you of the
great battle that is before you.”

“With whom shall I fight?” asked Percivale.

“With the strongest champion of the world, and
if you fail in the fight you shall not escape with the
loss of a limb, but shall be shamed to the world’s
end. As for her that rode on the serpent, she
betokens the old law. Heed her not. The serpent
you slew betokens the devil that you rode hither,
and whom you overcame by the sign of the cross.
Yield not to her or any of her kindred, or worse
will befall you.”

Then the ship turned and sailed away, leaving
Percivale again alone. But when he went up the
rocks he found there the lion, which he stroked
and made joyful fellowship with.

And thus time went on till midday. Then Percivale
saw a ship approaching with such speed as
if all the winds in the world had driven it. On
it kept till it reached land at the beach below him.
He hurried hopefully to meet it, and saw that it
was covered with black silk, while on the deck
stood a lady of great beauty, who was dressed in the
richest apparel.

[Pg 168]“What brought you into this wilderness?” she
cried to the knight. “Here you are likely to die
of hunger, for no man may cross yonder rocks
and escape.”

“I serve the best master in the world,” said
Percivale. “He will not suffer harm to come to
me.”

“Sir Percivale,” said she, “know you who I
am?”

“Who taught you my name?” he answered.

“I know you better than you deem,” she replied,
laughing. “This much I may tell you, that
not long since I was in the waste forest, where I
saw the red knight with the white shield.”

“Ah! is that so? Fain would I meet with
him.”

“I shall bring you to him; but only on covenant
that you will come to my aid when I summon
you.”

“If it be in reason and uprightness, you may
trust me,” he replied.

“I saw him,” she continued, “chase two knights
into the stream that is called Mortaise, and follow
them into the water. But they passed over, and
his horse was drowned, and only by his great
strength he got safe to land again.”

“That I am very glad to hear. It would have
been a sad day had that good knight been drowned.”

“You look pale and thin,” she remarked. “Have
you eaten lately?”

“Not these three days,” he answered. “Yet I
spoke of late with a good man, whose words refreshed
me as if I had partaken of rich viands.”

[Pg 169]“Ah, sir knight,” she said, “beware of that old
man. I know him better than you. He is a false
enchanter, who seeks your harm. If you heed his
words shame will be your lot, and you will die on
this rock and be devoured by wild beasts. I am
here to help you in your need, for I am not content
to see so good a knight come to harm and disgrace.”

“Who are you,” asked Percivale, “that proffer
me so great a kindness?”

“Once I was the richest woman in the world,”
she answered. “Now I am disinherited and in
want.”

“Then I pity you greatly. Who is it that has
disinherited you?”

“I dwelt with the greatest man in the world,”
she answered, “and to him I owe my beauty,—a
beauty of which I was, alas! too proud. Then I
said that which offended him deeply, and he drove
me away from him, and robbed me of my heritage,
and has never since had pity for me nor for my
friends. Since this has happened I have done my
best to wean his men from him, and many of them
now cling to me, and I and they war against him
day and night. I know no good knight, nor good
man, but that I strive to win him to my side, and
all such I repay well for their services. For he
against whom I wage war is strong, and I need
all the aid to be had. Therefore, since I know
you for a valiant knight, I beseech you to help
me. A fellow of the Round Table cannot, under
his vow, fail any woman that is disinherited, and
that seeks his aid.”

[Pg 170]“That is true, indeed,” said Percivale, “and I
shall do all I can for you.”

“You have my earnest thanks,” she said.

Then, as the weather was hot, she called some
of her attendants, and bade them bring a pavilion
and set it up on the gravel near the sea-line.

“Sir knight,” she said, “I pray you to rest here
in the heat of the day, while my attendants prepare
food for you.”

He thanked her and laid aside his helm and
shield, and fell asleep within the pavilion, where
he slumbered long. When he awoke he asked her
if the food was ready.

“Yes,” she answered; “I have worked while
you slumbered.”

Then a table was set within the pavilion, and
covered with a rich array of meats and drinks,
of which Percivale ate with great appetite, while
the lady sat opposite him with a very gracious
aspect. The wine he drank was the strongest that
had ever passed his lips, and its strength soon got
into his veins and heated his brain.

The lady now smiled graciously upon him, and
it seemed to him that he had never beheld so fair
a creature. Her beauty so worked upon his heated
blood, indeed, that he proffered her his love, and
prayed earnestly for hers in return.

When she saw his loving ardor, and that the
wine worked like fire in his blood, she said, with
a smile of witchery,—

“Sir Percivale, if I become yours, you must become
mine. I shall not grant you my love unless
you swear that henceforth you will be my true[Pg 171]
servant, and do nothing but what I shall command.
Will you thus bind yourself, as you are a true
knight?”

“That will I, fair lady, by the faith of my body.”

“Then this I will say, that of all the knights
in the world you are he whom I most love. And
you may seal upon my lips the compact we have
made.”

But when Percivale came towards her, to claim
the proffered kiss, which she offered with such
bewitching grace, by chance or through God’s aid
he saw his sword, which lay on the ground at his
feet, and in its pommel a red cross, with the sign
of the crucifix therein. Then came to his mind the
promise he had made to the old man, and his
knightly vows, and with a pious impulse he raised
his hand and made the sign of the cross on his forehead,
the while his eyes were fixed on the lovely
face of the tempter before him.

As he did so her smile changed to a look of
deadly hate, and the loveliness of her face to a
hideous aspect, while in the same moment the pavilion
fell as before a great wind, and then vanished
in smoke and cloud.

Over the sea the wind rose and roared, and as
he looked he saw the ship battling with heaving
waves, while the water seemed to burn behind it.
On the deck stood the lady, who cried,—

“Sir Percivale, you have betrayed me! Beware,
proud knight, I shall have my revenge.” Then
the ship drove out to sea, and vanished from his
sight.

But in a passion of remorse Percivale snatched[Pg 172]
up the sword that lay before him, and crying,
“Since my flesh has been my master I will punish
it,” he drove the naked blade through his thigh,
till the blood spouted out like a fountain.

“Wretch that I am, how nearly was I lost!”
he cried, in a torment of conscience. “Fair sweet
Father, Jesus Christ my Lord, let me not be shamed,
as I would now have been but for thy good grace.
Take this wound in recompense for what I have
done against thee, and forgive me my deep transgression,
I humbly pray thee.”

But as he lay moaning and bleeding the wild
winds went down and the sea grew smooth, while
he saw coming from the Orient the ship with the
good man, on board, on beholding whom he fell into
a swoon.

When he awoke he found that his wound had
been dressed and the bleeding stopped. Beside him
sat the good man, who asked him,—

“How hast thou done since I departed?”

“Weakly and wickedly enough,” he answered.
“A witch beguiled me, and I nearly fell a victim
to her wiles.”

“Knew you her not?”

“Only that I deem the foul fiend sent her here
to shame me.”

“Worse than that, good knight. Your victory
is greater than you deem. That seeming woman
who deceived you was no less an adversary than
the master-fiend of hell, who has power over all
the lesser devils, and, had you yielded you had
been lost forever. For this is the mighty champion
against whom you were forwarned; he who
was once the brightest angel of heaven, and was
driven out by our Lord Christ for his sins, and
thus lost his heritage. But that the grace of God
was on your side you would have fallen before
this champion of evil. Take this, Sir Percivale,
as a warning and an example.”

With these words the good man vanished away.
Then the mariners carried the wounded knight
on board their ship, and set sail, bearing him
rapidly away from that scene of temptation and
victory.

[Pg 173]

CHAPTER V.

THE STRANGE ADVENTURES OF SIR BORS.

When Sir Bors parted from his companions, on
the quest of the Sangreal, not far had he gone
when he met a religious man riding on an ass,
whom he courteously saluted.

“Who are you?” asked the good man.

“I am one of those knights who have set out in
quest of the Sangreal,” said Bors. “I would fain
have your counsel in this high duty, for great
honor shall come to him who succeeds therein.”

“That is true,” said the good man. “He that
wins the Sangreal will be counted the best knight
and the purest soul among men. None can hope
to attain it except through cleanness of spirit.”

Then they rode together till they came to a
hermitage. Here Bors went into the chapel with[Pg 174]
his companion, and confessed to him, and ate bread
and drank water with him.

“Now,” said the good man, “I charge you that
you take no other food than bread and water till
you sit at the table where the Sangreal shall be.”

“To that I agree. But how know you that I
shall ever sit there?”

“I know it, let that suffice; but few of your
comrades shall have that honor.”

“All that God sends me will be welcome,” said
Bors.

“Also, instead of a shirt, and in token of chastisement,
you shall wear this garment,” and the
good man produced a scarlet coat, which Bors
promised to wear next his skin till the Sangreal
should be won.

Then, after further wholesome advice, he resumed
his armor and departed. He had gone but
a little way from the hermitage when he passed a
tree that was little more than an old and leafless
trunk, and on one of its boughs he saw a great bird,
surrounded by young that were nearly dead with
hunger. As, he continued to look at this strange
sight, the bird smote itself in the breast with its
sharp beak, and bled till it died among its young.
Then the young birds fed on their mother’s blood,
and were revived thereby.

This to Bors seemed full of deep significance,
and he pondered deeply upon it as he rode onward.
By even-song he found himself near a strong and
high tower, where he asked shelter for the night,
and was hospitably welcomed.

When he had disarmed he was led to a richly[Pg 175]
furnished apartment, where he found a young and
fair lady, who welcomed him gladly to her tower,
and invited him to take supper with her.

