The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Story of the Champions of the Round
Table, Written and Illustrated by Howard Pyle

The Story of the Champions of the Round Table Written and Illustrated by HOWARD PYLE. Foreward Table of Contents List of Illustrations

n 1902 the distinguished American artist Howard Pyle undertook to retell and illustrate the legend of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. His four-volume work has long been considered one of the outstanding interpretations of the Arthur cycle. The Story of the Champions of the Round Table, the second of Pyle's volumes, was originally published in 1905. Reissued now, identical in format to the original volume, with Pyle's superb illustrations and decorations, it is destined to reach new generations of readers. The Story of the Champions of the Round Table recounts the full and moving saga of three of Arthur's famous knights: Percival, Tristram, and Launcelot of the Lake. "The period in which Howard Pyle did his work frequently has been spoken of as that Golden Age in children's literature that was to last for the decade to follow. It is difficult to do justice to his contribution to the shining quality of that era. The magnitude and diversity of his work eludes definition. Creative artist and born storyteller, each aspect of his twofold genius enriched and interpreted the other." --Elizabeth Nesbitt, in A Critical History of Children's Literature

In a book which was written by me aforetime, and which was set forth
in print, I therein told much of the history of King Arthur; of how he manifested
his royalty in the achievement of that wonderful magic sword which he drew
forth out of the anvil; of how he established his royalty; of how he found
a splendid sword yclept Excalibur in a miraculously wonderful manner; of how
he won the most beautiful lady in the world for his queen; and of how he established
the famous Round Table of noble worthy knights, the like of whose prowess
the world hath never seen, and will not be likely ever to behold again.

Also I told in that book the adventures of certain worthy knights and
likewise how the magician Merlin was betrayed to his undoing by a sorceress
hight Vivien.

Now, if you took any joy in reading that book, I have great hope that
that which follows may be every whit as pleasing to you; for I shall hereinafter
have to do with the adventures of certain other worthies with whom you may
have already become acquainted through my book and otherwise; and likewise
of the adventures of certain other worthies, of whom you have not yet been
told by me.

More especially, I believe, you will find entertainment in what I shall
have to tell you of the adventures of that great knight who was altogether
the most noble of spirit, and the most beautiful, and the bravest of heart,
of any knight who ever lived--excepting only his own son, Galahad, who was
the crowning glory of his house and of his name and of the reign of King Arthur.

However, if Sir Launcelot of the Lake failed now and then in his behavior,
who is there in the world shall say, "I never fell into error"? And if he
more than once offended, who is there shall have hardihood to say, "I never
committed offence"?

Yea, that which maketh Launcelot so singularly dear to all the world,
is that he was not different from other men, but like other men, both in his
virtues and his shortcomings; only that he was more strong and more brave
and more untiring than those of us who are his brethren, both in our endeavors
and in our failures.

THE STORY OF SIR LAUNCELOT
Chapter First How Sir Launcelot Came Forth From the Enchanted Castle of the Lake and Entered Into the World Again, and How King Arthur Made Him Knight	Chapter Second How Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel Rode Forth Errant Together and How Sir Lionel Met Sir Turquine to His Great Dole. Also How Sir Ector Grieved for the Departure of His Brother Launcelot and So, Following Him, Fell into a Very Sorry Adventure
Chapter Third How Sir Launcelot was Found in a Sleep by Queen Morgana le Fay and Three Other Queens who were with Her, and How He was Taken to a Castle of Queen Morgana's and of What Befell Him There	Chapter Fourth How Sir Launcelot Sought Sir Lionel and How a Young Damsel Brought Him to the Greatest Battle that Ever He Had in All His Life
Chapter Fifth How Sir Launcelot Went Upon an Adventure with the Damsel Croisette as Companion, and How He Overcame Sir Peris of the Forest Sauvage	Chapter Sixth How Sir Launcelot Took Part in the Tournament Between King Bagdemagus and the King of North Wales, and How He Won that Battle for King Bagdemagus
Chapter Seventh How Sir Launcelot Fell Into the Greatest Peril that Ever He Encountered in all His Life. Also How He Freed a Misfortunate Castle and Town From the Giants Who Held Them, and How He Released the Lord Thereof From a Dungeon	Chapter Eighth How Sir Launcelot Rescued Sir Kay From a Perilous Pass Also How He Changed Armor with Sir Kay and what Befell

THE BOOK OF SIR TRISTRAM
Part I The Story of Sir Tristram and the Lady Belle Isoult
Chapter First How the new Queen of Lyonesse sought Tristram's life; how he went to France, and how he Returned again to Lyonesse and was Received With Love at that Place	Chapter Second How Sir Tristram was made Knight by the King of Cornwall, and how he Fought a Battle with a Famous Champion
Chapter Third How Sir Tristram went to Ireland to be healed of his Wound by the King's Daughter of Ireland, and of how he came to love the Lady Belle Isoult. Also concerning Sir Palamydes and the Lady Belle Isoult	Chapter Fourth How Sir Tristram encountered Sir Palamydes at the Tournament and of what befell. Also how Sir Tristram was Forced to leave the Kingdom of Ireland
Chapter Fifth How Sir Tristram was sent by Command of King Mark to go to Ireland to Bring the Lady the Belle Isoult from Ireland to Cornwall and how it fared with him	Chapter Sixth How Sir Tristram had to do in Battle with Three Knights of the Round Table. Also how he had Speech with King Arthur
Chapter Seventh How Sir Tristram had Speech with King Angus of Ireland; how he Undertook to Champion the Cause of King Angus and of what Happened Thereafter
Part II The Story of Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorack
Chapter First How Sir Lamorack of Gales came to Tintagel and how he and Sir Tristram Sware Friendship Together in the Forest	Chapter Second How Sir Tristram Started to go to Camelot, and how he Stayed by the Way to do Battle with Sir Nabon le Noir
Chapter Third How Sir Tristram did justice in the island, and Thereby Released Sir Lamorack from Captivity. Also how Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorack Renewed their Great Tenderness Toward one another
Part III The Madness Of Sir Tristram
Chapter First How Sir Tristram was Discovered with the Lady Belle Isoult; how he Assaulted King Mark, and how he Escaped from Tintagel into the Forest	Chapter Second How Sir Tristram got him a Sword from Sir Kay, and how he Slew Therewith a Huge Knight in the Forest and Rescued a Lady in very Great Distress. Also how Sir Launcelot found Sir Tristram in the Forest and Brought him Thence to Tintagel again
Chapter Third How Sir Tristram was Discovered at Tintagel and of what Befell Thereby	Chapter Fourth How Sir Tristram and the Lady Belle Isoult Returned to Cornwall, and how they Ended their Days Together

THE BOOK OF SIR PERCIVAL
Chapter First How Percival Departed into the World and how he Found a Fair Damsel in a Pavilion; likewise how he came before Queen Guinevere and how he Undertook his First Adventure	Chapter Second How Sir Percival was made Knight by King Arthur; how he rode Forth with Sir Lamorack and how he Left Sir Lamorack in quest of Adventure upon his own Account; likewise how a Great Knight Taught him craft in Arms
Chapter Third How Sir Percival met two Strange People in the Forest, and how he Succored a Knight who was in very Great Sorrow and Dole	Chapter Fourth How Sir Percival Undertook the Adventure of the Castle of Beaurepaire and how he Fared Therein after Several Excellent Adventures
Chapter Fifth How Sir Percival Repaid Sir Kay the Buffet he one time gave Yelande the Dumb Maiden, and how, Thereafter, he went Forth to Seek his own Lady of Love
CONCLUSION

Head Piece--Foreward Tail Piece--Foreward Head Piece--Table of Contents Tail Piece--Table of Contents Head Piece--List of Illustrations Tail Piece--List of Illustrations Head Piece--Prologue The Lady Nymue beareth away Launcelot into the Lake Tail Piece--Prologue Sir Launcelot of the Lake Head Piece--The Story of Launcelot Sir Launcelot greets Queen Guinevere Sir Lionel of Britain Queen Morgana appears unto Sir Launcelot Sir Launcelot doeth battle with Sir Turquine Sir Launcelot sits with Sir Hilaire and Croisette Sir Launcelot and Elouise the Fair Sir Launcelot climbs to catch the lady's falcon Sir Launcelot takes the armor of Sir Kay Tail Piece--The Story of Launcelot Sir Tristram of Lyonesse Head Piece--Prologue Tail Piece--Prologue The Lady Belle Isoult

Head Piece--The Story of Sir Tristram and the Lady Belle Isoult Tristram succors the Lady Moeya King Mark of Cornwall The Queen of Ireland seeks to slay Sir Tristram Sir Tristram harpeth before King Mark Sir Tristram sits with Sir Launcelot Belle Isoult and Sir Tristram drink the love draught Tail Piece--The Story of Sir Tristram and the Lady Belle Isoult Sir Lamorack of Gales Head Piece--The Story of Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorack Sir Tristram cometh to ye castle of Sir Nabon Sir Lamorack herds the swine of Sir Nabon Tail Piece--The Story of Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorack Head Piece--The Madness of Sir Tristram Sir Tristram assaults King Mark Sir Kay and the Forest Madman Sir Tristram leaps into ye Sea King Mark broods mischief Tail Piece--The Madness of Sir Tristram Sir Percival of Gales Head Piece--Prologue The Lady Yvette the Fair Sir Percival and Sir Lamorack ride together Sir Percival overcometh ye Enchantress Vivien The Demoiselle Blanchefleur Sir Kay interrupts ye meditations of Sir Percival Tail Piece--The Book of Sir Percival

It hath already been set forth in print in a volume written by me concerning
the adventures of King Arthur when he first became king, how there were certain
lesser kings who favored him and were friendly allies with him, and how there
were certain others of the same sort who were his enemies.

Among those who were his friends was King Ban of Benwick, who was an exceedingly
noble lord of high estate and great honor, and who was of a lineage so exalted
that it is not likely that there was anyone in the world who was of a higher
strain.

Of King Ban and his misfortunes.

Now, upon a certain time, King Ban of Benwick fell into great trouble; for
there came against him a very powerful enemy, to wit, King Claudas of Scotland.
King Claudas brought unto Benwick a huge army of knights and lords, and these
sat down before the Castle of Trible with intent to take that strong fortress
and destroy it.

This noble Castle of Trible was the chiefest and the strongest place of
defence in all King Ban's dominions, wherefore he had intrenched himself there
with all of his knights and with his Queen, hight Helen, and his youngest
son, hight Launcelot.

Now this child, Launcelot, was dearer to Queen Helen than all the world
besides, for he was not only large of limb but so extraordinarily beautiful
of face that I do not believe an angel from Paradise could have been more
beautiful than he. He had been born with a singular birth-mark upon his shoulder,
which birth-mark had the appearance as of a golden star enstamped upon the
skin; wherefore, because of this, the Queen would say: "Launcelot, by reason
of that star upon thy shoulder I believe that thou shalt be the star of our
house and that thou shalt shine with such remarkable glory that all the world
shall behold thy lustre and shall marvel thereat for all time to come." So
the Queen took extraordinary delight in Launcelot and loved him to the very
core of her heart--albeit she knew not, at the time she spake, how that prophecy
of hers concerning the star was to fall so perfectly true.

Now, though King Ban thought himself very well defended at his Castle of
Trible, yet King Claudas brought so terribly big an army against that place
that it covered the entire plain. A great many battles were fought under the
walls of the castle, but ever King Claudas waxed greater and stronger, and
King Ban's party grew weaker and more fearful.

King Ban bethinks him of King Arthur.

So by and by things came to such a pass that King Ban bethought him of King
Arthur, and he said to himself: "I will go to my lord the King and beseech
help and aid from him, for he will certainly give it me. Nor will I trust
any messenger in this affair other than myself; for I myself will go to King
Arthur and will speak to him with my own lips."

Having thus bethought him, he sent for Queen Helen to come into his privy
closet and he said to her: "My dear love, nothing remaineth for me but to
go unto the court of King Arthur and beseech him to lend his powerful aid
in this extremity of our misfortunes; nor will I trust any messenger in this
affair but myself. Now, this castle is no place for thee, when I am away,
therefore, when I go upon this business, I will take thee and Launcelot with
me, and I will leave you both in safety at King Arthur's court with our other
son, Sir Ector, until this war be ended and done." And to these Queen Helen
lent her assent.

So King Ban summoned to him the seneschal of the castle, who was named Sir
Malydor le Brun, and said to him: "Messire, I go hence to-night by a secret
pass, with intent to betake me unto King Arthur, and to beseech his aid in
this extremity. Moreover, I shall take with me my lady and the young child
Launcelot, to place them within the care of King Arthur during these dolorous
wars. But besides these, I will take no other one with me but only my favorite
esquire, Foliot. Now I charge thee, sir, to hold this castle in my behalf
with all thy might and main, and yield it not to our enemies upon any extremity;
for I believe I shall in a little while return with sufficient aid from King
Arthur to compass the relief of this place."

King Ban with Queen Helen and Launcelot escape from Trible.

So when night had fallen very dark and still, King Ban, and Queen Helen,
and the young child Launcelot, and the esquire Foliot left the town privily
by means of a postern gate. Thence they went by a secret path, known only
to a very few, that led down a steep declivity of rocks, with walls of rock
upon either side that were very high indeed, and so they came out in safety
beyond the army of King Claudas and into the forest of the valley below. And
the forest lay very still and solemn and dark in the silence of the nighttime.

Having thus come out in safety into the forest, that small party journeyed
on with all celerity that they were able to achieve until, some little time
before dawn, they came to where was a lake of water in an open meadow of the
forest. Here they rested for a little while, for Queen Helen had fallen very
weary with the rough and hasty journey which they had traveled.

Foliot seeth a light.

Now whilst they sat there resting, Foliot spake of a sudden, saying unto
King Ban: "Lord, what is that light that maketh the sky so bright yonder-ways?"
Then King Ban looked a little and presently said: "Methinks it must be the
dawn that is breaking." "Lord," quoth Foliot, "that cannot very well be; for
that light in the sky lieth in the south, whence we have come, and not in
the east, where the sun should arise."

Then King Ban's heart misgave him, and his soul was shaken with a great
trouble. "Foliot," he said, "I believe that you speak sooth and that that
light bodes very ill for us all." Then he said: "Stay here for a little and
I will go and discover what that light may be." Therewith he mounted his horse
and rode away in the darkness.

King Ban beholdeth the burning of Trible.

Now there was a very high hill near-by where they were, and upon the top
of the hill was an open platform of rock whence a man could see a great way
off in every direction. So King Ban went to this place, and, when he had come
there, he cast his eyes in the direction of the light and he straightway beheld
with a manner of terror that the light came from Trible; and then, with that
terror still growing greater at his heart, he beheld that the town and the
castle were all in one great flame of fire.

When King Ban saw this he sat for a while upon his horse like one turned
into a stone. Then, after a while, he cried out in a great voice: "Woe! Woe!
Woe is me!" And then he cried out still in a very loud voice, "Certes, God
hath deserted me entirely."

The death of King Ban.

Therewith a great passion of grief took hold upon him and shook him like
to a leaf, and immediately after that he felt that something brake within
him with a very sharp and bitter pain, and he wist that it was his heart that
had broken. So being all alone there upon the hilltop, and in the perfect
stillness of the night, he cried out, "My heart! My heart!" And therewith,
the shadows of death coming upon him, he could not sit any longer upon his
horse, but fell down upon the ground. And he knew very well that death was
nigh him, so, having no cross to pray upon, he took two blades of grass and
twisted them into that holy sign, and he kissed it and prayed unto it that
God would forgive him his sins. So he died all alone upon that hilltop.

Meanwhile, Queen Helen and Foliot sat together waiting for him to return
and presently they heard the sound of his horse's hoofs coming down that rocky
path. Then Queen Helen said: "Foliot, methinks my lord cometh." So in a little
came the horse with the empty saddle. When Foliot beheld that he said: "Lady,
here meseems is great trouble come to us, for methinks something hath befallen
my lord, and that he is in sore travail, for here is his horse without him."

Then it seemed to Queen Helen as though the spirit of life suddenly went
away from her, for she foresaw what had befallen. So she arose like one in
a dream, and, speaking very quietly, she said: "Foliot, take me whither my
lord went awhile since!" To this Foliot said: "Lady, wait until the morning,
which is near at hand, for it is too dark for you to go thitherward at this
present." Whereunto the Lady Helen replied: "Foliot, I cannot wait, for if
I stay here and wait I believe I shall go mad." Upon this, Foliot did not
try to persuade her any more but made ready to take her whither she would
go.

Now the young child Launcelot was then asleep upon the Queen's knees, wherefore
she took her cloak and wrapped the child in it and laid him very gently upon
the ground, so that he did not wake. Then she mounted upon her palfrey and
Foliot led the palfrey up the hill whither King Ban had gone a short time
since.

The Lady Helen findeth the King.

When they came to that place of open rocks above told of, they found King
Ban lying very quiet and still upon the ground and with a countenance of great
peace. For I believe of a surety that God had forgiven him all his sins, and
he would now suffer no more because of the cares and the troubles of this
life. Thus Queen Helen found him, and finding him she made no moan or outcry
of any kind, only she looked for a long while into his dead face, which she
could see very plainly now, because that the dawn had already broken. And
by and by she said: "Dear Lord, thou art at this time in a happier case than
I." And by and by she said to Foliot: "Go and bring his horse to this place,
that we may bear him hence." "Lady," said Foliot, "it is not good for you
to be left here alone." "Foliot," said the Queen, "thou dost not know how
much alone I am; thy leaving me here cannot make me more alone." Therewith
she fell to weeping with great passion.

Then Foliot wept also in great measure and, still weeping like rain, he
went away and left her. When he came again with King Ban's horse the sun had
risen and all the birds were singing with great jubilation and everything
was so blithe and gay that no one could have believed that care and trouble
could dwell in a world that was so beautiful.

The Lady Helen bringeth her dead down from the Mountain.

So Queen Helen and Foliot lifted the dead king to his horse and then the
Queen said: "Come thou, Foliot, at thine own gait, and I will go ahead and
seek my child, for I have yet Launcelot to be my joy. Haply he will be needing
me at this moment." So the Queen made haste down the steep hill ahead of Foliot
and by and by she came to the margin of that little lake where they had rested
awhile since.

By now the sun had risen very strong and warm so that all the lake, and
the meadows circumadjacent, and the forest that stood around about that meadow
were illumined with the glory of his effulgence.

Now as Queen Helen entered that meadow she beheld that a very wonderful
lady was there, and this lady bare the child Launcelot in her arms. And the
lady sang to Launcelot, and the young child looked up into her face and laughed
and set his hand against her cheek. All this Queen Helen beheld; and she likewise
beheld that the lady was of a very extraordinary appearance, being clad altogether
in green that glistered and shone with a wonderful brightness. And she beheld
that around the neck of the lady was a necklace of gold, inset with opal stones
and emeralds; and she perceived that the lady's face was like ivory--very
white and clear--and that her eyes, which were very bright, shone like jewels
set into ivory. And she saw that the lady was very wonderfully beautiful,
so that the beholder, looking upon her, felt a manner of fear--for that lady
was Fay.

(And that lady was the Lady of the Lake, spoken of aforetime in the Book
of King Arthur, wherein it is told how she aided King Arthur to obtain that
wonderful, famous sword yclept Excalibur, and how she aided Sir Pellias, the
Gentle Knight, in the time of his extremity, and took him into the lake with
her. Also divers other things concerning her are told of therein.)

Then the Queen came near to where the lady was, and she said to her,

"Lady, I pray you give me my child again!" Upon this the Lady of the Lake
smiled very strangely and said: "Thou shalt have thy child again, lady, but
not now; after a little thou shalt have him again." Then Queen Helen cried
out with great agony of passion: "Lady, would you take my child from me? Give
him to me again, for he is all I have left in the world. Lo, I have lost house
and lands and husband, and all the other joys that life has me to give, wherefore,
I beseech you, take not my child from me." To this the Lady of the Lake said:
"Thou must endure thy sorrow a while longer; for it is so ordained that I
must take thy child; for I take him only that I may give him to thee again,
reared in such a wise that he shall make the glory of thy house to be the
glory of the world. For he shall become the greatest knight in the world,
and from his loins shall spring a greater still than he, so that the glory
of the House of King Ban shall be spoken of as long as mankind shall last."
But Queen Helen cried out all the more in a great despair: "What care I for
all this? I care only that I shall have my little child again! Give him to
me!"

The Lady of the Lake taketh Launcelot into the Lake.

Therewith she would have laid hold of the garments of the Lady of the Lake
in supplication, but the Lady of the Lake drew herself away from Queen Helen's
hand and said: "Touch me not, for I am not mortal, but Fay." And thereupon
she and Launcelot vanished from before Queen Helen's eyes as the breath vanishes
from the face of a mirror.

For when you breathe upon a mirror the breath will obscure that which lieth
behind; but presently the breath will disappear and vanish, and then you shall
behold all things entirely clear and bright to the sight again. So the Lady
of the Lake vanished away, and everything behind her where she had stood was
clear and bright, and she was gone.

Then Queen Helen fell down in a swoon, and lay beside the lake of the meadow
like one that is dead; and when Foliot came he found her so and wist not what
to do for her. There was his lord who was dead and his lady who was so like
to death that he knew not whether she was dead or no. So he knew not what
to do but sat down and made great lamentation for a long while.

The Lady Helen taketh to a Nunnery.

What time he sat thus there came that way three nuns who dwelt in an abbey
of nuns which was not a great distance away from that place. These made great
pity over that sorrowful sight, and they took away from there the dead King
and the woeful Queen, and the King they buried in holy ground, and the Queen
they let live with them and she was thereafter known as the "Sister of Sorrows."

How Launcelot dwelt in the lake.

Now Launcelot dwelt for nigh seventeen years with the Lady Nymue of the
Lake in that wonderful, beautiful valley covered over with the appearance
of such a magical lake as hath been aforetime described in the Book of King
Arthur.

And that land of the lake was of this sort that shall here be described:--

Unto anyone who could enter into the magic water of that lake (and there
were very few of those who were mortal who were allowed to come to those meadows
of Faery that were there concealed beneath those enchanted waters) he would
behold before him a wide and radiant field of extraordinary beauty. And he
would behold that that field was covered all over with such a multitude of
exquisite and beautiful flowers that the heart of the beholder would be elated
with pure joy to find himself in the midst of that waving sea of multitudinous
and fragrant blossoms. And he would behold many fair and shady groves of trees
that here and there grew up from that valley, each glade overshadowing a fountain
of water as clear as crystal. And he would perhaps behold, at such pleasant
places beneath the shade of those trees, some party of the fair and gentle
folk of that country; and he would see them playing in sport, or he would
hear them chanting to the music of shining golden harps. And he would behold
in the midst of that beautiful plain a wonderful castle with towers and roofs
uplifted high into the sky, and all shining in the peculiar radiance of that
land, like to castles and battlements of pure gold.

Such was the land unto which Launcelot was brought, and from what I have
told you you may see what a wonderful, beautiful place it was.

And the mystery of that place entered into the soul of Launcelot, so that
thereafter, when he came out thence, he was never like other folk, but always
appeared to be in a manner remote and distant from other of his fellow-mortals
with whom he dwelt.

For though he smiled a great deal, it was not often that he laughed; and
if he did laugh, it was never in scorn, but always in loving-kindness.

It was here in this land that Sir Pellias had now dwelt for several years,
with great peace and content. (For it hath been told in the Book of King Arthur
how, when he was upon the edge of death, the Lady Nymue of the Lake brought
him back to life again, and how, after that time, he was half fay and half
mortal.)

And the reason why Launcelot was brought to that place was that Sir Pellias
might teach him and train him in all the arts of chivalry. For no one in all
the world was more skilful in arms than Sir Pellias, and no one could so well
teach Launcelot the duties of chivalry as he.

So Sir Pellias taught Launcelot all that was best of knighthood, both as
to conduct of manner, and as to the worthiness and skill at arms, wherefore
it was that when Launcelot was completely taught, there was no knight in all
the world who was his peer in strength of arms or in courtesy of behavior,
until his own son, Sir Galahad, appeared in the courts of chivalry as shall
by and by be told of.

So when Launcelot came forth into the world again he became the greatest
knight in all the history of chivalry, wherefore that prophecy of his mother
was fulfilled as to his being like to a bright star of exceeding lustre.

Accordingly, I have herein told you with great particularity all these circumstances
of his early history so that you may know exactly how it was that he was taken
away into the lake, and why it was that he was afterward known as Sir Launcelot,
surnamed of the Lake.

As to how he came into the world to achieve that greatness unto which he
had been preordained, and as to how King Arthur made him knight, and as to
many very excellent adventures that befell him, you shall immediately read
in what followeth.

The Story of Sir Launcelot

Here beginneth the story of Sir Launcelot, surnamed of the Lake, who was held by all men to be the most excellent, noble, perfect knight-champion who was ever seen in the world from the very beginning of chivalry unto the time when his son, Sir Galahad, appeared like a bright star of extraordinary splendor shining in the sky of chivalry. In this Book it shall be told how he was taken into a magic lake, how he came out thence to be made knight by King Arthur, and of how he undertook several of those adventures that made him at once the wonder and the admiration of all men, and the chiefest glory of the Round Table of Arthur-Pendragon.

I know not any time of the year that is more full of joyfulness than the early
summer season; for that time the sun is wonderfully lusty and strong, yet not
so very hot; that time the trees and shrubs are very full of life and very abundant
of shade and yet have not grown dry with the heats and droughts of later days;
that time the grass is young and lush and green, so that when you walk athwart
the meadow-lands it is as though you walked through a fair billowy lake of magical
verdure, sprinkled over with a great multitude of little flowers; that time
the roses are everywhere a-bloom, both the white rose and the red, and the eglantine
is abundant; that time the nests are brimful of well-fledged nestlings, and
the little hearts of the small parent fowls are so exalted with gladness that
they sing with all their mights and mains, so that the early daytime is filled
full of the sweet jargon and the jubilant medley of their voices. Yea; that
is a goodly season of the year, for though, haply, the spirit may not be so
hilarious as in the young and golden springtime, yet doth the soul take to itself
so great a content in the fulness of the beauty of the world, that the heart
is elated with a great and abundant joy that it is not apt to feel at another
season.

Now it chanced upon the day before Saint John's day in the fulness of a summer-time
such as this, that King Arthur looked forth from his chamber very early in the
morning and beheld how exceedingly fair and very lusty was the world out-of-doors--all
in the freshness of the young daylight. For the sun had not yet risen, though
he was about to rise, and the sky was like to pure gold for brightness; all
the grass and leaves and flowers were drenched with sweet and fragrant dew,
and the birds were singing so vehemently that the heart of any man could not
but rejoice in the fulness of life that lay all around about him.

There were two knights with King Arthur at that time, one was Sir Ewain, the
son of Morgana le Fay (and he was King Arthur's nephew), and the other was Sir
Ector de Maris, the son of King Ban of Benwick and of Queen Helen--this latter
a very noble, youthful knight, and the youngest of all the Knights of the Round
Table who were at that time elected. These stood by King Arthur and looked forth
out of the window with him and they also took joy with him in the sweetness
of the summer season. Unto them, after a while, King Arthur spake, saying: "Messires,
meseems this is too fair a day to stay within doors. For, certes, it is a shame
that I who am a king should be prisoner within mine own castle, whilst any ploughman
may be free of the wold and the green woods and the bright sun and the blue
sky and the wind that blows over hill and dale. Now, I too would fain go forth
out of doors and enjoy these things; wherefore I ordain that we shall go a-hunting
this day and that ye and I shall start before any others of the lords and the
ladies that dwell herein are awake. So let us take our horses and our hounds
and let us take certain foresters and huntsmen, and let us go forth a-hunting
into the green forest; for this day shall be holiday for me and for you and
we shall leave care behind us, and for a while we shall disport ourselves in
pleasant places."

So they all did as King Arthur bade; they made them each man ready with his
own hands, and they bade the huntsmen and the foresters to attend thereupon
as the King had ordained. Then they rode forth from the castle and out into
the wide world that lay beyond, and it was yet so early in the morning that
none of the castle folk were astir to know of their departure.

All that day they hunted in the forest with much joy and with great sport,
nor did they turn their faces toward home again until the day was so far spent
that the sun had sunk behind the tops of the tall leafy trees. Then, at that
time, King Arthur gave command that they should bend their ways toward Camelot
once more.

Now this time, being the Eve of Saint John, fairies and those folk who are
fay come forth, as is very well known, into the world from which they dwell
apart at other times. So when King Arthur and those two knights and their several
foresters and huntsmen came to a certain outlying part of the forest, they were
suddenly aware of a damsel and a dwarf waiting where the road upon which they
were travelling crossed another road, and they perceived, from her very remarkable
appearance, that the damsel was very likely Fay. For both she and her dwarf
sat each upon a milk-white horse, very strangely still, close to where was a
shrine by a hedge of hawthorne; and the damsel was so wonderfully fair of face
that it was a marvel to behold her. Moreover, she was clad all in white samite
from top to toe and her garments were embroidered with silver; and the trappings
and garniture of her horse were of white samite studded with bright silver bosses,
wherefore, because of this silver, she glistered with a sudden lustre whensoever
she moved a little. When King Arthur and the two knights who were with him drew
nigh this damsel, much marvelling at her appearance, she hailed him in a voice
that was both high and clear, crying: "Welcome, King Arthur! Welcome, King Arthur!
Welcome, King Arthur!" saying three words three times; and "Welcome, Sir Ewain!"
"Welcome, Sir Ector de Maris!" addressing each of those lords by his name.

"Damsel," quoth King Arthur, "it is very singular that you should know who
we are and that we should not know you. Now, will you not tell us your name
and whence you come and whither you go? For of a surety I believe you are Fay."

"Lord," said the damsel, "it matters not who I am, saving that I am of the
court of a wonderful lady who is your very good friend. She hath sent me here
to meet you and to beseech you to come with me whither I shall lead you, and
I shall lead you unto her."

"Damsel," said King Arthur, "I shall be right glad to go with you as you desire
me to do. So, if you will lead me to your lady, I and my knights will gladly
follow you thitherway to pay our court unto her."

Upon this the damsel waved her hand, and drawing her bridle-rein she led the
way, accompanied by the dwarf, and King Arthur and the two knights followed
her, and all their party of foresters and huntsmen and hounds and beagles followed
them.

By this time the sun had set and the moon had risen very fair and round and
as yellow as gold, making a great light above the silent tree-tops. Everything
now was embalmed in the twilight, and all the world was enshrouded in the mystery
of the midsummer eve. Yet though the sun had gone the light was wonderfully
bright, wherefore all that the eye could see stood sharp-cut and very clear
to the vision.

So the damsel and the dwarf led the way for somewhat of a distance, though
not for so very far, until they came of a sudden to where was an open meadow
in the forest, hedged all around with the trees of the woodland. And here the
King and his knights were aware of a great bustle of many people, some working
very busily in setting up several pavilions of white samite, and others preparing
a table as for a feast, and others upon this business and others upon that;
and there were various sumpter-mules and pack-horses and palfreys all about,
as though belonging to a party of considerable estate.

Then King Arthur and those who were with him beheld that, at some distance
away upon the other side of the meadow, there were three people sitting under
a crab-apple tree upon a couch especially prepared for them, and they were aware
that these people were the chief of all that company.

The first party of the three was a knight of very haughty and noble appearance,
clad all in armor as white as silver; and his jupon was white embroidered with
silver, and the scabbard of the sword and the sword-belt were white, and his
shield hung in the crab-tree above him and that, too, was all white as of silver.
This knight still wore his helmet, so that his countenance was not to be seen.
The second party of the three was a lady clad all in white raiment. Her face
was covered by her wimple so that her countenance also was not to be seen very
clearly, but her garments were of wonderful sort, being of white sarcenet embroidered
over with silver in the pattern of lily flowers. Also she wore around her breast
and throat a chain of shining silver studded with bright and sparkling gems
of divers sorts. The third party of the three was a youth of eighteen years,
so beautiful of face that it seemed to King Arthur that he had never beheld
so noble a being. For his countenance was white and shining, and his hair was
as soft as silk and as black as it was possible to be, and curled down upon
his shoulders; and his eyes were large and bright and extraordinarily black,
and his eyebrows arched so smoothly that if they had been painted they could
not have been marked upon his forehead more evenly than they were; and his lips,
which pouted a little, though not very much, were as red as coral, and his upper
lip was shaded with a soft down of black. Moreover, this youth was clad altogether
in white cloth of satin with no ornaments whatsoever saving only a fine chain
of shining silver set with opal-stones and emeralds that hung about his neck.

Then when King Arthur approached near enough he perceived by certain signs
that the lady was the chiefest of those three, wherefore he paid his court to
her especially, saying to her: "Lady, it seems that I have been brought hitherward
unto you and that you were aware of my name and estate when you sent for me.
Now I should be exceedingly glad if you would enlighten me in the same manner
as to yourself."

"Sir," she said, "that I shall be glad to do; for if I have known you aforetime,
you have also seen me afore time and have known me as your friend." Therewith
the lady lowered the wimple from her face and King Arthur perceived that it
was the Lady of the Lake.

Upon this he kneeled down upon one knee and took her hand and set it to his
lips. "Lady," quoth he, "I have indeed cause to know you very well, for you
have, as you affirm, been a friend to me and to my friends upon many several
occasions." Then King Arthur turned to that knight who was with that Lady of
the Lake, and he said unto him: "Messire, if I mistake not, I should know you
also; and I doubt not, if you will lift the umbril of your helmet, we shall
all three know your face." Upon this the knight without more ado lifted his
umbril as King Arthur had desired him to do and the three beheld that it was
Sir Pellias, the Gentle Knight.

Now it hath already been very fully told about Sir Pellias in the Book of
King Arthur, and those of you who read of him therein will remember, no doubt,
how sorely he was wounded in a combat with Sir Gawaine, who was his best friend,
and of how the Lady of the Lake took him to dwell with her in that wonderful
city that was hidden by the appearance as of an enchanted lake, and of how it
was Sir Gawaine who last beheld him upon that occasion. But if Sir Gawaine was
the dearest friend that Sir Pellias had at that time, then Sir Ewain was only
less dear to him. Therefore, when Sir Ewain beheld that the strange knight was
Sir Pellias, he wist not what to think for pure wonder; for no mortal eyes had
ever beheld Sir Pellias since he had gone into the lake with the Lady of the
Lake that time as foretold, and it was not thought that anyone would ever see
him again.

So when Sir Ewain beheld that the knight was Sir Pellias he emitted a great
cry of joy and ran to him and catched him in his arms, and Sir Pellias forbade
him not. For though at most times those who are of Faery do not suffer themselves
to be touched by mortal hands, yet, upon the Eve of Saint John's Day, fairies
and mortals may commune as though they were of the same flesh and blood. Wherefore
Sir Pellias did not forbid Sir Ewain, and they embraced, as one-time brethren-in-arms
should embrace. And each kissed the other upon the face, and each made great
joy the one over the other. Yea, so great was their joy that all those who stood
about were moved with pure happiness at beholding them.

Then Sir Pellias came to King Arthur and kneeled down before him and kissed
his hand, as is the bounden duty of every knight unto his lord.

"Ha, Messire," quoth King Arthur, "methought when I beheld this lady, that
you would not be very far distant from her." Then he said unto the Lady of the
Lake: "Lady, I prithee tell me, who is this fair youth who is with you. For
methinks I never beheld before so noble and so beautiful a countenance as his.
Maybe you will make us acquainted with him also."

"Lord," said the Lady Nymue, "who he is, and of what quality, shall, I hope,
be made manifest in due time; just now I would not wish that he should be known
even unto you. But touching him, I may say that it was for his sake that I sent
my damsel to meet you at the cross-roads awhile ago. But of that, more anon;
for see! the feast is now spread which we have prepared for your entertainment.
So let us first eat and drink and make merry together, and then we shall speak
further of this matter."

So they all six went and sat down to the table that had been spread for them
in the open meadow-land. For the night was very pleasant and warm and a wonderful
full moon shone down upon them with a marvellous lustre, and there was a pleasant
air, soft and warm, from the forest, and, what with the scores of bright waxen
tapers that stood in silver candlesticks upon the table (each taper sparkling
as bright as any star), the night was made all illuminate like to some singular
mid-day. There was set before them a plenty of divers savory meats and of several
excellent wines, some as yellow as gold, and some as red as carbuncle, and they
ate and they drank and they made merry in the soft moonlight with talk and laughter.
Somewhiles they told Sir Pellias and the lady of all that was toward at court
at Camelot; otherwhiles Sir Pellias and the lady told them such marvellous things
concerning the land in which they two dwelt that it would be hard to believe
that the courts of Heaven could be fairer than the courts of Fairyland whence
they had come.

Then, after the feast was ended, the Lady of the Lake said to King Arthur,
"Sir, an I have won your favor in any way, there is a certain thing I would
ask of you." To the which King Arthur made reply: "Ask it, Lady, and it shall
be granted thee, no matter what it may be." "Sir," said the Lady of the Lake,
"this is what I would ask of you. I would ask you to look upon this youth who
sits beside me. He is so dear to me that I cannot very well make you know how
dear he is. I have brought him hither from our dwelling-place for one certain
reason; to wit, that you should make him knight. That is the great favor I would
ask of you. To this intent I have brought armor and all the appurtenances of
knighthood; for he is of such noble lineage that no armor in the world could
be too good for him."

"Lady," quoth King Arthur, "I will do what you ask with much pleasure and
gladness. But, touching that armor of which you speak, it is my custom to provide
anyone whom I make a knight with armor of mine own choosing."

To this the Lady of the Lake smiled very kindly, saying, "Lord, I pray you,
let be in this case, for I daresay that the armor which hath been provided for
this youth shall be so altogether worthy of your nobility and of his future
credit that you will be entirely contented with it." And with that, King Arthur
was altogether satisfied.

