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KING ARTHUR'S KNIGHTS:
The Tales Re-Told for Boys & Girls
by
HENRY GILBERT.
With Illustrations in Color by Walter Crane
Thomas Nelson and Sons
New York, Edinburgh, London
Toronto, And Paris
In tholde dayes of the King Arthour,
Of which that Britons speken great honour,
All was this land fulfilled of faery.
_The Canterbury Tales._
Printed in the United States of America
PREFACE
This book is an attempt to tell some of the stories of King Arthur and
his Knights in a way which will be interesting to every boy and girl
who loves adventures.
Although tales of these old British heroes have been published before
in a form intended for young people, it is believed that they have
never been related quite in the same spirit nor from the same point of
view; and it is hoped that the book will fill a place hitherto vacant
in the hearts of all boys and girls.
No doubt many of you, my young readers, have at some time or another
taken down the _Morte D'Arthur_ from your father's bookshelves and read
a few pages of it here and there. But I doubt if any of you have ever
gone very far in the volume. You found generally, I think, that it was
written in a puzzling, old-fashioned language, that though it spoke of
many interesting things, and seemed that it ought to be well worth
reading, yet somehow it was tedious and dry.
In the tales as I have retold them for you, I hope you will not find
any of these faults. Besides writing them in simple language, I have
chosen only those episodes which I know would appeal to you. I have
added or altered here and there, for in places it struck me that there
was just wanting a word or two to make you feel the magic that was
everywhere abroad in those days. It seemed to me that some mysterious
adventure might easily be waiting in the ruined and deserted Roman town
on the desolate moor, or even just round the mossy trunk of the next
oak in the forest-drive, through which the knight was riding; or that
any fair lady or questing dog which he might meet could turn out to be
a wizard seeking to work woe upon him. Nevertheless, I was always sure
that in those bright days when the world was young, whatever evil power
might get the mastery for a little while, the knight's courage,
humility, and faith would win through every peril at the end.
In this book, besides reading of wonderful adventures and brave
fighting, you will learn just what sort of man a perfect knight was
required to be in the chivalrous times when men wore armour and rode on
errantry. The duties of a 'good and faithful knight' were quite simple,
but they were often very hard to perform. They were--to protect the
distressed, to speak the truth, to keep his word to all, to be
courteous and gentle to women, to defend right against might, and to do
or say nothing that should sully the fair name of Christian knighthood.
Although, therefore, these stories of King Arthur and his men treat of
knights and their ladies, of magical trolls and wonder-working wizards,
and it might seem for that reason that they can have little or nothing
in common with life of the present day, it will be seen that the spirit
in which they are told conveys something which every boy can learn.
Indeed, the great and simple lesson of chivalry which the tales of King
Arthur teach is, in a few words, to merit 'the fine old name of
gentleman.'
The history of King Arthur and his Knights is contained in two books,
one being the _Morte D'Arthur_, written by Sir Thomas Malory, the other
being the _Mabinogion_, a collection of old Welsh stories, first
translated by Lady Charlotte Guest in 1838. I have selected thirteen
tales from the number which these two books contain; but there are many
more, equally as interesting, which remain.
Little is known about Sir Thomas Malory, who lived in the fifteenth
century. We only learn that he was a Welshman, a man of heroic mind
who, as an old writer relates, 'from his youth, greatly shone in the
gifts of mind and body.' Though much busied with cares of state, his
favourite recreation was said to be the reading of history, and in this
pursuit 'he made selections from various authors concerning the valour
and the victories of the most renowned King Arthur of the Britons.' We
know, further, that these selections or tales were translated mostly
from poems about Arthur written by old French poets in the eleventh and
twelfth centuries, and that Sir Thomas Malory finished his translation
in the ninth year of King Edward the Fourth (1469). This, of course,
was before printing was introduced into England, but no doubt many
written copies were made of the book, so as to enable the stories to be
read to the lords and ladies and other rich people who would desire to
hear about the flower of kings and chivalry, the great King Arthur.
When, in 1477, Caxton set up his printing press at Westminster, the
_Morte D'Arthur_ was one of the books which then saw the light of day.
The _Mabinogion_, which contains other tales about King Arthur, is a
collection of old Welsh romances. Though our earliest collection of
them is to be found in a manuscript written in the thirteenth or
fourteenth century, some of them are probably as old as the time when
Welshmen clothed themselves in the skins of the beaver and the bear,
and used stone for their tools and weapons.
It may be that, when you get older, you will go back to the two books I
have mentioned, and you will find them so fascinating that you will be
impatient of any other book which pretends to tell you the same tales.
But until that time arrives, I hope you will find the stories as I have
told them quite interesting and exciting.
HENRY GILBERT.
_June_ 1911.