The table was set with rich meats and many
dainties, but Bors forgot not the hermit’s charge,
and bade an attendant to bring him water. In
this he sopped bread and ate it.

“How is this?” asked the lady in surprise.
“Like you not my meat?”

“Truly I do, madam; yet I may eat no other
food this day.”

Then the lady was silent, for she feared to displease
him by questioning. After supper, while
they sat talking, a squire came, who said,—

“Madam, you know well what is set for to-morrow.
You must provide a champion to fight
in your quarrel against Pridam le Noire, or your
sister will have this castle and all your lands.”

“I know that,” she said, with a deep sigh. “May
God save me from being robbed, for I see no earthly
aid.”

Her sorrow touched Bors, who asked,—

“What means this, madam?”

“Sir,” she said, “I shall tell you. There was
formerly a king named Aniause, who owned all
these lands. By chance he loved my sister, who
is much older than I,—and much wickeder also, I
fear. He gave her this land to govern; but she
brought into it many evil customs, and caused the
death of many of his kinsmen. When the king
saw how vilely she governed, he drove her away,
and put me over this district. But he is now dead,
and she is making war on me, and has destroyed[Pg 176]
many of my men, and turned others from me,
so that I have little left but this tower, and the
few men that guard it. Even this she now threatens
to take from me, unless I can find a knight
to fight her champion, who will appear before my
gates to-morrow.”

“Is it so?” said Bors. “Who is this Pridam le
Noire?”

“He is the most stalwart knight in this country,
and has no equal among us.”

“Madam,” said Bors, “you have given me shelter;
in return I shall aid you as far as I can in
your trouble. You may send word that you have
found a knight who will fight with this Pridam
the Black, in God’s quarrel and yours.”

“Then may God’s blessing rest upon you,” she
cried, gladly. And word was sent out that she
had found a champion who would take on himself
her quarrel.

That evening she did what lay in her power to
make Bors welcome, and sent him at bedtime to
a chamber whose bed was soft as down, and spread
with silken coverings.

But in no bed would he rest, but laid himself
on the floor, as he had vowed to do till he found
the Sangreal.

As he lay there asleep there came to him a vision.
He seemed to see two birds, one white as a swan,
the other of smaller size, and shaped like a raven,
with plumage of inky blackness. The white bird
came to him and said, “If thou wilt give me meat
and serve me, I shall give thee all the riches of
the world, and make thee as fair and white as I[Pg 177]
am.” Then the white bird departed, and the black
bird came and said, “I beg that you will serve me
to-morrow, and hold me in no despite; for this I
tell you, that my blackness will avail you more
than the other’s whiteness.” And this bird, too,
departed.

But his dream continued, and he seemed to come
to a great place, that looked like a chapel. Here
he saw on the left side a chair, which was worm-eaten
and feeble. And on the right hand were
two flowers of the shape of a lily, and one would
have taken the whiteness from the other but that
a good man separated them, and would not let
them touch. And out of each came many flowers
and plentiful fruit. Then the good man said,
“Would not he act with great folly that should
let these two flowers perish to succor the rotten
tree, and keep it from falling?” “Sir,” said the
dreamer, “it seems to me that the flower is of
more value than the wood.” “Then take heed
that you never choose the false for the true.”

With this Bors awoke, and made the sign of
the cross on his forehead, and then rose and dressed.
When he had come to the lady she saluted him,
and led him to a chapel, where they heard the
morning service. Quickly afterwards there came
a company of knights that the lady had sent for, to
lead her champion to battle. After he had armed,
she begged him to take some strengthening food.

“Nay, madam,” he answered, “that I shall not
do till I have fought this battle, in which I ask
but God’s grace to aid me.”

This said, he sprang upon his horse, and set out[Pg 178]
with the knights and men, closely followed by the
lady and her train. They soon came to where the
other party were encamped, and with them the lady
of their choice.

“Madam,” said the lady of the tower, “you
have done me great wrong to take from me the
lands which King Aniause gave me. And I am
sorry that there should be any battle.”

“You shall not choose,” said the other, “unless
you withdraw your knight and yield the tower.”

“That I shall not do. You have robbed me
enough already.”

Then was the trumpet sounded, and proclamation
was made that whichever champion won the battle,
the lady for whom he fought should enjoy all the
land. This done, the two champions drew aside,
and faced each other grimly in their armor of proof.

But when the sound for the onset was blown
they put spurs to their steeds, which rushed together
like two lions, and the knights struck each
other with such force that their spears flew to
pieces and both fell to the earth.

They quickly rose and drew their swords, and
hewed at each other like two woodmen, so that
soon each was sorely wounded and bleeding profusely.
Bors quickly found that he had a sturdier
antagonist than he expected, for Pridam was a
strong and hardy fighter, who stood up lustily to
his work, and gave his opponent many a sturdy
blow.

Bors, perceiving this, took a new course, and
played with his antagonist till he saw that he was
growing weary with his hard work. Then he advanced[Pg 179]
upon him fiercely, and drove him step by
step backward, till in the end Pridam fell. Bors
now leaped upon him and pulled so strongly upon
his helm as to rend it from his head. Then he
struck him with the flat of his sword upon the
cheek, and bade him yield, or he would kill him.

“For God’s love, slay me not!” cried the knight.
“I yield me to thy mercy. I shall swear never
to war against thy lady, but be henceforth her
friend and protector.”

With this assurance, Bors let him live; while
the covetous old lady fled in fear, followed by all
her knights. The victorious champion now called
to him all those who held lands in that estate, and
threatened to destroy them unless they would do
the lady such service as belonged to their holdings.
This they swore to do, and there and then paid
homage to the lady, who thus came to her own
again through the mighty prowess of Sir Bors de
Ganis.

Not until the country was well in peace did he
take his leave, refusing the offers of wealth which
the grateful lady pressed upon him, and receiving
her warm thanks with a humility that well became
him.

Hardly would she let him go; but at length he
bade her farewell, and rode away from her tears
and thanks. On he journeyed for all that day,
and till midday of the next, when he found himself
in a forest, where a strange adventure befell
him.

For at the parting of two ways he met two
knights who had taken prisoner his brother Lionel,[Pg 180]
whom they had bound all naked upon a hackney,
while they beat him with thorns till the blood
flowed from every part of his body. Yet so great
of heart was he that no word came from his lips,
and he made no sign of pain.

Bors, seeing this, was on the point of rushing
to his rescue, when he beheld on the other side a
knight who held as prisoner a fair lady, whom he
was taking into the thickest part of the forest to
hide her from those who sought her. And as they
went she cried in a lamentable voice,—

“Saint Mary, rescue me! Holy mother, succor
your maid!”

When she saw Bors she cried out to him grievously
for aid and rescue.

“By the faith you owe to the high order of
knighthood, and for the noble King Arthur’s sake,
who I suppose made you knight, help me, gracious
sir, and suffer me not to come to shame through
this felon knight!”

On hearing this appeal the distracted knight
knew not what to do. On one side his brother in
danger of his life; on the other a maiden in peril
of her honor.

“If I rescue not my brother he will be slain;
and that I would not have for the earth. Yet if
I help not the maiden, I am recreant to my vows
of knighthood, and to my duty to the high order
of chivalry.”

Tears ran from his eyes as he stood in cruel
perplexity. Then, with a knightly resolution, he
cried,—

“Fair sweet Lord Jesus, whose liegeman I am,[Pg 181]
keep Lionel my brother that these knights slay
him not; since for your service, and for Mary’s
sake, I must succor this maid.”

Then he turned to the knight who had the damsel,
and loudly cried,—

“Sir knight, take your hands from that maiden
and set her free, or you are a dead man.”

On hearing this the knight released the maiden
as bidden, but drew his sword, as he had no spear,
and rode fiercely at the rescuer. Bors met him
with couched spear, and struck him so hard a blow
as to pierce his shield and his hauberk on the left
shoulder, beating him down to the earth. On pulling
out the spear the wounded knight swooned.

“You are delivered from this felon. Can I help
you further?” said Bors to the maiden.

“I beg you to take me to the place whence he
carried me away.”

“That shall I do as my duty.”

Then he seated her on the knight’s horse, and
conducted her back towards her home.

“You have done nobly, sir knight,” she said.
“If you had not rescued me, five hundred men
might have died for this. The knight you wounded
is my cousin, who yesterday stole me away from
my father’s house, no one mistrusting him. But
if you had not overcome him, there would soon
have been others on his track.”

Even as she spoke there came a troop of twelve
knights riding briskly forward in search of her.
When they found her delivered their joy was great,
and they thanked Bors profusely, begging him to[Pg 182]
accompany them to her father, who was a great
lord, and would welcome him with gladness.

“That I cannot do,” said Bors, “much as I
should like to; for I have another matter of high
importance before me. I can but say, then, farewell,
and God be with you and this fair maiden.”

So saying, he turned and rode briskly away,
followed by their earnest thanks. Reaching the
point where he had seen Lionel in custody, he took
the trail of the horses, and followed them far by
their hoof-marks in the road. Then he overtook
a religious man, who was mounted on a strong horse,
blacker than a berry.

“Sir knight,” he asked, “what seek you?”

“I seek my brother,” he replied, “who came
this way beaten by two knights.”

“Then seek no further, but be strong of heart,
for I have sad tidings for you. Your brother is
dead.”