And, touching that armor, the ancient history that speaketh of these matters
saith that it was of such a sort as this that followeth, and that it was brought
from that enchanted court of the lake in this wise; to wit, in the front came
two youths, leading two white mules, and the mules bore two chests studded with
silver bosses. In one chest was the hauberk of that armor and in the other were
the iron boots. These were bright like to silver and were inlaid with cunningly
devised figures, all of pure gold. Next to them came two esquires, clad in white
robes and mounted upon white horses, bearing the one a silver shield and the
other a shining helmet, as of silver--it likewise being very wonderfully inlaid
with figures of pure gold. After these came two other esquires, the one bearing
a sword in a white sheath embossed with studs of silver (the belt whereof was
of silver with facets of gold) and the other leading a white charger, whose
coat was as soft and as shining as silk. And all the gear and furniture of this
horse was of silver and of white samite embellished with silver. So from this
you can see how nobly that young acolyte was provided with all that beseemed
his future greatness. For, as you may have guessed, this youth was Launcelot,
King Ban's son of Benwick, who shortly became the greatest knight in the world.

Now there was in that part of the forest border a small abbey of monks, and
in the chapel of that abbey Launcelot watched his armor for that night and Sir
Ewain was with him for all that time. Meantime King Arthur and Sir Ector de
Maris slept each in a silken pavilion provided for them by the Lady of the Lake.

In the morning Sir Ewain took Launcelot to the bath and bathed him, for such
was the custom of those who were being prepared for knighthood.

Now, whilst Sir Ewain was bathing the youth, he beheld that on his shoulder
was a mark in the likeness of a golden star and he marvelled very much thereat;
but he made no mention of it at that time, but held his peace concerning what
he saw; only he marvelled very greatly thereat.

Then, after Sir Ewain had bathed Launcelot, he clothed him in raiment fitted
for that ceremony unto which he was ordained, and when the youth was so clothed,
Sir Ewain brought him to King Arthur, and King Arthur knighted Launcelot with
great ceremony, and buckled the belt around him with his own hands. After he
had done this Sir Ewain and Sir Ector de Maris set the golden spurs to his heels,
and Sir Ector wist not that he was performing such office for his own brother.

So Sir Launcelot was made knight with great estate and ceremony, whereof I
have told you all, unto every particular. For it is fitting that all things
should be so told concerning that most great and famous knight.

After King Arthur had so dubbed Sir Launcelot knight, it was time that those
two parties should part company--to wit, the party of the Lady of the Lake and
the party of King Arthur. But when they were about to leave one another the
Lady of the Lake took Sir Launcelot aside, and she spake to him after this manner:

"Launcelot, forget not that you are a king's son, and that your lineage is
as noble as that of anyone upon earth--for so I have often told you aforetime.
Wherefore, see to it that your worthiness shall be as great as your beauty,
and that your courtesy and gentleness shall be as great as your prowess. To-day
you shall go unto Camelot with King Arthur to make yourself known unto that
famous Court of Chivalry. But do not tarry there, but, ere the night cometh,
depart and go forth into the world to prove your knighthood as worthily as God
shall give you grace to do. For I would not have you declare yourself to the
world until you have proved your worthiness by your deeds. Wherefore, do not
yourself proclaim your name, but wait until the world proclaimeth it; for it
is better for the world to proclaim the worthiness of a man than that the man
should proclaim his own worthiness. So hold yourself ready to undertake any
adventure whatsoever that God sendeth to you to do, but never let any other
man complete a task unto which you yourself have set your hand." Then, after
the Lady of the Lake had so advised Sir Launcelot, she kissed him upon the face,
and therewith gave him a ring curiously wrought and set with a wonderful purple
stone, which ring had such power that it would dissolve every enchantment. Then
she said: "Launcelot, wear this ring and never let it be from off your finger."
And Launcelot said: "I will do so." So Sir Launcelot set the ring upon his finger
and it was so that it never left his finger whilst he drew the breath of life.

Then King Arthur and Sir Ewain and Sir Ector de Maris and the young Sir Launcelot
laid their ways toward Camelot. And, as they journeyed so together, Sir Ewain
communicated privily to Sir Ector de Maris how that the youth had a mark as
of a golden star upon the skin of his shoulder, and upon this news Sir Ector
fell very silent. For Sir Ector knew that that sign was upon his own brother's
shoulder, and he did not know how it could be upon the shoulder of any other
man. Wherefore, he wist not what to think that it should be upon the shoulder
of this youth. But he said naught of these thoughts to Sir Ewain, but held his
peace.

So they reached Camelot whilst it was still quite early in the morning and
all they who were there made great joy at the coming of so wonderfully fair
and noble a young knight as Sir Launcelot appeared to be. Wherefore, there was
great sound of rejoicing at his coming.

Then, after a while, King Arthur said: "Let us go and see if, haply, this
youth's name is marked upon any of the seats of the Round Table, for I think
it should be there." So all they of the court went to that pavilion afore described,
where the Round Table was established, and they looked; and lo! upon the seat
that King Pellinore had one time occupied was this name:

So the name stood at first, nor did it change until the name of Sir Launcelot
of the Lake became so famous in all the world. Then it became changed to this:

So Sir Launcelot remained at Camelot for that entire day and was made acquainted
with a great many of the lords and ladies and knights and dames of King Arthur's
court. And all that while he was like one that walked in a dream, for he had
never before beheld anything of the world of mankind since he had been carried
away into the lake, wherefore he wist not very well whether what he saw was
real or whether he beheld it in a vision of enchantment. For it was all very
new and wonderful to him and he took great delight in it because that he was
a man and because this world was the world of mankind. Wherefore, though that
Castle of the Lake was so beautiful, yet he felt his heart go forth to this
other and less beautiful land as it did not go forth to that, because he was
human and this was human.

Nevertheless, though that was so joyful a day for him, yet Sir Launcelot did
not forget what the Lady of the Lake had said concerning the time he was to
abide there! Wherefore, when it drew toward evening he besought leave of King
Arthur to depart from that place in search of adventures, and King Arthur gave
him leave to do as he desired.

So Sir Launcelot prepared to depart, and whilst he was in his chamber making
ready there came in unto him Sir Ector de Maris. And Sir Ector said unto him:
"Sir, I prithee tell me--is it true that you bear upon your right shoulder a
mark like unto a golden star?" And Sir Launcelot made reply: "Yea, that is true."
Then Sir Ector said: "I beseech you to tell me if your name is Launcelot." And
Sir Launcelot said: "Yea, that is my name."

Upon this Sir Ector broke out into great weeping and he catched Sir Launcelot
in his arms and he cried out: "Launcelot, thou art mine own brother! For thy
father was my father, and my mother was thy mother! For we are both sons unto
King Ban of Benwick, and Queen Helen was our mother." Therewith he kissed Sir
Launcelot with great passion upon the face. And Sir Launcelot upon his part
kissed Sir Ector with a great passion of joy that he had found a brother in
this strange world into which he had so newly come. But Sir Launcelot charged
Sir Ector that he should say nothing of this to any man; and Sir Ector pledged
his knightly word to that effect. (Nor did he ever tell anyone who Sir Launcelot
was until Sir Launcelot had performed such deeds that all the world spake his
name.)

For when Sir Launcelot went out into the world in that wise he undertook several
very weighty achievements and brought them all to a successful issue, so that
his name very quickly became known in every court of chivalry.

First he removed an enchantment that overhung a castle, hight Dolorous Gard;
and he freed that castle and liberated all the sad, sorry captives that lay
therein. (And this castle he held for his own and changed the name from Dolorous
Gard to Joyous Gard and the castle became very famous afterward as his best-loved
possession. For this was the first of all his possessions that he won by the
prowess of his arms and he loved it best of all and considered it always his
home.) After that Sir Launcelot, at the bidding of Queen Guinevere, took the
part of the Lady of Nohan against the King of Northumberland, and he overcame
the King of Northumberland and made him subject unto King Arthur. Then he overcame
Sir Gallehaut, King of the Marches, and sent him captive to the court of King
Arthur (and afterward Sir Gallehaut and Sir Launcelot became great friends for
aye). So in a little while all the world spoke of Sir Launcelot, for it was
said of him, and truly, that he had never been overcome by any other knight,
whether upon horseback or upon foot, and that he always succeeded in every adventure
which he undertook, whether that adventure were great or whether it were small.
So it was as the Lady of the Lake desired it to be, for Sir Launcelot's name
became famous, not because he was his father's son, but because of the deeds
which he performed upon his own account.

So Sir Launcelot performed all these famous adventures, and after that he
returned again to the court of King Arthur crowned with the glory of his successful
knighthood, and there he was received with joy and acclaim and was duly installed
in that seat of the Round Table that was his. And in that court he was held
in the greatest honor and esteem of all the knights who were there. For King
Arthur spake many times concerning him to this effect: that he knew not any
honor or glory that could belong to a king greater than having such a knight
for to serve him as was Sir Launcelot of the Lake. For a knight like Sir Launcelot
came hardly ever into the world, and when he did come his glory must needs illuminate
with its effulgence the entire reign of that king whose servant he was.

So it was that Sir Launcelot was greatly honored by everybody at the court
of King Arthur, and he thereafter abided at that court for the most part of
his life.

And now I must needs make mention of that friendship that existed betwixt
Sir Launcelot and Queen Guinevere, for after he thus returned to the court of
the king, they two became such friends that no two people could be greater friends
than they were.

Now I am aware that there have been many scandalous things said concerning
that friendship, but I do not choose to believe any such evil sayings. For there
are always those who love to think and say evil things of others. Yet though
it is not to be denied that Sir Launcelot never had for his lady any other dame
than the Lady Guinevere, still no one hath ever said with truth that she regarded
Sir Launcelot otherwise than as her very dear friend. For Sir Launcelot always
avouched with his knightly word, unto the last day of his life, that the Lady
Guinevere was noble and worthy in all ways, wherefore I choose to believe his
knightly word and to hold that what he said was true. For did not he become
an hermit, and did not she become a nun in their latter days, and were they
not both broken of heart when King Arthur departed from this life in so singular
a manner as he did? Wherefore I choose to believe good of such noble souls as
they, and not evil of them.

Yet, though Sir Launcelot thus abided at the court of the King, he ever loved
the open world and a life of adventure above all things else. For he had lived
so long in the Lake that these things of the sturdy life of out-of-doors never
lost their charm for him. So, though he found, for a while, great joy in being
at the court of the King (for there were many jousts held in his honor, and,
whithersoever he rode forth, men would say to one another: "Yonder goeth that
great knight, Sir Launcelot, who is the greatest knight in the world"), yet
he longed ever to be abroad in the wide world again. So one day he besought
King Arthur for leave to depart thence and to go forth for a while in search
of adventures; and King Arthur gave him leave to do as he desired.

So now shall be told of several excellent adventures that Sir Launcelot undertook,
and which he carried through with entire success, and to the great glory and
renown of the Round Table, of which he was the foremost knight.

Chapter Second

Now after King Arthur had thus given Sir Launcelot leave to go errant and
whilst Sir Launcelot was making himself ready to depart there came to him Sir
Lionel, who was his cousin germain, and Sir Lionel besought leave to go with
him as his knight-companion, and Sir Launcelot gave him that leave.

So when King Arthur confirmed Sir Launcelot's permission Sir Lionel also made
himself ready very joyfully, and early of the morning of the next day they two
took their leave of the court and rode away together; the day being very fair
and gracious and all the air full of the joy of that season--which was in the
flower of the spring-time.

So, about noon-tide, they came to a certain place where a great apple-tree
stood by a hedge, and by that time they had grown an-hungered. So they tied
their horses near-by in a cool and shady place and straightway sat them down
under the apple-tree in the soft tall grass, which was yet fresh with the coolness
of the morning.

Then when they had ended their meal Sir Launcelot said: "Brother, I have a
great lust to sleep for a little space, for I find myself so drowsy that mine
eyelids are like scales of lead." Unto which Sir Lionel made reply: "Very well;
sleep thou for a while, and I will keep watch, and after that thou shalt watch,
and I will sleep for a little space." So Sir Launcelot put his helmet beneath
his head and turned upon his side, and in a little had fallen into a sleep which
had neither dream nor thought of any kind, but which was deep and pure like
to a clear well of water in the forest.

And, whilst he slept thus, Sir Lionel kept watch, walking up and down in the
shade of a hedge near-by.

Where they were was upon the side of a hill, and beneath them was a little
valley; and a road ran through the valley, very white and shining in the sunlight,
like a silken ribbon, and the road lay between growing fields of corn and pasture-land.
Now as Sir Lionel walked beside the hedge he beheld three knights come riding
into that valley and along that road with very great speed and in several clouds
of dust; and behind them came a fourth knight, who was very huge of frame and
who was clad altogether in black armor. Moreover, this knight rode upon a black
horse and his shield was black and his spear was black and the furniture of
his horse was black, so that everything appertaining to that knight was as black
as any raven.

And Sir Lionel beheld that this one knight pursued those other three knights
and that his horse went with greater speed than theirs, so that by and by he
overtook the hindermost knight. And Sir Lionel beheld that the sable knight
smote the fleeing knight a great buffet with his sword, so that that knight
fell headlong from his horse and rolled over two or three times upon the ground
and then lay as though he were dead. Then the black knight catched the second
of the three, and served him as he had served his fellow. Then the third of
the three, finding that there was no escape for him, turned as if to defend
himself; but the black knight drave at him, and smote him so terrible a blow
that I believe had a thunderbolt smitten him he would not have fallen from his
horse more suddenly than he did. For, though that combat was full three furlongs
away, yet Sir Lionel heard the sound of that blow as clearly as though it had
been close by.

Then after the black knight had thus struck down those three knights he went
to each in turn and tied his hands behind his back. Then, lifting each man with
extraordinary ease, he laid him across the saddle of that horse from which he
had fallen, as though he were a sack of grain. And all this Sir Lionel beheld
with very great wonder, marvelling much at the strength and prowess of that
black knight. "Ha," quoth he to himself, "I will go and inquire into this business,
for it may haply be that yonder black knight shall not find it to be so easy
to deal with a knight of the Round Table as with those other three knights."

So, with this, Sir Lionel loosed his horse very quietly and went his way so
softly that Sir Launcelot was not awakened. And after he had gone some way,
he mounted his steed and rode off at a fast gallop down into that valley.

When Sir Lionel had come to that place where the knight was, he found that
he had just bound the last of the three knights upon the saddle of his horse
as aforetold. So Sir Lionel spoke to the sable knight in this wise: "Sir, I
pray you tell me your name and degree and why you treat those knights in so
shameful a fashion as I behold you to do."

"Messire," said the black knight very fiercely, "this matter concerns you
not at all; yet I may tell you that those knights whom I have overthrown are
knights of King Arthur's court, and so I serve all such as come into this place.
So will I serve you, too, if you be a knight of King Arthur's."

"Well," said Sir Lionel, "that is a very ungracious thing for you to say.
And as for that, I too am a knight of King Arthur's court, but I do not believe
that you will serve me as you have served those three. Instead of that, I have
great hope that I shall serve you in such a fashion that I shall be able to
set these knights free from your hands."

Thereupon, without more ado, he made him ready with spear and shield, and
the black knight, perceiving his design, also made him ready. Then they rode
a little distance apart so as to have a fair course for a tilt upon the roadway.
Then each set spur to his horse and the two drave together with such violence
that the earth shook beneath them. So they met fair in the middle of the course,
but lo! in that encounter the spear of Sir Lionel broke into as many as thirty
or forty pieces, but the spear of the black knight held, so that Sir Lionel
was lifted clean out from his saddle and over the crupper of his horse with
such violence that when he smote the ground he rolled three times over ere he
ceased to fall. And because of that fierce, terrible blow he swooned away entirely,
and all was black before his eyes, and he knew nothing.

Therewith the black knight dismounted and tied Sir Lionel's arms behind his
back and he laid him across the saddle of his horse as he had laid those others
across the saddles of their horses; and he tied him there very securely with
strong cords so that Sir Lionel could not move.

And all this while Sir Launcelot slept beneath the apple-tree upon the hillside,
for he was greatly soothed by the melodious humming of the bees in the blossoms
above where he lay.

Now you are to know that he who had thus taken Sir Lionel and those three
knights prisoner was one Sir Turquine, a very cruel, haughty knight, who had
a great and strong castle out beyond the mouth of that valley in which these
knights took combat as aforetold. Moreover, it was the custom of Sir Turquine
to make prisoner all the knights and ladies who came that way; and all the knights
and ladies who were not of King Arthur's court he set free when they had paid
a sufficient ransom unto him; but the knights who were of King Arthur's court,
and especially those who were of the Round Table, he held prisoner for aye within
his castle. The dungeon of that castle was a very cold, dismal, and unlovely
place, and it was to this prison that he proposed to take those four knights
whom he had overcome, with intent to hold them prisoner as aforetold.

And now turn we to King Arthur's court and consider what befell there after
Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel had left it in search of adventures.

When Sir Ector found that Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel had gone away in that
fashion he was very much grieved in spirit; wherefore he said to himself, "Meseems
my brother might have taken me with him as well as our cousin." So he went to
King Arthur and besought his leave to quit the court and to ride after those
other two and to join in their adventures, and King Arthur very cheerfully gave
him that leave. So Sir Ector made him ready with all despatch, and rode away
at a great gait after Sir Launcelot and Sir Lionel. And ever as Sir Ector rode
he made diligent inquiry and he found that those two knights had ridden before
him, so he said to himself: "By and by I shall overtake them--if not to-day,
at least by night, or by to-morrow day."

But after a while he came to a cross-roads, and there he took a way that Sir
Launcelot and Sir Lionel had not taken; so that, after he had gone a distance,
he found that he had missed them by taking that road. Nevertheless, he went
on until about the prime of the day, what time he met a forester, to whom he
said: "Sirrah, saw you two knights ride this way--one knight clad in white armor
with a white shield upon which was depicted the figure of a lady, and the other
knight clad in red armor with the figure of a red gryphon upon his shield?"
"Nay," said the forester, "I saw not such folk." Then said Sir Ector, "Is there
any adventure to be found hereabouts?" Upon this the forester fell to laughing
in great measure. "Yea," he said, "there is an adventure to be found hard by
and it is one that many have undertaken and not one yet hath ever fulfilled."
Then Sir Ector said, "Tell me what that adventure is and I will undertake it."

"Sir," said the forester, "if you will follow along yonder road for a distance
you will find a very large, strong castle surrounded by a broad moat. In front
of that castle is a stream of water with a fair, shallow ford, where the roadway
crosses the water. Upon this side of that ford there groweth a thorn-tree, very
large and sturdy, and upon it hangs a basin of brass. Strike upon that basin
with the butt of your spear, and you shall presently meet with that adventure
concerning which I have just now spoken." "Fellow," said Sir Ector, "grammercy
for your news." And, therewith, straightway he rode off in search of that adventure.

He rode a great distance at a very fast gait and by and by he came to the
top of a hill and therewith he saw before him the mouth of a fair valley. Across
from where he stood was another hill not very large or high, but exceedingly
steep and rocky. Upon this farther hill was builded a tall, noble castle of
gray stone with many towers and spires and tall chimneys and with several score
of windows, all shining bright in the clear weather. A fair river ran down into
the mouth of that valley and it was as bright and as smooth as silver, and on
each side of it were smooth level meadow-lands--very green--and here and there
shady groves of trees and plantations of fruit-trees. And Sir Ector perceived
that the road upon which he travelled crossed the aforesaid river by a shallow
ford, and he wist that this must be the ford whereof the forester had spoken.
So he rode down unto that ford, and when he had come nigh he perceived the thorn-tree
of which the forester had told him, and he saw that a great basin of brass hung
to the thorn-tree, just as the forester had said.

Then Sir Ector rode to that thorn-tree and he smote upon that basin of brass
with the butt of his spear, so that the basin rang with a noise like thunder;
and he smote it again and again, several times over. But though he was aware
of a great commotion within that fair castle, yet no adventure befell him, although
he smote the brazen basin several times.

Now, his horse being athirst, Sir Ector drove him into the ford that he might
drink, and whilst he was there he was suddenly aware where, on the other side
of the stream, was a singular party coming along the roadway. For first of all
there rode a knight entirely clad in black, riding upon a black horse, and all
the harness and furniture of that horse entirely of black. Behind him, that
knight led four horses as though they were pack-horses, and across each one
of those four horses was a knight in full armor, bound fast to the saddle like
to a sack of grain, whereat Sir Ector was very greatly astonished.

As soon as that sable knight approached the castle, several came running forth
and relieved him of those horses he led and took them into the castle, and as
soon as he had been thus relieved the sable knight rode very violently up to
where Sir Ector was. As soon as he had come to the water's edge he cried out:
"Sir Knight, come forth from out of that water and do me battle."

"Very well," said Sir Ector, "I will do so, though it will, I think, be to
thy very great discomfort."

With that he came quickly out from the ford, the water whereof was all broken
and churned into foam at his passing, and straightway he cast aside his spear
and drew his sword and, driving against that sable knight, he smote him such
a buffet that his horse turned twice about.

"Ha," said the black knight, "that is the best blow that ever I had struck
me in all of my life." Therewith he rushed upon Sir Ector, and without using
a weapon of any sort he catched him about the body, underneath the arms, and
dragged him clean out of his saddle, and flung him across the horn of his own
saddle. Thereupon, having accomplished this marvellous feat, and with Sir Ector
still across his saddle-bow, he rode up unto his castle, nor stopped until he
had reached the court-yard of the keep. There he set Sir Ector down upon the
stone pavement. Then he said: "Messire, thou hast done to me this day what no
other knight hath ever done to me before, wherefore, if thou wilt promise to
be my man from henceforth, I will let thee go free and give thee great rewards
for thy services as well."

But Sir Ector was filled very full of shame, wherefore he cried out fiercely,
"Rather would I lie within a prison all my life than serve so catiff a knight
as thou, who darest to treat other knights as thou hast just now treated me."

"Well," said the black knight very grimly, "thou shalt have thy choice." Therewith
he gave certain orders, whereupon a great many fierce fellows set upon Sir Ector
and stripped him of all his armor, and immediately haled him off, half-naked,
to that dungeon aforementioned.

There he found many knights of King Arthur's court, and several of the Round
Table, all of whom he knew, and when they beheld Sir Ector flung in unto them
in that fashion they lifted up their voices in great lamentation that he should
have been added to their number, instead of freeing them from their dolorous
and pitiable case. "Alas," said they, "there is no knight alive may free us
from this dungeon, unless it be Sir Launcelot. For this Sir Turquine is, certes,
the greatest knight in all the world, unless it be Sir Launcelot."

Chapter Third

So Sir Launcelot lay in deep slumber under that apple-tree, and knew neither
that Sir Lionel had left him nor what ill-fortune had befallen that good knight.
Whilst he lay there sleeping in that wise there came by, along the road, and
at a little distance from him, a very fair procession of lordly people, making
a noble parade upon the highway. The chiefest of this company were four ladies,
who were four queens. With them rode four knights, and, because the day was
warm, the four knights bore a canopy of green silk by the four corners upon
the points of their lances in such wise as to shelter those queens from the
strong heat of the sun. And those four knights rode all armed cap-a-pie on four
noble war-horses, and the four queens, bedight in great estate, rode on four
white mules richly caparisoned with furniture of divers colors embroidered with
gold. After these lordly folk there followed a very excellent court of esquires
and demoiselles to the number of a score or more; some riding upon horses and
some upon mules that ambled very easily.

Now all these folk of greater or lesser degree were entirely unaware that
Sir Launcelot lay sleeping so nigh to them as they rode by chattering very gayly
together in the spring-time weather, taking great pleasure in the warm air,
and in growing things, and the green fields, and the bright sky; and they would
have had no knowledge that the knight was there, had not Sir Launcelot's horse
neighed very lustily. Thereupon, they were aware of the horse, and then they
were aware of Sir Launcelot where he lay asleep under the apple-tree, with his
head lying upon his helmet.

Now foremost of all those queens was Queen Morgana le Fay (who was King Arthur's
sister, and a potent, wicked enchantress, of whom much hath been told in the
Book of King Arthur), and besides Queen Morgana there was the Queen of North
Wales, and the Queen of Eastland, and the Queen of the Outer Isles.

Now when this party of queens, knights, esquires, and ladies heard the war-horse
neigh, and when they beheld Sir Launcelot where he lay, they drew rein and marvelled
very greatly to see a knight sleeping so soundly at that place, maugre all the
noise and tumult of their passing. So Queen Morgana called to her one of the
esquires who followed after them, and she said to him: "Go softly and see if
thou knowest who is yonder knight; but do not wake him."

So the esquire did as she commanded; he went unto that apple-tree and he looked
into Sir Launcelot's face, and by hap he knew who it was because he had been
to Camelot erstwhiles and he had seen Sir Launcelot at that place. So he hastened
back to Queen Morgana and he said to her: "Lady, I believe that yonder knight
is none other than the great Sir Launcelot of the Lake, concerning whom there
is now such report; for he is reputed to be the most powerful of all the knights
of King Arthur's Round Table, and the greatest knight in the world, so that
King Arthur loves him and favors him above all other knights."

Now when Queen Morgana le Fay was aware that the knight who was asleep there
was Sir Launcelot, it immediately entered her mind for to lay some powerful,
malignant enchantment upon him to despite King Arthur. For she too knew how
dear Sir Launcelot was to King Arthur, and so she had a mind to do him mischief
for King Arthur's sake. So she went softly to where Sir Launcelot lay with intent
to work some such spell upon him. But when she had come to Sir Launcelot she
was aware that this purpose of mischief was not possible whilst he wore that
ring upon his finger which the Lady of the Lake had given him; wherefore she
had to put by her evil design for a while.

But though she was unable to work any malign spell upon him, she was able
to cause it by her magic that that sleep in which he lay should remain unbroken
for three or four hours. So she made certain movements of her hands above his
face and by that means she wove the threads of his slumber so closely together
that he could not break through them to awake.

After she had done this she called to her several of the esquires who were
of her party, and these at her command fetched the shield of Sir Launcelot and
laid him upon it. Then they lifted him and bore him away, carrying him in that
manner to a certain castle in the forest that was no great distance away. And
the name of that castle was Chateaubras and it was one of Queen Morgana's castles.

And all that while Sir Launcelot wist nothing, but lay in a profound sleep,
so that when he awoke and looked about him he was so greatly astonished that
he knew not whether he was in a vision or whether he was awake. For whilst he
had gone asleep beneath that apple-tree, here he now lay in a fair chamber upon
a couch spread with a coverlet of flame-colored linen.

Then he perceived that it was a very fair room in which he lay, for it was
hung all about with tapestry hangings representing fair ladies at court and
knights at battle. And there were woven carpets upon the floor, and the couch
whereon he lay was of carved wood, richly gilt. There were two windows to that
chamber, and when he looked forth he perceived that the chamber where he was
was very high from the ground, being built so loftily upon the rugged rocks
at its foot that the forest lay far away beneath him like a sea of green. And
he perceived that there was but one door to this chamber and that the door was
bound with iron and studded with great bosses of wrought iron, and when he tried
that door he found that it was locked.

So Sir Launcelot was aware from these things that he was a prisoner--though
not a prisoner in a hard case--and he wist not how he had come thither nor what
had happened to him.

Now when the twilight of the evening had fallen, a porter, huge of frame and
very forbidding of aspect, came and opened the door of the chamber where Sir
Launcelot lay, and when he had done so there entered a fair damsel, bearing
a very good supper upon a silver tray. Moreover, she bore upon the tray three
tapers of perfumed wax set in three silver candlesticks, and these gave a fair
light to the entire room. But, when Sir Launcelot saw the maiden coming thus
with intent to serve him, he arose and took the tray from her and set it himself
upon the table; and for this civility the damsel made acknowledgement to him.
Then she said to him: "Sir Knight, what cheer do you have?" "Ha, damsel," said
Sir Launcelot, "I do not know how to answer you that, for I wist not what cheer
to have until I know whether I be with friends or with enemies. For though this
chamber wherein I lie is very fair and well-bedight, yet meseems I must have
been brought here by some enchantment, and that I am a prisoner in this place;
wherefore I know not what cheer to take."

Then the damsel looked upon Sir Launcelot, and she was very sorry for him.
"Sir," quoth she, "I take great pity to see you in this pass, for I hear tell
you are the best knight in the world and, of a surety, you are of a very noble
appearance. I must tell you that this castle wherein you lie is a castle of
enchantment, and they who dwell here mean you no good; wherefore I would advise
you to be upon your guard against them."

"Maiden," said Sir Launcelot, "I give you grammercy for your kind words, and
I will be upon my guard as you advise me."

Then the damsel would have said more, but she durst not for fear that she
should be overheard and that evil should befall her, for the porter was still
without the door. So in a little she went away and Sir Launcelot was left alone.

But though the damsel bade Sir Launcelot have good cheer, yet he had no very
good cheer for that night, as anyone may well suppose, for he wist not what
was to befall him upon the morrow.

Now when the morning had come Sir Launcelot was aware of someone at his chamber
door, and when that one entered it was Queen Morgana le Fay.

She was clad in all the glory at her command, and her appearance was so shining
and radiant that when she came into that room Sir Launcelot knew not whether
it was a vision his eyes beheld or whether she was a creature of flesh and blood.
For she came with her golden crown upon her head, and her hair, which was as
red as gold, was bound around with ribbons of gold; and she was clad all in
cloth of gold; and she wore golden rings with jewels upon her fingers and golden
bracelets upon her arms and a golden collar around her shoulders; wherefore,
when she came into the room she shone with an extraordinary splendor, as if
she were a marvellous statue made all of pure gold--only that her face was very
soft and beautiful, and her eyes shone exceedingly bright, and her lips, which
were as red as coral, smiled, and her countenance moved and changed with all
the wiles of fascination that she could cause it to assume.

When Sir Launcelot beheld her come thus gloriously into his room he rose and
greeted her with a very profound salutation, for he was astonished beyond measure
at beholding that shining vision. Then Queen Morgana gave him her hand, and
he kneeled, and took her jewelled fingers in his and set her hand to his lips.
"Welcome, Sir Launcelot!" quoth she; "welcome to this place! For it is indeed
a great honor to have here so noble and famous a knight as you!"

"Ha, Lady," said Sir Launcelot, "you are gracious to me beyond measure! But
I pray you tell me how I came to this place and by what means? For when I fell
asleep yesterday at noon I lay beneath an apple-tree upon a hillside; and when
I awoke--lo! I found myself in this fair chamber."

To this Queen Morgana le Fay made smiling reply as follows: "Sir, I am Queen
Morgana le Fay, of whom you may have heard tell, for I am the sister of King
Arthur, whose particular knight you are. Yesterday, at noon, riding with certain
other queens and a small court of knights, esquires, and demoiselles, we went
by where you lay sleeping. Finding you lying so, alone and without any companion,
I was able, by certain arts which I possess, to lay a gentle enchantment upon
you so that the sleep wherein you lay should remain unbroken for three or four
hours. So we brought you to this place in hopes that you would stay with us
for two or three days or more, and give us the pleasure of your company. For
your fame, which is very great, hath reached even as far as this place, wherefore
we have made a gentle prisoner of you for this time being."

"Lady," said Sir Launcelot, "such constraint as that would be very pleasing
to me at another time. But when I fell asleep I was with my cousin, Sir Lionel,
and I know not what hath become of him, and haply he will not know what hath
become of me should he seek me. Now I pray you let me go forth and find my cousin,
and when I have done so I will return to you again at this place with an easy
spirit."

"Well, Messire," said Queen Morgana, "it shall be as you desire, only I require
of you some pledge of your return." (Herewith she drew from her finger a golden
ring set very richly with several jewels.) "Now take this ring," she said, "and
give me that ring which I see upon your finger, and when you shall return hither
each shall have his ring again from the other."

"Lady," said Sir Launcelot, "that may not be. For this ring was placed upon
my finger with such a pledge that it may never leave where it is whilst my soul
abideth in my body. Ask of me any other pledge and you shall have it; but I
cannot give this ring to you."

Upon this Queen Morgana's cheeks grew very red, and her eyes shone like sparks
of fire. "Ha, Sir Knight," she said, "I do not think you are very courteous
to refuse a lady and a queen so small a pledge as that. I am much affronted
with you that you should have done so. Wherefore, I now demand of you, as the
sister of King Arthur whom you serve, that you give me that ring."

"Lady," said Sir Launcelot, "I may not do that, though it grieveth me much
to refuse you."

Then Queen Morgana looked at Sir Launcelot awhile with a very angry countenance,
but she perceived that she was not to have her will with him, wherefore she
presently turned very quickly and went out of the room, leaving Sir Launcelot
much perturbed in spirit. For he knew how great were the arts of Queen Morgana
le Fay, and he could not tell what harm she might seek to work upon him by those
arts. But he ever bore in mind how that the ring which he wore was sovereign
against such malignant arts as she practised, wherefore he took what comfort
he could from that circumstance.

Nevertheless, he abode in that chamber in great uncertainty for all that day,
and when night came he was afraid to let himself slumber, lest they of the castle
should come whilst he slept and work him some secret ill; wherefore he remained
awake whilst all the rest of the castle slept. Now at the middle of the night,
and about the time of the first cock-crow, he was aware of a sound without and
a light that fell through the crack of the door. Then, in a little, the door
was opened and there entered that young damsel who had served him with his supper
the night before, and she bare a lighted taper in her hand.

When Sir Launcelot perceived that damsel he said: "Maiden, do you come hither
with good intent or with evil intent?" "Sir," she said, "I come with good intent,
for I take great pity to see you in such a sorry case as this. I am a King's
daughter in attendance upon Queen Morgana le Fay, but she is so powerful an
enchantress that, in good sooth, I am in great fear lest she some time do me
an ill-hap. So to-morrow I leave her service and return unto my father's castle.
Meantime, I am of a mind to help you in your adversity. For Queen Morgana trusts
me, and I have knowledge of this castle and I have all the keys thereof, wherefore
I can set you free. And I will set you free if you will, upon your part, serve
me in a way that you can very easily do."

"Well," said Sir Launcelot, "provided I may serve you in a way fitting my
knightly honor, I shall be glad to do so under any condition. Now I pray you
tell me what it is you would have of me."

"Sir," said the damsel, "my father hath made a tournament betwixt him and
the King of North Wales upon Tuesday next, and that is just a fortnight from
this day. Now, already my father hath lost one such a tournament, for he hath
no very great array of knights upon his side, and the King of North Wales hath
three knights of King Arthur's Round Table to aid his party. Because of the
great help of these knights of the Round Table, the King of North Wales won
the last tournament and my father lost it, and now he feareth to lose the tournament
that is to be. Now if you will enter upon my father's side upon the day of the
tournament, I doubt not that he shall win that tournament; for all men say that
you are the greatest knight in the world at this time. So if you will promise
to help my father and will seal that promise with your knightly word, then will
I set you free of this castle of enchantment."

"Fair maiden," said Sir Launcelot, "tell me your name and your father's name,
for I cannot give you my promise until I know who ye be."

"Sir," said the demoiselle, "I am called Elouise the Fair, and my father is
King Bagdemagus." "Ha!" quoth Sir Launcelot, "I know your father, and I know
that he is a good king and a very worthy knight besides. If you did me no service
whatsoever, I would, at your simple asking, were I free of this place, lend
him such aid as it is in my power to give."

At this the damsel took great joy and gave Sir Launcelot thanks beyond measure.
So they spoke together as to how that matter might be brought about so that
Sir Launcelot should be brought to talk to King Bagdemagus. And the damsel Elouise
said: "Let it be this way, Sir Launcelot. Imprimis--thou art to know that somewhat
of a long distance to the westward of that place where thou didst fall asleep
yesterday, there standeth a very large, fair abbey known as the Abbey of Saint
James the Lesser. This abbey is surrounded by an exceedingly noble estate that
lieth all around about it so that no man that haps in that part of the country
can miss it if he make inquiry for it. Now I will go and take lodging at that
abbey a little while after I leave this place. So when it suits thee to do so,
come thou thither and thou wilt find me there and I will bring thee to my father."

"Very well," said Sir Launcelot, "let it be that way. I will come to that
place in good time for the tournament. Meantime, I prithee, rest in the assurance
that I shall never forgot thy kindness to me this day, nor thy gracious behavior
and speech unto me. Wherefore I shall deem it not a duty but a pleasure to serve
thee."

So, having arranged all these matters, the damsel Elouise opened the door
of that room and led Sir Launcelot out thence; and she led him through various
passages and down several long flights of steps, and so brought him at last
unto a certain chamber, where was his armor. Then the damsel helped Sir Launcelot
to encase him in his armor, so that in a little while he was altogether armed
as he had been when he fell asleep under that apple-tree. Thereafter the damsel
brought him out past the court-yard and unto the stable where was Sir Launcelot's
horse, and the horse knew him when he came. So he saddled the horse by the light
of a half-moon which sailed like a boat high up in the sky through the silver,
floating clouds, and therewith he was ready to depart. Then the damsel opened
the gate and he rode out into the night, which was now drawing near the dawning
of the day.

Thus Elouise the Fair aided Sir Launcelot to escape from that castle of enchantment,
where else great ill might have befallen him.

And now it shall be told how Sir Launcelot did battle with Sir Turquine and
of what happened thereat.

Chapter Fourth

So Sir Launcelot rode through the forest, and whilst he rode the day began
to break. About sunrise he came out into an open clearing where certain charcoal-burners
were plying their trade.

To these rude fellows he appeared out of the dark forest like some bright
and shining vision; and they made him welcome and offered him to eat of their
food, and he dismounted and sat down with them and brake his fast with them.
And when he had satisfied his hunger, he gave them grammercy for their entertainment,
and took horse and rode away.

He made forward until about the middle of the morning, what time he came suddenly
upon that place where, two days before, he had fallen asleep beneath the blooming
apple-tree. Here he drew rein and looked about him for a considerable while;
for he thought that haply he might find some trace of Sir Lionel thereabouts.
But there was no trace of him, and Sir Launcelot wist not what had become of
him.