CONTENTS
CHAP. PAGE
I. HOW ARTHUR WAS MADE KING AND WON HIS KINGDOM 1
II. SIR BALIN AND THE STROKE DOLOROUS 32
III. HOW LANCELOT WAS MADE A KNIGHT. THE FOUR WITCH QUEENS,
AND THE ADVENTURES AT THE CHAPEL PERILOUS 52
IV. THE KNIGHT OF THE KITCHEN 72
V. HOW SIR TRISTRAM KEPT HIS WORD 101
VI. THE DEEDS OF SIR GERAINT 131
VII. HOW SIR PERCEVAL WAS TAUGHT CHIVALRY, AND ENDED THE
EVIL WROUGHT BY SIR BALIN'S DOLOROUS STROKE 164
VIII. HOW SIR OWEN WON THE EARLDOM OF THE FOUNTAIN 194
IX. OF SIR LANCELOT AND THE FAIR MAID OF ASTOLAT 229
X. HOW THE THREE GOOD KNIGHTS ACHIEVED THE HOLY GRAAL 250
XI. OF THE PLOTS OF SIR MORDRED; AND HOW SIR LANCELOT
SAVED THE QUEEN 278
XII. OF SIR GAWAINE'S HATRED, AND THE WAR WITH SIR LANCELOT 307
XIII. OF THE REBELLION OF MORDRED AND THE DEATH OF KING ARTHUR 333
KING ARTHUR'S KNIGHTS
I
HOW ARTHUR WAS MADE KING AND WON HIS KINGDOM
In the hall of his Roman palace at London, King Uther, Pendragon of the
Island of Britain, lay dying. He had been long sick with a wasting
disease, and forced to lie in his bed, gnawing his beard with wrath at
his weakness, while the pagan Saxons ravened up and down the fair broad
lands, leaving in their tracks the smoking ruin of broken towns and
desolated villages, where mothers lay dead beside their children on the
hearths, fair churches stood pillaged and desecrated, and priests and
nuns wandered in the wilds.
At length, when the pagans, bold and insolent, had ventured near
London, the king had been able to bear his shame and anguish no longer.
He had put himself, in a litter, at the head of his army, and meeting
the fierce, brave pagans at Verulam (now called St. Albans) he had, in
a battle day-long and stubborn, forced them at length to fly with heavy
slaughter.
That was three days ago, and since then he had lain in his bed as still
as if he were dead; and beside him sat the wise wizard Merlin, white
with great age, and in his eyes the calmness of deep learning.
It was the third night when the king suddenly awoke from his stupor and
clutched the hand of Merlin.
'I have dreamed!' he said in a low shaken voice. 'I have seen two
dragons fighting--one white, the other red. First the white dragon got
the mastery, and clawed with iron talons the red one's crest, and drove
him hither and thither into holes and crannies of the rocks. And then
the red one took heart, and with a fury that was marvellous to see, he
drove and tore the white dragon full terribly, and anon the white one
crawled away sore wounded. And the red dragon walked up and down in the
place of his triumph, and grew proud, and fought smaller red dragons
and conquered. Thus for a long time he stayed, and was secure and
boastful. Then I saw the white dragon return with a rage that was very
terrible, and the red dragon fought with him; but his pride had
softened him, so he drew off. Then other red dragons came upon him in
his wounds and beat him sore, which seeing, the white dragon dashed
upon them all--and I awoke. Merlin, tell me what this may mean, for my
mind is sore distraught with the vision.'
Then Merlin looked at the trembling king, wasted with disease, and in
his wise heart was great pity.
'It means, lord,' he said in slow grave tones, 'that thy people shall
conquer--that a red dragon shall rise from thy kin, who shall drive out
the loathsome pagan and shall conquer far and wide, and his fame shall
go into all lands and for all time.'
'I thank thee, Merlin, for thy comfort,' sighed the wearied king. 'I
have feared me these last years that the pagan will at the last drive
my people into the western sea, and that the name of Christ shall die
out of this fair land, and the foul pagan possess it. But thy words
give me great heart.'
'Nay, sir,' said Merlin, 'take comfort. Great power will come to this
people in a near time, and they shall conquer all their enemies.'
Anon the king slept, and lay thus for three further days, neither
speaking nor moving. Many great lords and barons came craving to speak
with Merlin, asking if the king were not better. But, looking into
their crafty eyes, and seeing there the pride and ambitions of their
hearts, Merlin knew that they wished the king were already dead; for
all thought that King Uther had no son to take the kingdom after him,
and each great baron, strong in men, plotted to win the overlordship
when the king should be gone.
'If he dieth and sayeth not which he shall name to succeed him,' some
asked, 'say, Merlin, what's to be done?'
'I shall tell you,' said Merlin. 'Come ye all into this chamber
to-morrow's morn, and, if God so wills, I will make the king speak.'
Next morn, therefore, came all the great barons and lords into the high
hall of the palace, and many were the proud and haughty glances passing
among them. There was King Lot of Orkney, small and slim, with his dark
narrow face and crafty eyes under pent eyebrows; King Uriens of Reged,
tall and well-seeming, with grim eyes war-wise, fresh from the long
harrying of the fleeing pagans; King Mark of Tintagel, burly of form,
crafty and mean of look; King Nentres of Garlot, ruddy of face,
blusterous of manner, who tried to hide cunning under a guise of
honesty; and many others, as Duke Cambenet of Loidis, King Brandegoris
of Stranggore, King Morkant of Strathclyde, King Clariance of
Northumberland, King Kador of Cornwall, and King Idres of Silura.