He then led Bors to a clump of bushes, in which
lay a newly slain body, which seemed to be that
of Lionel. Seeing this, Bors broke into such grief
that he fell to the earth in a swoon, and long lay
there. When he recovered he said, sadly,—

“Dear brother, I would have rescued you had
not a higher duty called me. But since we are thus
parted, joy shall never again enter my desolate
heart. I can now but say, be He whom I have
taken for my master my help and comfort.”

Thus grieving, he took up the body in his arms,
and put it upon his saddle-bow. Then he said to
his companion,—

“Can you tell me of some chapel, where I may
bury this body?”

[Pg 183]“Come with me. There is one near by.”

AN OLD AND HALF-RUINED CHAPEL.

They rode forward till they came in sight of a
tower, beside which was an old and half-ruined
chapel. Here they alighted, and placed the corpse
in a tomb of marble.

“We will leave him here,” said the good man,
“and seek shelter for the night. To-morrow we
will return and perform the services for the dead.”

“Are you a priest?” asked Bors.

“Yes,” he answered.

“Then you may be able to interpret a dream
that came to me last night.”

Thereupon he told his dream of the birds, and
that of the flowers.

“I can interpret the vision of the birds now,”
said the priest. “The rest must wait till later.
The white bird is the emblem of a rich and fair
lady, who loves you deeply, and will die for love
if you pity her not. I counsel you, therefore, not
to refuse her, for this I shall tell you, that if you
return not her love, your cousin Lancelot, the best
of knights, shall die. Men will call you a man-slayer,
both of your brother Lionel and your cousin
Lancelot, since you might have saved them both
easily if you would. You rescued a maiden who
was naught to you, and let your brother perish.
Which, think you, was your greater duty?”

“I did what I thought my duty,” said Bors.

“At any rate, bear this in mind, you will be in
sad fault if you suffer your cousin Lancelot to
die for an idle scruple.”

“I should be sad, indeed,” said Bors. “Rather
would I die ten times over than see my cousin Lancelot
perish through fault of mine.”

[Pg 184]“The choice lies in your hand,” said the priest.
“It is for you to decide.”

As he spoke they came in front of a fair-showing
tower and manor-house, where were knights and
ladies, who welcomed Bors warmly. When he was
disarmed there was brought him a mantle furred
with ermine. Then he was led to the company
of knights and ladies, who received him so gladly,
and did so much to make his stay pleasant, that all
thoughts of his brother Lionel and of the danger
of Lancelot were driven from his mind.

As they stood in gay converse there came out of
a chamber a lady whom Bors had not before seen,
and whose beauty was such that he felt he had
never beheld so lovely a face, while her dress was
richer than Queen Guenever had ever worn.

“Here, Sir Bors,” said those present, “is the
lady to whom we all owe service. Richer and fairer
lady the world holds not, and she loves you above
all other knights, and will have no knight but you.”

On hearing this, Bors stood abashed. This, then,
he thought, was the white bird of his dream. Her
love he must return or lose Lancelot,—so fate had
spoken.

As he stood deeply thinking, the lady came up
and saluted him, taking his hand in hers, and bidding
him sit beside her, while her deep eyes rested
upon him with looks that made his soul tremble.
Never had he gazed into such eyes before.

Then she spoke of many things, luring him into
pleasant conversation, in which he forgot his fears,
and began to take delight in her presence. At the
end she told him how deeply and how long she had[Pg 185]
loved him, and begged him to return her love, saying
that she could make him richer than ever was man
of his age.

These words brought back all his trouble of soul.
How to answer the lady he knew not, for his vow
of chastity was too deep to be lightly broken.

“Alas!” she said, “must I plead for your love
in vain?”

“Madam,” said Bors, “I cannot think of earthly
ties and delights while my brother lies dead, and
awaits the rites of the Church.”

“I have loved you long,” she repeated, “both for
your beauty of body and soul, and the high renown
you have achieved. Now that chance has brought
you to my home, think not ill of me if I let you not
go without telling my love, and beseeching you to
return it.”

“That I cannot do,” said Bors.

At these words she fell into the deepest sorrow,
while tears flowed from her beautiful eyes.

“You will kill me by your coldness,” she bewailed.
Then she took him by the hand and bade
him look upon her. “Am I not fair and lovely,
and worthy the love of the best of knights? Alas!
since you will not love me, you shall see me die of
despair before your eyes.”

“That I do not fear to see,” he replied.

“You shall see it within this hour,” she said,
sadly.

Then she left him, and, taking with her twelve
of her ladies, mounted to the highest battlement
of the tower, while Bors was led to the court-yard
below.

[Pg 186]“Ah, Sir Bors, gentle knight, have pity on us!”
cried one of the ladies. “We shall all die if you
are cruel to our lady, for she vows that she and
all of us shall fall from this tower if you disdain
her proffered love.”

Bors looked up, and his heart melted with pity,
to see so many fair faces looking beseechingly down
upon him, while tears seemed to rain from their
eyes. Yet he was steadfast of heart, for he felt
that he could not lose his soul to save their lives,
and his vow of chastity in the quest of the Sangreal
was not to be broken for the delights of earthly
love.

As he stood, some of the maidens flung themselves
from the tower, and lay dead and bleeding at his
feet, while above he saw the fair face of the lady
looking down, as she stood balanced on the battlement,
like a fair leaf that the next wind would
sweep to certain death.

“God help me and guide me!” cried Bors in
horror. “What shall I do? Here earthly endurance
is too weak; I must put my trust in heaven.”
And he made the sign of the cross on his forehead
and his breast.

Then came a marvel indeed. A roar was heard
as if thunder had rent the sky, and a cry as if all
the fiends of hell were about him. For the moment
he closed his eyes, stunned by the uproar. When
he opened them again all had gone,—the tower,
the lady, the knights, and the chapel where he had
placed his brother’s body,—and he stood in the
road, armed and mounted, while only a broad, empty
plain spread before him.

[Pg 187]Then he held up his hands to heaven and cried
fervently: “Father and Creator, from what have I
escaped! It is the foul fiend in the likeness of a
beautiful woman who has tempted me. Only the
sign of the holy cross has saved me from perdition.”

Putting spurs to his horse he rode furiously
away, burning with anxiety to get from that
accursed place, and deeply glad at his escape. As
he proceeded a loud clock-bell sounded to the right,
and turning thither he came to a high wall, over
which he saw the pinnacles of an abbey.

Here he asked shelter for the night, and was
received with a warm welcome, for those within
deemed he was one of the knights that sought the
Sangreal. When morning came he heard mass, and
then the abbot came and bade him good-morning.
A conversation followed, in which he told the abbot
all that had happened to him, and begged his
interpretation thereof.

“Truly you are strong in the service of the
Lord,” said the abbot, “and are held for great
deeds. Thus I interpret your adventures and
visions. The great fowl that fed its young with
its own blood is an emblem of Christ, who shed
his blood for the good of mankind. And the bare
tree on which it sat signifies the world, which
of itself is barren and without fruit. Also King
Aniause betokens Jesus Christ, and the lady for
whom you took the battle the new law of Holy
Church; while the older lady is the emblem of the
old law and the fiend, which forever war against
the Church.

“By the black bird also was emblemed the Holy[Pg 188]
Church, which saith, ‘I am black but he is fair.’
The white bird represented the fiend, which, like
hypocrisy, is white without and foul within. As
for the rotten chair and the white lilies, the first
was thy brother Lionel, who is a murderer and an
untrue knight; while the lilies were the knight and
the lady. The one drew near to the other to dishonor
her, but you forced them to part. And you
would have been in great peril had you, for the
rescue of a rotten tree, suffered those two flowers
to perish; for if they had sinned together they
had both been damned.

“The seeming man of religion, who blamed you
for leaving your brother to rescue a lady, was the
foul fiend himself. Your brother was not slain, as
he made it appear, but is still alive. For the
corpse, and the chapel, and the tower were all
devices of the evil one, and the lady who offered
her love was the fiend himself in that showing.
He knew you were tender-hearted, and he did all.
Much you may thank God that you withstood his
temptation, and that until now you have come
through all your adventures pure and unblemished.”

This gladdened the heart of the virtuous knight,
and a warm hope of winning the Sangreal arose
in his soul. Much more passed between them, and
when Bors rode forth it was with the fervent blessing
of the holy abbot.

On the morning of the second day Bors saw
before him a castle that rose in a green valley, and
met with a yeoman, whom he stopped and asked
what was going on in that country.

[Pg 189]“Sir knight,” he answered, “there is to be held
a great tournament before that castle.”

“By what people?” asked Bors.

“The Earl of Plains,” was the answer, “leads
one party, and the nephew of the Lady of Hervin
the other.”

With this the yeoman rode on, and Bors kept on
his course, thinking he might meet Lionel or some
other of his old comrades at the tournament. At
length he turned aside to a hermitage that stood
at the entrance to the forest. And to his surprise
and joy he saw his brother Lionel sitting armed
at the chapel door, waiting there to take part in
the tournament the next morning.

Springing from his horse, Bors ran up gladly,
crying, “Dear brother, happy is this meeting!”

“Come not near me!” cried Lionel, leaping to
his feet in a burst of fury. “False recreant, you
left me in peril of death to help a yelping woman,
and by my knightly vow you shall pay dearly for
it. Keep from me, traitor, and defend yourself.
You or I shall die for this.”

On seeing his brother in such wrath Bors kneeled
beseechingly before him, holding up his hands, and
praying for pardon and forgiveness.

“Never!” said Lionel. “I vow to God to
punish you for your treachery. You have lived
long enough for a dog and traitor.”