Now whilst Sir Launcelot was still there, not knowing what to do to find Sir
Lionel, there passed that way a damsel riding upon a white palfrey. Unto her
Sir Launcelot made salutation, and she made salutation to him and asked him
what cheer. "Maiden," said Sir Launcelot, "the cheer that I have is not very
good, seeing that I have lost my companion-at-arms and know not where he is."
Then he said: "Did you haply meet anywhere with a knight with the figure of
a red gryphon upon his shield?" whereunto the damsel answered: "Nay, I saw none
such." Then Sir Launcelot said: "Tell me, fair damsel, dost thou know of any
adventure hereabouts that I may undertake? For, as thou seest, I am errant and
in search of such."

Upon this the damsel fell a-laughing: "Yea, Sir Knight," said she, "I know
of an adventure not far away, but it is an adventure that no knight yet that
ever I heard tell of hath accomplished. I can take thee to that adventure if
thou hast a desire to pursue it."

"Why should I not pursue it," said Sir Launcelot, "seeing that I am here for
that very cause--to pursue adventure?"

"Well," said the damsel, "then come with me, Sir Knight, I will take thee
to an adventure that shall satisfy thee."

So Sir Launcelot and that damsel rode away from that place together; he upon
his great war-horse and she upon her ambling palfrey beside him. And the sun
shone down upon them, very pleasant and warm, and all who passed them turned
to look after them; for the maiden was very fair and slender, and Sir Launcelot
was of so noble and stately a mien that few could behold him even from a distance
without looking twice or three times upon him. And as they travelled in that
way together they fell into converse, and the damsel said to Sir Launcelot:
"Sir, thou appearest to be a very good knight, and of such a sort as may well
undertake any adventure with great hope of success. Now I prithee to tell me
thy name and what knight thou art."

"Fair maiden," said Sir Launcelot, "as for telling you my name, that I will
gladly do. I am called Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and I am a knight of King
Arthur's court and of his Round Table."

At this the damsel was very greatly astonished and filled with admiration.
"Hah!" quoth she, "it is a great pleasure to me to fall in with you, Sir Launcelot,
for all the world now bespeaketh your fame. Little did I ever think to behold
your person, much less speak with you, and ride in this way with you. Now I
will tell you what this adventure is on which we are set; it is this--there
is, some small distance from this, a castle of a knight hight Sir Turquine,
who hath in his prison a great many knights of King Arthur's court, and several
knights of his Round Table. These knights he keepeth there in great dole and
misery, for it is said that their groans may be heard by the passers along the
high-road below the castle. This Sir Turquine is held to be the greatest knight
in the world (unless it be thou) for he hath never yet been overcome in battle,
whether a-horseback or a-foot. But, indeed, I think it to be altogether likely
that thou wilt overcome him."

"Fair damsel," quoth Sir Launcelot, "I too have hope that I shall hold mine
own with him, when I meet him, and to that I shall do my best endeavor. Yet
this and all other matters are entirely in the hands of God."

Then the damsel said, "If you should overcome this Sir Turquine, I know of
still another adventure which, if you do not undertake it, I know of no one
else who may undertake to bring it to a successful issue."

Quoth Sir Launcelot, "I am glad to hear of that or of any other adventure,
for I take great joy in such adventuring. Now, tell me, what is this other adventure?"

"Sir," said the damsel, "a long distance to the west of this there is a knight
who hath a castle in the woods and he is the evilest disposed knight that ever
I heard tell of. For he lurks continually in the outskirts of the woods, whence
he rushes forth at times upon those who pass by. Especially he is an enemy to
all ladies of that country, for he hath taken many of them prisoners to his
castle and hath held them in the dungeon thereof for ransom; and sometimes he
hath held them for a long while. Now I am fain that thou undertake that adventure
for my sake."

"Well," said Sir Launcelot, "I believe it would be a good thing for any knight
to do to rid the world of such an evil-disposed knight as that, so if I have
the good fortune to overcome this Sir Turquine, I give my knightly word that
I will undertake this adventure for thy sake, if so be thou wilt go with me
for to show me the way to his castle."

"That I will do with all gladness," said the damsel, "for it is great pride
for any lady to ride with you upon such an adventure."

Thus they talked, and all was arranged betwixt them. And thus they rode very
pleasantly through that valley for the distance of two leagues or a little more,
until they came to that place where the road crossed the smooth stream of water
afore told of; and there was the castle of Sir Turquine as afore told of; and
there was the thorn-bush and the basin hanging upon the thorn-bush as afore
told of. Then the maiden said: "Sir Launcelot, beat upon that basin and so thou
shalt summon Sir Turquine to battle with thee."

So Sir Launcelot rode to that basin where it hung and he smote upon it very
violently with the butt of his spear. And he smote upon that basin again and
again until he smote the bottom from out it; but at that time immediately no
one came.

Then, after a while, he was ware of one who came riding toward him, and he
beheld that he who came riding was a knight very huge of frame, and long and
strong of limb. And he beheld that the knight was clad entirely in black, and
that the horse upon which he rode and all the furniture of the horse was black.
And he beheld that this knight drave before him another horse, and that across
the saddle of that other horse there lay an armed knight, bound hand and foot;
and Sir Launcelot wist that the sable knight who came riding was that Sir Turquine
whom he sought.

So Sir Turquine came very rapidly along the highway toward where Sir Launcelot
sat, driving that other horse and the captive knight before him all the while.
And as they came nearer and nearer Sir Launcelot thought that he should know
who the wounded knight was and when they came right close, so that he could
see the markings of the shield of that captive knight, he wist that it was Sir
Gaheris, the brother of Sir Gawaine, and the nephew of King Arthur, whom Sir
Turquine brought thither in that wise.

At this Sir Launcelot was very wroth; for he could not abide seeing a fellow-knight
of the Round Table treated with such disregard as that which Sir Gaheris suffered
at the hands of Sir Turquine; wherefore Sir Launcelot rode to meet Sir Turquine,
and he cried out: "Sir Knight! put that wounded man down from his horse, and
let him rest for a while, and we two will prove our strength, the one against
the other! For it is a shame for thee to treat a noble knight of the Round Table
with such despite as thou art treating that knight."

"Sir," said Sir Turquine, "as I treat that knight, so treat I all knights
of the Round Table--and so will I treat thee if thou be of the Round Table."

"Well," said Sir Launcelot, "as for that, I am indeed of the Round Table,
and I have come hither for no other reason than for to do battle with thee."

"Sir Knight," said Sir Turquine, "thou speakest very boldly; now I pray thee
to tell me what knight thou art and what is thy name."

"Messire," said Sir Launcelot, "I have no fear to do that. I am called Sir
Launcelot of the Lake, and I am a knight of King Arthur's, who made me knight
with his own hand."

"Ha!" said Sir Turquine, "that is very good news to me, for of all knights
in the world thou art the one I most desire to meet, for I have looked for thee
for a long while with intent to do battle with thee. For it was thou who didst
slay my brother Sir Caradus at Dolorous Gard, who was held to be the best knight
in all the world. Wherefore, because of this, I have the greatest despite against
thee of any man in the world, and it was because of that despite that I waged
particular battle against all the knights of King Arthur's court. And in despite
of thee I now hold five score and eight knights, who are thy fellows, in the
dismallest dungeon of my castle. Also I have to tell thee that among those knights
is thine own brother, Sir Ector, and thy kinsman, Sir Lionel. For I overthrew
Sir Ector and Sir Lionel only a day or two ago, and now they lie almost naked
in the lower parts of that castle yonder. I will put down this knight as thou
biddst me, and when I have done battle with thee I hope to tie thee on his saddle-horn
in his place."

So Sir Turquine loosed the cords that bound Sir Gaheris and set him from off
the horse's back, and Sir Gaheris, who was sorely wounded and very weak, sat
him down upon a slab of stone near-by.

Then Sir Launcelot and Sir Turquine made themselves ready at all points, and
each took such stand as seemed to him to be best; and when each was ready for
the assault, each set spurs to his horse and rushed the one against the other
with such terrible violence that they smote together like a clap of thunder.

So fierce was that onset that each horse fell back upon the ground and only
by great skill and address did the knight who rode him void his saddle, so as
to save himself from a fall. And in that meeting the horse of Sir Turquine was
killed outright and the back of Sir Launcelot's horse was broken and he could
not rise, but lay like dead upon the ground.

Then each knight drew his sword and set his shield before him and they came
together with such wrath that it appeared as though their fierce eyes shot sparks
of fire through the oculariums of their helmets. So they met and struck; and
they struck many scores of times, and their blows were so violent that neither
shield nor armor could withstand the strokes they gave. For their shields were
cleft and many pieces of armor were hewn from their limbs, so that the ground
was littered with them. And each knight gave the other so many grim wounds that
the ground presently was all sprinkled with red where they stood.

Now that time the day had waxed very hot, for it was come high noontide, so
presently Sir Turquine cried out: "Stay thee, Sir Launcelot, for I have a boon
to ask!" At this Sir Launcelot stayed his hand and said: "What is it thou hast
to ask, Sir Knight?" Sir Turquine said: "Messire, I am athirst--let me drink."
And Sir Launcelot said: "Go and drink."

So Sir Turquine went to that river and entered into that water, which was
presently stained with red all about him. And he stooped where he stood and
drank his fill, and presently came forth again altogether refreshed.

Therewith he took up his sword once more and rushed at Sir Launcelot and smote
with double strength, so that Sir Launcelot bent before him and had much ado
to defend himself from these blows.

Then by and by Sir Launcelot waxed faint upon his part and was athirst, and
he cried out: "I crave of thee a boon, Sir Knight!" "What wouldst thou have?"
said Sir Turquine. "Sir Knight," said Sir Launcelot, "bide while I drink, for
I am athirst." "Nay," said Sir Turquine, "thou shalt not drink until thou quenchest
thy thirst in Paradise." "Ha!" cried Sir Launcelot, "thou art a foul churl and
no true knight. For when thou wert athirst, I let thee drink; and now that I
am athirst, thou deniest me to quench my thirst."

Therewith he was filled with such anger that he was like one gone wode; wherefore
he flung aside his shield and took his sword in both hands and rushed upon Sir
Turquine and smote him again and again; and the blows he gave were so fierce
that Sir Turquine waxed somewhat bewildered and bore aback, and held his shield
low for faintness.

Then when Sir Launcelot beheld that Sir Turquine was faint in that wise, he
rushed upon him and catched him by the beaver of his helmet and pulled him down
upon his knees. And Sir Launcelot rushed Sir Turquine's helmet from off his
head. And he lifted his sword and smote Sir Turquine's head from off his shoulders,
so that it rolled down upon the ground.

Then for a while Sir Launcelot stood there panting for to catch his breath
after that sore battle, for he was nearly stifled with the heat and fury thereof.
Then he went down into the water, and he staggered like a drunken man as he
went, and the water ran all red at his coming. And Sir Launcelot stooped and
slaked his thirst, which was very furious and hot.

Thereafter he came up out of the water again, all dripping, and he went to
where the damsel was and he said to her; "Damsel, lo, I have overcome Sir Turquine;
now I am ready to go with thee upon that other adventure, as I promised thee
I would."

At this the damsel was astonished beyond measure, wherefore she cried: "Sir,
thou art sorely hurt, and in need of rest for two or three days, and maybe a
long time more, until thy wounds are healed."

"Nay," said Sir Launcelot, "no need to wait; I will go with thee now."

Then Sir Launcelot went to Sir Gaheris--for Sir Gaheris had been sitting for
all that while upon that slab of stone. Sir Launcelot said to Sir Gaheris: "Fair
Lord, be not angry if I take your horse, for I must presently go with this damsel,
and you see mine own horse hath broke his back."

"Sir Knight," said Sir Gaheris, "this day you have saved both me and my horse,
wherefore it is altogether fitting that my horse or anything that is mine should
be yours to do with as you please. So I pray you take my horse, only tell me
your name and what knight you are; for I swear by my sword that I never saw
any knight in all the world do battle so wonderfully as you have done to-day."

"Sir," said Sir Launcelot, "I am called Sir Launcelot of the Lake, and I am
a knight of King Arthur's. So it is altogether fitting that I should do such
service unto you as this, seeing that you are the brother of that dear knight,
Sir Gawaine. For if I should not do this battle that I have done for your sake,
I should yet do it for the sake of my lord, King Arthur, who is your uncle and
Sir Gawaine's uncle."

Now when Sir Gaheris heard who Sir Launcelot was, he made great exclamation
of amazement. "Ha, Sir Launcelot!" he cried, "and is it thou! Often have I heard
of thee and of thy prowess at arms! I have desired to meet thee more than any
knight in the world; but never did I think to meet thee in such a case as this."
Therewith Sir Gaheris arose, and went to Sir Launcelot, and Sir Launcelot came
to him and they met and embraced and kissed one another upon the face; and from
that time forth they were as brethren together.

Then Sir Launcelot said to Sir Gaheris: "I pray you, Lord, for to go up unto
yonder castle, and bring succor to those unfortunates who lie therein. For I
think you will find there many fellow-knights of the Round Table. And I believe
that you will find therein my brother, Sir Ector, and my cousin, Sir Lionel.
And if you find any other of my kindred I pray you to set them free and to do
what you can for to comfort them and to put them at their ease. And if there
is any treasure in that castle, I bid you give it unto those knights who are
prisoners there, for to compensate them for the pains they have endured. Moreover,
I pray you tell Sir Ector and Sir Lionel not to follow after me, but to return
to court and wait for me there, for I have two adventures to undertake and I
must essay them alone."

Then Sir Gaheris was very much astonished, and he cried out upon Sir Launcelot:
"Sir! Sir! Surely you will not go forth upon another adventure at this time,
seeing that you are so sorely wounded."

But Sir Launcelot said: "Yea, I shall go now; for I do not think that my wounds
are so deep that I shall not be able to do my devoirs when my time cometh to
do them."

At this Sir Gaheris was amazed beyond measure, for Sir Launcelot was very
sorely wounded, and his armor was much broken in that battle, wherefore Sir
Gaheris had never beheld a person who was so steadfast of purpose as to do battle
in such a case.

So Sir Launcelot mounted Sir Gaheris' horse and rode away with that young
damsel, and Sir Gaheris went to the castle as Sir Launcelot had bidden him to
do.

In that castle he found five score and eight prisoners in dreadful case, for
some who were there had been there for a long time, so that the hair of them
had grown down upon their shoulders, and their beards had grown down upon their
breasts. And some had been there but a short time, as was the case of Sir Lionel
and Sir Ector. But all were in a miserable sorry plight; and all of those sad
prisoners but two were knights of King Arthur's court, and eight of them were
knights of the Round Table. All these crowded around Sir Gaheris, for they saw
that he was wounded and they deemed that it was he had set them free, wherefore
they gave him thanks beyond measure.

"Not so," said Sir Gaheris, "it was not I who set you free; it was Sir Launcelot
of the Lake. He overcame Sir Turquine in such a battle as I never before beheld.
For I saw that battle with mine own eyes, being at a little distance seated
upon a stone slab and wounded as you see. And I make my oath that I never beheld
so fierce and manful a combat in all of my life. But now your troubles are over
and done, and Sir Launcelot greets you all with words of good cheer and bids
me tell you to take all ease and comfort that you can in being free, and in
especial he bids me greet you, Sir Ector, and you, Sir Lionel, and to tell you
that you are to follow him no farther, but to return to court and bide there
until he cometh; for he goeth upon an adventure which he must undertake by himself."

"Not so," said Sir Lionel, "I will follow after him, and find him." And so
said Sir Ector likewise, that he would go and find Sir Launcelot. Then Sir Kay
the Seneschal said that he would ride with those two; so the three took horse
and rode away together to find Sir Launcelot.

As for those others, they ransacked throughout the castle of Sir Turquine,
and they found twelve treasure-chests full of treasure, both of silver and of
gold, together with many precious jewels; and they found many bales of cloth
of silk and of cloth of gold. So, as Sir Launcelot had bid them do so, they
divided the treasure among themselves, setting aside a part for Sir Ector and
a part for Sir Lionel and a part for Sir Kay. Then, whereas before they had
been mournful, now they were joyful at having been made so rich with those precious
things.

Thus happily ended that great battle with Sir Turquine which was very likely
the fiercest and most dolorous fight that ever Sir Launcelot had in all of his
life. For, unless it was Sir Tristram, he never found any other knight so big
as Sir Turquine except Sir Galahad, who was his own son.

And now it shall be told how Sir Launcelot fared upon that adventure which
he had promised the young damsel to undertake.

Chapter Fifth

Now after Sir Launcelot had finished that battle with Sir Turquine as aforetold,
and when he had borrowed the horse of Sir Gaheris, he rode away from that place
of combat with the young damsel, with intent to carry out the other adventure
which he had promised her to undertake.

But though he rode with her, yet, for a while, he said very little to her,
for his wounds ached him sorely and he was in a great deal of pain. So, because
of this, he had small mind to talk, but only to endure what he had to endure
with as much patience as he might command. And the damsel upon her part was
somewhat aware of what Sir Launcelot was suffering and she was right sorry for
him, wherefore she did not trouble him with idle discourse at that moment, but
waited for a while before she spake.

Then by and by she said to him: "Messire, I would that thou wouldst rest for
some days, and take thine ease, and have thy wounds searched and dressed, and
have thy armor looked to and redded. Now there is a castle at some distance
from this, and it is my brother's castle, and thither we may go in a little
pass. There thou mayst rest for this night and take thine ease. For I know that
my brother will be wonderfully glad to see thee because thou art so famous."

Then Sir Launcelot turned his eyes upon the damsel: "Fair maiden," quoth he,
"I make confession that I do in sooth ache a very great deal, and that I am
somewhat aweary with the battle I have endured this day. Wherefore I am very
well content to follow thy commands in this matter. But I prithee, damsel, tell
me what is thy name, for I know not yet how thou art called."

"Sir," she said, "I am called Croisette of the Dale, and my brother is called
Sir Hilaire of the Dale, and it is to his castle that I am about to take thee
to rest for this time."

Then Sir Launcelot said: "I go with thee, damsel, wherever it is thy will
to take me."

So they two rode through that valley at a slow pace and very easily. And toward
the waning of the afternoon they left the valley by a narrow side way, and so
in a little while came into a shallow dale, very fertile and smiling, but of
no great size. For the more part that dale was all spread over with fields and
meadow-lands, with here and there a plantation of trees in full blossom and
here and there a farm croft. A winding river flowed down through the midst of
this valley, very quiet and smooth, and brimming its grassy banks, where were
alder and sedge and long rows of pollard willows overreaching the water.

At the farther end of the valley was a castle of very comely of appearance,
being built part of stone and part of bright red bricks; and the castle had
many windows of glass and tall chimneys, some a-smoke. About the castle and
nigh to it was a little village of thatched cottages, with many trees in blossom
and some without blossom shading the gables of the small houses that took shelter
beneath them.

Now when Sir Launcelot and Croisette came into that little valley it was at
the declining of the day and the sky was all alight with the slanting sun, and
the swallows were flying above the smooth shining surface of the river in such
multitudes that it was wonderful to behold them. And the lowing herds were winding
slowly along by the river in their homeward way, and all was so peaceful and
quiet that Sir Launcelot drew rein for pure pleasure, and sat for some while
looking down upon that fair, happy dale. Then by and by he said: "Croisette,
meseems I have never beheld so sweet and fair a country as this, nor one in
which it would be so pleasant to live."

Upon this Croisette was very much pleased, and she smiled upon Sir Launcelot.
"Think you so, Sir Launcelot?" quoth she. "Well, in sooth, I am very glad that
this valley pleasures you; for I love it beyond any other place in all the world.
For here was I born and here was I raised in that castle yonder. For that is
my brother's castle and it was my father's castle before his time; wherefore
meseems that no place in all the world can ever be so dear to my heart as this
dale."

Thereupon they went forward up that little valley, and along by the smoothly
flowing river, and the farther they went the more Sir Launcelot took pleasure
in all that he beheld. Thus they came through the pretty village where the folk
stood and watched with great admiration how that noble knight rode that way;
and so they came to the castle and rode into the court-yard thereof. Then presently
there came the lord of that castle, who was Sir Hilaire of the Dale. And Sir
Hilaire greeted Sir Launcelot, saying: "Welcome, Sir Knight. This is great honor
you do me to come into this quiet dale with my sister, for we do not often have
with us travellers of such quality as you."

"Brother," said Croisette, "you may well say that it is an honor to have this
knight with us, for this is none other knight than the great Sir Launcelot of
the Lake. This day I beheld him overcome Sir Turquine in fair and honorable
battle. So he doth indeed do great honor for to visit us in this wise."

Then Sir Hilaire looked at Sir Launcelot very steadily, and he said: "Sir
Launcelot, your fame is so great that it hath reached even unto this peaceful
outland place; wherefore it shall not soon be forgotten here how you came hither.
Now, I pray you, come in and refresh yourself, for I see that you are wounded
and I doubt not you are weary."

Upon this several attendants came, and they took Sir Launcelot and led him
to a pleasant chamber. There they unarmed him and gave him a bath in tepid water,
and there came a leech and searched his wounds and dressed them. Then those
in attendance upon him gave him a soft robe of cloth of velvet, and when Sir
Launcelot had put it on he felt much at ease, and in great comfort of body.

By and by, when evening had fallen, a very good, excellent feast was spread
in the hall of the castle, and there sat down thereto Sir Launcelot and Sir
Hilaire and the damsel Croisette. As they ate they discoursed of various things,
and Sir Launcelot told many things concerning his adventures, so that all who
were there were very quiet, listening to what he said. For it was as though
he were a visitor come to them from some other world, very strange and distant,
of which they had no knowledge, wherefore they all listened so as not to lose
a single word of what he told them. So that evening passed very pleasantly,
and Sir Launcelot went to his bed with great content of spirit.

So Sir Launcelot abided for several days in that place until his wounds were
healed. Then one morning, after they had all broken their fast, he made request
that he and the damsel might be allowed to depart upon that adventure which
he had promised her to undertake, and unto this Sir Hilaire gave his consent.

Now, during this while, Sir Launcelot's armor had been so pieced and mended
by the armor-smiths of that castle that when he donned it it was, in a measure,
as sound as it had ever been, and of that Sir Launcelot was very glad. So having
made ready in all ways he and Croisette took leave of that place, and all they
who were there bade them adieu and gave Sir Launcelot God-speed upon that adventure.

Now some while after they left that dale they rode through a very ancient
forest, where the sod was exceedingly soft underfoot and silent to the tread
of the horses, and where it was very full of bursting foliage overhead. And
as they rode at an easy pace through that woodland place they talked of many
things in a very pleasant and merry discourse.

Quoth the damsel unto Sir Launcelot: "Messire, I take very great wonder that
thou hast not some special lady for to serve in all ways as a knight should
serve a lady."

"Ha, damsel," said Sir Launcelot, "I do serve a lady in that manner and she
is peerless above all other ladies; for that lady is the Lady Guinevere, who
is King Arthur's queen. Yet though I am her servant I serve her from a very
great distance. For in serving her I am like one who standeth upon the earth,
yet looketh upward ever toward the bright and morning star. For though such
an one may delight in that star from a distance, yet may he never hope to reach
an altitude whereon that star standeth."

"Heyday!" quoth Croisette, "for that matter, there are other ways of serving
a lady than that wise. Were I a knight meseems I would rather serve a lady nearer
at hand than at so great distance as that of which thou speakest. For in most
cases a knight would rather serve a lady who may smile upon him nigh at hand,
and not stand so far off from him as a star in the sky." But to this Sir Launcelot
made no reply but only smiled. Then in a little Croisette said: "Dost thou never
think of a lady in that wise, Sir Launcelot?"

"Nay," said Sir Launcelot, "and neither do I desire so to serve any lady.
For it is thus with me, Croisette--for all that while of my life until I was
eighteen years of age I lived in a very wonderful land beneath a magical lake,
of which I may not tell thee. Then I came out of that lake and into this world
and King Arthur made me a knight. Now because I was so long absent from this
world of mankind and never saw aught of it until I was grown into a man, meseems
I love that world so greatly that I cannot tell thee how beautiful and wonderful
it seems to me. For it is so wonderful and so beautiful that methinks my soul
can never drink its fill of the pleasures thereof. Yea; methinks I love every
blade of grass upon the fields, and every leaf upon every tree: and that I love
everything that creepeth or that flyeth, so that when I am abroad under the
sky and behold those things about me I am whiles like to weep for very joy of
them. Wherefore it is, Croisette, that I would rather be a knight-errant in
this world which I love so greatly than to be a king seated upon a throne with
a golden crown upon my head and all men kneeling unto me. Yea; meseems that
because of my joy in these things I have no room in my heart for such a love
of lady as thou speakest of, but only for the love of knight-errantry, and a
great wish for to make this world in which I now live the better and the happier
for my dwelling in it. Thus it is, Croisette, that I have no lady for to serve
in the manner thou speakest of. Nor will I ever have such, saving only the Lady
Guinevere, the thought of whom standeth above me like that bright star afore
spoken of."

"Ha," quoth Croisette, "then am I sad for the sake of some lady, I know not
who. For if thou wert of another mind thou mightest make some lady very glad
to have so great a knight as thou art to serve her." Upon this Sir Launcelot
laughed with a very cheerful spirit, for he and the damsel were grown to be
exceedingly good friends, as you may suppose from such discourse as this.

So they wended their way in this fashion until somewhat after the prime of
day, and by that time they had come out of that forest and into a very rugged
country. For this place into which they were now come was a sort of rocky valley,
rough and bare and in no wise beautiful. When they had entered into it they
perceived, a great way off, a castle built up upon the rocks. And that castle
was built very high, so that the roofs and the chimneys thereof stood wonderfully
sharp and clear against the sky; yet the castle was so distant that it looked
like a toy which you might easily take into your hand and hold betwixt your
fingers.

Then Croisette said to Sir Launcelot: "Yonder is the castle of that evil-minded
knight of whom I spake to thee yesterday, and his name is Sir Peris of the Forest
Sauvage. Below that castle, where the road leads into that woodland, there doth
he lurk to seize upon wayfarers who come thitherward. And indeed he is a very
catiff knight, for, though he is strong and powerful, he doth not often attack
other knights, but only ladies and demoiselles who come hither. For these he
may take captive without danger to himself. For I believe that though he is
so big of frame yet is he a coward in his heart."

Then Sir Launcelot sat for a while and regarded that castle, and fell into
thought; and he said, "Damsel, if so be this knight is such a coward as thou
sayest, meseems that if I travel with thee I shall have some ado to come upon
him; because, if he sees me with thee, he may keep himself hidden in the thicket
of the forest from my sight. Now I will have it this way; do thou ride along
the highway in plain sight of the castle, and I will keep within the woodland
skirts, where I may have thee in sight and still be hidden from the sight of
others. Then if this knight assail thee, as I think it likely he may do, I will
come out and do battle with him ere he escapes."

So it was arranged as Sir Launcelot said and they rode in that wise: Croisette
rode along the highway, and Sir Launcelot rode under the trees in the outskirts
of the forest, where he was hidden from the eyes of anyone who might be looking
that way. So they went on for a long pass until they came pretty nigh to where
the castle was.

Then, as they came to a certain part of the road that dipped down toward a
small valley, they were suddenly aware of a great noise, and immediately there
issued out from the forest a knight, large and strong of frame, and followed
close behind by a squire dressed altogether in scarlet from head to foot. This
knight bore down with great speed upon where Croisette was, and the esquire
followed close behind him. When these two had come near to Croisette, the esquire
leaped from off his horse and caught her palfrey by the bridle, and the knight
came close to her and catched her as though to drag her off from her horse.

With that Croisette shrieked very loud, and immediately Sir Launcelot broke
out from the woods and rode down upon where all this was toward with a noise
like to thunder. As he came he cried aloud in a great and terrible voice: "Sir
Knight, let go that lady, and turn thou to me and defend thyself!"

Then Sir Peris of the Forest Sauvage looked this way and that with intent
to escape, but he was aware that he could not escape from Sir Launcelot, wherefore
he took his shield in hand and drew his sword and put himself into a position
of defence; for, whereas he could not escape, he was, perforce, minded to do
battle. Then Sir Launcelot threw aside his spear, and he set his shield before
him and he took his sword in his hand, and he drave his horse against Sir Peris.
And when he had come nigh to Sir Peris he raised himself in his stirrups and
struck him such a buffet that I believe nothing in the world could withstand
its force. For though Sir Peris raised his shield against that blow, yet the
sword of Sir Launcelot smote through the shield and it smote down the arm that
held the shield, and it smote with such a terrible force upon the helm of Sir
Peris that Sir Peris fell down from his horse and lay in a swoon without any
motion at all.

Then Sir Launcelot leaped down from his horse and rushed off the helm of Sir
Peris, and lifted his sword with intent to strike off his head.

Upon that the senses of Sir Peris came somewhat back to him, and he set his
palms together and he cried out, though in a very weak voice: "Spare me, Sir
Knight! I yield myself to thee!"

"Why should I spare thee?" said Sir Launcelot.

"Sir," said Sir Peris, "I beseech thee, by thy knighthood, to spare me."

"Well," said Sir Launcelot, "since thou hast besought me upon my knighthood
I cannot do else than spare thee. But if I do spare thee, thou shalt have to
endure such shame that any true knight in thy stead would rather die than be
spared in such a manner."

"Sir Knight," said Sir Peris, "I am content with anything thou mayst do, so
be that thou wilt spare my life."

Upon this Sir Launcelot bade Sir Peris rise. And he took the halter of Sir
Peris's horse, and he bound Sir Peris's arms behind his back, and when he had
done this he drove him up to his castle at the point of his lance. And when
they came to the castle he bade Sir Peris have open the castle; and Sir Peris
did so; and thereupon Sir Launcelot and Sir Peris entered the castle and the
damsel and the squire followed after them.

In that castle were fourteen ladies of high degree held captive for ransom;
and some of these had been there for a considerable time, to their great discomfort.
All these were filled with joy when they were aware that Sir Launcelot had set
them free. So they came to Sir Launcelot and paid their court to him and gave
him great thanks beyond measure.

Sir Launcelot and Croisette abode in that castle all that night, and when
the next morning had come Sir Launcelot made search all over that castle, and
he found a considerable treasure of silver and gold, which had been gathered
there by the ransom of the ladies and the damsels of degree whom Sir Peris had
made prisoner aforetime. All this treasure Sir Launcelot divided among those
ladies who were prisoners, and a share of the treasure he gave to the damsel
Croisette, because that they two were such good friends and because Croisette
had brought him thither to that adventure, and thereof Croisette was very glad.
But Sir Launcelot kept none of that treasure for himself.

Then Croisette said: "How is this, Sir Launcelot? You have not kept any of
this treasure for yourself, yet you won it by your own force of arms, wherefore
it is altogether yours to keep if you will to do so."

"Croisette," said Sir Launcelot, "I do not care for such things as this treasure;
for when I lived within that lake of which I have spoken to thee, such things
as this treasure were there as cheap as pebbles which you may gather up at any
river-bed, wherefore it has come to pass that such things have no value to me."

Now, after all this had been settled, Sir Launcelot had Sir Peris of the Forest
Sauvage haled before him, and Sir Launcelot said: "Catiff Knight, now is it
time for thy shame to come upon thee." Therewith he had Sir Peris stripped of
all armor and raiment, even to his jerkin and his hose, and he had his arms
tied behind his back, and he had a halter set about his neck; and Sir Launcelot
tied the halter that was about the neck of Sir Peris to the horn of the saddle
of his own horse, so that when he rode away with Croisette Sir Peris must needs
follow behind him at whatever gait the horse of Sir Launcelot might take.

So Sir Launcelot and Croisette rode back to the manor of Sir Hilaire of the
Dale with Sir Peris running behind them, and when they had come there Sir Launcelot
delivered Sir Peris unto Sir Hilaire, and Sir Hilaire had Sir Peris bound upon
a horse's back with his feet underneath the belly of the horse; and sent him
to Camelot for King Arthur to deal with him as might seem to the King to be
fit.

But Sir Launcelot remained with Sir Hilaire of the Dale all the next day and
he was very well content to be in that pleasant place. And upon the day after
that, which was Sunday, he set forth at about the prime of the day to go to
that abbey of monks where he had appointed to meet the damsel Elouise the Fair,
as aforetold.

And now you shall hear how Sir Launcelot behaved at the tournament of King
Bagdemagus, if it please you to read that which herewith immediately followeth.

Chapter Sixth

Sir Launcelot rode by many highways and many byways at a very slow pace, stopping
now and then when it pleased him to do so, for he took great joy in being free
in the open air again. For the day was warm and that time the clouds were very
thick, drifting in great abundance across the sky. And anon there would fall
a sudden shower of rain, and anon the sun would shine forth again, very warm
and strong, so that all the world sparkled as with incredible myriads of jewels.
Then the cock crowed lustily because the shower was past, and another cock answered
him far away, and all the world suddenly smiled, and the water trickled everywhere,
and the little hills clapped their hands for joy. So Sir Launcelot took great
pleasure in the day and he went his way at so easy a pace that it was night-time
ere he reached that abbey of monks where he was to meet Elouise the Fair.

Now that evening Elouise was sitting in a certain apartment of the abbey overlooking
the court-yard, and a maiden was reading to her by the light of several waxen
tapers from a book of painted pictures. And the maiden read in a voice that
was both high and clear; meanwhile, Elouise sat very still and listened to what
she read. Now while Elouise the Fair sat so, there was of a sudden the sound
of a great horse coming on the stone pavement of the court below. Therewith
Elouise arose hastily and ran to the window and looked down into that court-yard.
Then she saw who he was that came, and that it was Sir Launcelot of the Lake.
For the light was not yet altogether gone from the sky, which was all shining
with gray, so that she could see who it was who came there.

Then Elouise gave great exclamation of joy, and clapped her hands. And she
ran down to the court where Sir Launcelot was, and several of her maidens went
with her.

When she had come to the court she gave great welcome to Sir Launcelot, and
she summoned many attendants and she bade them look to Sir Launcelot. So some
of them aided Sir Launcelot to dismount and some took his horse, and some brought
him up to a chamber that had been set apart for him, and there unarmed and served
him, and set him at his ease.

Then Elouise sent to him a soft robe of purple cloth of velvet, lined with
fur, and Sir Launcelot put it upon him and took great comfort in it.

After that Sir Launcelot descended to where Elouise was, and he found that
a fair supper had been set for his refreshment. So he sat and ate, and Elouise
the Fair herself served him.

Meanwhile she had sent for her father, King Bagdemagus, who was at that time
no great distance away, and a little after Sir Launcelot had finished his supper
King Bagdemagus came to that place, much wondering why Elouise had sent for
him.

When King Bagdemagus came, Elouise took him by the hand and led him to Sir
Launcelot, and she said: "Sire, here is a knight who, for my sake, is come to
help you in this tournament upon Tuesday."

Now King Bagdemagus had never before seen Sir Launcelot, so he knew not who
that knight was. Wherefore he said to him: "Messire, I am much beholden to you
for coming to my aid in this battle. Now I pray you that you tell me your name
and what knight you are."

"Lord," said Sir Launcelot, "I am hight Launcelot, and am surnamed 'He of
the Lake.'"

Now when King Bagdemagus heard this he was astonished beyond measure, wherefore
he cried out, "This is wonderful, that you who are the very flower of knighthood
should be here, and that you should come to aid me in my battle!"

"Sire," said Sir Launcelot, "I know not how much aid I may be to thee until
that matter is proven. But of a surety I owe it to this damsel to do what I
am able at her request, in return for all that she hath done for me to aid me
in my time of great peril. So it is a very small repayment for me to aid thee,
her father, in thy time of difficulties. Wherefore if, by good hap, I may be
of use to thee in this battle which is nigh at hand, then I shall be glad beyond
measure that I have paid some part of that debt which I owe to this lady."

"Messire," said King Bagdemagus, "I give thee grammercy for thy good will
in this matter. I am sure that, with thy aid, I shall be successful in this
battle, and that it will always be most renowned in the history of chivalry
because thou hast taken part in it."

So spake they with great courtesy to one another. Then, by and by, Sir Launcelot
said: "Sir, I pray you tell me who are those knights of King Arthur's court
who are upon the part of the King of North Wales? For I would fain know against
whom I am to do battle." To which King Bagdemagus said: "Messire, those three
knights of the Round Table are as follows--there is Sir Mordred, nephew unto
King Arthur, and there is Sir Galahantine, and there is Sir Mador de la Porte."

"Ha," quoth Sir Launcelot, "these are three very good knights indeed, and
I am not at all astonished that the King of North Wales should have had such
good fortune aforetime in that other tournament with you, seeing that he had
three such knights as they to do battle upon his side."

After this they fell into discourse as to the manner in which they should
do battle upon the morrow, and Sir Launcelot advised in this wise: "Lord, let
me take three knights of yours, such as you trust, and such as you hold to be
the strongest knights of your party. Let these three knights paint their shields
altogether white and I will paint mine white, and then no man will know who
we are. For I would have it so that I should not be known to be in this battle
until I shall have approved myself in it. Now, when you have chosen those three
knights, we four will take hiding in some wood or glade nigh to the place of
combat, and when you are most busily engaged, and when you begin to be hard-pressed,
then we will come forth and fall upon the flank of the party of the King of
North Wales with intent to throw them into confusion. Then you will push your
assault very hard, and I doubt not by the grace of God that we shall betwixt
us be able to bear back their array in confusion."

This advice seemed very good to King Bagdemagus, and so he did as Sir Launcelot
said. He chose him three very strong, worthy, honorable knights, and these made
their shields white as Sir Launcelot directed.

Thus, all things being arranged as Sir Launcelot willed, it came to be the
eve before the battle. So a little after sunset Sir Launcelot and those three
knights whom King Bagdemagus had chosen rode over toward the place of tourney
(which was some twelve miles from the abbey where the damsel Elouise was lodged).
There they found a little woodland of tall, leafy trees fit for Sir Launcelot's
purpose, and that wood stood to one side of the meadow of battle and at about
the distance of three furlongs from it. In this little wood Sir Launcelot and
the three knights-companion whom King Bagdemagus had chosen laid themselves
down upon the ground and wrapped, each man, his cloak about him. So they slept
there until the morrow, when the battle was ordained to be.