Then he strode wrathfully away, and came back
soon, mounted and with spear in hand.

“Bors de Ganis,” he cried, “defend yourself,
for I hold you as a felon and traitor, and the untruest
knight that ever came from so worthy a[Pg 190]
house as ours. Mount and fight. If you will not,
I will run on you as you stand there on foot. The
shame shall be mine and the harm yours; but of
that shame I reck naught.”

When Bors saw that he must fight with his
brother or die he knew not what to do. Again he
kneeled and begged forgiveness, in view of the love
that ought to be between brothers.

But the fiend that sought his overthrow had put
such fury into Lionel’s heart that nothing could
turn him from his wrathful purpose. And when
he saw that Bors would not mount, he spurred his
horse upon him and rode over him, hurting him
so with his horse’s hoofs that he swooned with the
pain. Then Lionel sprang from his horse and
rushed upon him sword in hand to strike off his
head.

At this critical moment the hermit, who was a
man of great age, came running out, and threw
himself protectingly on the fallen knight.

“Gentle sir,” he cried to Lionel, “have mercy
on me and on thy brother, who is one of the
worthiest knights in the world. If you slay him,
you will lose your soul.”

“Sir priest,” said Lionel, sternly, “if you leave
not I shall slay you, and him after you.”

“Slay me if you will, but spare your brother,
for my death would not do half so much harm as
his.”

“Have it, then, meddler, if you will!” cried
Lionel, and he struck the hermit a blow with his
sword that stretched him dead on the ground.

Then, with unquenched anger, he tore loose the[Pg 191]
lacings of his brother’s helmet, and would have
killed him on the spot but for a fortunate chance.

As it happened, Colgrevance, a fellow of the
Round Table, rode up at that moment, and wondered
when he saw the hermit dead, and Lionel
about to slay his brother, whom he greatly loved.

Leaping hastily to the ground, he caught the
furious knight by the shoulders and drew him
strongly backward.

“What would you do?” he cried. “Madman,
would you kill your brother, the worthiest knight
of our brotherhood? And are you so lost to honor
as to slay any knight thus lying insensible?”

“Will you hinder me?” asked Lionel, turning
in rage. “Back, sirrah, or I shall slay you first
and him afterwards.”

“Why seek you to slay him?”

“He has richly deserved it, and die he shall,
whoever says the contrary.”

Then he ran upon Bors and raised his sword to
strike him on the head. But Colgrevance pushed
between them and thrust him fiercely backward.

“Off, you murderer!” he cried. “If you are
so hot for blood you must have mine first.”

“Who are you?” demanded Lionel.

“I am Colgrevance, one of your fellows. Round
Table Knights should be brothers, not foes, but I
would challenge King Arthur himself in this
quarrel.”

“Defend yourself, meddler,” cried Lionel, rushing
upon him and striking him fiercely on the helm
with his sword.

“That shall I,” rejoined Colgrevance, attacking
him in turn.

[Pg 192]Then a hot battle began, for Colgrevance was a
good knight, and defended himself manfully.

While the fight went on Bors recovered his senses,
and saw with a sad heart Colgrevance defending
him against his brother. He strove to rise and
part them, but his hurts were such that he could
not stand on his feet. And thus he sat watching
the combat till he saw that Colgrevance had the
worst, for Lionel had wounded him sorely, and he
had lost so much blood that he could barely stand.

At this juncture he saw Bors, who sat watching
them in deep anguish.

“Bors,” he cried, “I am fighting to succor you.
Will you sit there and see me perish?”

“You both shall die,” cried Lionel, furiously.
“You shall pay the penalty of your meddling,
and he of his treason.”

Hearing this, Bors rose with aching limbs, and
painfully put on his helm. Colgrevance again
called to him in anguish,—

“Help me, Bors! I can stand no longer. Will
you let me die without lifting your hand?”

At this moment Lionel smote the helm from his
head, and then with another fierce blow stretched
him dead and bleeding upon the earth.

This murderous deed done, he ran on Bors with
the passion of a fiend, and dealt him a blow that
made him stoop.

“For God’s love leave me!” cried Bors. “If I
slay you or you me, we will both be dead of that
sin.”

“May God never help me if I take mercy on you,
if I have the better hand,” cried Lionel, in reply.

[Pg 193]Then Bors drew his sword, though his eyes were
wet with tears.

“Fair brother,” he said, “God knows my heart.
You have done evil enough this day, in slaying a
holy priest and one of our own brotherhood of
knights. I fear you not, but I dread the wrath
of God, for this is an unnatural battle which you
force upon me. May God have mercy upon me,
since I must defend my life against my brother.”

Saying this, Bors raised his sword and advanced
upon Lionel, who stood before him with the wrath
of a fury.

Then would have been a most unholy battle, had
not God come to the rescue. For as they thus
stood defiant a voice came to them from the air,
which said,—

“Flee, Bors, and touch him not, for if you do,
you will surely slay him.”

And between them descended a cloud that gleamed
like fire, and from which issued a marvellous flame
that burned both their shields to a cinder. They
were both so affrighted that they fell to the earth,
and lay there long in a swoon.

When they came to themselves Bors saw that
his brother had received no harm. For this he
thanked God, for he feared that heaven’s vengeance
had fallen upon him. Then came the voice again.

“Bors,” it said, “go hence, and bear thy brother
company no longer. Take thy way to the sea where
Percivale awaiteth thee.”

“Forgive me, brother,” said Bors, “for what I
have done against you.”

“God has forgiven you, and I must,” said Lionel.[Pg 194]
“It was the foul fiend that filled my soul with
fury, and much harm has come of it.”

Then Bors rode away, leaving Lionel in the company
of those whom he had slain, and took the
most direct road towards the sea.

At length he came to an abbey that was near the
water-side. And at midnight as he rested there he
was roused from his sleep by a voice, that bade him
leave his bed and ride onward.

He started up at this, and made the sign of the
cross on his forehead; then took his harness and
horse, and rode out at a broken place in the abbey
wall. An hour or so brought him to the water-side,
and on the strand there lay awaiting him a
ship all covered with white samite. Bors alighted,
and leaving his horse on the stand entered the ship,
commending himself to Christ’s fostering care.

Hardly had he done so before the sails spread,
as of themselves, and the vessel set out to sea so
fast that it seemed to fly. But it was still dark
night, and he saw no one about him. So he lay
down and slept till day.

When he awaked he saw a knight lying in the
middle of the deck, all armed but the helm. A
glance told him that it was Percivale de Galis, and
he sprang towards him with joy. But Percivale
drew back, asking him who he was.

“Know you me not?” asked Bors.

“I do not. But I marvel how you came hither,
unless brought by our Lord himself.”

Then Bors took off his helm and smiled. Great
was Percivale’s joy when he recognized him, and
long did they converse in gladness, telling each
other their adventures and temptations.

And so they went far over the sea, the ship taking
them they knew not whither, yet each comforted
the other, and daily they prayed for God’s
grace.

“Now, that we two are together,” said Percivale,
“we lack nothing but Galahad, the best of
knights.”

[Pg 195]

CHAPTER VI.

THE ADVENTURE OF THE MAGIC SHIP.

After Galahad had rescued Percivale from the
twenty knights, he rode into a vast forest, through
which he journeyed for many days, meeting there
many strange adventures. Then fortune took him
past a castle where a tournament was in progress,
and where the men of the castle had so much the
worse of it that they were driven back to their
gates, and some of them slain. Seeing this, Galahad
rode to the aid of the weaker party, and did
marvellous deeds of arms, soon aiding them to drive
back their foes.

As it happened, Gawaine and Hector de Maris
were with the outer party, and when they beheld
the white shield with the red cross, they said to
one another,—

“That hewer of helms and shields is Galahad,
none less. We should be fools to meet him face to
face.”

[Pg 196]Yet Gawaine did not escape, for Galahad came
at full career upon him, and gave him such a blow
that his helm was cleft, and so would his head
have been but that the sword slanted, and cut the
shoulder of his horse deeply.

Seeing Gawaine thus dealt with, Hector drew
back, not deeming it wise to meet such a champion,
nor the part of nature to fight with his
nephew. Galahad continued his onset till he had
beaten down all the knights opposed to him. Then,
seeing that none would face him, he turned and
rode away as he had come, none knowing whither
he, who had come upon them with the suddenness
of a thunder-clap, had gone.

“Lancelot du Lake told no less than the truth,”
declared Gawaine, bitterly, “when he said that, for
seeking to draw the sword from the stone, I would
get a sore wound from that same blade. In faith,
I would not for the best castle in the world have
had such a buffet.”

“Your quest is done, it seems,” said Hector.

“As for that, it was done before. You can still
seek the Sangreal if you will, but I shall seek my
bed; and I fear I shall stay there much longer than
I care to.”

Then he was borne into the castle, where a leech
was found for him, while Hector remained with
him, vowing he would not leave till his comrade
was well.

Meanwhile Galahad rode on, leaving many a
groan and more than one sore head behind him,
and at night reached a hermitage near the castle of
Carbonek. Here he was welcomed by the hermit;[Pg 197]
but late at night, when they were asleep, a loud
knock came on the door, which roused the host.
Going to see who knocked at that untimely hour,
he found a lady at the door, who said,—

“Ulfin, rouse the knight who is with you. I
must speak with him.”

This he did, and Galahad went to the door, and
asked her what she wished.

“Galahad,” she replied, “I am sent here to seek
you. You must arm and mount your horse at once,
and follow me. Within three days I shall bring
you to the greatest adventure that ever knight met.”

Without further question Galahad obeyed, and,
having commended himself to God, he bade his fair
guide to lead, and he would follow wherever she
wished.

Onward they rode during the remainder of the
night and the next day, till they came to a castle
not far from the sea, where Galahad was warmly
welcomed, for the damsel who guided him had been
sent by the lady of that castle.

“Madam,” said the damsel, “shall he stay here
all night?”

“No,” she replied; “only until he has dined,
and has slept a little. He must ride on until destiny
is accomplished.”

So at early nightfall Galahad was called and
helped to arm by torchlight. Then he and the
damsel again took horse, and rode on at speed till
they suddenly found themselves at the ocean’s brink,
with the waves breaking at their feet. And here lay
a ship covered with white samite, from which
manly voices cried,—

[Pg 198]“Welcome, Sir Galahad. We have long awaited
you. Come on board.”

“What means this?” asked Galahad of the damsel.
“Who are they that call?”

“No others than your friends and comrades,
Sir Bors and Sir Percivale. Here you must leave
your horse, and I mine, and both of us enter the
ship, for so God commands.”

This they did, taking their saddles and bridles
with them, and making on them the sign of the
cross. When they had entered the ship the two
knights received them with great joy. And as
they stood greeting each other the wind suddenly
rose and drove the ship from the land, forcing it
through the waves at a marvellous speed.

“Whence comes this ship?” asked Galahad.

Then Bors and Percivale told him of their adventures
and temptations, and by what miracles
they had been brought on board that vessel.

“Truly,” said Galahad, “God has aided you
marvellously. As for me, had it not been for the
lady who led me, I should never have found you.”

“If Lancelot, your father, were but here,” said
Bors, “then it would seem to me that we had all
that heart could wish.”

“That may not be,” answered Galahad, “unless
by the pleasure of our Lord.”

As they conversed the ship suddenly ran between
two rocks, where it held fast, but where they could
not land for the raging of the sea. But just before
them lay another ship, which they could reach
without danger.

Copyright 1901 by E. A. Abbey; from a Copely print copyright 1902 by Curtis and Cameron.

THE MAGIC SHIP.

“Thither we must go,” said the lady, “and there[Pg 199]
we shall find strange things, for such is the Lord’s
will.”

At this they approached the ship, and saw that
it was richly provided, but without man or woman
on board. And on its bow there was written in
large letters,—

“You who shall enter this ship, take heed of
your belief: for I am Faith, and bid you beware.
If you fail I shall not help you. He who enters
here must be of pure heart and earnest trust.”

They stood looking earnestly at one another after
having read these words.

“Percivale,” said the lady, “know you who I
am?”

“I do not,” he replied. “Have I ever seen you
before?”

“Know, then, that I am your sister, the daughter
of King Pellinore. I love no man on earth as
I do you. I warn you, therefore, not to enter this
ship unless you have perfect belief in our Lord
Jesus Christ, for if your faith fails you aught here
you shall perish.”

“Fair sister,” he replied, “happy am I, indeed,
to know you. As for the ship, I shall not fail to
enter it. If I prove an untrue knight or a misbeliever,
then let me perish.”

As they spoke, Galahad blessed himself and entered
the ship, and after him came the lady, and
then Bors and Percivale. On reaching the deck
they found it so marvellously fair and rich that
they stood in wonder. In the midst of the ship was
a noble bed; and when Galahad went thither he
found on it a crown of silk. Below this lay a[Pg 200]
sword, half drawn from its scabbard, the pommel
being of stone of many colors. The scales of the
haft were of the ribs of two beasts. One beast was
a serpent, known in Calidone as the serpent of the
fiend; and its bone had the magic virtue that the
hand which touched it should never be weary or
hurt. The other beast was a fish, that haunted
the flood of Euphrates, its name Ertanax; its bone
had the virtue that he who handled it should not
think on the joys and sorrows of his past life, but
only of that which he then beheld. And no man
could grasp this sword but the one who passed all
others in might and virtue.

“In the name of God,” said Percivale, “I shall
seek to handle it.”

But in vain he tried, he could not grasp the magic
hilt. No more could Bors, who attempted it in
his turn. Then Galahad approached, and as he
did so saw written on the sword in letters like
blood, “He who draweth me has peril to endure.
His body shall meet with shame, for he shall be
wounded to the death.”

“By my faith, the risk is too great,” said Galahad.
“I shall not set my hand to so fatal a blade.”

“That you must,” said the lady. “The drawing
of this sword is forbidden to all men, save you.
No one can draw back from that which destiny
commands.”

Then she told a marvellous story of that strange
blade.

“When this ship arrived in the realm of England,”
she said, “there was deadly war between
King Labor and King Hurlame, who was a christened[Pg 201]
Saracen. Here they fought one day by the
sea-side, and Hurlame was defeated and his men
slain. Then he fled into this ship, drew the sword
which he saw here, and with one stroke smote King
Labor and his horse in twain. But a fatal stroke
it proved, for with it there came harm and pestilence
to all this realm. Neither corn nor grass
would grow, fruit failed to ripen, the waters held
no fish, and men named this the waste land of the
two marches. Nor did King Hurlame escape.
When he saw the strange carving of the sword, a
craving came into his mind to possess the scabbard.
Entering the ship for that purpose, he thrust
the sword into the sheath; but no sooner had he
done so than he fell dead beside the bed. And
there his body lay till a maiden entered the ship
and cast it out, for no man could be found hardy
enough to set foot on that fatal deck.”

The three knights on hearing this looked earnestly
at the scabbard, which seemed to them made
of serpent’s skin, while on it was writing in letters
of gold and silver. But the girdle was poor and
mean, and ill suited to so rich a sword. The writing
was to this effect: “He who shall wield me
must be hardy of nature. Nor shall he ever be
shamed while he is girt with this girdle; which
must never be put away except by the hands of a
maiden and a king’s daughter. And she, if she
shall ever cease to be a maid, shall die the most
villanous death that woman ever endured.”

“Turn the sword,” said Percivale, “that we may
see what is on the other side.”

On doing so they found it red as blood, with[Pg 202]
coal-black letters, which said: “He that shall praise
me most shall find me most to fail him in time of
great need; and to whom I should be most fair shall
I prove most foul. Thus is it ordained.”

Then Percivale’s sister told them the history of
the sword, which was a very strange and admirable
thing to hear. More than once had it been drawn
in modern times; once by Nancien, who afterwards
became a hermit, and in whose hands the sword
fell in half, and sorely wounded him in the foot.
Afterwards it was drawn by King Pellam, and it
was for this boldness that he was destined to be
deeply wounded by the spear with which Balin
afterwards struck him.

The knights now observed the bed more closely,
and saw that above its head there hung two swords.
With them were three strange spindles, one of
which was white as snow, one red as blood, and one
as green as emerald. As they gazed at them with
curious wonder, the damsel told a strange story
of the surprising things they had gazed upon. And
thus her story ran.

When mother Eve gathered the fruit for which
Adam and she were put out of Paradise, she took
with her the bough on which the apple grew. As
it kept fair and green, and she had no coffer in
which to keep it, she thrust it in the earth, where,
by God’s will, it took root, and soon grew to a great
tree, whose branches and leaves were as white as
milk. But afterwards, at the time of Abel’s birth,
it became grass-green. It was under this tree that
Cain slew Abel, and then it quickly lost its green
color, and grew red as blood. So it lived and[Pg 203]
thrived, and was in full life when Solomon, the
wise king, came to the throne.

It came to pass that, as Solomon studied over
many things, and, above all, despised women in
his heart and in his writings, a voice came which
told him that of his line would be born the Virgin
Mary, the purest and noblest of human kind, and
that afterwards would come a man, the last of his
blood, as pure in mind as a young maiden, and as
good a knight as Joshua of Israel. This revelation
he told to his wife, who had questioned him as to
the reason of his deep study.

“Sir,” she said, “since this knight is to come, it
is our duty to prepare for him. Therefore, I shall
first have made a ship of the best and most durable
wood that man may find.”

This was done by Solomon’s command. When
the ship was built and ready to sail, she made a
covering for it of cloth of silk, of such quality
that no weather could rot it. And in the midst she
placed a great bed, of marvellously rich workmanship,
and covered with silk of the finest texture.

“Now, my dear lord,” she said to Solomon,
“since this last knight of your lineage is to pass
in valor and renown all other knights that have
been before or shall come after him, therefore I
counsel you to go into the Temple of the Lord,
where is the sword of the great King David, your
father, which is of magic temper and virtue. Take
off the pommel of this sword and make one of
precious stones, skilfully wrought. And make a
hilt and sheath of great richness and beauty. As
for the girdle, leave that to me to provide.”

[Pg 204]Solomon did as she advised, and she took the
sword and laid it in the bed; but when he looked
at it he grew angry, for the girdle was meanly
made of hemp.

“I have nothing,” she said, “fit to make a girdle
worthy of such a sword. But when the time comes
a maiden will change this for a girdle worthy of
him that is to wear it.”

This done, she went with a carpenter to the tree
under which Abel was slain.

“Carve me from this tree as much wood as will
make me a spindle,” she said.

“Ah, madam,” said he, “I dare not cut the tree
which our first mother planted.”

“Do as you are bidden,” she ordered. “Dare
not disobey me.”