Now there had been very great preparation made for this tournament for on
three sides of the meadow of battle scaffolds had been built and rows of seats
had been placed. These were covered over with tapestries and hangings of divers
colors--some of figured and some of plain weaving--so that the green and level
meadow-land was hung all about with these gay and gaudy colors.

Now when the morning had come, the folk who came to witness that tournament
began to assemble from all directions--lords and ladies of high degree, esquires
and damsels of lesser rank, burghers and craftsmen with their wives, townspeople
from the town, yeomen from the woodlands, and freeholders from the farm crofts.
With these came many knights of the two parties in contest, and with the knights
came their esquires in attendance. Now these knights were all in full armor,
shining very bright, and the esquires were clad in raiment of many textures
and various colors, so that they were very gay and debonair. So, with all this
throng moving along the highway toward the meadow of battle, it seemed as though
the entire world was alive with gay and moving figures.

Now the place where Sir Launcelot and those three knights who were with him
lay hidden was not far from the highway, so, whence they lay, they could see
all that goodly procession of folk taking their way toward the lists, and they
could look down upon the meadow of battle, which, as hath been said, was not
more than three furlongs distant, and they could see the crowds of people of
high and low degree taking their places upon those seats according to their
rank and station. And they could see how the knights-contestant arrayed themselves
upon this side of the field and upon that, and how the esquires and attendants
hurried hither and thither, busying themselves in making their lords ready for
the encounter that was soon to befall. Yea, all this could they see as plainly
as though it lay upon the palm of a hand.

So they saw that about noontide all those who had come thither had taken their
places, and that the field was clean, and that the two parties of combat were
arrayed in order for battle.

Then Sir Launcelot perceived that the party of the King of North Wales was
very much greater than the party of King Bagdemagus; for while the party of
the King of North Wales had nigh eight score of helms, the party of King Bagdemagus
had hardly four score of helms. So Sir Launcelot perceived that that party of
King Bagdemagus would have much labor to do if it was to win in the battle.

Now, all being prepared, the marshal stood forth and blew upon his trumpet,
and therewith those two parties of knights rushed the one against the other,
each in so great a cloud of dust that one could hardly see the knights in their
passage. Therewith they met in the midst of the meadow of battle, with such
a crash and uproar of splintered lances as was terrible to hear.

And for a while no man could see what was toward, so great was the dust and
the tumult. But by and by the dust raised itself a little and then Sir Launcelot
perceived that the party of King Bagdemagus had been pushed back by that other
party, as might have been supposed in such a case.

So Sir Launcelot looked upon the battle for some while and he saw that the
party of King Bagdemagus was pushed farther and farther back. Then by and by
Sir Launcelot said to his knights-companion: "Messires, methinks now is our
time to enter this engagement."

Therewith he and they rode forth out of that woods, and they rode down the
hill and across the fields and so came into that meadow-of-battle.

At that time the party of the King of North Wales was so busily engaged in
its assault upon the party of King Bagdemagus that very few of those knights
engaged were aware of those four knights coming, and those who were aware of
them thought but very little of the coming of so small a number. So no one interfered
with their coming, wherefore they were able to bear down with great speed upon
the flank of the party of the King of North Wales. Therewith they struck that
flank with such force that both horses and horsemen were overturned by their
assault.

In that encounter Sir Launcelot carried a spear that was wonderfully strong
and tough. With it he ran with great fierceness into the very thickest of the
press, and before he was checked he struck down five knights with that one spear.
And likewise those three knights that were with him did such good service that
all that flank of the party of the King of North Wales was thrown into great
confusion and wist not what to do for to guard themselves against that fierce,
furious onset.

Then Sir Launcelot and his three companions bore back a little, and when they
got their distance they ran again into the press, and this time Sir Launcelot
overthrew the King of North Wales himself, and that with such violence that
the bone of his thigh was broken, and he had to be carried away out of that
field by his attendants. And in this second assault Sir Launcelot and the three
knights who were with him overthrew eleven knights besides the King of North
Wales, wherefore all that part of the press began to break away from them and
to seek some place where they could defend themselves from such another assault.

Now when the party of King Bagdemagus saw into what confusion the other party
were thrown by these four knights-champion, they began a very fierce and furious
attack, and with such vehemence that in a little the party of the King of North
Wales began to bear back before them. So, what with those who withdrew before
Sir Launcelot's assault, and what with those who withdrew from the assault of
King Bagdemagus, there was a great deal of confusion in the ranks of the party
of the King of North Wales.

Now those three knights who were of King Arthur's court perceived how Sir
Launcelot and his knights-companion were throwing the ranks of the party of
the King of North Wales into confusion, and they knew that unless the onset
of Sir Launcelot was checked, the day would of a surety be lost unto them. Wherefore
said Sir Mador de la Porte: "Yonder is a very strong and fierce-fighting knight;
if we do not check his onset we will very likely be brought to shame in this
battle." "Yea," said Sir Mordred, "that is so. Now I will take it upon me to
joust with that knight and to overthrow him." Upon that those other two knights
bade him go and do as he said. So Sir Mordred made way to where Sir Launcelot
was, coming forward very fiercely and with great violence, and Sir Launcelot
was aware of Sir Mordred's coming and made him ready for that assault. So the
two came together with terrible violence and Sir Launcelot struck Sir Mordred
such a buffet that the breast-band of Sir Mordred's saddle brake, and both the
saddle and Sir Mordred flew over his horse's tail. Therewith Sir Mordred fell
upon his head and struck with such violence upon the ground that his neck was
nigh broken, and he lay altogether in a dead swoon and had to be carried out
of the lists by his attendants.

This saw Sir Mador de la Porte, and he cried out: "Ha! see what hath befallen
Sir Mordred!" And therewith he also bare down upon Sir Launcelot with all his
might and main with intent to overthrow him. And Sir Launcelot ran against him,
and they struck together so fiercely that it was terrible to behold. But the
spear of Sir Mador de la Porte burst into pieces, whilst the spear of Sir Launcelot
held, so that both Sir Mador and his horse were overthown, the horse rolling
upon the man. And in that encounter Sir Mador's shoulder went out of place,
and he also had to be borne away by his attendants.

Then Sir Galahantine took a great spear from his esquire, who was nigh him,
and he also ran against Sir Launcelot with all his might; and Sir Launcelot
met him in full course and that onset was more terrible than either of the other
two. For the spear of each knight was burst into splinters, even to the butt
thereof. Then each threw away the butt of his spear and drew out his sword,
and Sir Galahantine struck Sir Launcelot such a blow that the legs of Sir Launcelot's
horse trembled under him because of the weight of that stroke. At this Sir Launcelot
waxed wroth beyond measure and he rose in his stirrups and he smote Sir Galahantine
such a buffet that the blood burst out from his nose and his ears, and all his
senses so went away from him that he might hardly behold the light of day because
of the swimming of his sight.

Therewith Sir Galahantine's head hung down upon his breast and he had no power
to guide his horse, wherefore his horse made way out of the press and galloped
off, bearing Sir Galahantine away, whether he would or no. And after the horse
had galloped a little distance Sir Galahantine could not any longer sit upon
his saddle, but he fell off of his horse and rolled over upon the ground and
had not strength to rise therefrom.

Then Sir Launcelot catched another spear, great and strong, from the esquire
who followed him, and before ever that spear broke he overthrew sixteen knights
therewith. Wherefore all who beheld him were amazed and terrified at what he
did.

By now the party of the King of North Wales began to bear more and more aback
and in a little they broke, and then the party of King Bagdemagus pursued them
hither and thither, and those who did not surrender were overthrown so that
it was not possible for them to make any new order of battle. Then that party
surrendered itself as conquered, one and all, and so King Bagdemagus won that
tournament with the greatest glory that it was possible for him to have. For
it had never been heard of before that a party of four-score knights should
overcome in that way a party of eight-score knights, with three knights of the
Round Table to champion them. Nor would such a victory have been possible only
for what Sir Launcelot did in that battle.

So Sir Launcelot won that tournament for King Bagdemagus, and after the battle
was over and done King Bagdemagus came to Sir Launcelot and said to him: "Messire,
thou hast brought to me the greatest glory this day that ever fell to my lot
in all of my life. Now I prithee come with me and refresh thyself with me, so
that I may give thee fitting thanks for all thou hast done, and so that I may
reward thee in such a way as is fit for a king to reward a knight-champion such
as thou art."

Unto this Sir Launcelot made reply: "Lord, I give you thanks for your courtesy,
but I need no reward; for it is meet that I should have done what I could for
the sake of the demoiselle Elouise the Fair, seeing that she rescued me from
the mischiefs that Queen Morgana had intent to do me."

Then King Bagdemagus besought Sir Launcelot that he would tarry awhile and
rest, but Sir Launcelot would not do so, but would be going upon his way without
any tarrying. But he said to King Bagdemagus: "I prithee greet your daughter
for me, and say to her that if ever she hath need of my services again let her
send to me, and I will come to her even if it be to the end of the earth. For
I have not yet repaid her for what she hath done for me."

Therewith Sir Launcelot went his way from that meadow of battle, and, coming
to the skirts of the forest he entered therein, and those who were there at
the meadow of battle did not see him any more.

So endeth the history of that famous tournament betwixt King Bagdemagus and
the King of North Wales.

Chapter Seventh

Now Sir Launcelot wandered errant for many days, meeting no adventure of any
moment, but taking great joy in all that he beheld of the wide world about him,
and in that time he found lodging wheresoever he chanced to be (if not in house,
then beneath the skies), and he endured all sorts of weather, both wet and dry.

Upon a certain day, in the prime of the morning, he came across a hilltop,
and beheld beneath him a valley, very fertile and well-tilled, with fields and
meadow-lands spread all over it like to a fair green carpet woven in divers
patterns. And in the midst of the valley was a very large and noble castle,
with many towers, and tall, steep roofs, and clustering chimneys. So Sir Launcelot
descended into that valley, and the road which he took ended in front of the
castle and under the shade of the tall gray walls thereof. But he did not stop
at that castle but went on by it.

Now after Sir Launcelot had passed by that castle it seemed to him that he
heard very delicate silver bells ringing sweetly in the air above him, and when
he looked up he beheld that a falcon was flying over his head toward a high
elm tree that stood at a little distance, and he wist that it was the bells
upon the cap of the falcon that rang so sweetly. And Sir Launcelot beheld that
long lunes hung from the feet of the falcon as she flew, wherefore he was aware
that the falcon had slipped her lunes and had flown from her owner.

So Sir Launcelot watched the falcon, and he beheld that she lit in a tall
elm tree, where she took her perch and rested, balancing with her wings part
spread. Then by and by she would have taken her flight again, but the lunes
about her feet had become entangled around the bough on which she sat, so that
when she would have flown she could not do so. Now Sir Launcelot was very sorry
to see the falcon beating herself in that wise, straining to escape from where
she was prisoner, but he knew not what to do to aid her, for the tree was very
high, and he was no good climber of trees.

While he stood there watching that falcon he heard the portcullis of the castle
lifted, with a great noise, and the drawbridge let fall, and therewith there
came a lady riding out of the castle very rapidly upon a white mule, and she
rode toward where Sir Launcelot watched the falcon upon the tree. When that
lady had come nigh to Sir Launcelot, she cried out to him: "Sir Knight, didst
thou see a falcon fly this way?" Sir Launcelot said: "Yea, Lady, and there she
hangs, caught by her lunes in yonder elm-tree."

Then when that lady beheld how that her falcon hung there she smote her hands
together, crying out: "Alas, alas! what shall I do? That falcon is my lord's
favorite hawk! While I was playing with her a while since, she slipped from
me and took flight, and has sped as thou dost see. Now when my lord findeth
that I have lost his hawk in that wise he will be very angry with me, and will
haply do me some grievous hurt."

Quoth Sir Launcelot: "Lady, I am very sorry for you." "Sir," she said, "it
boots nothing for you to be sorry for me unless you can aid me." "How may I
aid you in this?" said Sir Launcelot. "Messire," quoth she, "how otherwise could
you aid me than by climbing up into this tree for my hawk? For if you aid me
not in such a fashion, I know not what I shall do, for my lord hath a very hot
and violent temper, and he is not likely to brook having his favorite hawk lost
to him, as it is like to be."

Upon this Sir Launcelot was put to a great pass and knew not what to do, for
he had no good mind to climb that tree. "Lady," quoth he, "I prithee tell me
what is thy lord's name." "Messire," she replied, "he is hight Sir Phelot, and
is a knight of the court of the King of North Wales."

"Well, Lady," said Sir Launcelot, "thou dost put upon me a very sore task
in this, for God knoweth I am no climber of trees. Yea, I would rather do battle
with twenty knights than to climb one such tree as this. Nevertheless, I cannot
find it in me to refuse the asking of any lady, if so be it lieth at all in
my power to perform her will. Now if you will aid me to unarm myself, I will
endeavor to climb this tree and get your hawk."

So the lady dismounted from her mule, and Sir Launcelot dismounted from his
horse, and the lady aided Sir Launcelot to unarm himself. And when he had unarmed
himself he took off all his clothes saving only his hosen and his doublet. Then
he climbed that tree, though with great labor and pain to himself, and with
much dread lest he should fall. So he, at last, reached the falcon where it
was, and he loosened the lunes from where they were entangled about the branch,
and he freed the bird. Then he brake off a great piece of rotten bough of the
tree and he tied the lunes of the falcon to it and he tossed the falcon down
to where the lady was; and the lady ran with great joy and caught the falcon
and loosed it from the piece of branch and tied the lunes to her wrist, so that
it could not escape again.

Then Sir Launcelot began to descend the tree with as great labor and pain
as he had climbed into it.

But he had not come very far down when he perceived a knight who came riding
very rapidly toward that tree, and he saw that the knight was in full armor.
When this knight came to the tree he drew rein and bespoke the lady who was
there, though Sir Launcelot could not hear what he said. So, after he had spoken
for a little, the knight dismounted from his horse and went to Sir Launcelot's
shield and looked upon the face of it very carefully. Then presently he looked
upward toward Sir Launcelot, and he said: "Art thou Sir Launcelot of the Lake?"
And Sir Launcelot said: "Yea." "Very well," said the knight, "I am pleased beyond
measure at that. For I am Sir Phelot, the lord of this castle, and the brother
of that Sir Peris of the Forest Sauvage, whom thou didst treat so shamefully
after thou hadst overcome him in battle."

"Sir," said Sir Launcelot, "I treated him nowise differently from what he
deserved." "No matter for that," said Sir Phelot, "he was my brother, and thou
didst put great despite and shame upon him. So now I will be revenged upon thee,
for now I have thee where I would have thee, and I will slay thee as shamefully
as thou didst put shame upon him. So say thy prayers where thou art, for thou
shalt never go away from this place alive."

"Sir Knight," said Sir Launcelot, "I do not believe that thou wouldst really
assault a naked and harmless man, for it would certainly be a great shame to
thee to do me a harm in that wise. For lo! thou art armed in full, and I am
a naked man, and to slay me as I am would be both murder and treason."

"No matter for that," said Sir Phelot; "as for the shame of it, I take no
thought of it. I tell thee thou shalt have no grace nor mercy from me. Wherefore
make thy peace with Heaven, for thine hour is come."

"Sir Knight," said Sir Launcelot, "I ask only one boon of thee; if thou art
of a mind to take so much shame upon thee, as appears to be the case, let me
not, at least, die like a felon without any weapon. Let me have my sword in
my hand, even if I have no other defence. For if a knight must die, it is a
shame for him to die without weapons. So hang my sword upon yonder bough, where
I may reach it, and then thou mayst slay me."

"Nay," said Sir Phelot, "I will not do that, for I know very well how wonderful
is thy prowess. Wherefore I believe that even if thou wert otherwise unarmed
thou mightst overcome me if thou hadst thy sword. So I will give thee no such
chance, but will have my will of thee as thou art."

Then Sir Launcelot was put to a great pass of anxiety, for he wist not what
to do to escape from that danger in which he lay. Wherefore he looked all about
him and above him and below him, and at last he beheld a great branch of the
elm tree just above his head, very straight and tough. So he catched this branch
and broke it off from the tree and shaped it to a club of some sort. Then he
came lower, and the knight waited to strike him with his sword, when he was
low enough; but Sir Launcelot did not come low enough for that.

Then Sir Launcelot perceived that his horse stood below him and a little to
one side, so of a sudden he ran out along the branch whereon he stood and he
leaped quickly down to the earth upon the farther side of his horse from where
the knight stood.

At this Sir Phelot ran at him and lashed at him with his sword, thinking to
slay him before he had recovered from his leap. But Sir Launcelot was quicker
than he, for he recovered his feet and put away the blow of Sir Phelot with
his club which he held. Then he ran in upon Sir Phelot under his sword arm,
and before he could use his sword he struck Sir Phelot with all his might upon
the side of his head. And he struck him very quickly again, and he struck him
the third time, all in the space whilst one might count two. And those blows
he struck were so direful that Sir Phelot fell down upon his knees, all stunned
and bedazed, and the strength went out of his thews because of faintness. Then
Sir Launcelot took the sword out of the hand of Sir Phelot and Sir Phelot did
not have strength to deny him. And Sir Launcelot plucked off Sir Phelot's helm
and catched him by the hair and dragged his neck forward so as to have ease
to strike his head from off his body.

Now all this while the lady had been weeping and watching what befell. But
when she saw the great danger Sir Phelot was in, she ran and clasped her arms
about him, and cried out in a very loud and piercing voice upon Sir Launcelot
to spare Sir Phelot and to slay him not. But Sir Launcelot, still holding him
by the hair of the head, said: "Lady, I cannot spare him, for he has treated
me more treacherously than any other knight with whom I ever had dealings."
But the lady cried out all the more vehemently, "Sir Launcelot, thou good knight,
I beseech thee, of thy knighthood, to spare him."

"Well," said Sir Launcelot, "it hath yet to be said of me that I have denied
anything that I was able to grant unto any lady that hath asked it of me upon
my knighthood. And yet I know not how to trust either of ye. For thou didst
not say one word in my behalf when I was in danger of being slain so treacherously
just now. As for this knight, I perceive that he is every whit as great a traitor
and a coward as was his brother Sir Peris of the Sauvage Forest. So I will spare
him, but I will not trust him, lest he turn against me ere I arm myself again.
Wherefore give me hither the halter rein of your mule." So the lady gave Sir
Launcelot the halter rein, weeping amain as she did so. And Sir Launcelot took
the halter rein and he tied the arms of Sir Phelot behind him. Then he bade
the lady of Sir Phelot to help him arm himself from head to foot, and she did
so, trembling a very great deal. Then, when she had done so, quoth Sir Launcelot:
"Now I fear the treachery of no man." Therewith he mounted his horse and rode
away from that place And he looked not behind him at all, but rode away as though
he held too much scorn of that knight and of that lady to give any more thought
to them.

So after that Sir Launcelot travelled for a while through the green fields
of that valley, till by and by he passed out of that valley, and came into a
forest through which he travelled for a very long time.

For it was about the slanting of the afternoon ere he came forth out of that
forest and under the open sky again. And when he came out of the forest he beheld
before him a country of perfectly level marish, very lush and green, with many
ponds of water and sluggish streams bordered by rushes and sedge, and with pollard
willows standing in rows beside the waters. In the midst of this level plain
of green (which was like to the surface of a table for flatness) there stood
a noble castle, part built of brick and part of stone, and a town of no great
size and a wall about the town. And this castle and town stood upon an island
surrounded by a lake of water, and a long bridge, built upon stone buttresses,
reached from the mainland to the island. And this castle and town were a very
long distance away, though they appeared very clear and distinct to the sight
across the level marish, like, as it were, to a fine bit of very small and cunning
carving.

Now the way that Sir Launcelot travelled, led somewhat toward that town, wherefore
he went along that way with intent to view the place more near by. So he conveyed
by that road for some time without meeting any soul upon the way. But at last
he came of a sudden upon an archer hiding behind an osier tree with intent to
shoot the water-fowl that came to a pond that was there--for he had several
such fowl hanging at his girdle. To him Sir Launcelot said: "Good fellow, what
town is that yonderway?" "Sir," said the yeoman, "that is called the Town of
the Marish because it stands in these Fenlands. And that castle is called the
Castle of the Fenlands for the same reason."

Quoth Sir Launcelot: "What manner of place is that? Is it a good place, or
is it otherwise?" "Sir," said the archer, "that place was one while a very good,
happy place; for in times gone by there was a lord who dwelt there who was both
just and noble, and kind to all folk, wherefore he was loved by all the people.
But one night there came two very grim and horrible giants thither from the
Welsh Mountains and these entered into the castle by treachery and made prisoner
of the lord of the castle. Him they cast into the dungeon of the castle, where
they held him prisoner as an hostage. For they threaten that if friends of that
lord's should send force against them to dispossess them, they will slay him.
As for any other rescue, there is no knight who dareth to go against them because
of their terrible size, and their strength, and their dreadful, horrible countenances."

"Well," said Sir Launcelot, "that is a pity and I am sorry for that noble
lordling. Now, since there is no other single knight who dareth to undertake
this adventure, I myself will go and encounter these giants."

"Nay, Sir Knight," said the yeoman, "do not do so, for they are not like mortal
men, but rather like monsters that are neither beast nor man. Wherefore anyone
who beholdeth them, feareth them."

"Grammercy for thy thought of me, good fellow," quoth Sir Launcelot, "but
if I shall refuse an adventure because I find it perilous, then I am not like
to undertake any adventure at all."

Therewith he bade good den to that yeoman and rode upon his way, directing
his course toward that town at an easy pass.

So he came at last to the long bridge that reached from the land to the island,
and he saw that at the farther end of the bridge was the gateway of the town
and through the arch thereof he could perceive a street of the town, and the
houses upon either side of the street, and the people thereof coming and going.

So he rode forth upon the bridge and at the noise of his coming (for the hoofs
of his horse sounded like thunder upon the floor of the bridge) the people of
the town came running to see who it was that dared to come so boldly into their
town.

These, when Sir Launcelot came nigh, began to call to him on high, crying:
"Turn back, Sir Knight! Turn back! Else you will meet your death at this place."

But Sir Launcelot would not turn back, but advanced very steadfastly upon
his way.

Now somewhat nigh the farther end of that bridge there stood a little lodge
of stone, built to shelter the warden of the bridge from stress of weather.
When Sir Launcelot came nigh to this lodge there started suddenly out from it
a great churl, above seven feet high, who bore in his hand a huge club, shod
with iron and with great spikes of iron at the top. This churl ran to Sir Launcelot
and catched his horse by the bridle-rein and thrust it back upon its haunches,
crying out in a great hoarse voice: "Whither goest thou, Sir Knight, for to
cross this bridge?" Sir Launcelot said: "Let go my horse's rein, Sir Churl."
Whereunto the churl made answer: "I will not let go thy horse's rein, and thou
shalt not cross this bridge."

At this Sir Launcelot waxed very angry, and he drew his sword and struck the
churl a blow with the flat thereof upon the shoulder, so that he dropped the
rein very quickly. Therewith that churl drew back and took his great iron-shod
club in both hands and struck at Sir Launcelot a blow that would have split
a millstone. But Sir Launcelot put by the blow with his sword so that it did
him no harm. But therewith he waxed so wroth that he ground his teeth together
with anger, and, rising in his stirrups, he lashed that churl so woeful a blow
that he cleft through his iron cap and his head and his breast even to the paps.

Now when the people of the town beheld that terrible blow they lifted up their
voices in a great outcry, crying out: "Turn back, Sir Knight! Turn back! For
this is a very woful thing for thee that thou hast done!" and some cried out:
"Thou hast killed the giants' warder of the bridge!" And others cried: "Thou
art a dead man unless thou make haste away from this." But to all this Sir Launcelot
paid no heed, but wiped his sword and thrust it back into its sheath. Then he
went forward upon his way across the bridge as though nothing had befallen,
and so came to the farther side. Then, without paying any heed to all the people
who were there, he rode straight to the castle and into the gate of the castle
and into the court-yard thereof.

Now by this time all the castle was astir, and in great tumult, and many people
came running to the windows and looked down upon Sir Launcelot. And Sir Launcelot
sat his horse and looked all about him. So he perceived that beyond the court-yard
was a fair space of grass, very smooth and green, well fitted for battle, wherefore
he dismounted from his horse and tied it to a ring in the wall, and then he
went to that green field and made him ready for whatever might befall.

Meantime all those people who were at the windows of the castle cried out
to him, as the people of the town had done: "Go away, Sir Knight! Go away whilst
there is still time for you to escape, or else you are a dead man!"

But Sir Launcelot replied not, but stood there and waited very steadfastly.
Then the great door of the castle hall opened, and there came forth therefrom
those two giants of whom he had heard tell.

And in truth Sir Launcelot had never beheld such horrible beings as they;
for they were above ten feet high, and very huge of body and long of limb. And
they were clad in armor of bull-hide with iron rings upon it, and each was armed
with a great club, huge and thick, and shod with iron, and studded with spikes.
These came toward Sir Launcelot swinging their clubs and laughing very hideously
and gnashing their long white teeth, for they thought to make easy work of him.

Then Sir Launcelot, seeing them coming thus, set his shield before him, and
made ready for that assault with great calmness of demeanor. Then the giants
rushed suddenly upon him and struck at him, the both of them together; for they
deemed that by so doing the enemy could not escape both blows, but if one failed
the other would slay him. But Sir Launcelot put aside the blow of one giant
with his sword and of the other with his shield, with marvellous dexterity.
Thereupon, ere they could recover themselves, he turned upon that giant who
was upon his left hand and he struck him so terrible a blow upon the shoulder
that he cut through the armor and through the shoulder and half-way through
the body, so that the head and one arm of the giant leaned toward one way, and
the other arm and the shoulder leaned toward the other way. Therewith the giant
fell down upon the ground bellowing, so that it was most terrible to hear; and
in a little he had died where he had fallen.

Now when the fellow of that giant beheld that dreadful, horrible stroke, he
was so possessed with terror that he stood for a while trembling and like one
in a maze. But when he saw Sir Launcelot turn upon him with intent to make at
him also, he let fall his club and ran away with great and fearful outcry. Therewith
he ran toward the castle and would have entered therein, but those within the
castle had closed the doors and the gates against him, so that he could not
escape in that way. So the giant ran around and around the court with great
outcry, seeking for some escape from his pursuer, and Sir Launcelot ran after
him. And Sir Launcelot struck him several times with his sword, so that at last,
what with terror and pain and weariness, that giant stumbled and fell upon the
ground. Therewith Sir Launcelot ran at him, and, ere he could rise, he took
his sword in both hands and smote off his head so that it rolled down upon the
ground like a ball. Then Sir Launcelot stood there panting for breath, for he
had raced very hard after the giant, and could hardly catch his breath again.
As he stood so, many of those of the castle and many of those who were of the
town came to him from all sides; and they crowded around him and gave him great
acclaim for ridding that place of those giants.

Then Sir Launcelot said to them: "Where is your lord?" Whereunto they made
reply: "Sir, he lieth in the dungeon of the castle under the ground chained
to the walls thereof, and there he hath been for three years or more, and no
one hath dared to bring him succor until you came hither." "Go find him," said
Sir Launcelot, "and set him free, and lose no time in doing so. And put him
at all ease that you can."

They say: "Will you not stay and see him, Messire, and receive his acknowledgements
for what you have done?" But Sir Launcelot replied: "Nay, not so." Then they
say: "Will you not have some refreshment after this battle?" Whereunto Sir Launcelot
said: "I do not need such refreshment." Then they say: "But will you not rest
a little?" "Nay," said Sir Launcelot: "I may not tarry, for I have far to go
and several things to do, so that I do not care to stay." So he loosed his horse
from the ring in the wall, and mounted upon it and rode away from that castle
and from that town and across the bridge whence he had come. And all the people
followed after him, giving him great acclaim.

So Sir Launcelot left the castle, not because he needed no rest, but because
he could not endure to receive the thanks of those whom he benefited. For though
he loved to bring aid to the needy, yet he did not love to receive their thanks
and their praise. Wherefore, having freed the lord of that castle from that
brood of giants, he was content therewith and went his way without resting or
waiting for thanks.

For so it was with those noble gallant knights of those days; that whilst
they would perform signal service for mankind, yet they were not pleased to
receive thanks or reward for the same, but took the utmost satisfaction, not
in what they gained by their acts, but in the doing of knightly deeds, for they
found all their reward in their deeds, because that thereby they made the world
in which they lived better; and because they made the glory of the King, whose
servants they were, the more glorious.

And I hold that such behavior upon the part of anyone makes him the peer of
Sir Launcelot or Sir Tristram or Sir Lamorack or Sir Percival; yea, of Sir Galahad
himself. For it does not need either the accolade or the bath to cause a man
to be a true knight of God's making; nor does it need that a mortal King should
lay sword upon shoulder to constitute a man the fellow of such knightly company
as that whose history I am herewith writing; it needs only that he should prove
himself at all times worthy in the performance of his duty, and that he shall
not consider the hope of reward, or of praise of others in the performance of
that duty.

So look to it that in all your services you take example of the noble Sir
Launcelot of the Lake, and that you do your uttermost with might and main, and
that you therewith rest content with having done your best, maugre any praise.
So you shall become a worthy fellow of Sir Launcelot and of his fellows.

Chapter Eighth

One day Sir Launcelot came at early nightfall to a goodly manor-house and
there he besought lodging for the night, and lodging was granted to him very
willingly.

Now there was no lord of that manor, but only an old gentlewoman of very good
breeding and address. She made Sir Launcelot right welcome and gave such cheer
as she could, setting before him a very good supper, hot and savory, and a great
beaker of humming mead wherewith to wash it down. Whilst Sir Launcelot ate,
the gentlewoman inquired of him his name and he told her it was Sir Launcelot
of the Lake. "Ha!" quoth she, "I never heard that name before, but it is a very
good name."

At this Sir Launcelot laughed: "I am glad," said he, "that my name belikes
thee. As for thy not having heard of it--well, I am a young knight as yet, having
had but three years of service. Yet I have hopes that by and by it may be better
known than it is at this present."

"Thou sayest well," quoth she, "for thou art very young yet, wherefore thou
mayst not know what thou canst do till thou hast tried." And therewith Sir Launcelot
laughed again, and said: "Yea, that is very true."

Now after Sir Launcelot had supped, his hostess showed him to the lodging
she had provided for him wherein to sleep, and the lodging was in a fair garret
over the gateway of the court. So Sir Launcelot went to his bed and, being weary
with journeying, he presently fell into a deep and gentle sleep.

Now about the middle of the night there fell of a sudden the noise of someone
beating upon the gate and calling in a loud voice and demanding immediate admittance
thereat. This noise awoke Sir Launcelot, and he arose from his couch and went
to the window and looked out to see who it was that shouted so loudly and made
such uproar.

The moon was shining at that time, very bright and still, and by the light
thereof Sir Launcelot beheld that there was a knight in full armor seated upon
horseback without the gate, and that the knight beat upon the gate with the
pommel of his sword, and shouted that they should let him in.

But ere anyone could run to answer his call there came a great noise of horses
upon the highroad, and immediately after there appeared three knights riding
very fiercely that way, and these three knights were plainly pursuing that one
knight. For, when they perceived him, they rode very violently to where he was,
and fell upon him fiercely, all three at one time; wherefore, though that one
knight defended himself as well as he could, yet was he in a very sorry way,
and altogether likely to be overborne. For those three surrounded him so close
to the gate that he could do little to shift himself away from their assaults.

Now when Sir Launcelot beheld how those three knights attacked that one knight,
he said to himself: "Of a surety, yonder knight is in a very sorry way. I will
do what I can to help him; for it is a shame to behold three knights attack
one knight in that way. And if he be slain in this assault, meseems I shall
be a party to his death."

Therewith he ran and put his armor upon him, and made ready for battle. Then
he drew the sheet from his bed, and he tied the sheet to the bar of the window
and by it he let himself quickly down to the ground not far from where those
knights were doing battle. So being safely arrived in that way he cried out
in a very loud voice: "Messires, leave that knight whom ye assail, and turn
to me, for I have a mind to do battle with you myself."

Then one of those knights, speaking very fiercely, said: "Who are you, and
what business have you here?"

"It matters not who I am," said Sir Launcelot, "but I will not have it that
you three shall attack that one without first having had to do with me."

"Very well," said that knight who had spoken, "you shall presently have your
will of that."

Therewith he and his fellows immediately descended from their horses, and
drew their swords and came at Sir Launcelot upon three sides at once. Then Sir
Launcelot set his back against the gate and prepared to defend himself.

Therewith that knight whom he would defend immediately got down from his horse
with intent to come to the aid of Sir Launcelot, but Sir Launcelot forbade him
very fiercely, saying: "Let be, Sir Knight, this is my quarrel, and you shall
not meddle in it."

Upon this, those three knights rushed upon him very furiously, and they struck
at him all at once, smiting at him wherever they could and with all their might
and main. So Sir Launcelot had much ado to defend himself from their assault.
But he made shift that they should not all rush in upon him at once, and by
and by he found his chance with one of them. Whereupon he turned suddenly upon
that one, and suddenly he lashed so terrible a buffet at him that the knight
fell down and lay as though he had been struck dead with the force thereof.

Then, ere those other two had recovered themselves, he ran at a second and
struck him so fierce a blow that his wits left him, and he staggered like a
drunken man and ran around and around in a circle, not knowing whither he went.
Then he rushed upon the third and thrust him back with great violence, and as
he went back Sir Launcelot struck him, too, as he had struck his companions
and therewith that knight dropped his sword and fell down upon his knees and
had not power to raise himself up.

Then Sir Launcelot ran to him and snatched off his helmet, and catched him
by the hair with intent to cut off his head. But at that the fallen knight embraced
Sir Launcelot about the knees, crying out: "Spare my life!"

"Why should I spare you?" said Sir Launcelot. "Sir," cried the knight, "I
beseech you of your knighthood to spare me."

"What claim have you upon knighthood," said Sir Launcelot, "who would attack
a single knight, three men against one man?"

Then the other of those knights who had been staggered by Sir Launcelot's
blow, but who had by now somewhat recovered himself, came and kneeled to Sir
Launcelot, and said: "Sir, spare his life, for we all yield ourselves unto you,
for certes, you are the greatest champion in all the world."

Then Sir Launcelot was appeased, but he said: "Nay, I will not take your yielding
unto me. For as you three assaulted this single knight, so shall you all three
yield to him."

"Messire," said the knight who kneeled: "I am very loth to yield us to that
knight, for we chased him hither, and he fled from us, and we would have overcome
him had you not come to his aid."

"Well," said Sir Launcelot, "I care nothing for all that, but only that you
do as I will. And if ye do not do it, then I must perforce slay your companions
and you two. Wherefore you may take your choice."

Then said that knight who kneeled: "Messire, I see no other thing to do than
to yield us as you would have, wherefore we submit ourselves unto this knight
whom you have rescued from us."

Then Sir Launcelot turned to that knight to whom he had brought aid in that
matter, and he said: "Sir Knight, these knights yield themselves unto you to
do as you command them. Now I pray you of your courtesy to tell me your name
and who you are."

"Sir," said that knight, "I am Sir Kay the Seneschal, and am King Arthur's
foster-brother, and a knight of the Round Table. I have been errant now for
some time in search of Sir Launcelot of the Lake. Now, I deem either that you
are Sir Launcelot, or else that you are the peer of Sir Launcelot."

"Thou art right, Sir Kay," said Sir Launcelot, "and I am Sir Launcelot of
the Lake." So thereat they two made great joy over one another, and embraced
one another as brothers-in-arms should do.

Then Sir Kay told Sir Launcelot how it was with those three knights who had
assailed him; that they were three brethren, and that he had overthrown the
fourth brother in an adventure at arms and had hurt him very sorely thereby.
So those three had been pursuing him for three days with intent to do him a
harm.

Now Sir Kay was very loath to take submission of those three knights, but
Sir Launcelot would have it so and no other way. So Sir Kay consented to let
it be as Sir Launcelot willed. Thereupon those three knights came and submitted
themselves to Sir Kay, and Sir Kay ordained that they should go to Camelot and
lay their case before King Arthur, and that King Arthur should adjudge their
case according to what he considered to be right and fitting.

Then those three knights mounted upon their horses and rode away, and when
they had done so the gates of the manor were opened, and Sir Launcelot and Sir
Kay entered in. But when the old lady who was his hostess beheld Sir Launcelot
come in, she was very greatly astonished, for she wist he was still asleep in
his bed-chamber. Wherefore she said: "Sir, methought you were in bed and asleep."
"So indeed I was," said Sir Launcelot, "but when I saw this knight in peril
of his life against three knights, I leaped out of my window and went to his
aid." "Well," said his hostess, "meseems that you will sometime be a very good
knight, if you have so much courage whilst you are so young." And at that both
Sir Launcelot and Sir Kay laughed a great deal.

Then the chatelaine set bread and wine before Sir Kay, and he ate and refreshed
himself, and thereafter he and Sir Launcelot went to that garret above the gate,
and there fell asleep with great ease of body.

Now before the sun arose Sir Launcelot awoke but Sir Kay still slept very
soundly. Then Sir Launcelot beheld how Sir Kay slept, and he had a mind for
a jest. So he clad himself in Sir Kay's armor altogether from head to foot,
and he took Sir Kay's shield and spear, and he left his armor and shield and
spear for Sir Kay to use. Then he went very softly from that room, and left
Sir Kay still sleeping. And he took Sir Kay's horse and mounted upon it and
rode away; and all that while Sir Kay knew not what had befallen, but slept
very deeply.

Now after a while Sir Kay awoke, and he found that Sir Launcelot was gone,
and when he looked he found that his own armor was gone and that Sir Launcelot's
armor was left. Then he wist what Sir Launcelot had done, and he said: "Ha!
what a noble, courteous knight is the gentleman. For he hath left me his armor
for my protection, and whilst I wear it and carry his shield and ride his horse,
it is not likely that anyone will assail me upon my way. As for those who assail
him, I do not believe that they will be likely to find great pleasure in their
battle."