But as he began to cut the tree drops of blood
flowed out. Then he would have fled, but she made
him cut sufficient to form a spindle. Next she
went to the green and the white trees, which had
grown from the roots of the other, and bade him
cut as much from each of these. From this wood
were three spindles wrought, which she hung up at
the head of the bed.

“You have done marvellously well,” said Solomon,
on seeing this. “Wonderful things, I deem,
shall come of all this, more than you yourself
dream of.”

“Some of these things you shall soon know,”
she answered.

That night Solomon lay near the ship, and as
he slept he dreamed. There came from heaven, as
it seemed to him, a great company of angels, who[Pg 205]
alighted in the ship, and took water that was
brought by an angel in a vessel of silver, and
sprinkled it everywhere. Then the angel came to
the sword and drew letters on the hilt, and on the
ship’s bow he wrote, “You who shall enter this ship
take heed of your belief,” and further as the knights
had read. When Solomon had read these words he
drew back, and dared not enter, and there soon
arose a wind which drove the ship far to sea, so
that it was quickly lost to sight. Then a low voice
said, “Solomon, the last knight of thy lineage shall
rest in this bed.” With this Solomon waked, and
lo! the ship was gone.

This was the story that the fair damsel, Percivale’s
sister, told to the knights, as they stood
curiously surveying the bed and the spindles. Then
one of them lifted a cloth that lay on the deck, and
under it found a purse, in which was a written
paper, telling the same strange story they had just
heard.

“The sword is here,” said Galahad; “but where
shall be found the maiden who is to make the new
girdle?”

“You need not seek far,” said Percivale’s sister.
“By God’s leave, I have been chosen to make that
girdle, and have it here.”

Then she opened a box which she had brought
with her, and took from it a girdle that was richly
wrought with golden threads and studded with
precious stones, while its buckle was of polished
gold.

“Lo, lords and knights,” she said, “here is the
destined girdle. The greater part of it was made[Pg 206]
of my hair, which I loved dearly when I was a
woman of the world. When I knew that I was set
aside for this high purpose, I cut off my hair and
wrought this girdle in God’s name.”

“Well have you done!” cried Bors. “Without
you we would have learned nothing of this high
emprise.”

Then the noble maiden removed the mean girdle
from the sword, and put upon it the rich one she
had brought, which became it wonderfully.

“By what name shall we call this sword?” they
now asked her.

“Its name is,” she answered, “the sword with
the strange girdle; and that of the sheath is, mover
of blood. But no man with blood in him shall
ever see the part of the sheath that was made of
the tree of life.”

Then she took the sword and girded it about Galahad,
fastening the golden buckle about his waist.

“Now reck I not though I die,” she said, “for
I hold that I am one of the world’s blessed maidens,
since it has been given to me to arm the worthiest
knight in the world.”

After this they left the magic ship at her bidding,
and entered the one in which they had come.
And immediately there rose a great wind which
blew their vessel from between the rocks, and carried
it afar over the sea.

[Pg 207]

CHAPTER VII.

HOW LANCELOT SAW THE SANGREAL.

The ship that bore the three knights and the
maiden came ashore at length near a castle in
Scotland, where they landed. From here they journeyed
far, while many were their adventures, all
of which tried their virtue and belonged to the quest
of the Sangreal. In them all the sword with the
strange girdle proved of such marvellous worth
that no men, were they a hundred in number, could
stand before it.

Finally they came to a castle which had the
strange custom that every maiden who passed that
way should yield a dish full of blood. When they
asked the reason of this dreadful custom, they were
told,—

“There is in this castle a lady to whom the
domain belongs, and who has lain for years sick of
a malady which no leech can cure. And a wise
man has said that she can only be cured if she have
a dish full of blood from a pure virgin and a king’s
daughter, with which to anoint her.”

“Fair knights,” said Percivale’s sister, “I alone
can aid the sick lady, who must die otherwise.”

“If you bleed as they demand, you may die,”
said Galahad. “Is not your life worth more than
hers?”

“This I answer,” said she. “If I yield not my
blood there will be mortal war between you and
the knights of the castle to-morrow, and many[Pg 208]
men must die that one woman may not bleed.
If I die to heal the sick lady I shall gain renown
and do God’s will, and surely one harm is better
than many. That you will fight for me to the
death, I know, but wherefore should you?”

Say what they would, she held to her will, and
the next morning bade the people of the castle
bring forth the sick lady. She lay in great pain
and suffering, and bent her eyes pleadingly on
the devoted maiden.

Then Percivale’s sister bared her arm, and bade
them bleed her. This they did till a silver dish
was filled with her life blood. Then she blessed
the lady, and said,—

“Madam, I have given my life for yours; for
God’s love, pray for me!” and she fell in a swoon.

Galahad and his fellows hastened to stanch the
blood, but it was too late, her life was ebbing
fast.

“Fair brother Percivale,” she said, “death is
upon me. But before I die I have this to tell you.
It is written that I shall not be buried in this
country. When I am dead, seek you the sea-shore
near by, and put my body in a boat, and let it go
where fortune bears it. But when you three arrive
at the city of Sarras, in Palestine, which you will
in God’s good time, you shall find me arrived
there before you. There bury me in consecrated
soil. This further I may say, that there the holy
Grail shall be achieved, and there shall Galahad
die and be buried in the same place.”

And as they stood there weeping beside her a
voice came to them, saying,—

[Pg 209]“Lords and comrades, to-morrow at sunrise you
three must depart, each taking his own way, and
you shall not meet again till adventure bring you
to the maimed king.”

After that all was done as had been foreseen
and desired. The maiden died, and the same day
the sick lady was healed, through the virtue of
her blood. Then Percivale wrote a letter telling
who she was and what things she had done. This
he put in her right hand, and laid her body in a
vessel that was covered with black silk. The wind
now arose and drove it far from the land, while
all stood watching it till it was out of sight.

Then they returned towards the castle. But suddenly
a tempest of wind, thunder, and rain broke
from the sky, so furious that the very earth seemed
to be torn up. And as they looked they saw the
turrets of the castle and part of its walls totter
and fall, and in a moment come crashing in ruin
to the earth.

That night they slept in a chapel, and in the
morning rode to the castle, to see how it had fared
in the storm. But when they reached it they found
it in ruins, while of all that had dwelt there not
one was left alive. All of them, man and woman
alike, had fallen victims to the vengeance of God.
And they heard a voice that said,—

“This vengeance is for the shedding of maidens’
blood.”

But at the end of the chapel was a church-yard
in which were threescore tombs, over which it
seemed no tempest had passed. And in these lay
all the maidens who had shed their blood and[Pg 210]
died martyrs for the sick lady’s sake. On these
were their names and lineage, and all were of
royal blood, and twelve of them kings’ daughters.

The knights turned away, marvelling much at
what they had seen and heard.

“Here we must part,” said Galahad. “Let us
pray that we may soon meet again.”

Then they kissed each other, and wept at the
parting, and each rode his own way into the forest
before them.

But we must now leave them and return to Lancelot,
whom we left sorely repentant of his sins.
After he departed from the hermitage he rode
through many lands and had divers adventures,
and in the end came to the sea-shore, beside which
he lay down and slept.

In his slumber, words came to his ear, saying,
“Lancelot, rise and take thine armor, and enter
into the first ship that thou shalt find.” On hearing
these words he started up, and saw that all
about him was strangely clear, the skies giving
out a light like that of midday. Then he blessed
himself, and took his arms, and advanced to the
strand, where he saw a ship without sails or oars.
This he entered, as he had been bidden, and when
he was within it his heart was filled with such joy
as he had never before known.

Naught had he ever thought of or desired but
what seemed come to him now, and in his gladness
he returned thanks fervently to the Lord.

“I know not what has happened to me,” he said,
“but such joy as I feel I never dreamed the human
heart could hold.”

[Pg 211]Then he lay down and slept on the ship’s deck,
and when he woke the night had passed and it
was broad day.

And in the ship he found a bed, whereon lay a
dead lady, with a letter in her right hand which
Lancelot read. From this he learned that the fair
corpse was that of Percivale’s sister, together with
many of the strange things that had happened to
her and the chosen knights.

For a month or more Lancelot abode in this ship,
driven about the seas, and sustained by no food,
but by the grace of the Holy Ghost, for he prayed
fervently for God’s aid night and morning.

At length came a night when the ship touched
the shore. Here he landed, being somewhat weary
of the deck. And as he stood on the strand he
heard a horse approach, and soon one rode by that
seemed a knight.

When he came to the ship he checked his horse
and alighted. Then, taking the saddle and bridle
from the horse, he turned it free and entered the
ship. Lancelot, in surprise, drew near.

“Fair knight,” he said, “I know not who you
are or why you come. But since you seek passage
on my ship you are welcome.”

The other saluted him in turn, and asked,—

“What is your name? I pray you, tell me, for
my heart warms strangely towards you.”

“My name is Lancelot du Lake.”

“Then are we well met indeed. You are my
father.”

“Ah! then you are Galahad?”

“Yes, truly,” and as he spoke he took off his[Pg 212]
helm, and kneeled, and asked his blessing.

Joyful indeed was that meeting, and gladly there
father and son communed, telling each other all
that had happened to them since they left the court.
When Galahad saw the dead maiden he knew her
well, and told his father the story of the sword,
at which he marvelled greatly.

“Truly, Galahad,” he said, “I never heard of
aught so strange, and can well believe you were
born for wondrous deeds.”