Therewith he arose and clad himself in Sir Launcelot's armor, and after he
had broken his fast he thanked his hostess for what she had given him, and rode
upon his way with great content of spirit.

(And it was as Sir Kay had said, for when he met other knights upon the road,
and when they beheld the figure upon his shield, they all said: "It is not well
to meddle with that knight, for that is Sir Launcelot." And so he came to Camelot
without having to do battle with any man.)

As for Sir Launcelot, he rode upon his way with great cheerfulness of spirit,
taking no heed at all of any trouble in the world, but chanting to himself as
he rode in the pleasant weather. But ever he made his way toward Camelot, for
he said: "I will return to Camelot for a little, and see how it fares with my
friends at the court of the King."

So by and by he entered into the country around about Camelot, which is a
very smooth and fertile country, full of fair rivers and meadows with many cots
and hamlets, and with fair hedge-bordered highways, wonderfully pleasant to
journey in. So travelling he came to a very large meadow where were several
groves of trees standing here and there along by a river. And as he went through
this meadow he saw before him a long bridge, and at the farther side of the
bridge were three pavilions of silk of divers colors, which pavilions had been
cast in the shade of a grove of beech-trees. In front of each pavilion stood
a great spear thrust in the earth, and from the spear hung the shield of the
knight to whom the pavilion belonged. These shields Sir Launcelot read very
easily, and so knew the knights who were there. To wit: that they were Sir Gunther,
Sir Gylmere, and Sir Raynold, who were three brothers of the Court of King Arthur.
As Sir Launcelot passed their pavilions, he saw that the three knights sat at
feast in the midmost pavilion of the three, and that a number of esquires and
pages waited upon them and served them, for those knights were of very high
estate, and so they were established as high lords should be.

Now when those knights perceived Sir Launcelot they thought it was Sir Kay
because of the armor he wore, and Sir Gunther, who was the eldest of the three
brothers, cried out: "Come hither, Sir Kay, and eat with us!" But to this Sir
Launcelot made no reply, but rode on his way. Then said Sir Gunther: "Meseems
Sir Kay hath grown very proud this morning. Now I will go and bring him back
with me, or else I will bring down his pride to earth." So he made haste and
donned his helmet and ran and took his shield and his spear, and mounted his
horse and rode after Sir Launcelot at a hard gallop. As he drew nigh to Sir
Launcelot he cried out: "Stay, Sir Knight! Turn again, and go with me!" "Why
should I go with you?" said Sir Launcelot. Quoth Sir Gunther: "Because you must
either return with me or do battle with me." "Well," said Sir Launcelot, "I
would rather do battle than return against my will." And at that Sir Gunther
was astonished, for Sir Kay was not wont to be so ready for a battle. So Sir
Launcelot set his shield and spear and took his stand, and Sir Gunther took
his stand. Then, when they were in all ways prepared, each set spur to his horse
and rushed together with terrible speed. So each knight struck the other in
the midst of his shield, but the onset of Sir Launcelot was so terrible that
it was not to be withstood, wherefore both Sir Gunther and his horse were overthrown
in such a cloud of dust that nothing at all was to be seen of them until that
cloud lifted.

At this both Sir Raynold and Sir Gylmere were astonished beyond measure, for
Sir Gunther was reckoned to be a much better knight than Sir Kay, wherefore
they wist not how it was that Sir Kay should have overthrown him in that fashion.

So straightway Sir Gylmere, who was the second of those brothers, called out
to Sir Launcelot to tarry and do battle. "Very well," said Sir Launcelot, "if
I cannot escape thee I must needs do battle. Only make haste, for I would fain
be going upon my way."

So Sir Gylmere donned his helm in haste and ran and took his shield and spear
and mounted upon his horse. So when he had made himself ready in all ways he
rushed upon Sir Launcelot with all his might and Sir Launcelot rushed against
him.

In that encounter each knight struck the other in the midst of his shield,
and the spear of Sir Gylmere burst into pieces, but Sir Launcelot's spear held,
so the breast-strap of Sir Gylmere's saddle bursting, both saddle and knight
were swept entirely off the horse and to the earth, where Sir Gylmere lay altogether
stunned.

Then Sir Raynold came against Sir Launcelot in like manner as the others had
done, and in that encounter Sir Launcelot overthrew both horse and man so that,
had not Sir Raynold voided his horse, he would likely have been very sadly hurt.

Then Sir Raynold drew his sword and cried out in a loud voice: "Come, Sir
Knight, and do me battle afoot!" But Sir Launcelot said: "Why will you have
it so, Sir Knight? I have no such quarrel with you as to do battle with swords."
"Ha!" said Sir Raynold, "you shall fight with me. For though you wear Sir Kay's
armor, I wot very well that you are not Sir Kay, but a great deal bigger man
than ever Sir Kay is like to be."

"Nay," said Sir Launcelot, "I will not do any more battle with you." And therewith
he drew rein and rode away, leaving Sir Raynold standing very angry in the middle
of the highway.

After that Sir Launcelot rode very easily at a quiet gait, with no great thought
whither he rode, until after a while he came to a place where a road went across
a level field with two rows of tall poplar trees, one upon either side of the
highway. Then Sir Launcelot perceived where, beneath the shade of these poplar
trees, were four knights standing each by his horse. And these four knights
were conversing very pleasantly together. Now as Sir Launcelot drew nigh he
perceived that those were four very famous noble knights of the Round Table;
to wit: one of those knights was his own brother, Sir Ector de Maris, another
was Sir Gawain, another was Sir Ewain, and the fourth was Sir Sagramore le Desirous.

Now as Sir Launcelot drew nigh Sir Gawain said: "Look, yonder cometh Sir Kay
the Seneschal." Unto this Sir Sagramore le Desirous said: "Yea, this is he;
now bide you here for a little while, and I will go and take a fall of him."

So straightway he mounted upon his horse, and he rode toward Sir Launcelot,
and he cried out: "Stay, Sir Knight, you cannot go farther until you have had
to do with me." "What would you have of me?" quoth Sir Launcelot. "Sir," said
Sir Sagramore, "I will have a fall of you." "Well," said Sir Launcelot, "I suppose
I must pleasure you, since it cannot be otherwise."

Therewith he dressed his shield and his spear and Sir Sagramore dressed his
shield and his spear, and when they were in all ways prepared they ran together
at full tilt. In that encounter Sir Sagramore's spear broke, but Sir Launcelot
struck so powerful a blow that he overthrew both horse and man into a ditch
of water that was near-by.

Then Sir Ector de Maris said: "Ha, surely some very ill chance has befallen
Sir Sagramore for to be overthrown by Sir Kay. Now I will go and have ado with
him, for if the matter rests here there will be no living at court with the
jests which will be made upon us."

So he took horse and rode to where Sir Launcelot was, and he went at a very
fast gallop. When he had come near to Sir Launcelot he cried out: "Have at thee,
Sir Kay, for it is my turn next!" "Why should I have at thee?" said Sir Launcelot,
"I have done thee no harm." "No matter," said Sir Ector, "you can go no farther
until you have had to do with me." "Well," said Sir Launcelot, "if that is so,
the sooner I have to do with thee, the sooner shall I be able to go upon my
way."

Therewith each knight made himself ready and when they were in all ways prepared
they came together with such force that Sir Launcelot's spear went through Sir
Ector's shield and smote him upon the shoulder, and Sir Ector was thrown down
upon the ground with such violence that he lay where he had fallen, without
power to move.

Then said Sir Ewain to Sir Gawain where they stood together: "That is the
most wonderful thing that ever I beheld, for never did I think to behold Sir
Kay bear himself in battle in such a fashion as that. Now bide thee here and
let me have a try at him." Therewith Sir Ewain mounted his horse and rode at
Sir Launcelot, and there were no words spoken this time, but each knight immediately
took his stand to do battle. Then they ran their horses together, and Sir Launcelot
gave Sir Ewain such a buffet that he was astonished, and for a little he knew
not where he was, for his spear fell down out of his hand, and he bore his shield
so low that Sir Launcelot might have slain him where he stood if he had been
minded to do so.

Then Sir Launcelot said: "Sir Knight, I bid thee yield to me." And Sir Ewain
said: "I yield me. For I do not believe that thou art Sir Kay but a bigger man
than he shall ever be. Wherefore I yield me." "Then that is well," said Sir
Launcelot. "Now stand thou a little aside where thou mayst bring succor unto
these other two knights, for I see that Sir Gawain has a mind to tilt with me."

And it was as Sir Launcelot said, for Sir Gawain also had mounted his horse
and had made himself ready for that encounter. So Sir Gawain and Sir Launcelot
took stand at such place as suited them. Then each knight set spurs to his horse
and rushed together like thunder, and each knight smote the other knight in
the midst of his shield; and in that encounter the spear of Sir Gawain brake
in twain but the spear of Sir Launcelot held, and therewith he gave Sir Gawain
such a buffet that Sir Gawain's horse reared up into the air, and it was with
much ado that he was able to void his saddle ere his horse fell over backward.
For if he had not leaped to earth the horse would have fallen upon him.

Then Sir Gawain drew his sword and cried very fiercely: "Come down and fight
me, Sir Knight! For thou art not Sir Kay!"

"Nay, I will not fight thee that way," said Sir Launcelot, and therewith he
passed on his way without tarrying further.

But he laughed to himself behind his helmet as he rode, and he said: "God
give Sir Kay joy of such a spear as this, for I believe there came never so
good a spear as this into my hand. For with it I have overthrown seven famous
knights in this hour."

As for those four knights of the Round Table, they comforted one another as
best they could, for they knew not what to think of that which had befallen
them. Only Sir Ector said: "That was never Sir Kay who served us in this wise,
but such a man as is better than ten Sir Kays, or twice ten Sir Kays, for the
matter of that."

Now Sir Launcelot came to Camelot about eventide, what time King Arthur and
his court were assembled at their supper. Then there was great joy when news
was brought of his coming and they brought him in to the court and set him beside
the King and the Lady Guinevere all armed as he was. Then King Arthur said:
"Sir Launcelot, how is it with thee?" and Sir Launcelot said: "It is well."
Then King Arthur said: "Tell us what hath befallen thee." And Sir Launcelot
told all that had happened in that month since he had left court. And all they
who were there listened, and were much astonished.

But when Sir Launcelot told how he had encountered those seven knights, in
the armor of Sir Kay, all laughed beyond measure excepting those of the seven
who were there, for they took no very good grace to be laughed at in that wise.

So now I hope I have made you acquainted with Sir Launcelot of the Lake, who
was the greatest knight in the world. For not only have I told you how he was
created a knight at the hands of King Arthur, but I have also led you errant
along with him, so that you might see for yourself how he adventured his life
for other folk and what a noble and generous gentleman he was; and how pitiful
to the weak and suffering, and how terrible to the evil-doer. But now I shall
have to leave him for a while (but after a while in another book that shall
follow this, I shall return to him to tell you a great many things concerning
other adventures of his), for meantime it is necessary that I should recount
the history of another knight, who was held by many to be nearly as excellent
a knight as Sir Launcelot was himself.

CONCLUSION

Here endeth the story of Sir Launcelot. That which followeth is the
story of Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, who was knit with Sir Launcelot into such
close ties of friendship that if they had been brothers of the same blood,
with the same father and mother, they could not have loved one another more
than they did.

For indeed it would not be possible to tell any history of Sir Launcelot of the Lake without telling that of Sir Tristram of Lyonesse as well, for as the web of a fair fabric is woven in with the woof thereof, so were the lives of Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram woven closely together. Wherefore you shall now hear tell of the goodly adventures of Sir Tristram of Lyonesse; and God grant that you may have the same joy in reading thereof that I shall have in telling of them to you.

There was a certain kingdom called Lyonesse, and the King of that country
was hight Meliadus, and the Queen thereof who was hight the Lady Elizabeth,
was sister to King Mark of Cornwall.

In the country of Lyonesse, there was a very beautiful lady, who was a cunning
and wicked sorceress. This lady took great love for King Meliadus, who was of
an exceedingly noble appearance, and she meditated continually how she might
bring him to her castle so as to have him near her.

Now King Meliadus was a very famous huntsman, and he loved the chase above
all things in the world, excepting the joy he took in the love of his Queen,
the Lady Elizabeth. So, upon a certain day, in the late autumn season he was
minded to go forth a-hunting, although the day was very cold and bleak.

About the prime of the day the hounds started, of a sudden, a very wonderful
stag. For it was white and its horns were gilded very bright, shining like pure
gold, so that the creature itself appeared like a living miracle in the forest.
When this stag broke cover, the hounds immediately set chase to it with a great
outcry of yelling, as though they were suddenly gone frantic, and when the King
beheld the creature, he also was immediately seized as with a great fury for
chasing it. For, beholding it, he shouted aloud and drove spurs into his horse,
and rushed away at such a pass that his court was, in a little while, left altogether
behind him, and he and the chase were entirely alone in the forest.

The stag, with the hounds close behind it, ran at a great rate through the
passes of the woodlands, and King Meliadus pursued it with might and main until
the chase burst out of the forest into an open plain beyond the woodland. Then
King Meliadus beheld that in the midst of the plain was a considerable lake
of water; and that in the midst of the water was an island; and that upon the
island was a very tall and stately castle. Toward this castle the stag ran with
great speed, and so, coming to the lake, it leaped into the water and swam across
to the island--and there was a thin sheet of clear ice upon the water close
to either bank.

But when the hounds that pursued the stag came to that frozen water, they
stinted their pursuit and stood whimpering upon the brink, for the ice and the
water repelled them. But King Meliadus made no such pause, but immediately leaped
off from his horse, and plunged into the water and swam across in pursuit of
the stag. And when he reached the other side, he chased the stag afoot with
great speed, and therewith the stag ran to the castle and into the court-yard
thereof, and King Meliadus ran after it. Then, immediately he had entered in,
the gates of the castle were shut and King Meliadus was a prisoner.

(Now you are to know that that castle was the abode of the beautiful enchantress
afore spoken of, and you are to know that she had sent that enchanted stag to
beguile King Meliadus to her court, and so she made King Meliadus her captive.
Further, it is to be told that when she had him there within her castle, she
wove a web of enchantment all about him so that he forgot the Lady Elizabeth
and his court and his kingdom and thought of nothing but that beautiful sorceress
who had thus beguiled him into her power.)

Now, when those who were with the King returned to the castle of Lyonesse
without him, and when the King did not return that day nor the next day nor
at any time, the Lady Elizabeth grew more and more distracted in her anxiety
because of him. And when a fortnight had gone by and still there was no news
of the King, her grief and apprehension became so great that she turned distracted
and they had to set watch and ward upon her lest she do herself a harm in her
madness.

So for a long time they kept her within the castle; but upon a certain day
she broke away from her keepers and ran out from the castle and into the forest
ere those in attendance upon her knew she had gone. Only one gentlewoman saw
her, and she called upon a young page to follow her, and thereupon ran after
the Queen whither she went, with intent to bring her back again.

But the Lady Elizabeth ran very deep into the forest, and the gentlewoman
and the page ran after her; and the Queen thought that she was going to find
her lord in the forest. So she ran very rapidly for a great distance, until
by and by she waxed faint with weariness from running and sank down upon the
ground; and there they that followed her found her lying. And they found that
the Queen was in a great passion of pain and sick to death. For the day was
very wintry, with a fine powder of snow all over the ground, so that the cold
of the weather pierced through the garments of the Lady Elizabeth and entered
into her body and chilled her to the heart.

Now the gentlewoman, seeing how it was with the Queen, called the page to
her and said: "Make haste! Go back to the castle of Lyonesse, and bring some
of the knights of the castle with all speed, else the Queen will die at this
place." And upon that the page ran off with great speed to do her bidding and
the Queen was left alone with her gentlewoman.

Then the gentlewoman said, "Lady, what cheer?" And the Queen said, "Alas,
I am sick to death." The gentlewoman said, "Lady, cannot you bear up a little
until help cometh?" Thereupon the Lady Elizabeth fell to weeping very piteously,
and said, "Nay, I cannot bear up any longer, for the cold hath entered into
my heart." (Yea, even at that time death was upon her because of the cold at
her heart.)

Then by and by in the midst of her tears and in very sore travail a man-child
was born to the Queen, and when that came to pass a great peace fell suddenly
upon her.

Then she said, speaking to the nurse like one in great weariness, "What child
is it that I have given unto the world?" The nurse said, "It is a man-child."
The Queen said to her, "Hold him up until I see him." Thereupon the nurse held
the child up and the Queen looked at him, though she could hardly see him because
it was as though a mist lay upon her eyes which she could not clear away from
her sight; for at that time she was drawing deep draughts of death. Then, when
she had seen the child and had beheld that he was very strong and lusty and
exceedingly comely, she said: "Behold, this is my child, born in the midst of
sore travail and great sorrow; wherefore his name shall be called Tristram because
he hath caused so many tears to be shed."

Then in a little while the Lady died, and the gentlewoman stood weeping beside
her, making great outcry in that cold and lonely forest.

Anon there came those knights who were sent from the castle to find the Queen;
and when they came to that place, they beheld that she lay upon the ground all
cold and white like to a statue of marble stone. So they lifted her up and bare
her away upon a litter, and the gentlewoman followed weeping and wailing in
great measure, and bearing the child wrapped in a mantle.

So Tristram was born in that wise, and so his name was given to him because
of the tears that were shed at his birth.

And now it is to be told how King Meliadus returned from that castle of enchantment
where he was held prisoner.

At this time Merlin was still living in the world, for Vivien had not yet
bewitched him, as hath been told in the Book of King Arthur. So by and by it
came to pass that he discovered where King Meliadus was imprisoned and how it
fared with him in the castle of that enchantress. So he made greater spells
than those that enmeshed King Meliadus, and he brought King Meliadus back into
his memory of the Queen and his kingdom. Then straightway the King broke out
from the castle of the enchantress and returned to his kingdom. But when he
came there it was to find everything in great sorrow and dole; for the Lady
Elizabeth was no longer upon this earth to bring joy to the heart of the King.
So for a long while after his return King Meliadus lay altogether stricken down
with the grief of that bereavement.

Here followeth the story of Tristram, how he passed his youth, and how he
became a knight of Cornwall of King Mark's making.

PART I

The Story of Sir Tristram and the Lady Belle Isoult

Here followeth the story of Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, who, with Sir Launcelot of the Lake, was deemed to be one of the two most worthy and perfect knights champion of his day. Likewise herein shall be told the story of the Lady Belle Isoult, who next to Queen Guinevere, was reckoned to be the most fair, gentle lady in all of the world.

So King Meliadus grieved very bitterly for the Lady Elizabeth for the space
of seven years, and in that time he took but little pleasure in life, and still
less pleasure in that son who had been born to him in that wise. Then one day
a certain counsellor who was in great favor with the King came to him and said:
"Lord, it is not fitting that you should live in this wise and without a mate;
for you should have a queen, and you should have other children besides Tristram,
else all the fate of this kingdom shall depend upon the life of that one small
child."

And King Meliadus took this counsel to heart, and after a while he said: "What
you tell me is true, and so I shall take another Queen, even though it is not
in me to love any other woman in all of the world but that dear one who is dead
and gone." So a while after that he took to wife the Lady Moeya, who was the
daughter of King Howell of Britain.

Now Queen Moeya had been married to an Earl of Britain, and by him she had
a son who was about the age of Tristram. So she brought this son to Lyonesse
with her, and he and Tristram were very good companions.

But the Lady Moeya took great hatred of Tristram, for she said in her heart:
"Except for this Tristram, mayhap my son might be King and overlord of this
land." And these thoughts brooded with her, so that after a while she began
to meditate how she might make away with Tristram so that her own son might
come into his inheritance.

Now at that time Tristram was about thirteen years of age and very large and
robust of form and of extraordinary strength of body and beauty of countenance.
But the son of Queen Moeya was not of such a sort, so the more beautiful and
noble Tristram was the more the Queen hated him. So one day she called to her
a very cunning chemist and she said to him: "Give me a drink of such and such
a sort, so that he who drinks thereof shall certainly die, maugre help of any
kind." And the chemist gave her what she desired, and it was in a phial and
was of a golden color.

Now Tristram and the son of the Lady Moeya were wont to play ball in a certain
court of the castle, and when they would play there they would wax all of a
heat with their sport. This the Lady Moeya was well aware of; so one day she
took that phial of poison and she poured a part of it into a chalice and she
filled the chalice with clear water and she set the chalice upon a bench where
those two would play at ball. For she said to herself: "When they grow warm
with their play, Tristram will certainly drink of this water to quench his thirst,
and then my son will maybe enter into his inheritance."

So the two youths played very fiercely at their game, and they waxed exceedingly
hot and presently were both very violently athirst. Then Tristram said, "I would
I had somewhat to drink," and his stepbrother said, "Look, yonder is a chalice
of water; drink! and when thou hast quenched thy thirst, then I will drink also."
But Tristram said: "Nay, brother, drink thou first, for thou art more athirst
than I." Then at first the son of the Lady Moeya would not have it so, but would
have Tristram drink; but afterward he did as Tristram bade him, and, taking
the chalice in both hands, he drank freely of that poison which his own mother
had prepared. Then when he had drunk his fill, Tristram took the chalice and
would have drunk too; but the other said, "Stay, Tristram, there is great bitterness
in that chalice"; and then he said, "Methinks I feel a very bitter pang within
my vitals," and then he cried out, "Woe is me! I am in great pain!" Therewith
he fell down upon the ground and lay there in a great passion of agony. Then
Tristram cried aloud for help in a piercing voice; but when help came thither
it was too late, for the son of the Lady Moeya was dead.

Then the Lady Moeva was in great torment of soul, and beat her breast and
tore her hair and King Meliadus had much ado for to comfort her. And after this
she hated Tristram worse than ever before, for she would say to herself: "Except
for this Tristram, my own son would yet be alive!"

So she brooded upon these things until she could not rest, whether by day
or night. Then one day she took the rest of the poison that was in the phial
and poured it into a goblet of yellow wine. This goblet she gave to one of her
pages, saying: "Take this to Tristram, and offer it to him when I shall tell
you to do so!"

Therewith she went down to the hall where Tristram was, and she said, "Tristram,
let there be peace betwixt us." And Tristram said: "Lady, that meets my wishes,
for I have never had in my heart aught but loving-kindness toward you, and so
I would have it in your heart toward me." With this the page came in the hall
with that goblet of yellow wine. Then the Lady Moeya took the goblet and said:
"Take this cup, and drink of the wine that is in it, and so there shall be peace
betwixt us forever." And as she said that she looked very strangely upon Tristram,
but Tristram was altogether innocent of any evil against him. So he reached
out his hand to take the cup which the page brought to him.

Now at that moment King Meliadus came into the hall fresh from the chase,
and he was much heated and greatly athirst, wherefore, when he saw that cup
of wine he said: "Stay, Tristram, let me drink, for I am greatly athirst. After
I have quenched my thirst, then thou shalt drink."

Therewith he took the goblet of wine and made to lift it to his lips. But
at that the Lady Moeya cried out, in a very loud and piercing voice, "Do not
drink of that wine!" The King said, "Why should I not drink of it?" "No matter,"
said the Lady Moeya, "thou shalt not drink of it, for there is death in it."

Therewith she ran to the King and catched him by the hand, and she plucked
away the goblet so that the wine was spilled out of it upon the ground.

Then King Meliadus gazed at the Lady Moeya, and he thought of many things
in very little time. Thereupon he seized her by the hair and dragged her forward,
so that she fell down upon her hands and knees to the pavement of the hall.
And King Meliadus drew his great sword so that it flashed like lightning, and
he cried: "Tell me what thou hast done, and tell me quickly, or thou shalt not
be able to tell me at all!" Then the Lady Moeya clutched King Meliadus about
the thighs, and she cried out: "Do not slay me with thine own hand, or else
my blood will stain thee with dishonor! I will tell thee all, and then thou
mayst deal with me according to the law, for indeed I am not fit to live." So
therewithal the Lady Moeya confessed everything to the King.

Then King Meliadus shouted aloud and called the attendants and said: "Take
this woman and cast her into prison, and see that no harm befall her there;
for the lords of this country shall adjudge her, and not I." And therewith he
turned away and left her.

And thereafter, in due season, the Lady Moeya was brought to trial and was
condemned to be burned at the stake.

Now when the day came that she was to be burnt, Tristram was very sorry for
her. So when he beheld her tied fast to the stake he came to where King Meliadus
was and he kneeled before him, and he said, "Father, I crave a boon of thee."
Thereupon King Meliadus looked upon Tristram, and he loved him very tenderly
and he said: "My son, ask what thou wilt, and it shall be thine." Then Tristram
said: "Father, I pray thee, spare the life of this lady, for methinks she hath
repented her of her evil, and surely God hath punished her very sorely for the
wickedness she hath tried to do."

Then King Meliadus was very wroth that Tristram should interfere with the
law; but yet he had granted that boon to his son and could not withdraw. So
after a while of thought he said: "Well, I have promised, and so I will perform
my promise. Her life is thine; go to the stake and take her. But when thou hast
done so I bid thee go forth from this place and show thy face here no more.
For thou hast interfered with the law, and hast done ill that thou, the son
of the King, should save this murderess. So thou shalt leave this place, for
I mistrust that between you two some murder will befall in this country."

So Tristram went weeping to where the Queen was bound to the stake; and he
cut her bonds with his dagger and set her free. And he said: "Lady, thou art
free; now go thy way, and may God forgive thee as I do." Then the Queen wept
also, and said, "Tristram, thou art very good to me." And because she was barefoot
and in her shift, Tristram took his cloak and wrapped it about her.

After that, Tristram straightway left Lyonesse, and King Meliadus appointed
that a noble and honorable lord of the court, hight Gouvernail, should go with
him. They two went to France, and there they were made very welcome at the court
of the King. So Tristram dwelt in France till he was eighteen years old, and
everyone at the court of the King of France loved him and honored him so that
he dwelt there as though he were of the blood of France.

During the time that he was in France he became the greatest hunter in the
world, and he wrote many books on venery that were read and studied long after
he had ceased to live. Also he became so skilful with the harp that no minstrel
in the world was his equal. And ever he waxed more sturdy of frame and more
beautiful of countenance, and more well-taught in all the worship of knighthood.
For during that time he became so wonderfully excellent in arms that there was
no one in France who was his equal.

Thus Tristram dwelt at peace in that land for five years, but even he longed
for his own home with all the might and main of his heart. So one day he said
to Gouvernail: "Gouvernail, I cannot deny myself any longer from seeing my father
and my own country, for I feel that I must see them or else my heart will certainly
break because of its great longing." Nor would he listen to anything that Gouvernail
might say contrary to this. So they two took their departure from France, and
Tristram travelled as a harper and Gouvernail as his attendant. Thus they came
to Lyonesse in that wise.

One day whilst King Meliadus sat at meat, they two came into the hall, and
Gouvernail wore a long white beard which altogether disguised him so that no
one knew him. But Tristram shone with such a great radiance of beauty and of
youth that all who looked upon him marvelled at him. And the heart of King Meliadus
went out to Tristram very strongly, and he said before all of his court, "Who
art thou, fair youth? And whence comest thou?" To which Tristram made reply:
"Lord, I am a harper, and this is my man, and we have come from France." Then
King Meliadus said to Tristram: "Sir, have you seen a youth in France whom men
call Tristram?" And Tristram replied, "Yea, I have seen him several times."
King Meliadus said, "Doth he do well?" "Yea," said Tristram, "he doeth very
well, though at times he is sore oppressed with a great desire for his own country."
At this King Meliadus turned away his face, for his heart went very strongly
out at the thought of his son. Then by and by he said to Tristram, "Wilt thou
play upon thy harp?" And Tristram said, "Yea, if it will please thee to hear
me." Therewith he took his harp and he set it before him, and he struck the
strings and played upon it, and he sang in such a wise that no one who was there
had ever heard the like thereof.

Then King Meliadus' heart was melted at Tristram's minstrelsy, and he said:
"That is wonderful harping. Now ask what thou wilt of me, and it shall be thine,
whatever it may be."

To this Tristram said, "Lord, that is a great thing that thou sayest." "Nevertheless,"
said King Meliadus, "it shall be as I say." Then Tristram left his harp and
he came to where King Meliadus sat, and he kneeled down before him and he said:
"Lord, if so be that is the case, then that which I ask of thee is this: that
thou wilt forgive me and bring me back into thy favor again."

At that King Meliadus was filled with a great wonder, and he said: "Fair youth,
who art thou, and what have I to forgive thee?" "Lord," said Tristram, "I am
thy son, and ask thee to forgive me that I should have saved the life of that
lady who is thy Queen."

At this King Meliadus cried out with joy, and he came down from where he sat
and he took Tristram into his arms and kissed him upon the face, and Tristram
wept and kissed his father upon the face.

So they were reconciled.

After that, Tristram abode in peace in Lyonesse for some while, and during
that time he made peace betwixt King Meliadus and Queen Moeya, and the Queen
loved him because he was so good to her.

Now after the return of Tristram as aforesaid, King Meliadus would have made
him a knight, but Tristram would not suffer the honor of knighthood to be bestowed
upon him at that time, but always said: "Lord, think not ill of me if I do not
accept knighthood at this time. For I would fain wait until the chance for some
large adventure cometh; then I would be made a knight for to meet that adventure,
so that I might immediately win renown. For what credit could there be to our
house if I should be made knight, only that I might sit in hall and feast and
drink and make merry?"

So spoke Sir Tristram, and his words sounded well to King Meliadus, wherefore
from thenceforth King Meliadus refrained from urging knighthood upon him.

Now the way that Sir Tristram achieved knighthood shall be told in that which
followeth, and also it shall then be told how he fought his first battle, which
was one of the most famous that ever he fought in all of his life.

Chapter Second

Now first of all it is to be here said that at that time there was great trouble
come to King Mark of Cornwall (who, as aforesaid, was uncle to Sir Tristram)
and the trouble was this:

The King of Cornwall and the King of Ireland had great debate concerning an
island that lay in the sea betwixt Cornwall and Ireland. For though that island
was held by Cornwall, yet the King of Ireland laid claim to it and demanded
that the King of Cornwall should pay him truage for the same. This King Mark
refused to do, and there was great contention betwixt Cornwall and Ireland,
so that each country made ready for war.

But the King of Ireland said: "Let there not be war betwixt Ireland and Cornwall
concerning this disagreement, but let us settle this affair in some other way.
Let us each choose a champion and let those two champions decide the rights
of this case by a combat at arms. For so the truth shall be made manifest."

Now you are to know that at that time the knights of Cornwall were held in
great disregard by all courts of chivalry; for there was not in those days any
knight of repute in all the court of Cornwall. Wherefore King Mark knew not
where he should find him a champion to meet that challenge from the King of
Ireland. Yet he must needs meet it, for he was ashamed to refuse such a challenge
as that, and so to acknowledge that Cornwall had no knight-champion to defend
it. So he said it should be as the King of Ireland would have it, and that if
the King of Ireland would choose a champion, he also would do the same.

Thereupon the King of Ireland chose for his champion Sir Marhaus of Ireland,
who was one of the greatest knights in the world. For in the Book of King Arthur
(which I wrote aforetime) you may there read in the story of Sir Pellias how
great and puissant a champion Sir Marhaus was, and how he overthrew Sir Gawaine
and others with the greatest ease. Wherefore at that time he was believed by
many to be the greatest knight in the world (it being before the days of Sir
Launcelot of the Lake), and even in the days of Sir Launcelot it was doubted
whether he or Sir Launcelot were the greater champion.

So King Mark could not find any knight in Cornwall to stand against Sir Marhaus.
Nor could he easily find any knight outside of Cornwall to do battle with him.
For Sir Marhaus, being a knight of the Round Table, no other knight of the Round
Table would fight against him--and there were no other knights so great as that
famous brotherhood of the Table Round.

Accordingly, King Mark knew not where to turn to find him a champion to do
battle in his behalf.

In this strait, King Mark sent a letter by a messenger to Lyonesse, asking
if there was any knight at Lyonesse who would stand his champion against Sir
Marhaus, and he offered great reward if such a champion would undertake his
cause against Ireland.

Now when young Tristram heard this letter of his uncle King Mark, he straightway
went to his father and said: "Sire, some whiles ago you desired that I should
become a knight. Now I would that you would let me go to Cornwall upon this
occasion. For when I come there I will beseech my uncle King Mark to make me
a knight, and then I will go out against Sir Marhaus. For I have a great mind
to undertake this adventure in behalf of King Mark, and to stand his champion
against Sir Marhaus. For though Sir Marhaus is so great a knight and so famous
a hero, yet if I should have the good fortune to overcome him in battle, there
would, certes, be great glory to our house through my knighthood."

Then King Meliadus looked upon Tristram and loved him very dearly, and he
said: "Tristram, thou hast assuredly a very great heart to undertake this adventure,
which no one else will essay. So I bid thee go, in God's name, if so be thy
heart bids thee to go. For maybe God will lend the strength necessary to carry
this adventure through to a successful issue."

So that very day Tristram departed from Lyonesse for Cornwall, taking with
him only Gouvernail as his companion. So, by ship, he reached Cornwall, and
the castle of Tintagel, where King Mark was then holding court.

And it was at the sloping of the afternoon when he so came, and at that time
King Mark was sitting in hall with many of his knights and lords about him.
And the King was brooding in great trouble of spirit. Unto him came an attendant,
saying: "Lord, there are two strangers who stand without, and crave to be admitted
to your presence. One of them hath great dignity and sobriety of demeanor, and
the other, who is a youth, is of so noble and stately an appearance that I do
not believe his like is to be found in the entire world."

To this the King said, "Show them in."

So those two were immediately admitted into the hall and came and stood before
King Mark; and the one of them was Gouvernail and the other was young Tristram.
So Tristram stood forth before Gouvernail and Gouvernail bore the harp of Tristram,
and the harp was of gold and shone most brightly and beautifully. Then King
Mark looked upon Tristram, and marvelled at his size and beauty; for Tristram
stood above any man in that place, so that he looked like a hero amongst them.
His brow was as white as milk and his lips were red like to coral and his hair
was as red as gold and as plentiful as the mane of a young lion, and his neck
was thick and sturdy and straight like to a round pillar of white-stone, and
he was clad in garments of blue silk embroidered very cunningly with threads
of gold and set with a countless multitude of gems of divers colors. So because
of all this he glistened with a singular radiance of richness and beauty.

So King Mark marvelled at the haughtiness of Tristram's appearance, and he
felt his heart drawn toward Tristram with love and admiration. Then, after a
little, he spoke, saying: "Fair youth, who are you, and whence come you, and
what is it you would have of me?"

"Lord," said Tristram, "my name is Tristram, and I come from the country of
Lyonesse, where your own sister was one time Queen. Touching the purpose of
my coming hither, it is this: having heard that you are in need of a champion
to contend for your rights against the champion of Ireland, I come hither to
say that if you will make me a knight with your own hand, I will take it upon
me to stand your champion and to meet Sir Marhaus of Ireland upon your behalf."

Then King Mark was filled with wonder at the courage of Tristram, and he said:
"Fair youth, are you not aware that Sir Marhaus of Ireland is a knight well
set in years and of such great and accredited deeds of arms that it is supposed
that, excepting Sir Launcelot of the Lake, there is not his peer in any court
of chivalry in all of the world? How then can you, who are altogether new to
the use of arms, hope to stand against so renowned a champion as he?"

"Lord," quoth Tristram, "I am well aware of what sort of knight Sir Marhaus
is, and I am very well aware of the great danger of this undertaking. Yet if
one who covets knighthood shall fear to face a danger, what virtue would there
then be in the chivalry of knighthood? So, Messire, I put my trust in God, His
mercies, and I have great hope that He will lend me both courage and strength
in my time of need."

Then King Mark began to take great joy, for he said to himself: "Maybe this
youth shall indeed bring me forth in safety out of these dangers that menace
my honor." So he said: "Tristram, I do believe that you will stand a very excellent
chance of success in this undertaking, wherefore it shall be as you desire;
I will make you a knight, and besides that I will fit you with armor and accoutrements
in all ways becoming to the estate of a knight-royal. Likewise I will provide
you a Flemish horse of the best strain, so that you shall be both furnished
and horsed as well as any knight in the world hath ever been."

So that night Tristram watched his armor in the chapel of the castle, and
the next day he was made knight with all the circumstances appertaining to a
ceremony of such solemnity as that. And upon the afternoon of the day upon which
he was thus made knight, King Mark purveyed a ship in all ways befitting the
occasion, and in the ship Tristram and Gouvernail set sail for that island where
Sir Marhaus was known to be abiding at that time.

Now upon the second day of their voyaging and about the middle of the day
they came to a land which they knew must be the place which they were seeking,
and there the sailors made a safe harbor. As soon as they were at anchor a gangway
was set from the ship to the shore and Sir Tristram and Gouvernail drave their
horses across the gangway and so to the dry land.

Thereafter they rode forward for a considerable distance, until about the
first slanting of the afternoon they perceived in the distance three very fair
ships drawn up close to the shore. And then they were aware of a knight, clad
in full armor and seated upon a noble horse under the shadow of those ships,
and they wist that that must be he whom Sir Tristram sought.

Then Gouvernail spake to Sir Tristram, saying: "Sir, that knight resting yonder
beneath the shelter of the ships must be Sir Marhaus."

"Yea," said Sir Tristram, "that is assuredly he." So he gazed very steadily
at the knight for a long while, and by and by he said: "Gouvernail, yonder seems
to me to be a very great and haughty knight for a knight so young as I am to
have to do with in his first battle; yet if God will lend me His strong aid
in this affair, I shall assuredly win me great credit at his hands." Then after
another short while he said: "Now go, Gouvernail, and leave me alone in this
affair, for I do not choose for anyone to be by when I have to do with yonder
knight. For either I shall overcome him in this combat or else I will lay down
my life at this place. For the case is thus, Gouvernail; if Sir Marhaus should
overcome me and if I should yield me to him as vanquished, then mine uncle must
pay truage to the King of Ireland for the land of Cornwall; but if I died without
yielding me to mine enemy, then he must yet do battle with another champion
at another time, if my uncle the King can find such an one to do battle in his
behalf. So I am determined either to win this battle or to die therein."

Now when Gouvernail heard this, he fell a-weeping in great measure; and he
cried out: "Sir, let not this battle be of that sort!" To him Sir Tristram said
very steadfastly: "Say no more, Gouvernail, but go as I bid thee." Whereupon
Gouvernail turned and went away, as he was bidden to do, weeping very bitterly
as he went.

Now by this Sir Marhaus had caught sight of Sir Tristram where he stood in
that field, and so presently he came riding thitherward to meet Sir Tristram.
When he had come nigh, Sir Marhaus said: "Who art thou, Sir Knight?" Unto these
Sir Tristram made reply: "Sir, I am Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, son of King Meliadus
of that land, and nephew of King Mark of Cornwall. I am come to do battle upon
behalf of the King of Cornwall, to release him from the demands of truage made
by the King of Ireland." Quoth Sir Marhaus: "Messire, are you a knight of approval
and of battles?" "Nay," said Sir Tristram, "I have only been created knight
these three days."

"Alas!" said Sir Marhaus, "I am very sorry for thee and for thy noble courage
that hath brought thee hither to this place. Thou art not fit to have to do
with me, for I am one who hath fought in more than twice twenty battles, each
one of which was, I believe, greater than this is like to be. Also I have matched
me with the very best knights in the world, and have never yet been overcome.
So I advise thee, because of thy extreme youth, to return to King Mark and bid
him send me another champion in thy stead, who shall be better seasoned than
thou art."

"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I give thee gramercy for thy advice. But I may
tell thee that I was made knight for no other purpose than to do battle with
thee; so I may not return without having fulfilled mine adventure. Moreover,
because of thy great renown and thy courage and prowess, I feel all the more
desirous to have to do with thee; for if I should die at thy hand, then there
will be no shame to me, but if I should win this battle from thee, then I shall
have very great renown in the courts of chivalry."

"Well," said Sir Marhaus, "it is not likely that thou shalt die at my hand.
For because of thy youth I will not have it that this battle shall be so desperate
as that." "Say not so," said Sir Tristram, "for either I shall die at thy hand,
or else I shall overcome thee in this battle, for I make my vow to God that
I will not yield myself to thee so long as there is life within my body."

"Alas!" said Sir Marhaus, "that is certes a great pity. But as thou hast foreordained
it, so it must needs be." Therewith he saluted Sir Tristram and drew rein and
rode aside to a little distance where he straightway made ready for that battle.
Nor was Sir Tristram behind him in making preparation, albeit he was filled
with doubts as to the outcome of that undertaking.

Then when they were in all ways prepared, each gave shout and drave spurs
into his horse and rushed toward the other with such fury that it was terrible
to behold. And each smote the other with his spear in the centre of his shield,
and in that encounter Sir Marhaus smote through Sir Tristram's shield and gave
Sir Tristram a great wound in his side. Then Sir Tristram felt the blood gush
out of that wound in such abundance that it filled his iron boots, so that they
were sodden therewith, and he thought he had got his death-wound. But in spite
of that grievous bitter stroke, he held his seat and was not overthrown. Then
so soon as he had recovered himself he voided his horse and drew his sword and
set his shield before him; and when Sir Marhaus saw his preparations, he likewise
voided his horse and made ready for battle upon foot. So straightway they came
together with terrible fury, lashing at each other with such fearful strength
and evil will that it was dreadful to behold. And each gave the other many grievous
strokes, so that whole pieces of armor were hewn off from their bodies; and
each gave the other many deep wounds, so that that part of the armor that still
hung to them became red as though it were painted with red. Likewise the ground
was all besprinkled red where they stood, yet neither gave any thought to quitting
that battle in which they were engaged.

Now for a while Sir Tristram feared because of the wound which he had at first
received that he would die in that battle, but by and by he perceived that he
was stouter than Sir Marhaus and better winded; wherefore great hope came to
him and uplifted him with redoubled strength. Then presently Sir Marhaus fell
back a little and when Sir Tristram perceived that he ran in upon him and smote
him several times, such direful strokes that Sir Marhaus could not hold up his
shield against that assault. Then Sir Tristram perceived that Sir Marhaus was
no longer able to hold up his shield, and therewith he smote him a great blow
with his sword upon the helmet. So direful was that blow that the sword of Sir
Tristram pierced very deep through the helm of Sir Marhaus and into the brainpan.
And Sir Tristram's sword stuck fast in the helm and the brain-pan of Sir Marhaus
so that Sir Tristram could not pull it out again. Then Sir Marhaus, half a-swoon,
fell down upon his knees, and therewith a part of the edge of the blade brake
off from Sir Tristram's sword, and remained in the wound that he had given to
Sir Marhaus.

Then Sir Marhaus was aware that he had got his death-wound, wherefore a certain
strength came to him so that he rose to his feet staggering like a drunken man.
And at first he began going about in a circle and crying most dolorously. Then
as he wist all that had happed he threw away his sword and his shield, and made
away from that place, staggering and stumbling like one who had gone blind;
for he was all bewildered with that mortal wound, and wist not very well what
he was doing or whither he was going. Then Sir Tristram would have made after
him to stop him, but he could not do so because he himself was so sorely wounded
and so weak from the loss of blood. Yet he called after Sir Marhaus: "Stay,
stay, Sir Knight! Let us finish this battle now we are about it!" But to this
Sir Marhaus made no answer, but went on down to his ships, staggering and stumbling
like a blind man as aforesaid, for the sore wound which he had received still
lent him a false strength of body so that he was able to go his way. Then those
who were aboard the ships, beholding him thus coming staggering toward them,
came down and met him and lifted him up and bore him away to his own ship. Thereafter,
as soon as might be they hoisted sail and lifted anchor and took their way from
that place.

Then by and by came Gouvernail and several others of Sir Tristram's party
to where Sir Tristram was; and there they found him leaning upon his sword and
groaning very sorely because of the great wound in his side. So presently they
perceived that he could not walk, wherefore they lifted him up upon his own
shield and bore him thence to that ship that had brought him thither.

And when they had come to the ship they laid him down upon a couch and stripped
him of his armor to search his wounds. Then they beheld what a great wound it
was that Sir Marhaus had given him in the side, and they lifted up their voices
in sorrow, for they all believed that he would die.

So they set sail, and in two days brought him back to King Mark, where he
sat at Tintagel in Cornwall. And when King Mark saw how pale and wan and weak
Sir Tristram was, he wept and grieved very sorely for sorrow of that sight,
for he too thought that Sir Tristram was certainly about to die.

But Sir Tristram smiled upon King Mark, and he said: "Lord, have I done well
for thy sake?" And King Mark said, "Yea," and fell to weeping again.

"Then," quoth Tristram, "it is time for me to tell thee who I am who have
saved thy kingdom from the shame of having to pay truage to Ireland, and that
I am thine own sister's son. For my father is King Meliadus of Lyonesse, and
my mother was the Lady Elizabeth, who was thine own sister till God took her
soul to Paradise to dwell there with His angels."

But when King Mark heard this he went forth from that place and into his own
chamber. And when he had come there he fell down upon his knees and cried out
aloud: "Alas, alas, that this should be! Rather, God, would I lose my entire
kingdom than that my sister's son should come to his death in this wise!"

Now it remaineth to say of Sir Marhaus that those who were with him brought
him back to Ireland and that there in a little while he died of the wound that
Sir Tristram had given him upon the head. But ere he died, and whilst they were
dressing that hurt, the Queen of Ireland, who was sister to Sir Marhaus, discovered
the broken piece of the blade still in that grim wound. This she drew forth
and set aside, and hid very carefully, saying to herself: "If ever I meet that
knight to whose sword this piece of blade fitteth, then it will be an evil day
for him."

Thus I have told you all the circumstances of that great battle betwixt Sir
Tristram of Lyonesse and Sir Marhaus of Ireland. And now you shall hear how
it befell Sir Tristram thereafter; so harken to what followeth.

Chapter Third

Now that grievous hurt which Sir Tristram had received at the hands of Sir
Marhaus did not heal, but instead grew even more rankled and sore, so that there
were many who thought that there had been treachery practised and that the spearhead
had been poisoned to cause such a malignant disease as that with which the wounded
man suffered. So by and by Sir Tristram grew so grievously sick of his hurt
that all those who were near him thought that he must certainly die.

Then King Mark sent everywhere and into all parts for the most wise and learned
leeches and chirurgeons to come to Cornwall and search the wounds of Sir Tristram,
but of all these no one could bring him any ease.

Now one day there came to the court of King Mark a very wise lady, who had
travelled much in the world and had great knowledge of wounds of all sorts.
At the bidding of the King, she went to where Sir Tristram lay, and searched
the wound as so many had already done. And when she had done that she came out
of Sir Tristram's chamber and unto King Mark, where he was waiting for her.
Then King Mark said to her: "Well, how will it be with yonder knight?" "Lord,"
quoth she, "it is thus; I can do nothing to save his life, nor do I know of
any one who may save it unless it be the King's daughter of Ireland, who is
known as the Belle Isoult because of her wonderful beauty. She is the most skilful
leech in all of the world, and she alone may hope to bring Sir Tristram back
to life and health again, for I believe that if she fail no one else can save
him."

Then after the aforesaid lady had gone, King Mark went to where Sir Tristram
lay, and he told him all that she had said concerning his condition; and King
Mark said: "Tristram, wilt thou go to the King's daughter of Ireland and let
her search thy wound?"

Then Sir Tristram groaned at the thought of the weariness and pain of moving,
and he said: "Lord, this is a great undertaking for one who is so sick. Moreover,
it is a great risk for me, for, if I go to Ireland, and if it be found that
I am he who slew Sir Marhaus, then it is hardly likely that I shall ever escape
from that country again with my life. Ne'theless, I am so sorely sick of this
wound that I would rather die than live as I am living; wherefore I will go
to Ireland for the sake of being healed, if such a thing is possible."

Accordingly, a little while after that, King Mark provided a ship to carry
Sir Tristram to Ireland. This ship he furnished with sails of silk of divers
colors, and he had it hung within with fine embroidered cloth, and fabrics woven
with threads of silver and gold, so that in its appearance it was a worthy vessel
even for a great king to sail in. Then, when all was ready, King Mark had a
number of attendants carry Sir Tristram down to the ship in a litter, and he
had them lay Sir Tristram upon a soft couch of crimson satin, which was set
upon the deck beneath a canopy of crimson silk, embroidered with threads of
silver and garnished with fringe of silver, and Sir Tristram lay there at ease
where the breezes of the ocean came pleasantly to him, and breathed upon his
face and his temples and his hair and his hands with coolness; and Gouvernail
was with Sir Tristram all the while in attendance upon him.

So they set sail for Ireland, the weather being very fair and pleasant, and
on the third day, at about the time of sunset, they came to a part of the coast
of Ireland where there was a castle built upon the rocks that rose out of the
sea.

Now there were several fishermen fishing in boats near that castle, and of
these the pilot of Sir Tristram's boat made inquiry what castle that was. To
him the fisherman replied: "That castle is the castle of King Angus of Ireland."
And the fisherman said: "It so happens that the King and Queen and their daughter,
hight the Lady Belle Isoult, and all of their court are there at this very while."

This Sir Tristram heard and said: "This is good news, for indeed I am very
sick and am right glad that my voyaging is ended." So he gave orders that the
pilot should bring the ship close under the walls of that castle, and that he
should there let go anchor; and the pilot did as Sir Tristram had commanded
him.

Now, as aforesaid, that ship was of a very wonderful appearance, like to the
ship of a king or a high prince, wherefore many people came down to the walls
of the castle and stood there and gazed at the vessel as it sailed into the
harbor. And by that time the sun had set and all the air was illuminated with
a marvellous golden light; and in this sky of gold the moon hung like a shield
of silver, very bright and steady above the roofs and towers of the castle.
And there came from the land a pleasing perfume of blossoms; for it was then
in the fulness of the spring-time, and all the fruit-bearing trees were luxuriant
with bloom so that the soft air of evening was full of fragrance thereby.

Then there came a great content into the heart of Sir Tristram, wherefore
he said to Gouvernail: "Gouvernail, either I shall soon be healed of this wound,
or else I shall presently die and enter into Paradise free of pain, for I am
become very full of content and of peace toward all men." And then he said:
"Bring me hither my harp, that I may play upon it a little, for I have a desire
to chant in this pleasant evening-time."

So Gouvernail brought to Sir Tristram his shining harp, and when Sir Tristram
had taken it into his hands he tuned it, and when he had tuned it he struck
it and sang; and, because of the stillness of the evening, his voice sounded
marvellously clear and sweet across the level water, so that those who stood
upon the castle walls and heard it thought that maybe an angel was singing on
board of that ship.

That time the Lady Belle Isoult sat at the window of her bower enjoying the
pleasantness of the evening. She also heard Sir Tristram singing, and she said
to those damsels who were with her, "Ha, what is that I hear?" Therewith she
listened for a little while, and then she said: "Meseems that must be the voice
of some angel that is singing." They say: "Nay, Lady, it is a wounded knight
singing, and he came to this harbor in a wonderful ship some while ago." Then
the Lady Belle Isoult said to a page who was in attendance: "Bid the King and
Queen come hither, that they may hear this singing also, for never did I think
to hear such singing beyond the walls of Paradise."

So the page ran with all speed, and in a little the King and Queen came to
the bower of the Lady Belle Isoult; and she and they leaned upon the window-ledge
and listened to Sir Tristram whilst he sang in the soft twilight. Then by and
by King Angus said: "Now I will have yonder minstrel brought thither to this
castle to do us pleasure, for I believe that he must be the greatest minstrel
in all the world to sing in that wise." And the Lady Belle Isoult said: "I pray
you, sir, do so, for it would be great joy to everybody to have such singing
as that in this place."

So King Angus sent a barge to that ship, and besought that he who sang should
be brought to the castle. At that Sir Tristram was very glad, for he said: "Now
I shall be brought to the Lady the Belle Isoult and maybe she will heal me."
So he had them bare him to the barge of the King of Ireland, and so they brought
him to the castle of King Angus, where they laid him upon a bed in a fair room
of the castle.

Then King Angus came to Sir Tristram where he lay, and he said: "Messire what
can I do for you to put you more at your ease than you are?" "Lord," said Sir
Tristram, "I pray you to permit the Lady Belle Isoult to search a great wound
in my side that I received in battle. For I hear that she is the most skilful
leech in all the world, and so I have come hither from a great distance, being
in such pain and dole from my grievous hurt that I shall die in a little while
unless it be healed."

"Messire," said King Angus, "I perceive that you are no ordinary knight, but
somebody of high nobility and estate, so it shall be as you desire." And then
King Angus said: "I pray you, tell me your name and whence you come."

Upon this, Sir Tristram communed within his own mind, saying: "An I say my
name is Tristram, haply there may be someone here will know me and that I was
the cause why the brother of the Queen of this place hath died." So he said:
"Lord, my name is Sir Tramtris, and I am come from a country called Lyonesse,
which is a great distance from this."

Quoth King Angus, "Well, Sir Tramtris, I am glad that you have come to this
place. Now it shall be done to you as you desire, for to-morrow the Lady Belle
Isoult shall search your wound to heal it if possible."

And so it was as King Angus said, for the next day the Lady Belle Isoult came
with her attendants to where Sir Tristram lay, and one of the attendants bare
a silver basin and another bare a silver ewer, and others bare napkins of fine
linen. So the Lady Belle Isoult came close to Sir Tristram and kneeled beside
the couch whereon he lay and said, "Let me see the wound." Therewith Sir Tristram
laid bare his bosom and his side and she beheld it. Then she felt great pity
for Sir Tristram because of that dolorous wound, and she said: "Alas, that so
young and so fair and so noble a knight should suffer so sore a wound as this!"
Therewith still kneeling beside Sir Tristram she searched the wound with very
gentle, tender touch (for her fingers were like to rose leaves for softness)
and lo! she found a part of the blade of a spear-head embedded very deep in
the wound of Sir Tristram.

This she drew forth very deftly (albeit Sir Tristram groaned with a great
passion of pain) and therewithafter came forth an issue of blood like a crimson
fountain, whereupon Sir Tristram swooned away like one who had gone dead. But
he did not die, for they quickly staunched the flow, set aromatic spices to
his nostrils, so that in a little he revived in spirit to find himself at great
ease and peace in his body (albeit it was for a while like to the peace of death).

Thus it was that the Lady Belle Isoult saved the life of Sir Tristram, for
in a little while he was able to be about again, and presently waxed almost
entirely hale and strong in limb and body.

And now it is to be told how Sir Tristram loved the Lady Belle Isoult and
how she loved Sir Tristram. Also how a famous knight, hight Sir Palamydes the
Saracen, loved Belle Isoult and of how she loved not him.

For, as was said, it came about that in a little while Sir Tristram was healed
of that grievous wound aforetold of so that he was able to come and go whithersoever
he chose. But always he would be with the Lady Belle Isoult, for Sir Tristram
loved her with a wonderfully passionate regard. And so likewise the lady loved
Sir Tristram. For if he loved her because she had saved his life, then she also
loved him for the same reason. For she did not ever forget how she had drawn
out the head of that spear from the wound at his side, and of how he had groaned
when she brought it forth, and of how the blood had gushed out of that wound.
Wherefore she loved him very aboundingly for the agony of pain she had one time
caused him to suffer.

So they two fair and noble creatures were always together in bower or in hall,
and no one in all that while wist that Sir Tramtris was Sir Tristram, and that
it was his hand that had slain Sir Marhaus of Ireland.

So Sir Tristram was there in Ireland for a year, and in that time he grew
to be altogether well and sturdy again.

Now it was in those days that there came Sir Palamydes the Saracen knight
to that place, who was held to be one of the very foremost knights in the world.
So great rejoicing was made over him because he had come thither, and great
honor was shown to him by everyone.

But when Sir Palamydes beheld the Lady Belle Isoult and when he saw how fair
she was, he came in a short while to love her with almost as passionate a regard
as that with which Sir Tristram loved her, so that he also sought ever to be
with her whenever the chance offered.

But Belle Isoult felt no regard for Sir Palamydes, but only fear of him, for
all of her love was given to Sir Tristram. Nevertheless, because Sir Palamydes
was so fierce and powerful a knight, she did not dare to offend him; wherefore
she smiled upon him and treated him with all courtesy and kindness although
she loved him not, dissembling her regard for him.

All this Sir Tristram beheld from aside and it displeased him a very great
deal to see how Sir Palamydes was always beside the lady. But Belle Isoult beheld
how Sir Tristram was displeased, wherefore she took occasion to say to him:
"Tramtris, be not displeased, for what am I to do? You know very well that I
do not love this knight, but I am afraid of him because he is so fierce and
so strong."

To this Sir Tristram said: "Lady, it would be a great shame to me if I, being
by, should suffer any knight to come betwixt you and me and win your regard
through fear of him."

She said: "Tramtris, what would you do? Would you give challenge to this knight?
Lo, you are not yet entirely healed of your hurt, and Sir Palamydes is in perfect
strength of body. For indeed it is for you I am most of all afraid lest you
and Sir Palamydes should come to battle and lest he should do you a harm before
you are entirely healed."

"Lady," quoth Sir Tristram, "I thank God that I am not at all afraid of this
knight, or of any other knight, and I have to thank you that I am now entirely
recovered and am as strong as ever I was. Wherefore I have now a mind to deal
with this knight in your behalf. So if you will provide me with armor I will
deal with him so that maybe he will not trouble you again. Now I will devise
it in this way:--tell your father, King Angus, to proclaim a great jousting.
In that jousting I will seek out Sir Palamydes and will encounter him, and I
hope with God's aid that I shall overcome him, so that you shall be free from
him."

Belle Isoult said, "Tramtris, are you able for this?" He said, "Yea, I am
as ready as ever I shall be in all of my life." Whereat Belle Isoult said, "It
shall be as you will have it."

Then Sir Tristram charged Belle Isoult that she should keep secret all this
that had been said betwixt them. And more especially she was to keep it secret
that he was to take part in such a tournament as that which they had devised.
And he said to her: "Lady, I lie here under a great peril to my life, though
I cannot tell you what that peril is. But I may tell you that if my enemies
should discover me at this place, it would go hard with me to preserve my life
from them. Wherefore, if I take part in any such affair as this, it must be
altogether a secret betwixt us."

So therewith they parted and Lady Belle Isoult went to her father and besought
him to proclaim a great day of jousting in honor of Sir Palamydes, and the King
said that he would do so. So the King sent forth proclamation to all the courts
of that nation that a great tournament was to be held and that great rewards
and great honors were to be given to the best knight thereat. And that tournament
was talked about in all the courts of chivalry where there were knights who
desired to win glory in such affairs at arms.

And now it shall be told concerning that tournament and how it befell with
Sir Tristram thereat, and with Sir Palamydes thereat.

Chapter Fourth

So came the time for the tournament that King Angus of Ireland had ordained;
and that was a very famous affair at arms indeed. For it hath very rarely happened
that so noble a gathering of knights hath ever come together as that company
which there presented itself for that occasion at the court of the King of Ireland.

For you may know how excellent was the court of chivalry that fore gathered
thereat when you shall hear that there came to that tournament, the King of
an Hundred Knights and the King of the Scots, and that there came several knights
of the Round Table, to wit: Sir Gawaine, Sir Gaheris and Sir Agravaine; and
Sir Bagdemagus and Sir Kay and Sir Dodinas, and Sir Sagramore le Desirous, and
Sir Gumret the Less, and Sir Griflet; and that there came besides these many
other knights of great renown.

These and many others gathered at the court of King Angus of Ireland, so that
all those meadows and fields coadjacent to the place of battle were gay as beds
of flowers with the multitude of tents and pavilions of divers colors that were
there emplanted.

And on the day of the tournament there came great crowds of people into the
lists, so that all that place was alive with movement. For it was as though
a sea of people had arisen to overflow the seats and stalls thereof.

Now that tournament was to last for three days, and upon the third day there
was to be a grand mêlée in which all these knights contestant were
to take stand upon this side or upon that.

But upon the first two of those three days Sir Tristram sat in the stall of
the King and looked down upon the jousting, for, because of the illness from
which he had recovered, he was minded to save his body until the right time
should come, what time he should be called upon to do his uttermost.

And in those two days, Sir Tristram beheld that Sir Palamydes did more wonderfully
in battle than he would have believed it possible for any knight to do. For
Sir Palamydes was aware that the eyes of the Lady Belle Isoult were gazing upon
him, wherefore he felt himself uplifted to battle as with the strength of ten.
Wherefore he raged about that field like a lion of battle, seeking whom he might
overthrow and destroy. And upon the first day he challenged Sir Gawaine to joust
with him, and then he challenged Sir Gaheris, and the King of an Hundred Knights,
and Sir Griflet, and Sir Sagramore le Desirous and fourteen other knights, and
all of these he met and many he overcame, and that without any mishap to himself.
And upon the second day he met with great success Sir Agravaine and Sir Griflet
and Sir Kay and Sir Dodinas and twelve other knights. Wherefore those who beheld
how he did gave great shouts and outcries of applause and acclaim, saying: "Certes,
there was never knight in all of the world so great as this knight. Yea; even
Sir Launcelot himself could not do more than that knight doeth."

Then Belle Isoult was troubled in her mind, and she said: "Tramtris, yonder
in very truth is a most fierce and terrible knight. Now somewhiles I have fear
that you may not be able to overcome him."

Thereat Sir Tristram smiled very grimly, and said: "Lady, already I have overcome
in battle a bigger knight than ever Sir Palamydes has been or is like to be."
But the Lady Belle Isoult wist not that that knight of whom Sir Tristram spake
was Sir Marhaus of Ireland.

Now upon the evening of the second day of that tournament, Sir Palamydes came
to where the Lady Belle Isoult was, and he said: "Lady, all these things I have
done for your sake. For had it not been for my love for you, I would not have
been able to do a third part of that which I did. Now I think you should have
pity and regard for one who loves you so strongly as that; wherefore I beseech
you to bestow some part of your good-will upon me."

"Sir," said the Lady Belle Isoult, "you are not to forget that there is still
another day of this battle, and in it you may not happen to have the same fortune
that favored you to-day; so I will wait until you have won that battle also
before I answer you."

"Well," said Sir Palamydes, "you shall see that I shall do even more worthily
to-morrow for your sake than I have done to-day."

But the Lady Belle Isoult was not very well pleased with that saying, for
she began again to fear that maybe the will of Sir Palamydes was so strong that
Sir Tristram would not have any success against him.

So came the third day of that very famous contest at arms, and when this morning
was come there began to gather together in the two parties those who were to
contest the one against the other. Of one of these parties, Sir Palamydes was
the chiefest knight, and upon that side was also Sir Gawaine and several of
the knights who were with him. For these said, "There shall certes be greater
credit to be had with Sir Palamydes than against him," and so they joined them
with his party. Of the other party the chiefest knights were the King of an
Hundred Knights and the King of Scots, and both of these were very famous and
well-approved champions, of high courage and remarkable achievements.

Now when the time was nigh ready for that tournament, Sir Tristram went to
put on the armor that the Lady Belle Isoult had provided him, and when he was
armed he mounted very lightly upon the horse which she had given him. And the
armor of Sir Tristram was white, shining like to silver, and the horse was altogether
white, and the furniture and trappings thereof were all white, so that Sir Tristram
glistened with extraordinary splendor.

Now when he was armed and prepared in all ways, the Lady Belle Isoult came
to where he was and she said, "Tramtris, are you ready?" And he answered "Yea."
Therewith she took the horse of Sir Tristram by the bridle and she led him to
the postern gate of the castle, and put him out that way into a fair field that
lay beyond; and Sir Tristram abided in the fields for some while until the tournament
should have begun.

But the Lady Belle Isoult went to the tournament with her father, the King,
and her mother, the Queen, and took her station at that place assigned to her
whence she might overlook the field.

So in a little while that friendly battle began. And again Sir Palamydes was
filled with the vehement fury of contest, wherefore he raged about the field,
spreading terror whithersoever he came. For first he made at the King of an
Hundred Knights, and he struck that knight so direful a blow that both horse
and man fell to the ground with the force thereof. Then in the same manner he
struck the King of Scots with his sword, and smote him straightway out of the
saddle also. Then he struck down one after another, seven other knights, all
of well-proved strength and prowess, so that all those who looked thereon cried
out, "Is he a man or is he a demon?" So, because of the terror of Sir Palamydes,
all those in that contest bore away from him as they might do from a lion in
anger.

At this time came Sir Tristram, riding at a free pace, shining like to a figure
of silver. Then many saw him and observed him and said to one another: "Who
is this knight, and what party will he join with to do battle?" These had not
long to wait to know what side he would join, for immediately Sir Tristram took
stand with that party which was the party of the King of an Hundred Knights
and the King of Scots, and at that the one party was very glad, and the other
party was sorry; for they deemed that Sir Tristram was certes some great champion.

Then straightway there came against Sir Tristram four knights of the other
party, and one of these was Sir Gaheris, and another was Sir Griflet and another
was Sir Bagdemagus and another was Sir Kay. But Sir Tristram was possessed with
a great joy of battle, so that in a very short time he had struck down or overthrown
all those knights, beginning with Sir Gaheris, and ending with Sir Kay the seneschal.

This Sir Gawaine beheld, and said to Sir Sagramore: "Yonder is certes a knight
of terrible strength; now let us go and see of what mettle he be."

Therewith Sir Gawaine pushed against Sir Tristram from the one side, and Sir
Sagramore came against him on the other side, and so they met him both at once.
Then first Sir Gawaine struck Sir Tristram such a buffet that the horse of Sir
Tristram turned twice about with the force of that stroke; and therewith Sir
Sagramore smote him a buffet upon the other side so that Sir Tristram wist not
upon which side to defend himself.

Then, at those blows Sir Tristram waxed so exceedingly fierce that it was
as though a fire of rage flamed up into his brains and set them into a blaze
of rage. So with that he rose up in his stirrups and launched so dreadful a
blow upon Sir Gawaine that I believe nothing could have withstood the force
of that blow. For it clave through the shield of Sir Gawaine and it descended
upon the crown of his helmet and it clave away a part of his helmet and a part
of the épaulière of his shoulder; and with the force of that dreadful,
terrible blow, Sir Gawaine fell down upon the ground and lay there as though
he were dead.

Then Sir Tristram wheeled upon Sir Sagramore (who sat wonder-struck at that
blow he had beheld) and thereafter he smote him too, so that he fell down and
lay upon the ground in a swoon from which he did not recover for more than two
hours.

Now Sir Palamydes also had beheld those two strokes that Sir Tristram had
given, wherefore he said: "Hah! Yonder is a very wonderful knight. Now if I
do not presently meet him, and that to my credit, he will have more honor in
this battle than I."

So therewith Sir Palamydes pushed straight against Sir Tristram, and when
Sir Tristram beheld that he was very glad, for he said: "Now it will either
be Sir Palamydes his day, or else it will be mine." So he upon his part pushed
against Sir Palamydes with good intent to engage him in battle, and then they
two met in the midst of the field.

Then immediately Sir Palamydes smote Sir Tristram such a buffet that Sir Tristram
thought a bolt of lightning had burst upon him, and for a little while he was
altogether bemazed and wist not where he was. But when he came to himself he
was so filled with fury that his heart was like to break therewith.

Thereupon he rushed upon Sir Palamydes and smote him again and again and again
with such fury and strength that Sir Palamydes was altogether stunned at the
blows he received and bare back before them. Then Sir Tristram perceived how
that Sir Palamydes bare his shield low because of the fierceness of that assault,
and thereupon he rose up in his stirrups and struck Sir Palamydes upon the crown
of the helmet so dreadful a buffet that the brains of Sir Palamydes swam like
water, and he must needs catch the pommel of his saddle to save himself from
falling. Then Sir Tristram smote him another buffet, and therewith darkness
came upon the sight of Sir Palamydes and he rolled off from his horse into the
dust beneath its feet.

Then all who beheld the encounter shouted very loud and with great vehemence,
for it was the very best and most notable assault at arms that had been performed
in all that battle. But most of those who beheld that assault cried out "The
Silver Knight!" For at that time no one but the Lady Belle Isoult wist who that
silver knight was. But she wist very well who he was, and was so filled with
the glory of his prowess that she wept for joy thereof.

Then the King of Ireland said: "Who is yonder knight who hath so wonderfully
overthrown Sir Palamydes? I had not thought there was any knight in the world
so great as he; but this must be some great champion whom none of us know."
Upon that the Lady Belle Isoult, still weeping for joy, could contain herself
no longer, but cried out: "Sir, that is Tramtris, who came to us so nigh to
death and who hath now done us so great honor being of our household! For I
knew very well that he was no common knight but some mighty champion when I
first beheld him."

At that the King of Ireland was very much astonished and overjoyed, and he
said: "If that is indeed so, then it is a very great honor for us all."

Now after that assault Sir Tristram took no more part in that battle but withdrew
to one side. But he perceived where the esquires attendant upon Sir Palamydes
came to him and lifted him up and took him away. Then by and by he perceived
that Sir Palamydes had mounted his horse again with intent to leave that meadow
of battle, and in a little he saw Sir Palamydes ride away with his head bowed
down like to one whose heart was broken.

All this Sir Tristram beheld and did not try to stay Sir Palamydes in his
departure. But some while after Sir Palamydes had quitted that place, Sir Tristram
also took his departure, going in that same direction that Sir Palamydes had
gone. Then after he had come well away from the meadow of battle, Sir Tristram
set spurs to his horse and rode at a hard gallop along that way that Sir Palamydes
had taken.

So he rode at such a gait for a considerable pass until, by and by, he perceived
Sir Palamydes upon the road before him; and Sir Palamydes was at that time come
to the edge of a woods where there were several stone windmills with great sails
swinging very slowly around before a strong wind that was blowing.

Now this was a lonely place, and one very fit to do battle in, wherefore Sir
Tristram cried out to Sir Palamydes in a loud voice: "Sir Palamydes! Sir Palamydes!
Turn you about! For here is the chance for you to recover the honor that you
have lost to me." Thereupon Sir Palamydes, hearing that loud voice, turned him
about. But when he beheld that the knight who called was he who had just now
wrought such shame upon him, he ground his teeth together with rage, and therewith
drave his horse at Sir Tristram, drawing his sword so that it flashed like lightning
in the bright sunlight. And when he came nigh to Sir Tristram, he stood up in
his stirrups and lashed a blow at him with all his might and main; for he said
to himself: "Maybe I shall now recover mine honor with one blow which I lost
to this knight a while since." But Sir Tristram put aside that blow of Sir Palamydes
with his shield with very great skill and dexterity, and thereupon, recovering
himself, he lashed at Sir Palamydes upon his part. And at that first stroke
Sir Tristram smote down the shield of Sir Palamydes, and gave him such a blow
upon the head that Sir Palamydes fell down off his horse upon the earth. Then
Sir Tristram voided his own horse very quickly, and running to Sir Palamydes
where he lay he plucked off his helmet with great violence. Therewith he cried
out very fiercely: "Sir Knight, yield thee to me, or I will slay thee." And
therewithal he lifted up his sword as though to strike off the head of Sir Palamydes.

Then when Sir Palamydes saw Sir Tristram standing above him in that wise,
he dreaded his buffets so that he said: "Sir Knight, I yield me to thee to do
thy commands, if so be thou wilt spare my life."

Thereupon Sir Tristram said, "Arise," and at that Sir Palamydes got him up
to his knees with some ado, and so remained kneeling before Sir Tristram.

"Well," said Sir Tristram, "I believe you have saved your life by thus yielding
yourself to me. Now this shall be my commandment upon you. First of all, my
commandment is that you forsake the Lady Belle Isoult, and that you do not come
near her for the space of an entire year. And this is my second commandment;
that from this day you do not assume the arms of knighthood for an entire year
and a day."

"Alas!" said Sir Palamydes, "why do you not slay me instead of bringing me
to such shame as this! Would that I had died instead of yielding myself to you
as I did." And therewith he wept for shame and despite.

"Well," said Sir Tristram, "let that pass which was not done. For now you
have yielded yourself to me and these are my commands." So with that Sir Tristram
set his sword back again into its sheath, and he mounted his horse and rode
away, leaving Sir Palamydes where he was.

But after Sir Tristram had gone, Sir Palamydes arose, weeping aloud. And he
said: "This is such shame to me that I think there can be no greater shame."
Thereupon he drew his misericordia, and he cut the thongs of his harness and
he tore the pieces of armor from off his body and flung them away very furiously,
upon the right hand and upon the left. And when he had thus stripped himself
of all of his armor, he mounted his horse and rode away into the forest, weeping
like one altogether brokenhearted.

So Sir Tristram drave Sir Palamydes away from the Lady Belle Isoult as he
had promised to do.

Now when Tristram came back to the castle of the King of Ireland once more,
he thought to enter privily in by the postern-gate as he had gone out. But lo!
instead of that he found a great party waiting for him before the castle and
these gave him loud acclaim, crying, "Welcome, Sir Tramtris! Welcome, Sir Tramtris!"
And King Angus came forward and took the hand of Sir Tristram, and he also said:
"Welcome, Sir Tramtris, for you have brought us great honor this day!"

But Sir Tristram looked at the Lady the Belle Isoult with great reproach and
by and by when they were together he said: "Lady, why did you betray me who
I was when you had promised me not to do so?" "Sir," she said, "I meant not
to betray you, but in the joy of your victory I know not very well what I said."
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "God grant that no harm come of it." She said, "What
harm can come of it, Messire?" Sir Tristram said: "I may not tell you, Lady,
but I fear that harm will come of it."

Anon the Queen of Ireland came and said: "Tramtris, one so nigh to death as
you have been should not so soon have done battle as you have done. Now I will
have a bain prepared and you shall bathe therein, for you are not yet hale and
strong."

"Lady," said Tristram, "I do not need any bain, for I believe I am now strong
and well in all wise."

"Nay," said the Queen, "you must have that bain so that no ill may come to
you hereafter from this battle which you have fought."

So she had that bain prepared of tepid water, and it was very strong and potent
with spices and powerful herbs of divers sorts. And when that bain was prepared,
Sir Tristram undressed and entered the bath, and the Queen and the Lady Belle
Isoult were in the adjoining chamber which was his bed-chamber.

Now whilst Sir Tristram was in that bath, the Queen and Belle Isoult looked
all about his chamber. And they beheld the sword of Sir Tristram where it lay,
for he had laid it upon the bed when he had unlatched the belt to make himself
ready for that bath. Then the Queen said to the Lady Belle Isoult, "See what
a great huge sword this is," and thereupon she lifted it and drew the blade
out of its sheath, and she beheld what a fair, bright, glistering sword it was.
Then in a little she saw where, within about a foot and a half from the point,
there was a great piece in the shape of a half-moon broken out of the edge of
the sword; and she looked at that place for a long while. Then of a sudden she
felt a great terror, for she remembered how even such a piece of sword as that
which had been broken off from that blade, she had found in the wound of Sir
Marhaus of which he had died. So she stood for a while holding that sword of
Sir Tristram in her hand and looking as she had been turned into stone. At this
the Lady Belle Isoult was filled with a sort of fear, wherefore she said, "Lady,
what ails you?" The Queen said, "Nothing that matters," and therewith she laid
aside the sword of Sir Tristram and went very quickly to her own chamber. There
she opened her cabinet and took thence the piece of sword-blade which she had
drawn from the wound of Sir Marhaus, and which she had kept ever since. With
this she hurried back to the chamber of Sir Tristram, and fitted that piece
of the blade to the blade; and lo! it fitted exactly, and without flaw.

Upon that the Queen was seized as with a sudden madness; for she shrieked
out in a very loud voice, "Traitor! Traitor! Traitor!" saying that word three
times. Therewith she snatched up the sword of Sir Tristram and she ran with
great fury into the room where he lay in his bath. And she beheld him where
he was there all naked in his bath, and therewith she rushed at him and lashed
at him with his sword. But Sir Tristram threw himself to one side and so that
blow failed of its purpose. Then the Queen would have lashed at him again or
have thrust him through with the weapon; but at that Gouvernail and Sir Helles
ran to her and catched her and held her back, struggling and screaming very
violently. So they took the sword away from her out of her hands, and all the
while she shrieked like one gone entirely distracted.