Afterwards for nearly half a year the father
and son dwelt together within that ship, serving
God day and night with prayer and praise. Now
they touched on peopled shores, and now on desert
islands where only wild beasts abode, and perilous
and strange adventures they met. But these we
shall not tell, since they had naught to do with the
Sangreal.

But at length came a Monday morning when
the ship touched shore at the edge of a forest, before
a cross, where they saw a knight armed all in
white, and leading a white horse. He saluted them
courteously, and said,—

“Galahad, you have been long enough with your
father. You must now leave the ship, and take
this horse, and ride whither destiny shall lead you
in the quest of the Sangreal.”

Hearing this command, Galahad kissed his father,
and bade him farewell, saying,—

“Dear father, I know not if we shall ever meet
again.”

“Then I bid you,” said Lancelot, “to pray to the
great Father that He hold me in His service.”

[Pg 213]There came in answer a mysterious voice that
spoke these words,—

“Think each to do well; for you shall never
see each other till the dreadful day of doom.”

This voice of destiny affected them greatly, and
they bade each other a tearful farewell, Lancelot
begging again the prayers of his son in his behalf.
Then Galahad mounted the white horse and rode
into the forest, while a wind arose which blew the
ship from shore, and for a month drove it up and
down the seas.

But at length came a night when it touched
shore on the rear side of a fair and stately castle.
Brightly shone the moon, and Lancelot saw an
open postern in which stood on guard two great
lions. As he looked he heard a voice.

“Lancelot,” it said, “leave this ship and enter
the castle. There shalt thou see a part of that
which thou desirest.”

Lancelot at this armed himself and went to the
gate, where the lions rose rampant against him.
With an instinct of fear he drew his sword, but
at that instant appeared a dwarf, who struck him
on the arm so sharply that the sword fell from
his hand.

“Oh, man of evil hope and weak belief,” came
the mysterious voice, “trust you more in your
armor than in your Maker? Does He who brought
you here need a sword for your protection?”

“Truly am I reproved,” said Lancelot. “Happy
am I to be held the Lord’s ward and servant.”

He took up his sword and put it in the sheath,
then made a cross on his forehead, and advanced[Pg 214]
to the lions, which raged and showed their teeth
as if ready to rend him in pieces. Yet with a bold
step and tranquil mien he passed between them
unhurt, and entered the castle.

Through it he went, room by room, passage by
passage, for every door stood wide and no living
being met him as he advanced. Finally he came
to a chamber whose door was closed, and which
yielded not to his hand when he sought to open
it. He tried again with all his force, but the door
resisted his strength.

Then he listened, and heard a voice that sang
more sweetly than he had ever heard. And the
words seemed to him to be, “Joy and honor be
to the Father of Heaven!”

Lancelot no longer sought to open the door, but
kneeled before it, feeling in his heart that the Sangreal
was within that chamber.

“Sweet Father Jesus,” he prayed, “if ever I
did aught in thy service, in pity forgive me my
sins, and show me something of that which I seek.”

As he prayed the door opened without hands,
and from the room came a light brighter than if
all the torches of the world had been there. He
rose in joy to enter, but the voice spoke sternly in
his ear,—

“Forbear, Lancelot, and seek not to enter here.
If you enter, you shall repent it dearly.”

Then he drew back hastily, and looked into the
chamber, where he saw a table of silver, on which
was the holy vessel covered with red samite, with
angels about it, one of which held a burning candle
of wax, and one a cross. And before the holy[Pg 215]
vessel stood a priest, who seemed to be serving the
mass. In front of the priest appeared to be three
men, two of whom put the youngest between the
priest’s hands, who held him up high as if to show
him. Yet so heavy seemed the figure that the
priest appeared ready to fall with weakness, and
with a sudden impulse Lancelot rushed into the
room, crying, “Fair Lord Jesus, hold it no sin that
I help the good man, who seems in utmost need.”

But as he rashly entered and came towards the
table of silver, a breath that seemed half fire smote
him so hotly in the face that he fell heavily to the
earth, and lay like one bereft of all his senses.
Then many hands seemed to take him up, and
bear him without the door, where he lay to all
seeming dead.

When morning dawned he was found there by
the people of the castle, who marvelled how he
got there, and could not be sure if he were dead
or alive. But they laid him in a bed, and watched
him closely, for days passed without signs of life
or death. At length, on the twenty-fifth day, he
gave a deep sigh, and opened his eyes, and gazed
in wonder on the people about him.

“Why have you wakened me?” he cried. “Why
left you me not to my blessed visions?”

“What have you seen?” they asked, eagerly.

“Such marvels as no tongue can tell nor ear
understand,” he said. “And more had I seen but
that my son was here before me. For God’s love,
gentlemen, tell me where I am.”

“Sir, you are in the castle of Carbonek.”

“I thank God of His great mercy for what I[Pg 216]
have seen,” he said. “Now may I leave the quest
of the Sangreal, for more of it shall I never see,
and few men living shall see so much.”

These words said, he arose and dressed in new
clothing that they brought him, and stood in his
old strength and beauty before the people.

“Sir Lancelot!” they cried, “is it you?”

“Truly so,” he answered.

Then word was brought to King Pellam, the
maimed king, who now dwelt in that castle, that
the knight who had lain so long between death
and life was Lancelot. Glad was the king to hear
this, and he bade them bring Lancelot to him.

“Long has my daughter Elaine been dead,” he
said. “But happy she lived in having been loved
by you, and in the grace of her noble son Galahad.”

“I was but cold to her,” answered Lancelot,
“for she was a lovable lady. But in truth I have
been held from love and life’s delights, for my
fate has not been my own to control.”

For four days he abode at the castle, and then
took his armor and horse, saying that now his
quest of the Sangreal was done, and duty bade
him return to Camelot.

Back through many realms he rode, and in time
came to the abbey where Galahad had won the
white shield. Here he spent the night, and the
next day rode into Camelot, where he was received
with untold joy by Arthur and the queen.

For of the Knights of the Round Table who
had set out on that perilous quest more than half
had perished, and small was the tale of that gallant
fellowship that could now be mustered. So the
coming of Lancelot filled all hearts with joy.

Great was the marvel of the king when Lancelot
told him of what he had seen and done, and of the
adventures of Galahad, Percivale, and Bors.

“God send that they were all here again,” said
the king.

“That shall never be,” said Lancelot. “One
of them shall come again, but two you shall never
see.”

From the painting by George Frederick Watts.

SIR GALAHAD’S QUEST OF THE HOLY GRAIL.

[Pg 217]

CHAPTER VIII.

THE DEEDS OF THE THREE CHOSEN KNIGHTS.

After Galahad left the ship and his father Lancelot,
he rode far and had many adventures, righting
many wrongs and achieving many marvels.
Among these he came to the abbey where was the
ancient King Evelake, who had laid blind three
hundred years, as we have elsewhere told.

The old king knew well that his deliverance
had come, and begged to be embraced by the pious
youth. No sooner had he been clasped in his
arms than his sight returned, and his flesh grew
whole and young.

“Now, sweet Saviour, my destiny is fulfilled;
receive thou my soul,” he prayed.

As he said these words the soul left his body,
and the miracle of his fate was achieved.

Many days after this Galahad met Percivale,[Pg 218]
and soon the two came upon Bors, as he rode out
of a great forest, that extended many days’ journey
through the land.

And so they rode in glad companionship, with
many a tale of marvel to tell, till in time they
came to the castle of Carbonek, where they were
gladly received, for those in the castle knew that
the quest of the Sangreal was now wellnigh
achieved.

When evening approached, and the table for
supper was set, the mysterious voice that so often
had guided these knights spoke again.

“They that are not worthy to sit at the table
of Jesus Christ arise,” it said; “for now shall the
worthiest be fed.”

Then all arose save Eliazar, the son of King
Pellam, and a maid who was his niece, and the
three knights. But as they sat at supper nine
other knights, in full armor, entered at the hall
door, and took off their helmets and armor, and
said to Galahad,—

“Sir, we have come far and in haste to be with
you at this table, where the holy meat shall be
served.”

“If you are worthy, you are welcome,” said
Galahad. “Whence come you?”

Three of them answered that they were from
Gaul, three from Ireland, and three from Denmark,
and that they had come thither at the bidding
of the strange voice.

So they all sat at table. But ere they began to
eat, four gentlewomen bore into the hall a bed,
whereon lay a man sick, with a crown of gold on
his head. Setting him down, they went away.

[Pg 219]“Galahad, holy knight, you are welcome,” said
he who lay in the bed, raising his head feebly.
“Long have I waited your coming, in pain and
anguish, since Balin, the good knight, struck me
the dolorous stroke. To you I look for aid and
release from my long suffering.”

Then spoke the voice again: “There be those
here who are not in the quest of the Sangreal;
let them depart.” And the son and niece of the
king rose and left the room.

Then there came suddenly four angels, and a
man who bore a cross and wore the dress of a bishop,
whom the angels placed in a chair before the silver
table of the Sangreal. In his forehead were letters
which said, “This is Joseph, the first bishop of
Christendom.”

Next opened the chamber door, and angels entered,
two bearing wax candles, the third a towel,
and the fourth a spear that bled, the blood drops
falling into a silver vessel which he held in his
other hand. The candles were set on the table,
the towel spread upon the vessel, and the spear set
upright on this.

The bishop then said mass, at which other
strange signs were seen; for a figure like a child,
with a face that shone like flame, entered into the
bread of the sacrament. Then the bishop kissed
Galahad, and bade him kiss his fellows. This
done, he said,—

“Servants of Jesus Christ, ye shall here be fed
on such meats as never knights tasted;” and with
these words he vanished.