Then as soon as Gouvernail and Sir Helles loosed her, she ran very violently
out of that room with great outcry of screaming, and so to King Angus and flung
herself upon her knees before him, crying out: "Justice! Justice! I have found
that man who slew my brother! I beseech of you that you will deal justice upon
him."

Then King Angus rose from where he sat, and he said: "Where is that man? Bring
me to him." And the Queen said: "It is Tramtris, who hath come hither unknown
unto this place."

King Angus said: "Lady, what is this you tell me? I cannot believe that what
you say is true." Upon this the Queen cried out: "Go yourself, Lord, and inquire,
and find out how true it is."

Then King Angus rose, and went forth from that place, and he went to the chamber
of Sir Tristram. And there he found that Sir Tristram had very hastily dressed
himself and had armed himself in such wise as he was able. Then King Angus came
to Tristram, and he said: "How is this, that I find thee armed? Art thou an
enemy to my house?" And Tristram wept, and said: "Nay, Lord, I am not your enemy,
but your friend, for I have great love for you and for all that is yours, so
that I would be very willing to do battle for you even unto death if so be I
were called upon to do so."

Then King Angus said: "If that is so, how is it that I find thee here armed
as if for battle, with thy sword in thy hand?" "Lord," said Sir Tristram, "although
I be friends with you and yours, yet I know not whether you be friends or enemies
unto me; wherefore I have prepared myself so that I may see what is your will
with me, for I will not have you slay me without defence upon my part." Then
King Angus said: "Thou speakest in a very foolish way, for how could a single
knight hope to defend himself against my whole household? Now I bid thee tell
me who thou art, and what is thy name, and why thou earnest hither knowing that
thou hadst slain my brother?"

Then Sir Tristram said, "Lord, I will tell thee all the truth." And therewith
he confessed everything to King Angus, to wit: who was his father and his mother,
and how he was born and reared; how he fought Sir Marhaus, and for what reason;
and of how he came hither to be healed of his wound, from which else he must
die in very grievous pain. And he said: "All this is truth, Lord, and it is
truth that I had no ill-will against Sir Marhaus; for I only stood to do battle
with him for the sake of mine uncle, King Mark of Cornwall, and to enhance mine
own honor; and I took my fortune with him as he took his with me. Moreover,
I fought with Sir Marhaus upon the same day that I was made knight, and that
was the first battle which I fought, and in that battle I was wounded so sorely
that I was like to die as you very well know. As for him, he was a knight well-tried
and seasoned with many battles, and he suffered by no treachery but only with
the fortune of war."

So King Angus listened to all that Sir Tristram said, and when he had ended,
quoth he: "As God sees me, Tristram, I cannot deny that you did with Sir Marhaus
as a true knight should. For it was certes your part to take the cause of your
uncle upon you if you had the heart to do so, and it was truly a real knightly
thing for you who were so young to seek honor at the hands of so famous a knight
as Sir Marhaus. For I do not believe that until you came his way there was any
knight in the world who was greater than he, unless it were Sir Launcelot of
the Lake. Wherefore, from that, and from what I saw you do at the tournament,
some time ago, I believe that you are one of the strongest knights in the world,
and the peer of Sir Launcelot, or of anybody else.

"But though all this is true, nevertheless it will not be possible for me
to maintain you in this country, for if I keep you here I shall greatly displease
not only the Queen and her kin, but many of those lords and knights who were
kin to Sir Marhaus or who were united to him in pledges of friendship. So you
must even save yourself as you can and leave here straightway, for I may not
help or aid you in any way."

Then Sir Tristram said: "Lord, I thank you for your great kindness unto me,
and I know not how I shall repay the great goodness that my Lady Belle Isoult
hath showed to me. For I swear to you upon the pommel of my sword which I now
hold up before me that I would lay down my life for her sake. Yea, and my honor
too! for she hath the entire love of my heart, so that I would willingly die
for her, or give up for her all that I have in the world. Now as for my knighthood,
I do believe that I shall in time become a knight of no small worship, for I
feel within my heart that this shall be so. So if my life be spared, it may
be that you will gain more having me for your friend and your true servant than
you will by taking my life in this outland place. For whithersoever I go I give
you my knightly word that I shall be your daughter's servant, and that I shall
ever be her true knight in right or in wrong, and that I shall never fail her
if I shall be called upon to do her service."

Then King Angus meditated upon this for a while, and he said: "Tristram, what
thou sayest is very well said, but how shall I get you away from this place
in safety?"

Sir Tristram said: "Lord, there is but one way to get me away with credit
unto yourself. Now I beseech you of your grace that I may take leave of my lady
your daughter, and that I may then take leave of all your knights and kinsmen
as a right knight should. And if there be any among them who chooses to stop
me or to challenge my going, then I must face that one at my peril, however
great it may be."

"Well," said King Angus, "that is a very knightly way to behave, and so it
shall be as you will have it."

So Sir Tristram went down stairs to a certain chamber where Belle Isoult was.
And he went straight to her and took her by the hand; and he said: "Lady, I
am to go away from this place, if I may do so with credit to my honor; but before
I go I must tell you that I shall ever be your own true knight in all ways that
a knight may serve a lady. For no other lady shall have my heart but you, so
I shall ever be your true knight. Even though I shall haply never see your face
again, yet I shall ever carry your face with me in my heart, and the thought
of you shall always abide with me withersoever I go."

At this the Lady Belle Isoult fell to weeping in great measure, and thereat
the countenance of Sir Tristram also was all writhed with passion, and he said,
"Lady, do not weep so!" She said, "Alas I cannot help it!" Then he said: "Lady,
you gave me my life when I thought I was to lose it, and you brought me back
from pain unto ease, and from sorrow unto joy. Would God I were suffering all
those pangs as aforetime, so that there might be no more tears upon your face."

Then, King Angus being by, he took her face into his hands and kissed her
upon the forehead, and the eyes, and the lips. Therewith he turned and went
away, all bedazed with his sorrow, and feeling for the latch of the door ere
he was able to find it and go out from that place.

After that Sir Tristram went straight unto the hall of the castle, and there
he found a great many of the lords of the castle and knights attendant upon
the King. For the news of these things had flown fast, and many of them were
angry and some were doubtful. But Tristram came in very boldly, clad all in
full armor, and when he stood in the midst of them he spoke loud and with great
courage, saying: "If there be any man here whom I have offended in any way,
let him speak, and I will give him entire satisfaction whoever he may be. But
let such speech be now or never, for here is my body to make good my knighthood
against the body of any man, whomsoever he may be."

At this all those knights who were there stood still and held their peace,
and no man said anything against Sir Tristram (although there were several knights
and lords who were kin to the Queen), for the boldness of Tristram overawed
them, and no one had the heart to answer him.

So after a little while Sir Tristram left that place, without turning his
head to see if any man followed him.

So he left that castle and Gouvernail went with him, and no one stopped him
in his going. After that, he and Gouvernail came to the shore and took a boat
and they came to the ship of Sir Tristram, and so they sailed away from Ireland.
But the heart of Sir Tristram was so full of sorrow that he wished a great many
times that he was dead.

So Sir Tristram, though as to his body he was very whole and sound, was, as
to his spirit, very ill at ease; for though he was so well and suffered no pain,
yet it appeared to him that all the joy of his life had been left behind him,
so that he could nevermore have any more pleasure in this world which lieth
outside of the walls of Paradise.

Chapter Fifth

So Sir Tristram came back again to Cornwall, and King Mark and all the knights
and lords of the court of the King gave him great welcome and made much joy
over him because he had returned safely.

But Sir Tristram took no joy in their joy because he was filled with such
heavy melancholy that it was as though even the blue sky had turned to sackcloth
to his eyes, so that he beheld nothing bright in all the world.

But though he had no great pleasure in life, yet Sir Tristram made many very
good songs about Belle Isoult; about her beauty and her graciousness; about
how he was her sad, loving knight; about how he was pledged unto her to be true
to her all of his life even though he might never hope to see her again.

These like words he would sing to the music of his shining, golden harp, and
King Mark loved to listen to him. And sometimes King Mark would sigh very deeply
and maybe say: "Messire, that lady of thine must in sooth be a very wonderful,
beautiful, gracious lady." And Sir Tristram would say, "Yea, she is all that."

So it was at that time that King Mark had great love for Sir Tristram; in
a little while all that was very different, and his love was turned to bitter
hate, as you shall presently hear tell.

Now in those days the knights of Cornwall were considered to be the least
worthy of all knights in that part of the world, for they had so little skill
and prowess at arms that they were a jest and a laughing-stock to many courts
of chivalry. It was said of them that a knight-champion of Cornwall was maybe
a knight, but certes was no champion at all; and this was great shame to all
those of Cornwall, more especially as that saying was in a great measure true.

One day there came to the court of Cornwall a very noble, haughty knight,
hight Sir Bleoberis de Ganys, who was brother to Sir Blamor de Ganys and right
cousin to Sir Launcelot of the Lake. This knight was a fellow of King Arthur's
Round Table, and so he was received with great honor at Cornwall, and much joy
was taken of his being there; for it was not often that knights of such repute
as he came to those parts. At that time Sir Tristram was not present at the
court, having gone hunting into the forest, but a messenger was sent to him
with news that Sir Bleoberis was present at the court of the King and that King
Mark wished him to be at court also.

Now whilst Sir Tristram was upon his way to return to the court in obedience
to these commands, there was held a feast at the castle of the King in honor
of Sir Bleoberis. There was much strong wine drunk at that feast, so that the
brains of Sir Bleoberis and of others grew very much heated therewith. Then,
what with the heat of the wine and the noise and tumult of the feast, Sir Bleoberis
waxed very hot-headed, and boastful. So, being in that condition and not knowing
very well how he spake, he made great boast of the prowess of the knights of
King Arthur's court above those of Cornwall. And in this boastful humor he said:
"It is perfectly true that one single knight of the Round Table is the peer
of twenty knights of Cornwall, for so it is said and so I maintain it to be."

Upon that there fell a silence over all that part of the feast, for all the
knights and lords who were there heard what Sir Bleoberis said, and yet no one
knew how to reply to him. As for King Mark, he looked upon Sir Bleoberis, smiling
very sourly, and as though with great distaste of his words, and he said: "Messire,
inasmuch as thou art our guest, and sitting here at feast with us, it is not
fit that we should take thy words seriously; else what thou sayst might be very
easily disproved."

Upon this the blood rushed with great violence into the face and head of Sir
Bleoberis, and he laughed very loud. Then he said: "Well, Lord, it need not
be that I should be a guest here very long. And as for what I say, you may easily
put the truth thereof to the proof."

Therewith Sir Bleoberis arose and looked about him, and he perceived that
there was near by where he stood a goblet of gold very beautifully chased and
cunningly carved. This Sir Bleoberis took into his hand, and it was half full
of red wine. So he stood up before them all, and he cried in a very loud voice:
"Messires, and all you knights of Cornwall, here I drink to your more excellent
courage and prowess, and wish that you may have better fortune in arms than
you have heretofore proved yourselves to have?" And therewith he drank all the
wine that was in the goblet. Then he said: "Now I go away from here and take
this goblet with me; and if any knight of Cornwall may take it away from me
and bring it back again to the King, then I am very willing to own that there
are better knights in this country than I supposed there to be." Therewith he
turned and went out from that place very haughtily and scornfully, taking that
goblet with him, and not one of all those knights who were there made any move
to stay him, or to reprove him for his discourteous speech.

Now after he had come out of the hall and into the cool of the air, the heat
of the wine soon left him, and he began to repent him of what he had done; and
he said: "Alas! meseems I was not very courteous to King Mark, who was mine
host." So for a while he was minded to take that goblet back again and make
amends for what he had said; but afterward he could not do this because of his
pride. So he went to the chamber that had been allotted to him and clad himself
in his armor, and after that he rode away from the court of King Mark carrying
the goblet with him.

Now some while after he had gone, Sir Tristram came into the hall where the
others were, and there he found them all sitting with ill countenances, and
no man daring, for shame, to look at his fellow. So Sir Tristram came to King
Mark and said: "Where is Sir Bleoberis?" And King Mark said, "He is gone away."
Sir Tristram said, "Why did he go?" Thereupon King Mark told Sir Tristram of
what had befallen, and how Sir Bleoberis had taken away that goblet to the great
shame and scorn of all those who were there. Upon this the blood flew very violently
into Sir Tristram's face, and he said: "Was there no knight here with spirit
enough to call reproof upon Sir Bleoberis, or to stay him in his going?" Therewith
he looked all about that hall, and he was like a lion standing among them, and
no man dared to look him in the face or to reply to him. Then he said: "Well,
if there is no knight in Cornwall who hath the will to defend his King, then
is there a knight of Lyonesse who will do so because he received knighthood
at the hands of the King of Cornwall." And therewith he turned and went away,
and left them very haughtily, and they were all still more abashed than they
had been before.

Then Sir Tristram went to his chamber and had himself armed in all wise; and
he took his horse and mounted and rode away in the direction that Sir Bleoberis
had gone, and Gouvernail went with him.

So Sir Tristram and Gouvernail rode at a good pace for a long time, making
inquiry of whomsoever they met if Sir Bleoberis had passed that way. At last
they entered the forest and rode therein a great way, meeting no one till toward
the latter part of the afternoon. By and by they saw before them two knights,
very large and strong of frame and clad all in bright and shining armor, and
each riding a great war-horse of Flemish strain.

"Gouvernail," said Sir Tristram, "ride forward apace and see for me who are
yonder knights." So Gouvernail rode forward at a gallop, and so, in a little,
came near enough to the two knights to see the devices upon their shields. Upon
that he returned to Sir Tristram, and said: "Messire, those are two very famous
worthy knights of King Arthur's Court, and of the two you are acquainted with
one, but the other is a stranger to you. For the one is Sir Sagramore le Desirous,
who was at that tournament in Ireland, and the other is Sir Dodinas le Sauvage."

"Well," said Sir Tristram, "those are indeed two very good, worthy knights.
Now if you will sit here for a while, I will go forward and have speech with
them." "Messire," said Gouvernail, "I would counsel you not to have to do with
those knights, for there are hardly any knights more famous at arms than they,
so it is not likely that you can have success of them if you should assay them."

But to this Sir Tristram said: "Peace, Gouvernail! Hold thy peace, and bide
here while I go forward!"

Now those knights when they became aware that Sir Tristram and Gouvernail
were there, had halted at a clear part of the woodland to await what should
befall. Unto them Sir Tristram came, riding with great dignity and haughtiness,
and when he had come nigh enough he drew rein and spoke with great pride of
bearing, saying: "Messires, I require of you to tell me whence you come, and
whither you go, and what you do in these marches?"

Unto him Sir Sagramore made reply, speaking very scornfully: "Fair knight,
are you a knight of Cornwall?" and Sir Tristram said: "Why do you ask me that?"
"Messire," said Sir Sagramore, "I ask you that because it hath seldom been heard
tell that a Cornish knight hath courage to call upon two knights to answer such
questions as you have asked of us."

"Well," said Sir Tristram, "for the matter of that, I am at this present a
knight of Cornwall, and I hereby let you know that you shall not go away from
here unless you either answer my question or give me satisfaction at arms."

Then Sir Dodinas spoke very fiercely, saying: "Sir Cornish knight, you shall
presently have all the satisfaction at arms that you desire and a great deal
more than you desire." Therewith he took a very stout spear in his hand and
rode to a little distance, and Sir Tristram, beholding his intent to do battle,
also rode to a little distance, and took stand in such a place as seemed to
him to be best. Then, when they were in all wise prepared, they rushed together
with such astonishing vehemence that the earth shook and trembled beneath them.

Therewith they met in the middle of their course with a great uproar of iron
and wood. But in that onset the spear of Sir Dodinas broke into a great many
small pieces, but the spear of Sir Tristram held, so that in the encounter he
lifted Sir Dodinas entirely out of his saddle, and out behind the crupper of
his horse. And he flung Sir Dodinas down so violently that his neck was nearly
broken, and he lay for a while in a deep swoon like one who has been struck
dead.

Then Sir Sagramore said: "Well, Sir Knight, that was certes a very great buffet
that you gave my fellow, but now it is my turn to have ado with you."

So therewith he took also his spear in hand and chose his station for an assault
as Sir Dodinas had done, and Sir Tristram also took station as he had done before.
Then immediately they two ran together with the same terrible force that Sir
Tristram and Sir Dodinas had coursed, and in that encounter Sir Tristram struck
Sir Sagramore so direful a buffet with his spear that he overthrew both horse
and man, and the horse, falling upon Sir Sagramore, so bruised his leg that
he could not for a while arise from where he lay.

Therewith Sir Tristram, having run his course, came back to where those two
knights lay upon the ground, and he said, "Fair Knights, will you have any more
fighting?" They said, "No, we have had fighting enough." Then Sir Tristram said:
"I pray you, tell me, are there any bigger knights at the court of King Arthur
than you? If it is not so, then I should think you would take great shame to
yourselves that you have been overthrown the one after the other by a single
knight. For this day a knight of Cornwall hath assuredly matched you both to
your great despite."

Then Sir Sagramore said: "Sir, I pray you upon your true knighthood to tell
us who you are, for you are assuredly one of the greatest knights in the world."
Upon this Sir Tristram laughed, "Nay," quoth he, "I am as yet a young knight,
who has had but little proof in battle. As for my name, since you ask it of
me, upon my knighthood I am not ashamed to tell you that I am hight Sir Tristram,
and that I am King Meliadus' son of Lyonesse."

"Ha!" said Sir Sagramore, "if that be so, then there is little shame in being
overthrown by you. For not only do I well remember how at the court of the King
of Ireland you overthrew six knights of the Round Table, and how easily you
overthrew Sir Palamydes the Saracen, but it is also very well known how you
did battle with Sir Marhaus, and of how you overcame him. Now Sir Marhaus and
Sir Palamydes were two of the best knights in the world, so it is not astonishing
that you should have done as you did with us. But, since you have overthrown
us, what is it you would have us do?"

"Messires," said Sir Tristram, "I have only to demand two things of you. One
of them is that you give me your word that you will go to Cornwall and confess
to King Mark that you have been overthrown by a Cornish knight; and the second
thing is that you tell me if you saw Sir Bleoberis de Ganys pass this way?"

They say: "Messire, touching that demand you make upon us to go to King Mark
and to confess our fall, that we will do as you desire; and as for Sir Bleoberis,
we met him only a short while ago, and he cannot even now be very far from this
place."

"Well," said Sir Tristram, "I give you good den, and thank you for your information.
I have some words to say to Sir Bleoberis before he leave these marches."

So thereafter he called Gouvernail, and they two rode into the forest and
on their way as fast as they were able. As for Sir Dodinas and Sir Sagramore,
they betook their course to the court of King Mark, as they had promised to
do.

Now, by and by, after Sir Tristram and Gouvernail had gone some considerable
distance farther upon that road, they beheld Sir Bleoberis before them in a
forest path, riding very proudly and at an easy pass upon his way. At that time
the sun was setting very low toward the earth, so that all the tops of the forest
trees were aflame with a very ruddy light, though all below in the forest was
both cool and gray. Now when Sir Tristram and Gouvernail with him had come pretty
nigh to Sir Bleoberis, Sir Tristram called to him in a very loud voice, and
bade him turn and stand. Therewith Sir Bleoberis turned about and waited for
Sir Tristram to come up with him. And when Sir Tristram was come near by, he
said to Sir Bleoberis: "Messire, I hear tell that you have with you a very noble
goblet which you have taken in a shameful way from the table of King Mark of
Cornwall. Now I demand of you that you give me that goblet to take back unto
the King again." "Well," said Sir Bleoberis, "you shall freely have that goblet
if you can take it from me, and if you will look, you will see where it hangs
here from my saddle-horn. But I may tell you that I do not believe that there
is any Cornish knight who may take away that goblet against my will."

"As for that," said Sir Tristram, "we shall see in a little while how it may
be."

Therewith each knight took his spear in hand and rode a little distance away,
and made himself in all wise ready for the assault. Then when they were in all
ways prepared, each launched himself against the other, coming together with
such violence that sparks of fire flew out from the points of their spears.
And in that assault the horse of each knight was overthrown, but each knight
voided his saddle and leaped very lightly to earth, without either having had
a fall. Then each drew his sword and set his shield before him, and therewith
came together, foining and lashing with all the power of their might. Each gave
the other many sore strokes, so that the armor of each was indented in several
places and in other places was stained with red. Then at last Sir Tristram waxed
very wode with anger and he rushed at Sir Bleoberis, smiting him so fiercely
that Sir Bleoberis bare back and held his shield low before him. This Sir Tristram
perceived, and therewith, rushing in upon Sir Bleoberis, he smote that knight
such a great buffet upon the head that Sir Bleoberis fell down upon his knees,
without having strength to keep his feet. Then Sir Tristram rushed off the helmet
of Sir Bleoberis, and he said, "Sir Knight, yield to me or I shall slay you."

"Messire," said Sir Bleoberis, "I yield myself to you, and indeed you are
as right a knight as ever I met in all of my life." Then Sir Tristram took Sir
Bleoberis by the hand and he lifted him up upon his feet, and he said: "Sir,
I am very sorry for to have had to do with you in this fashion, for almost would
I rather that you should have overcome me than that I should have overcome you.
For I do not at any time forget that you are cousin unto Sir Launcelot of the
Lake, and I honor Sir Launcelot above all men else in the world, and would rather
have his friendship than that of any man living. So I have had no despite against
you in this battle, but have only fought with you because it behooved me to
do so for the sake of the King of Cornwall, who is my uncle."

Then Sir Bleoberis said, "Messire, I pray you tell me who you are?" "Lord,"
said Sir Tristram, "I am a very young knight hight Tristram, and I am the son
of King Meliadus of Lyonesse and the Lady Elizabeth, sister unto King Mark of
Cornwall."

"Ha," said Sir Bleoberis, "I have heard great report of you, Sir Tristram,
and now I know at mine own cost that you are one of the best knights in the
world. Yea; I have no doubt that at some time you will be the peer of Sir Launcelot
of the Lake himself, or of Sir Lamorak of Gales, and they two are, certes, the
best knights in the world. Now I believe that I would have given you this goblet,
even without your having to fight for it, had I known who you were; and as it
is I herewith give it to you very freely."

So Sir Bleoberis untied the goblet from where it hung at his saddle-bow, and
Sir Tristram took the goblet and gave him gramercy for it; and therewith having
recovered their horses, each knight mounted, and betook his way whither he was
going.

So a little after nightfall Sir Tristram came to the King of Cornwall and
his court, and he said to King Mark: "Here is your goblet which I have brought
back to you; and I would God that some of your knights who are so much older
than I had the courage to do for you what I have had to do." And therewith he
went away and left them all sitting ashamed.

Now it chanced some little while after these things happened as aforesaid,
that King Mark lay down upon his couch after his midday meal for to sleep a
little space during the heat of the day; and it likewise happened that the window
near by where he lay was open so that the air might come into the room. Now
at that time three knights of the court sat in the garden beneath where the
window was. These knights talked to one another concerning Sir Tristram, and
of how he had brought back that goblet from Sir Bleoberis de Ganys, and of what
honor it was to have such a champion in Cornwall for to stand for the honor
of that court. In their talk they said to one another that if only the King
of Cornwall were such a knight as Sir Tristram, then there would be plenty of
knights of good worth who would come to that court, and Cornwall would no longer
have to be ashamed of its chivalry as it was nowadays. So they said: "Would
God our King were such a knight as Sir Tristram!"

All this King Mark overheard, and the words that they said were like a very
bitter poison in his heart. For their words entered into his soul and abided
there, and thereupon at that same hour all his love for Tristram was turned
into hate. Thus it befell that, after that day, King Mark ever pondered and
pondered upon that which he had heard, and the longer he pondered it, the more
bitter did his life become to him, and the more he hated Sir Tristram. So it
came to pass that whenever he was with Sir Tristram and looked upon him, he
would say in his heart: "So they say that you are a better knight than I? Would
God you were dead or away from this place, for I believe that some day you will
be my undoing!" Yea; there were times when he would look upon Sir Tristram in
that wise and whisper to himself: "Would God would send a blight upon thee,
so that thou wouldst wither away!"

But always the King dissembled this hatred for Sir Tristram, so that no one
suspected him thereof; least of all did Sir Tristram suspect how changed was
the heart of the King toward him.

Now one day Sir Tristram was playing upon his harp and singing before King
Mark, and the King sat brooding upon these things as he gazed at Tristram. And
Sir Tristram, as he ofttimes did nowadays, sang of the Lady Belle Isoult, and
of how her face was like to a rose for fairness, and of how her soul was like
to a nightingale in that it uplifted the spirit of whosoever was near her even
though the darkness of sorrow as of night might envelop him. And whilst Sir
Tristram sang thus, King Mark listened to him, and as he listened a thought
entered his heart and therewith he smiled. So when Sir Tristram had ended his
song of the Belle Isoult, King Mark said: "Fair nephew, I would that you would
undertake a quest for me." Sir Tristram said, "What quest is that, Lord?" "Nay,"
said King Mark, "I will not tell you what quest it is unless you will promise
me upon your knighthood to undertake it upon my behalf." Then Sir Tristram suspected
no evil, wherefore he smiled and said: "Dear Lord, if the quest is a thing that
it is in my power to undertake, I will undertake it upon your asking, and unto
that I pledge my knighthood." King Mark said, "It is a quest that you may undertake."
Sir Tristram said, "Then I will undertake it, if you will tell me what it is."

King Mark said: "I have listened to your singing for this long while concerning
the Lady Belle Isoult. So the quest I would have you undertake is this: that
you go to Ireland, and bring thence the Lady Belle Isoult to be my Queen. For
because of your songs and ballads I have come to love her so greatly that I
believe that I shall have no happiness in life until I have her for my Queen.
So now, since you have pledged me your word upon your knighthood to do my bidding
in this case, such is the quest that I would send you upon." And therewith he
smiled upon Sir Tristram very strangely.

Then Sir Tristram perceived how he had been betrayed and he put aside his
harp and rose from where he sat. And he gazed for a long while at King Mark,
and his countenance was wonderfully white like that of a dead man. Then by and
by he said: "Sir, I know not why you have put this upon me, nor do I know why
you have betrayed me. For I have ever served you truly as a worthy knight and
a kinsman should. Wherefore I know not why you have done this unto me, nor why
you seek to compass my death. For you know very well that if I return to Ireland
I shall very likely be slain either by the Queen or by some of her kindred,
because that for your sake I slew in battle Sir Marhaus, the Queen's brother
of Ireland. Yet, so far as that is concerned, I would rather lose my life than
succeed in this quest, for if so be I do not lose my life, then I must do that
which I would liever die than do. Yea; I believe that there was never any knight
loved a lady as I love the Lady Belle Isoult. For I love her not only because
of her beauty and graciousness, but because she healed mine infirmities and
lent ease unto my great sufferings and brought me back from death unto life.
Wherefore that which you bid me fulfil is more bitter to me than death."

"Well," said King Mark, "I know nothing of all this--only I know that you
have given me your knightly word to fulfil this quest."

"Very well," said Sir Tristram, "if God will give me His good help in this
matter, then I will do that which I have pledged my knighthood to undertake."
Therewith he turned and went out from that place in such great despair that
it was as though his heart had been turned into ashes. But King Mark was filled
with joy that he should have caused Sir Tristram all that pain, and he said
to his heart: "This is some satisfaction for the hate which I feel for this
knight; by and by I shall maybe have greater satisfaction than that."

After that Sir Tristram did not come any more where King Mark was, but he
went straight away from the King's court and into a small castle that King Mark
had given him some while since for his own. There he abided for several days
in great despair of soul, for it seemed to him as though God had deserted him
entirely. There for a while Gouvernail alone was with him and no one else, but
after a while several knights came to him and gave him great condolence and
offered to join with him as his knights-companion. And there were eighteen of
these knights, and Sir Tristram was very glad of their comradeship.

These said to him: "Sir, you should not lend yourself to such great travail
of soul, but should bend yourself as a true knight should to assume that burden
that God hath assigned you to bear."

So they spoke, and by and by Sir Tristram aroused himself from his despair
and said to himself: "Well, what these gentlemen say is true, and God hath assuredly
laid this very heavy burden upon me; as that is so, I must needs assume it for
His sake."

So Sir Tristram and the knights who were with him abode in that place for
a day or two or three, and then one morning Sir Tristram armed himself and they
armed themselves, and all took their departure from that castle and went down
to the sea. Then they took ship with intent to depart to Ireland upon that quest
Sir Tristram had promised King Mark he would undertake, and in a little they
hoisted sail and departed from Cornwall for Ireland.

But they were not to make their quest upon that pass so speedily as they thought,
for, upon the second day of their voyaging, there arose a great storm of wind
of such a sort that the sailors of that ship had never seen the like thereof
in all of their lives. For the waves rose up like mountains, and anon the waters
sank away into deep valleys with hills of water upon either side all crested
over with foam as white as snow. And anon that ship would be uplifted as though
the huge sea would toss it into the clouds; and anon it would fall down into
a gulf so deep that it appeared as though the green waters would swallow it
up entirely. The air roared as though it were full of demons and evil spirits
out of hell, and the wind was wet and very bitter with brine. So the ship fled
away before that tempest, and the hearts of all aboard were melted with fear
because of the great storm of wind and the high angry waves.

Then toward evening those who were watching from the lookout beheld a land
and a haven, and they saw upon the land overlooking the haven was a noble castle
and a fair large town, surrounded by high walls of stone. So they told the others
of what they saw, and all gave great rejoicing for that they were so nigh the
land. Therewith they sailed the ship toward the haven, and having entered therein
in safety, they cast anchor under the walls of the castle and the town, taking
great joy that God had brought them safe and sound through that dreadful peril
of the tempest.

Then Sir Tristram said to Gouvernail: "Knowest thou, Gouvernail, what place
is this to which we have come?" "Messire," said Gouvernail, "I think it is Camelot."
And then those knights of Cornwall who stood by said, "Yea, that is true, and
it is Camelot." And one of them said: "Messire, it is likely that King Arthur
is at that place at this very time, for so it was reported that he was, and
so I believe it to be."

"Ha," quoth Tristram, "that is very good news to me, for I believe that it
would be the greatest joy to me that the world can now give to behold King Arthur
and those noble knights of his court ere I die. More especially do I desire
above all things to behold that great, noble champion, Sir Launcelot of the
Lake. So let us now go ashore, and mayhap it shall come to pass that I shall
see the great King and Sir Launcelot and mayhap shall come to speak with the
one or the other." And that saying of Sir Tristram's seemed good to those knights
who were with him, for they were weary of the sea, and desired to rest for a
while upon the dry land.

So they presently all went ashore and bade their attendants set up their pavilions
in a fair level meadow that was somewhat near a league distant away from the
castle and the town. In the midst of the other pavilions upon that plain was
set the pavilion of Sir Tristram. It was of fine crimson cloth striped with
silver and there was the figure of a gryphon carved upon the summit of the centre
pole of the pavilion. The spear of Sir Tristram was emplanted by the point of
the truncheon in the ground outside the pavilion, and thereunto his shield was
hung so that those who passed that way might clearly behold what was the device
thereon.

And now shall be told how Sir Tristram became united in friendship with the
brotherhood of good knights at King Arthur's court.

Chapter Sixth

So came the next morning, and uprose the sun in all the splendor of his glory,
shedding his beams to every quarter with a rare dazzling effulgence. For by
night the clouds of storm had passed away and gone, and now all the air was
clear and blue, and the level beams of light fell athwart the meadow-lands so
that countless drops of water sparkled on leaf and blade of grass, like an incredible
multitude of shining jewels scattered all over the earth. Then they who slept
were awakened by the multitudinous voicing of the birds; for at that hour the
small fowl sang so joyous a roundelay that all the early morning was full of
the sweet jargon of their chanting.

At this time, so early in the day, there came two knights riding by where
Sir Tristram and his companions had set up their pavilions. These were two very
famous knights of King Arthur's court and of the Round Table; for one was Sir
Ector de Maris and the other was Sir Morganor of Lisle.

When these two knights perceived the pavilions of Sir Tristram and his knights-companion,
they made halt, and Sir Ector de Maris said, "What knights are these who have
come hither?" Then Sir Morganor looked and presently he said: "Sir, I perceive
by their shields that these are Cornish knights, and he who occupies this central
pavilion must be the champion of this party." "Well," quoth Sir Ector, "as for
that I take no great thought of any Cornish knight, so do thou strike the shield
of that knight and call him forth, and let us see of what mettle he is made."

"I will do so," said Sir Morganor; and therewith he rode forward to where
the shield of Sir Tristram hung from the spear, and he smote the shield with
the point of his lance, so that it rang with a very loud noise.

Upon this, Sir Tristram immediately came to the door of his pavilion, and
said, "Messires, why did you strike upon my shield?" "Because," said Sir Ector,
"we are of a mind to try your mettle what sort of a knight you be." Quoth Sir
Tristram: "God forbid that you should not be satisfied. So if you will stay
till I put on my armor you shall immediately have your will in this matter."

Thereupon he went back into his tent and armed himself and mounted his horse
and took a good stout spear of ash-wood into his hand.

Then all the knights of Cornwall who were with Sir Tristram came forth to
behold what their champion would do, and all their esquires, pages, and attendants
came forth for the same purpose, and it was a very pleasant time of day for
jousting.

Then first of all Sir Morganor essayed Sir Tristram, and in that encounter
Sir Tristram smote him so dreadful, terrible a blow that he cast him a full
spear's length over the crupper of his horse, and that so violently that the
blood gushed out of the nose and mouth and ears of Sir Morganor, and he groaned
very dolorously and could not arise from where he lay.

"Hah," quoth Sir Ector, "that was a very wonderful buffet you struck my fellow.
But now it is my turn to have ado with you, and I hope God will send me a better
fortune."

So he took stand for battle as did Sir Tristram likewise, and when they were
in all wise prepared they rushed very violently to the assault. In that encounter
Ector suffered hardly less ill fortune than Sir Morganor had done. For he brake
his spear against Sir Tristram into as many as an hundred pieces, whilst Sir
Tristram's spear held so that he overthrew both the horse and the knight-rider
against whom he drove.

Then all the knights of Cornwall gave loud acclaim that their knight had borne
himself so well in those encounters. But Sir Tristram rode back to where those
two knights still lay upon the ground, and he said: "Well, Messires, this is
no very good hap that you have had with me."

Upon that speech Sir Ector de Maris gathered himself up from the dust and
said: "Sir Knight, I pray you of your knighthood to tell us who you be and what
is your degree, for I declare to you, I believe you are one of the greatest
knights-champion of the world."

"Sir," said Sir Tristram, "I am very willing to tell you my name and my station;
I am Sir Tristram, the son of King Meliadus of Lyonesse."

"Ha," quoth Sir Ector, "I would God I had known that before I had ado with
you, for your fame hath already reached to these parts, and there hath been
such report of your prowess and several songs have been made about you by minstrels
and poets. I who speak to you am Sir Ector, surnamed de Maris, and this, my
companion, is Sir Morganor of Lisle."

"Alas!" cried out Sir Tristram, "I would that I had known who you were ere
I did battle with you. For I have greater love for the knights of the Round
Table than all others in the world, and most of all, Sir Ector, do I have reverence
for your noble brother Sir Launcelot of the Lake. So I take great shame to myself
that any mishap should have befallen you this day through me."

Upon this Sir Ector laughed. "Well," quoth he, "let not that trouble lie with
you, for it was we who gave you challenge without inquiry who you were, and
you did but defend yourself. We were upon our way to Camelot yonder, when we
fell into this mishap, for King Arthur is at this time holding court at that
place. So now, if we have your leave to go upon our way, we will betake ourselves
to the King and tell him that you are here, for we know that he will be very
glad of that news."

Upon this Sir Tristram gave them leave to depart, and they did so with many
friendly words of good cheer. And after they had gone Sir Tristram went back
into his pavilion again and partook of refreshment that was brought to him.

Now, some while after Sir Ector and Sir Morganor had left that place, and
whilst Sir Tristram was still resting in his pavilion, there came a single knight
riding that way, and this knight was clad altogether in white armor and his
shield was covered over with a covering of white leather, so that one could
not see what device he bare thereon.

When this white knight came to the place where Sir Tristram and his companions
had pitched their pavilions, he also stopped as Sir Ector and Sir Morganor had
done, for he desired to know what knights these were. At that time Gouvernail
was standing alone in front of Sir Tristram's pavilion, and unto him the white
knight said: "Sir, I pray you, tell me who is the knight to whom this pavilion
belongs."

Now Gouvernail thought to himself: "Here is another knight who would have
ado with my master. Perhaps Sir Tristram may have glory by him also." So he
answered the white knight: "Sir, I may not tell you the name of this knight,
for he is my master, and if he pleases to tell you his name he must tell it
himself."

"Very well," said the white knight, "then I will straightway ask him."

Therewith he rode to where the shield of Sir Tristram hung, and he struck
upon the shield so violent a blow that it rang very loud and clear.

Then straightway came forth Sir Tristram and several of his knights-companion
from out of the pavilion, and Sir Tristram said, "Sir Knight, wherefore did
you strike upon my shield?"

"Messire," quoth the white knight, "I struck upon your shield so that I might
summon you hither for to tell me your name, for I have asked it of your esquire
and he will not tell me."

"Fair Knight," quoth Sir Tristram, "neither will I tell you my name until
I have wiped out that affront which you have set upon my shield by that stroke
you gave it. For no man may touch my shield without my having to do with him
because of the affront he gives me thereby."

"Well," said the white knight, "I am satisfied to have it as you please."

So therewith Sir Tristram went back into his pavilion and several went with
him. These put his helmet upon his head and they armed him for battle in all
ways. After that Sir Tristram came forth and mounted his horse and took his
spear in hand and made himself in all ways ready for battle, and all that while
the white knight awaited his coming very calmly and steadfastly. Then Sir Tristram
took ground for battle, and the white knight did so likewise. So being in all
ways prepared, each launched forth against the other with such amazing and terrible
violence that those who beheld that encounter stood as though terrified with
the thunder of the onset.

Therewith the two knights met in the midst of the course, and each knight
smote the other directly in the centre of the shield. In that encounter the
spear of each knight broke all to small pieces, even to the truncheon which
he held in his fist. And so terrible was the blow that each struck the other
that the horse of each fell back upon his haunches, and it was only because
of the great address of the knight-rider that the steed was able to recover
his footing. As for Sir Tristram, that was the most terrible buffet he ever
had struck him in all his life before that time.

Then straightway Sir Tristram voided his saddle and drew his sword and dressed
his shield. And he cried out: "Ha, Sir Knight! I demand of you that you descend
from your horse and do me battle afoot."

"Very well," said the white knight, "thou shalt have thy will." And thereupon
he likewise voided his horse and drew his sword and dressed his shield and made
himself in all ways ready for battle as Sir Tristram had done.

Therewith they two came together and presently fell to fighting with such
ardor that sparks of fire flew from every stroke. And if Sir Tristram struck
hard and often, the white knight struck as hard and as often as he, so that
all the knights of Cornwall who stood about marvelled at the strength and fierceness
of the knights-combatant. Each knight gave the other many sore buffets so that
the armor was here and there dinted and here and there was broken through by
the edge of the sword so that the red blood flowed out therefrom and down over
the armor, turning its brightness in places into an ensanguined red. Thus they
fought for above an hour and in all that time neither knight gave ground or
gained any vantage over the other.

Then after a while Sir Tristram grew more weary of fighting than ever he had
been in all of his life before, and he was aware that this was the greatest
knight whom he had ever met. But still he would not give ground, but fought
from this side and from that side with great skill and address until of a sudden,
he slipped upon some of that blood that he himself had shed, and because of
his great weariness, fell down upon his knees, and could not for the instant
rise again.

Then that white knight might easily have struck him down if he had been minded
to do so. But, instead, he withheld the blow and gave Sir Tristram his hand
and said: "Sir Knight, rise up and stand upon thy feet and let us go at this
battle again if it is thy pleasure to do so; for I do not choose to take advantage
of thy fall."

Then Sir Tristram was as greatly astonished at the extraordinary courtesy
of his enemy as he had been at his prowess. And because of that courtesy he
would not fight again, but stood leaning upon his sword panting. Then he said:
"Sir Knight, I pray thee of thy knighthood to tell me what is thy name and who
thou art."

"Messire," said the white knight, "since you ask me that upon my knighthood,
I cannot refuse to tell you my name. And so I will do, provided you, upon your
part, will do me a like courtesy and will first tell me your name and degree."

Quoth Sir Tristram: "I will tell you that. My name is Sir Tristram of Lyonesse,
and I am the son of King Meliadus of that land whereby I have my surname."

"Ha, Sir Tristram," said the white knight, "often have I heard of thee and
of thy skill at arms, and well have I proved thy fame this day and that all
that is said of thee is true. I must tell thee that I have never yet met my
match until I met thee this day. For I know not how this battle might have ended
hadst thou not slipped and fallen by chance as thou didst. My name is Sir Launcelot,
surnamed of the Lake, and I am King Ban's son of Benwick."

At this Sir Tristram cried out in a loud voice: "Sir Launcelot! Sir Launcelot!
Is it thou against whom I have been doing battle! Rather I would that anything
should have happened to me than that, for of all men in the world I most desire
thy love and friendship."

Then, having so spoken, Sir Tristram immediately kneeled down upon his knees
and said: "Messire, I yield myself unto thee, being overcome not more by thy
prowess than by thy courtesy. For I freely confess that thou art the greatest
knight in the world, against whom no other knight can hope to stand; for I could
fight no more and thou mightest easily have slain me when I fell down a while
since."

"Nay, Sir Tristram," said Sir Launcelot, "arise, and kneel not to me, for
I am not willing to accept thy submission, for indeed it is yet to be proved
which of us is the better knight, thou or I. Wherefore let neither of us yield
to the other, but let us henceforth be as dear as brothers-in-arms the one toward
the other."

Then Sir Tristram rose up to his feet again. "Well, Sir Launcelot," he said,
"whatsoever thou shalt ordain shall be as thou wouldst have it. But there is
one thing I must do because of this battle."

Then he looked upon his sword which he held naked and ensanguined in his hand
and he said: "Good sword; thou hast stood my friend and hast served me well
in several battles, but this day thou hast served me for the last time." Therewith
he suddenly took the blade of the sword in both hands--the one at the point
and the other nigh the haft--and he brake the blade across his knee and flung
the pieces away.

Upon this Sir Launcelot cried out in a loud voice: "Ha, Messire! why didst
thou do such a thing as that? To break thine own fair sword?"

"Sir," quoth Sir Tristram, "this sword hath this day received the greatest
honor that is possible for any blade to receive; for it hath been baptized in
thy blood. So, because aught else that might happen to it would diminish that
honor, I have broken it so that its honor might never be made less than it is
at this present time."

Upon this Sir Launcelot ran to Sir Tristram and catched him in his arms, and
he cried out: "Tristram, I believe that thou art the noblest knight whom ever
I beheld!" And Sir Tristram replied: "And thou, Launcelot, I love better than
father or kindred." Therewith each kissed the other upon the face, and all they
who stood by were so moved at that sight that several of them wept for pure
joy.

Thereafter they two went into Sir Tristram's pavilion and disarmed themselves.
Then there came sundry attendants who were excellent leeches and these searched
their hurts and bathed them and dressed them. And several other attendants came
and fetched soft robes and clothed the knights therein so that they were very
comfortable in their bodies. Then still other attendants brought them good strong
wine and manchets of bread and they sat together at table and ate very cheerfully
and were greatly refreshed.

So I have told you of that famous affair-at-arms betwixt Sir Launcelot and
Sir Tristram, and I pray God that you may have the same pleasure in reading
of it that I had in writing of it.

Now, as Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram sat in the pavilion of Sir Tristram
making pleasant converse together, there suddenly entered an esquire to where
they were sitting. This esquire proclaimed: "Messires, hither cometh King Arthur,
and he is very near at hand." Thereupon, even as that esquire spoke, there came
from without the pavilion a great noise of trampling horses and the pleasant
sound of ringing armor, and then immediately a loud noise of many voices uplifted
in acclamation.

Therewith Sir Launcelot and Sir Tristram arose from where they sat, and as
they did so the curtains at the doorway of the pavilion were parted and there
entered King Arthur himself enveloped, as it were, with all the glory of his
royal estate.

Unto him Sir Tristram ran, and would have fallen upon his knees, but King
Arthur stayed him from so doing. For the great king held him by the hand and
lifted him up, and he said, "Sir, are you Sir Tristram of Lyonesse?" "Yea,"
said Sir Tristram, "I am he." "Ha," said King Arthur, "I am gladder to see you
than almost any man I know of in the world," and therewith he kissed Sir Tristram
upon the face, and he said: "Welcome, Messire, to these parts! Welcome! And
thrice welcome!"

Then Sir Tristram besought King Arthur that he would refresh himself, and
the King said he would do so. So Sir Tristram brought him to the chiefest place,
and there King Arthur sat him down. And Sir Tristram would have served him with
wine and with manchets of bread with his own hand, but King Arthur would not
have it so, but bade Sir Tristram to sit beside him on his right hand, and Sir
Tristram did so. After that, King Arthur spake to Sir Tristram about many things,
and chiefly about King Meliadus, the father of Sir Tristram, and about the court
of Lyonesse.

Then, after a while King Arthur said: "Messire, I hear tell that you are a
wonderful harper." And Sir Tristram said, "Lord, so men say of me." King Arthur
said, "I would fain hear your minstrelsy." To which Sir Tristram made reply:
"Lord, I will gladly do anything at all that will give you pleasure."

So therewith Sir Tristram gave orders to Gouvernail, and Gouvernail brought
him his shining golden harp, and the harp glistered with great splendor in the
dim light of the pavilion.

Sir Tristram took the harp in his hands and tuned it and struck upon it. And
he played upon the harp, and he sang to the music thereof so wonderfully that
they who sat there listened in silence as though they were without breath. For
not one of them had ever heard such singing as that music which Sir Tristram
sang; for it was as though some angel were singing to those who sat there harkening
to his chanting.

So after Sir Tristram had ended, all who were there gave loud acclaim and
much praise to his singing. "Ha, Messire!" quoth King Arthur, "many times in
my life have I heard excellent singing, but never before in my life have I heard
such singing as that. Now I wish that we might always have you at this court
and that you would never leave us." And Sir Tristram said: "Lord, I too would
wish that I might always be with you and with these noble knights of your court,
for I have never met any whom I love as I love them."

So they sat there in great joy and friendliness of spirit, and, for the while,
Sir Tristram forgot the mission he was upon and was happy in heart and glad
of that terrible storm that had driven him thitherward.

And now I shall tell you the conclusion of all these adventures, and of how
it fared with Sir Tristram.

Chapter Seventh

Now, as Sir Tristram and King Arthur and Sir Launcelot sat together in the
pavilion of Sir Tristram in pleasant, friendly discourse, as aforetold, there
came Gouvernail of a sudden into that place. He, coming to Sir Tristram, leaned
over his shoulder and he whispered into his ear: "Sir, I have just been told
that King Angus of Ireland is at this very time at Camelot at the court of the
King."

Upon this Sir Tristram turned to King Arthur and said: "Lord, my esquire telleth
me that King Angus of Ireland is here at Camelot; now I pray you tell me, is
that saying true?" "Yea," said King Arthur, "that is true; but what of it?"
"Well," said Sir Tristram, "I had set forth to seek King Angus in Ireland, when
I and my companions were driven hither by a great storm of wind. Yet when I
find him, I know not whether King Angus may look upon me as a friend or as an
unfriend."

"Ha," said King Arthur, "you need not take trouble concerning the regard in
which King Angus shall hold you. For he is at this time in such anxiety of spirit
that he needs to have every man his friend who will be his friend, and no man
his enemy whom he can reconcile to him. He is not just now in very good grace,
either with me or with my court, for the case with him is thus: Some while ago,
after you left the court of Ireland, there came to that place Sir Blamor de
Ganys (who is right cousin to Sir Launcelot of the Lake) and with Sir Blamor
a knight-companion hight Sir Bertrand de la Riviere Rouge. These two knights
went to Ireland with intent to win themselves honor at the court of Ireland.
Whilst they were in that kingdom there were held many jousts and tourneys, and
in all of them Sir Blamor and Sir Bertrand were victorious, and all the knights
of Ireland who came against them were put to shame at their hands. Many of the
Irish knights were exceedingly angry at this, and so likewise was the King of
Ireland. Now it happened one day that Sir Bertrand was found dead and murdered
at a certain pass in the King's forest, and when the news thereof was brought
to Sir Blamor, he was very wroth that his knight-companion should have been
thus treacherously slain. So he immediately quitted Ireland and returned hither
straightway, and when he had come before me he accused King Angus of treason
because of that murder. Now at this time King Angus is here upon my summons
for to answer that charge and to defend himself therefrom; for Sir Blamor offers
his body to defend the truth of his accusation, and as for the King of Ireland,
he can find no knight to take his part in that contention. For not only is Sir
Blamor, as you very well know, one of the best knights in the world, but also
nearly everybody here hath doubt of the innocence of King Angus in this affair.
Now from this you may see that King Angus is very much more in need of a friend
at this time than he is of an enemy."

"Lord," said Sir Tristram, "what you tell me is very excellent good news,
for now I know that I may have talk with King Angus with safety to myself, and
that he will no doubt receive me as a friend."

So after King Arthur and his court had taken their departure--it being then
in the early sloping of the afternoon--Sir Tristram called Gouvernail to him
and bade him make ready their horses, and when Gouvernail had done so, they
two mounted and rode away by themselves toward that place where King Angus had
taken up his lodging. When they had come there, Sir Tristram made demand to
have speech with the King, and therewith they in attendance ushered him in to
where the King Angus was.

But when King Angus saw Sir Tristram who he was, and when he beheld a face
that was both familiar and kind, he gave a great cry of joy, and ran to Sir
Tristram and flung his arms about him, and kissed him upon the cheek; for he
was rejoiced beyond measure to find a friend in that unfriendly place.

Then Sir Tristram said, "Lord, what cheer have you?" Unto that King Angus
replied: "Tristram, I have very poor cheer; for I am alone amongst enemies with
no one to befriend me, and unless I find some knight who will stand my champion
to-morrow or the next day I am like to lose my life for the murder of Sir Bertrand
de la Riviere Rouge. And where am I to find any one to act as my champion in
defence of my innocence in this place, where I behold an enemy in every man
whom I meet? Alas, Tristram! There is no one in all the world who will aid me
unless it be you, for you alone of all the knights in the world beyond the circle
of the knights of the Round Table may hope to stand against so excellent and
so strong a hero!"

"Lord," quoth Sir Tristram, "I know very well what great trouble overclouds
you at this time, and it is because of that that I am come hither for to visit
you. For I have not at any time forgotten how that I told you when you spared
my life in Ireland that mayhap the time might come when I might serve as your
friend in your day of need. So if you will satisfy me upon two points, then
I myself will stand for your champion upon this occasion."

"Ah, Tristram," quoth King Angus, "what you say is very good news to me indeed.
For I believe there is no other knight in all the world (unless it be Sir Launcelot
of the Lake) who is so strong and worthy a knight as you. So tell me what are
those two matters concerning which you would seek satisfaction, and, if it is
possible for me to do so, I will give you such an answer as may please you."

"Lord," said Sir Tristram, "the first matter is this: that you shall satisfy
me that you are altogether innocent of the death of Sir Bertrand. And the second
matter is this: that you shall grant me whatsoever favor it is that I shall
have to ask of you."

Then King Angus arose and drew his sword and he said: "Tristram, behold; here
is my sword--and the guard thereof and the blade thereof and the handle thereof
make that holy sign of the cross unto which all Christian men bow down to worship.
Look! See! Here I kiss that holy sign and herewith I swear an oath upon that
sacred symbol, and I furthermore swear upon the honor of my knighthood, that
I am altogether guiltless of the death of that noble, honorable knight aforesaid.
Nor do I at all know how it was he met his death, for I am innocent of all evil
knowledge thereof. Now, Messire, art thou satisfied upon that point?" And Sir
Tristram said, "I am satisfied."

Then King Angus said: "As to the matter of granting you a favor, that I would
do in any case for the love I bear you. So let me hear what it is that you have
to ask of me."

"Lord," cried out Sir Tristram, "the favor is one I had liever die than ask.
It is this: that you give me your daughter, the Lady Belle Isoult, for wife
unto mine uncle, King Mark of Cornwall."

Upon these words, King Angus sat in silence for a long while, gazing very
strangely upon Sir Tristram. Then by and by he said: "Messire, this is a very
singular thing you ask of me; for from what you said to me aforetime and from
what you said to my daughter I had thought that you desired the Lady Belle Isoult
for yourself. Now I can in no wise understand why you do not ask for her in
your name instead of asking for her in the name of King Mark."

Then Sir Tristram cried out as in great despair: "Messire, I love that dear
lady a great deal more than I love my life; but in this affair I am fulfilling
a pledge made upon the honor of my knighthood and unto the King of Cornwall,
who himself made me knight. For I pledged him unaware, and now I am paying for
my hastiness. Yet I would God that you might take the sword which you hold in
your hand and thrust it through my heart; for I had liefer die than fulfil this
obligation to which I am pledged."

"Well," said King Angus, "you know very well that I will not slay you, but
that I will fulfil your boon as I have promised. As for what you do in this
affair, you must answer for it to God and to the honor of your own knighthood
whether it is better to keep that promise which you made to the King of Cornwall
or to break it."

Then Sir Tristram cried out again in great travail of soul: "Lord, you know
not what you say, nor what torments I am at this present moment enduring." And
therewith he arose and went forth from that place, for he was ashamed that anyone
should behold the passion that moved him.

And now is to be told of that famous battle betwixt Sir Tristram and Sir Blamor
de Ganys of which so much hath been written in all the several histories of
chivalry that deal with these matters.

Now when the next morning had come--clear and fair and with the sun shining
wonderfully bright--a great concourse of people began to betake themselves to
that place where the lists had been set up in preparation for that ordeal of
battle. That place was on a level meadow of grass very fair bedight with flowers
and not far from the walls of the town nor from the high road that led to the
gate of the same.

And, indeed, that was a very beautiful place for battle, for upon the one
hand was the open countryside, all gay with spring blossoms and flowers; and
upon the other hand were the walls of the town. Over above the top of those
walls was to be seen a great many tall towers--some built of stone and some
of brick--that rose high up into the clear, shining sky all full of slow-drifting
clouds, that floated, as it were, like full-breasted swans in a sea of blue.
And beyond the walls of the town you might behold a great many fair houses with
bright windows of glass all shining against the sky. So you may see how fair
was all that place, where that fierce battle was presently to be fought.

Meanwhile, great multitudes of people had gathered all about the meadow of
battle, and others stood like flies upon the walls of the town and looked down
into that fair, pleasant meadow-land, spread with its carpet of flowers. All
along one side of the ground of battle was a scaffolding of seats fair bedraped
with fabrics of various colors and textures. In the midst of all the other seats
were two seats hung with cloth of scarlet, and these seats were the one for
King Arthur and the other for King Angus of Ireland.

In the centre of the meadow-land Sir Blamor rode up and down very proudly.
He was clad in red armor, and the trappings and the furniture of his horse were
all of red, so that he paraded the field like a crimson flame of fire.

"Sir." quoth King Arthur to King Angus, "yon is a very strong, powerful, noble
knight; now where mayst thou find one who can hope to stand against him in this
coming battle?"

"Lord," said King Angus, "I do believe that God hath raised up a defender
for me in this extremity. For Sir Tristram of Lyonesse came to me yesterday,
and offered for to take this quarrel of mine upon him. Now I do not believe
that there is any better knight in all of Christendom than he, wherefore I am
to-day uplifted with great hopes that mine innocence shall be proved against
mine accuser."

"Ha!" quoth King Arthur, "if Sir Tristram is to stand thy champion in this
affair, then I do believe that thou hast indeed found for thyself a very excellent,
worthy defender."

So anon there came Sir Tristram riding to that place, attended only by Gouvernail.
And he was clad all in bright, polished armor so that he shone like a star of
great splendor as he entered the field of battle. He came straight to where
King Arthur sat and saluted before him. King Arthur said, "Sir, what knight
art thou?" "Lord," answered he, "I am Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, and I am come
to champion King Angus who sits beside you. For I believe him to be innocent
of that matter of which he is accused, and I will emperil my body in that belief
for to prove the truth of the same."

"Well," quoth King Arthur, "this King accused hath, certes, a very noble champion
in thee. So go and do thy devoirs, and may God defend the right."

Thereupon each knight took a good stout spear into his hand and chose his
place for the encounter, and each set his shield before him and feutered his
lance in rest. Then, when each was ready, the marshal blew a great blast upon
his trumpet, and thereupon, in an instant, each knight launched against the
other like a bolt of thunder. So they met in the very middle of the course with
such violence that the spear of each knight was shattered all into pieces unto
the very truncheon thereof. Each horse fell back upon his haunches, and each
would no doubt, have fallen entirely, had not the knight-rider recovered his
steed with the greatest skill and address.

Then each knight voided his saddle and each drew his sword and set his shield
before him. Therewith they came to battle on foot like two wild boars--so fiercely
and felly that it was terrible to behold. For they traced this way and that
and foined and struck at one another so that whole pieces of armor were hewn
from the bodies of each.

But in all this battle Sir Tristram had so much the better that, by and by
after they had fought for above an hour, Sir Blamor de Ganys began to bare back
before him, and to give ground, holding his shield low for weariness. This Sir
Tristram perceived, and, running in suddenly upon Sir Blamor, he struck him
so terrible a blow upon the right shoulder that Sir Blamor's arm was altogether
benumbed thereby, and he could no longer hold his sword in his hand.

So the sword of Sir Blamor fell down into the grass, and Sir Tristram, perceiving
this, ran and set his foot upon it. Then Sir Blamor could not stand any longer,
but fell down upon his knees because of a great weariness and faintness that
lay upon him like the weariness and faintness of approaching death.

Then Sir Tristram said: "Sir Knight, thou canst fight no longer. Now I bid
thee for to yield thyself to me as overcome in this battle."

Thereunto Sir Blamor made reply, speaking very deep and hollow from out of
his helmet: "Sir Knight, thou hast overcome me by thy strength and prowess,
but I will not yield myself to thee now nor at any time. For that would be so
great shame that I would rather die than endure it. I am a knight of the Round
Table, and have never yet been overcome in this wise by any man. So thou mayst
slay me, but I will not yield myself to thee."

Then Sir Tristram cried out: "Sir Knight, I beseech thee to yield thyself,
for thou art not fit to fight any more this day."

Sir Blamor said, "I will not yield, so strike and have done with it."

So Sir Tristram wist not what to do, but stood there in doubt looking down
upon Sir Blamor. Then Sir Blamor said, again: "Strike, Sir Knight, and have
done with it."

Upon this Sir Tristram said: "I may not strike thee, Sir Blamor de Ganys,
to slay thee, for thou art very nigh of blood to Sir Launcelot of the Lake,
and unto him I have sworn brotherhood in arms; wherefore I pray thee now to
yield thyself to me."

Sir Blamor said, "Nay, I will not yield me to thee."

"Well," said Sir Tristram, "then I must fain act this day in a manner like
as I acted yesterday."

Therewith speaking, he took his sword into both his hands and he swung it
several times around his head and when he had done that he flung it to a great
distance away, so that he was now entirely unarmed saving only for his misericordia.
After that he gave Sir Blamor his hand and lifted him up upon his feet. And
he stooped and picked up Sir Blamor's sword out of the grass and gave it back
to Sir Blamor into his hands, and he said: "Sir Knight, now thou art armed and
I am entirely unarmed, and so thou hast me at thy mercy. Now thou shalt either
yield thyself to me or slay me as I stand here without any weapon; for I cannot
now strike thee, and though I have overcome thee fairly yet thou hast it now
in thy power to slay me. So now do thy will with me in this matter."

Then Sir Blamor was greatly astonished at the magnanimity of Sir Tristram,
and he said, "Sir Knight, what is thy name?" Sir Tristram said, "It is Tristram,
surnamed of Lyonesse."

Upon this Sir Blamor came to Sir Tristram and put his arms about his shoulders,
and he said: "Tristram, I yield myself to thee, but in love and not in hate.
For I yield myself not because of thy strength of arms (and yet I believe there
is no knight in the world, unless it be my cousin Sir Launcelot of the Lake,
who is thy peer), but I yield me because of thy exceeding nobility. Yet I would
that I might only be satisfied that this King of Ireland is no traitor."

"Messire," said Sir Tristram, "of that I have assured myself very strongly
ere I entered into this contest, wherefore I may now freely avouch upon mine
own knightly word that he is innocent."

"Then," said Sir Blamor, "I also am satisfied, and I herewith withdraw all
my impeachment against him."

Then those two noble, excellent knights took one another by the hand and went
forward together to where King Arthur sat in high estate, and all those who
looked on and beheld that reconciliation gave loud acclaim. And when King Arthur
beheld them coming thus, he arose from where he sat and met them and embraced
them both, and he said: "I do not believe that any king can have greater glory
in his life than this, to have such knights about him as ye be."

So ended this famous battle with great glory to Sir Tristram and yet with
no disregard to that famous knight against whom he did battle.

After that, they and King Arthur and King Angus of Ireland and all the court
went up unto the castle of Camelot, and there the two knights-combatant were
bathed in tepid water and their wounds were searched and dressed and they were
put at their ease in all ways that it was possible.

Now that very day, as they all sat at feast in the castle of Camelot, there
came one with news that the name of Sir Tristram had suddenly appeared upon
one of the seats of the Round Table. So after they had ended their feast they
all immediately went to see how that might be. When they came to the pavilion
of the Round Table, there, behold! was his name indeed upon that seat that had
once been the seat of King Pellinore. For this was the name that now was upon
that seat:

So the next day Sir Tristram was duly installed as a knight-companion of the
Round Table with a great pomp and estate of circumstance, and a day or two after
that he set sail for Ireland with King Angus, taking with him Gouvernail and
those Cornish knights who were his companions.

So they all reached Ireland in safety, and, because Sir Tristram had aided
the King of Ireland in the day of his extremity, the Queen forgave him all the
despite she held against him, so that he was received at the court of the King
and Queen with great friendship and high honor.

For a while Sir Tristram dwelt in Ireland and said nothing concerning that
purpose for which he had come. Then one day he said to King Angus: "Lord, thou
art not to forget to fulfil that promise which thou madst to me concerning the
Lady Belle Isoult."

To this King Angus made reply: "I had hoped that now we were come to Ireland
you had changed your purpose in that matter. Are you yet of the same mind as
when you first spake to me?"

"Yea," said Sir Tristram, "for it cannot be otherwise."

"Well, then," said King Angus, "I shall go to prepare my daughter for this
ill-hap that is to befall her, though indeed it doth go against my heart to
do such a thing. After I have first spoken to her, you are to take the matter
into your own hands, for, to tell you the truth, I have not the heart to contrive
it further."

So King Angus went away from where Sir Tristram was, and he was gone a long
while. When he returned he said: "Sir, go you that way and the Lady Belle Isoult
will see you."

So Sir Tristram went in the direction King Angus had said, and a page showed
him the way. So by and by he came to where the Lady Belle Isoult was, and it
was a great chamber in a certain tower of the castle and high up Under the eaves
of the roof.

The Lady Belle Isoult stood upon the farther side of this chamber so that
the light from the windows shone full upon her face, and Sir Tristram perceived
that she was extraordinarily beautiful, and rather like to a shining spirit
than to a lady of flesh and blood. For she was clad altogether in white and
her face was like to wax for whiteness and clearness, and she wore ornaments
of gold set with shining stones of divers colors about her neck and about her
arms so that they glistered with a wonderful lustre. Her eyes shone very bright
and clear like one with a fever, and Sir Tristram beheld that there were channels
of tears upon her face and several tears stood upon her white cheeks like to
shining jewels hanging suspended there.

So, for a while, Sir Tristram stood still without speaking and regarded her
from afar. Then after a while she spake and said, "Sir, what is this you have
done?" "Lady," he said, "I have done what God set me to do, though I would rather
die than do it."

She said, "Tristram, you have betrayed me." Upon the which he cried out in
a very loud and piercing voice, "Lady, say not so!"

She said: "Tristram, tell me, is it better to fulfil this pledge you have
made, knowing that in so doing you sacrifice both my happiness and your happiness
to satisfy your pride of honor; or is it better that you sacrifice your pride
and break this promise so that we may both be happy? Tristram, I beseech you
to break this promise you have made and let us be happy together."

At this Sir Tristram cried out in a very loud voice: "Lady, did you put your
hand into my bosom and tear my naked heart, you could not cause me so much pain
as that which I this moment endure. It cannot be as you would have it, for it
is thus with me: were it but myself whom I might consider, I would freely sacrifice
both my life and my honor for your sake. But it may not be so, lady; for I am
held to be one of the chiefest of that order of knighthood to which I belong,
wherefore I may not consider myself, but must ever consider that order. For
if I should violate a pledge given upon my knighthood, then would I dishonor
not myself, but that entire order to which I belong. For, did I so, all the
world would say, what virtue is there in the order of knighthood when one of
the chiefest of that order may violate his pledge when it pleases him to do
so? So, lady, having assumed that great honor of knighthood I must perform its
obligations even to the uttermost; yea, though in fulfilling my pledge I sacrifice
both Thee and myself."

Then Belle Isoult looked upon Sir Tristram for some little while, and by and
by she smiled very pitifully and said: "Ah, Tristram, I believe I am more sorry
for thee than I am for myself."

"Lady," said Tristram, "I would God that I lay here dead before you. But I
am not able to die, but am altogether strong and hale--only very sorrowful at
heart." And therewith he turned and left that place. Only when he had come to
a place where he was entirely by himself with no one but God to see him, he
hid his face in his hands and wept as though his heart were altogether broken.
So it was that Sir Tristram fulfilled his pledge.

After that, King Angus furnished a very noble and beautiful ship with sails
of satin embroidered with figures of divers sorts, and he fitted the ship in
all ways such as became the daughter of a king and the wife of a king to embark
upon. And that ship was intended for the Lady Belle Isoult and Sir Tristram
in which to sail to the court of Cornwall.

And it was ordained that a certain very excellent lady of the court of the
Queen, who had been attendant upon the Lady Belle Isoult when she was a little
child and who had been with her in attendance ever since that time, should accompany
her to the Court of Cornwall. And the name of this lady was the Lady Bragwaine.

Now the day before the Lady Belle Isoult was to take her departure from Ireland,
the Queen of Ireland came to the Lady Bragwaine and she bare with her a flagon
of gold very curiously wrought. And the Queen said: "Bragwaine, here is a flask
of a very singular and precious sort of an elixir; for that liquor it is of
such a sort that when a man and a woman drink of it together, they two shall
thereafter never cease to love one another as long as they shall have life.
Take this flask, and when you have come to Cornwall, and when the Lady Belle
Isoult and King Mark have been wedded, then give them both to drink of this
elixir; for after they have drunk they shall forget all else in the world and
cleave only to one another. This I give you to the intent that the Lady Isoult
may forget Sir Tristram, and may become happy in the love of King Mark whom
she shall marry."

Soon thereafter the Lady Belle Isoult took leave of the King and the Queen
and entered into that ship that had been prepared for her. Thus, with Sir Tristram
and with Dame Bragwaine and with their attendants, she set sail for Cornwall.

Now it happened that, whilst they were upon that voyage, the Lady Bragwaine
came of a sudden into the cabin of that ship and there she beheld the Lady Belle
Isoult lying upon a couch weeping. Dame Bragwaine said, "Lady, why do you weep?"
Whereunto the Lady Belle Isoult made reply: "Alas, Bragwaine, how can I help
but weep seeing that I am to be parted from the man I love and am to be married
unto another whom I do not love?"

Dame Bragwaine laughed and said: "Do you then weep for that? See! Here is
a wonderful flask as it were of precious wine. When you are married to the King
of Cornwall, then you are to quaff of it and he is to quaff of it and after
that you will forget all others in the world and cleave only to one another.
For it is a wonderful love potion and it hath been given to me to use in that
very way. Wherefore dry your eyes, for happiness may still lay before you."

When the Lady Belle Isoult heard these words she wept no more but smiled very
strangely. Then by and by she arose and went away to where Sir Tristram was.

When she came to him she said, "Tristram, will you drink of a draught with
me?" He said, "Yea, lady, though it were death in the draught."

She said, "There is not death in it, but something very different," and thereupon
she went away into the cabin where that chalice aforesaid was hidden. And at
that time Dame Bragwaine was not there.

Then the Lady Belle Isoult took the flagon from where it was hidden, and poured
the elixir out into a chalice of gold and crystal and she brought it to where
Sir Tristram was. When she had come there, she said, "Tristram, I drink to thee,"
and therewith she drank the half of the elixir there Was in the chalice. Then
she said, "Now drink thou the rest to me."

Upon that Sir Tristram took the chalice and lifted it to his lips, and drank
all the rest of that liquor that was therein.

Now immediately Sir Tristram had drunk that elixir he felt it run like fire
through every vein in his body. Thereupon he cried out, "Lady, what is this
you have given me to drink?" She said: "Tristram, that was a powerful love potion
intended for King Mark and me. But now thou and I have drunk of it and never
henceforth can either of us love anybody in all of the world but the other."

Then Sir Tristram catched her into his arms and he cried out: "Isoult! Isoult!
what hast thou done to us both? Was it not enough that I should have been unhappy
but that thou shouldst have chosen to be unhappy also?"

Thereat the Lady Belle Isoult both wept and smiled, looking up into Sir Tristram's
face, and she said: "Nay, Tristram; I would rather be sorry with thee than happy
with another." He said, "Isoult, there is much woe in this for us both." She
said, "I care not, so I may share it with thee."

Thereupon Sir Tristram kissed her thrice upon the face, and then immediately
put her away from him and he left her and went away by himself in much agony
of spirit.

Thereafter they reached the kingdom of Cornwall in safety, and the Lady Belle
Isoult and King Mark were wedded with much pomp and ceremony and after that
there was much feasting and every appearance of rejoicing.

PART II

The Story of Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorack

And now shall be told the story of Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorack of Gales, how they became brothers-in-arms; how Sir Lamorack took offence at Sir Tristram, and how they became reconciled again. But first of all you must know that Sir Lamorack of Gales was deemed to be one of the greatest knights alive. For it was said that there were three knights that were the greatest in all of the world, and those three were Sir Launcelot of the Lake, Sir Tristram of Lyonesse, and Sir Lamorack of Gales. Sir Lamorack was the son of King Pellinore, of whom it hath already been told in the Book of King Arthur that he was the greatest knight during that time; and he was the brother of Sir Percival, of whom it is to be told hereinafter that he was the peer even of Sir Launcelot of the Lake. So because that house produced three such great and famous knights, the house of King Pellinore hath always been singularly renowned in all histories of chivalry. For indeed there was not any house so famous as it saving only the house of King Ban of Benwick, which brought forth those two peerless knights beyond all compare:--to wit, Sir Launcelot of the Lake and Sir Galahad, who achieved the quest of the San Grail. So I hope that you may find pleasure in the story of how Sir Tristram and Sir Lamorack became acquainted, and of how they became brothers-in-arms.

After these happenings, Sir Tristram abode for awhile at the Court of Cornwall,
for so King Mark commanded him to do. And he sought in every way to distract
his mind from his sorrows by deeds of prowess. So during this time he performed
several adventures of which there is not now space to tell you. But these adventures
won such credit to his knighthood that all the world talked of his greatness.

And ever as he grew more and more famous, King Mark hated him more and more.
For he could not bear to see Sir Tristram so noble and so sorrowful with love
of the Lady Belle Isoult.

Also Sir Tristram spent a great deal of time at chase with hawk and hound;
for he hoped by means also of such sports to drive away, in some measure, his
grief for the loss of Belle Isoult.

Now the season whereof this chapter speaketh was in the autumn of the year,
what time all the earth is glorious with the brown and gold of the woodlands.
For anon, when the wind would blow, then the leaves would fall down from the
trees like showers of gold so that everywhere they lay heaped like flakes of
gold upon the russet sward, rustling dry and warm beneath the feet, and carpeting
all the world with splendor. And the deep blue sky overhead was heaped full
of white, slow-moving clouds, and everywhere the warm air was fragrant with
the perfume of the forest, and at every strong breeze the nuts would fall pattering
down upon the ground like hailstones.

And because the world was so beautiful and so lusty, Sir Tristram took great
pleasure in life in spite of that trouble that lay upon him. So he and his court
rode very joyfully amid the trees and thickets, making the woodlands merry with
the music of winding horns and loud-calling voices and with the baying of hounds
sounding like sweet tolling bells in the remoter aisles of the forest spaces.

Thus Sir Tristram made sport all one morning, in such an autumn season, and
when noon had come he found himself to be anhungered. So he gave orders to those
who were in attendance upon him that food should be spread at a certain open
space in the forest; and therewith, in accordance with those orders, they in
attendance immediately opened sundry hampers of wicker, and therefrom brought
forth a noble pasty of venison, and manchets of bread and nuts and apples and
several flasks and flagons of noble wine of France and the Rhine countries.
This abundance of good things they set upon a cloth as white as snow which they
had laid out upon the ground.

Now just as Sir Tristram was about to seat himself at this goodly feast he
beheld amid the thin yellow foliage that there rode through a forest path not
far away a very noble-seeming knight clad all in shining armor and with vestments
and trappings of scarlet so that he shone like a flame of fire in the woodlands.

Then Sir Tristram said to those who stood near him, "Know ye who is yonder
knight who rides alone?" They say, "No, Lord, we know him not." Sir Tristram
said, "Go and bid that knight of his courtesy that he come hither and eat with
me."

So three or four esquires ran to where that knight was riding, and in a little
they came attending him to where Sir Tristram was, and Sir Tristram went to
meet him.

Then Sir Tristram said: "Sir Knight, I pray you for to tell me your name and
degree, for it seems to me that you are someone very high in order of knighthood."

"Messire," quoth the other, "I shall be very glad to tell you my name if so
be you will do the like courtesy unto me. I am Sir Lamorack of Gales, and I
am son of the late King Pellinore, who was in his days held to be the foremost
knight in this realm. I come to these parts seeking Sir Tristram of Lyonesse,
of whose fame I hear told in every court of chivalry whither I go. For I have
never beheld Sir Tristram, and I have a great desire to do so."

"Well," quoth Sir Tristram, "meseems I should be greatly honored that you
should take so much trouble for nothing else than that; for lo! I am that very
Sir Tristram of Lyonesse whom you seek."

Then Sir Lamorack immediately leaped down from his war-horse and putting up
the umbril of his helmet, he came to Sir Tristram and took him by the hand and
kissed him upon the cheek. And Sir Tristram kissed Sir Lamorack again, and each
made great joy of the other.

After that, Sir Lamorack, with the aid of these esquires attendant upon Sir
Tristram, put aside his armor, and bathed his face and neck and hands in a cold
forest brook, as clear as crystal, that came brawling down out of the woodlands.
Therewith, being greatly refreshed he and Sir Tristram sat down to that bountiful
feast together, and ate and drank with great joy and content of spirit. And
whiles they ate each made inquiry of the other what he did, and each told the
other many things concerning the goodly adventures that had befallen him.

And after they were through eating and drinking, Sir Tristram took his harp
in hand and sang several excellent ballads and rondels which he had made in
honor of Belle Isoult, and Sir Lamorack listened and made great applause at
each song that Sir Tristram sang. And so each knight loved the other more and
more the longer they sat together.

Then, after a while, Sir Tristram said: "Dear friend, let us swear brotherhood
to one another, for I find that my heart goeth out to thee with a wonderful
strength."