But as they knelt in prayer before the table,[Pg 220]
they saw come out of the holy vessel a man who
bore all the signs of the passion of Jesus Christ.
And he took up the vessel and bore it to Galahad
and to the other knights, who kneeled to receive the
sacrament; and so sweet was it that their hearts
marvelled and were filled with joy.

“Now have you tasted of Christ’s own food,” he
said, “and seen what you highly and holily desired.
But more openly shall you see it in the city of
Sarras, in the spiritual place. Therefore you must
go hence, for this night the holy vessel will leave
this realm, and will never more be seen here. To-morrow
you three shall go to the sea, where a ship
awaits you; and you must take with you the sword
with the strange girdle.”

“Shall not these good knights go also?” asked
Galahad.

“Not so. They have seen all that is fitting to
them. As for you, two of you shall die in my
service, and the third shall return and tell what
he has seen.”

Then he gave them his blessing, and vanished
from out their midst.

When they had somewhat recovered from the
weight of these marvels, Galahad went to the spear
that lay on the table, and touched the blood with
his fingers, and with it anointed the wounds of the
maimed king. And at this touch he started up
whole and strong, thanking God fervently for his
healing.

But he went not into the world again, but to a
monastery of white monks, where he became a man
of holy renown.

[Pg 221]At midnight came a voice to the nine knights,
which said,—

“My sons, and not my chieftains; my friends,
and not my warriors; go ye hence, and do well what
comes to you, in my service.”

“Lord,” they replied, “wilt thou vouchsafe also
to call us thy sinners? Thy servants we shall be
henceforth.”

And they arose, armed, and departed, bidding
a solemn adieu to the three knights. When morning
dawned these three rose also, and rode till they
came to the sea. Here awaited them the ship wherein
they had found the sword and the three magic
spindles, and to their wonder and delight they
beheld in its midst the table of silver and the
Sangreal, which was covered with red samite.

It was a joyous company that sailed over the sea
in that magical ship, and at the wish of his comrades
Galahad slept in the bed where the sword
had lain, and Bors and Percivale on the deck
beside him.

And so they went by day and by night, and at
length came to the city of Sarras. Here, as they
would have landed, they saw beside them, just
come to shore, the ship that bore the corpse of
Percivale’s sister, and this as fair and as fresh as
when first placed within it.

Then they took up the silver table and bore it
to the city, at whose gate sat an old and crooked
cripple.

“Come hither, and help us carry this heavy
thing,” said Galahad.

“How shall I do that? I have not gone for ten
years without crutches.”

[Pg 222]“No matter for that. Show your good will by
trying.”

Then the cripple rose and took hold, and in
that instant he was whole and strong, and helped
them bear the table to the palace. This done, they
returned, and bore to the palace the corpse of
Percivale’s sister, which they placed in a rich tomb,
suited to a king’s daughter.

Meanwhile the report had spread through the
city that a cripple had been made whole by three
strange knights, and people flocked to see them.

When the king of the city saw and heard all
this, he came to the knights and asked them who
they were, and what it was they had brought into
his realm.

Galahad answered him, telling of the marvel
of the Sangreal, and of God’s power and grace
therein.

But the king, Estorause, a tyrant in will and a
pagan in faith, heard this with wrath and unbelief,
and ordered the knights to be put in prison
as spies and felons.

For a whole year they lay thus in prison, yet
were always kept whole and in good spirits; for
the holy Sangreal came to them in their dungeons,
and filled their souls with joy. When the year
ended, Estorause grew sick unto death, and in
remorse sent for the imprisoned knights, whose
pardon and forgiveness he fervently begged. This
they gave him, and he straightway died.

His death threw the city into dismay, for he
had left no successor to the throne. But as the
lords sat in council there came a voice that bade[Pg 223]
them choose the youngest of the three knights for
their king. This mysterious behest was told to the
citizens, and with one acclaim they hailed it as
God’s will, and demanded Galahad as their king.

Thereupon he became king of Sarras, though it
was not his wish; but he felt it to be God’s command.
And when he came to the throne he had
constructed a chest of gold and precious stones, in
which was placed the table of silver with the holy
vessel, and before this the three knights kneeled
and prayed daily with fervent zeal.

And so time rolled on till came the day that was
the anniversary of that in which Galahad had
taken the crown. On this morning he rose betimes,
and before the holy vessel he saw a man dressed
like a bishop, while round about him was a great
fellowship of angels.

“Come forth, thou servant of Jesus Christ, and
thou shalt see what thou hast so much desired,”
said the bishop.

Then Galahad began to tremble, his flesh quaking
in the presence of things spiritual. And he
held his hands up towards heaven, saying,—

“Lord, I thank thee, for now my desire is fulfilled.
And if it be thy will that I should come
to thee, I wish no longer to live.”

“I am Joseph of Arimathea,” said the strange
presence, “and am sent by the Lord to bear thee
fellowship. Thou resemblest me in two things;
for thou hast seen the highest marvel of the Sangreal,
and are pure of heart and of body. Now
say farewell to thy comrades, for thy time is come
to depart.”

[Pg 224]Galahad thereupon went to Percivale and Bors,
and kissed them, and commended them to God,
saying to Bors,—

“Fair friend, who art destined to return to our
native realm, salute for me my lord and father
Lancelot, and bid him remember the evils of this
unstable world, and bear in mind the duty he has
been taught.”

Then he kneeled before the table and prayed
fervently, and suddenly his soul departed from his
body, a multitude of angels bearing it visibly upward
toward heaven, in full view of his late comrades.
Also they saw come from heaven a hand,
with no body visible, and take up the holy vessel and
the spear, and bear them to heaven. And from
that moment no man ever saw on earth again the
blessed Sangreal.

Afterwards Galahad’s body was buried with great
honor, and with many tears from his two fellows
and from the people whom he had governed. Then
Percivale betook him to a hermitage, and entered
upon a religious life; while Bors stayed with him,
but in secular clothing, for it was his purpose to
return to England.

For a year and two months Percivale lived thus
the holy life of a hermit, and then he passed out of
this world, and was buried by Bors—who mourned
him as deeply as ever man was mourned—beside
his sister and Galahad. This pious office performed,
Sir Bors, the last of the three chosen knights, felt
that his duty in that land was at an end, and
thereupon took ship at the city of Sarras and sailed
for the realm of England, where he in good season[Pg 225]
arrived. Here he took horse and rode in all haste
to Camelot, where King Arthur and the court then
were, and where he was received with the greatest
joy and wonder, for so long had it been since any
man there had set eyes on him, that all believed him
to be dead.

But greater than their wonder was their admiration
when the returned knight told the story of
miracle and adventure which had befallen him and
his two comrades, and the pious maid, Percivale’s
sister, and of the holy life and death of Galahad
and Percivale. This marvellous narrative the king
had told again to skilled clerks, that they might
put upon record the wonderful deeds of these good
knights. And it was all written down in great
books, which were put in safe keeping at Salisbury.

Bors then gave to Lancelot the message which
his son had sent him, and Lancelot took him in his
arms, saying, “Gentle cousin, gladly do I welcome
you again. Never while we live shall we part, but
shall ever be true friends and brothers while life
may last to us.”

And thus came to an end the marvellous and
unparalleled adventure of the Holy Grail.

SALISBURY CATHEDRAL.

[Pg 226]

BOOK X.

THE LOVE OF LANCELOT AND GUENEVER.

CHAPTER I.

THE POISONING OF SIR PATRISE.

After the quest of the Sangreal was ended, and
all the knights who were left alive had come again
to Camelot, there was great joy in the court, with
feasts and merrymakings, that this fortunate remnant
might find a glad welcome. Above all, King
Arthur and Queen Guenever were full of joy in
the return of Lancelot and Bors, both from the
love they bore them and the special honor they
had gained in the quest.

But, as is man’s way, holy thoughts vanished
with the holy task that gave them rise, the knights
went back to their old fashions and frailties, and
in Lancelot’s heart his earthly love for the queen
soon rose again, and his love of heaven and holy
thoughts grew dim as the days went by. Alas that
it should have been so! for such an unholy passion
could but lead to harm. To fatal ills, indeed, it
led, and to the end of Arthur’s reign and of the
worshipful fellowship of the Table Round, as it is
our sorrowful duty now to tell.

All this began in the scandal that was raised
in the court by the close companionship between[Pg 227]
Lancelot and the queen. Whisper of this secret
talk at length came to that good knight’s ears, and
he withdrew from Queen Guenever as much as he
could, giving himself to the society of other ladies
of the court, with design to overcome the evil activity
of slanderous tongues.

This withdrawal filled the queen with jealous
anger, and she accused him bitterly of coldness in
his love.

“Madam,” said Lancelot, “only that love for
you clung desperately to my heart, and drove out
heavenly thoughts, I should have gained as great
honor in the quest of the Sangreal as even my son
Galahad. My love is still yours, but I fear to show
it, for there are those of the court who love me not,
such as Agravaine and Mordred, and these evil-thinking
knights are spreading vile reports wherever
they may. It is for this I make show of delight
in other ladies’ society, to cheat the bitter tongue
of slander.”

To this the queen listened with heaving breast
and burning cheek. But at the end she burst into
bitter tears and sobs, and wept so long that Lancelot
stood in dismay. When she could speak, she
called him recreant and false, declared she should
never love him more, and bade him leave the court,
and on pain of his head never come near her again.