Now, when all these were assembled about the bed of Uther, Merlin went
to the side of the sleeping king, and looked long and earnestly upon
his closed eyes. Anon he passed his hands above the face of the king,
and Uther instantly awoke, and looked about him as if startled.
'Lord,' said Merlin, 'God's hand is drawing you to Him, and these your
lords desire you to name your successor ere you pass from life. Is it
not your desire that your son Arthur shall take the kingdom after you,
with your blessing?'
Those who craned towards the bed started and looked darkly at Merlin
and then at each other; for none had heard of the son whom the wizard
named Arthur. Then in the deep silence the dying king raised his hand
in the sign of blessing, and in a hollow whisper said:
'Such is my desire. With God's blessing I wish my son Arthur to take
this kingdom after me, and all that love me must follow him.'
His eyes closed, a shiver passed down the tall frame as it lay beneath
the clothes, and with a sigh the soul of Uther sped.
In a few days the king was buried in all solemnity with the dead of his
kindred in the Roman temple that had been made a church, where now
stands St. Paul's. Thereafter men waited and wondered, for the land was
without a king, and none knew who was rightfully heir to the throne.
As the days went by, men gathered in groups in the market-place of
London, whispering the rumours that mysteriously began to fly from
mouth to mouth,--how King Lot of Orkney and Lothian was gathering his
knights and men-at-arms; and King Uriens and Duke Cambenet of Loidis
had got together a great host, although the remnant of the pagans had
fled the country. The faces of the citizens went gloomy as they thought
of the griefs of civil war, of the terrors of the sack of cities, the
ruin of homes, the death of dear ones, and the loss of riches.
Nevertheless, some were already wagering which of the great lords would
conquer the others, and take to himself the crown of Britain and the
title of Pendragon.
As it neared the feast of Christmas, men heard that the Archbishop of
London, who was then chief ruler of the Church, had sent his letters to
each and all the great nobles, bidding them come to a great council to
be holden at the church of St. Paul at Christmas.
When men heard that this was done by the advice of Merlin, faces
lightened and looked more joyful.
'Now shall things go right,' said they, 'for the old, old Merlin hath
the deepest wisdom of all the earth.'
On Christmas Eve the city throbbed with the clank of arms and the tramp
of the great retinues of princes, kings and powerful lords who had come
at the archbishop's summons, and by day and night the narrow ways were
crowded with armed men. Long ere the dawn of Christmas Day, the lords
and the common people betook themselves along the wide road which led
across to the church, which then stood in a wide space amid fields, and
all knelt therein to mass.
While it was yet dark a great strange cry rang out in the churchyard.
Some ran forth, and there by the wall behind the high altar they saw a
vast stone, four-square, that had not been there before, and in the
middle thereof was stuck a great wedge of steel, and sticking therefrom
by the point was a rich sword. On the blade were written words in
Latin, which a clerk read forth, which said, 'Whoso pulleth this sword
out of this stone and wedge of steel is rightwise born King of all
Britain.'
The clerk ran into the church and told the archbishop, and men were all
amazed and would have gone instantly to see this marvel, but the
archbishop bade them stay.
'Finish your prayers to God,' he said, 'for no man may touch this
strange thing till high mass be done.'
When mass was finished, all poured forth from the church and thronged
about the stone, and marvelled at the words on the sword. First King
Lot, with a light laugh, took hold of the handle and essayed to pull
out the point of the sword, but he could not, and his face went hot and
angry. Then King Nentres of Garlot took his place with a jest, but
though he heaved at the sword with all his burly strength, till it
seemed like to snap, he could not move it, and so let go at last with
an angry oath. All the others essayed in like manner, but by none was
it moved a jot, and all stood about discomfited, looking with black
looks at one another and the stone.
'He that is rightwise born ruler of Britain is not here,' said the
archbishop at length, 'but doubt not he shall come in God's good time.
Meanwhile, let a tent be raised over the stone, and do ye lords appoint
ten of your number to watch over it, and we will essay the sword again
after New Year's Day.'
So that the kings and lords should be kept together, the archbishop
appointed a great tournament to be held on New Year's Day on the waste
land north of the city, which men now call Smithfield.
Now when the day was come, a certain lord, Sir Ector de Morven, who had
great lands about the isle of Thorney, rode towards the jousts with his
son, Sir Kay, and young Arthur, who was Sir Kay's foster-brother. When
they had got nearly to the place, suddenly Sir Kay bethought him that
he had left his sword at home.
'Do you ride back, young Arthur,' he said, 'and fetch me my sword, for
if I do not have it I may not fight.'
Willingly Arthur turned his horse and rode back swiftly. But when he
had arrived at the house, he found it shut up and none was within, for
all had gone to the jousts. Then was he a little wroth, and rode back
wondering how he should obtain a sword for his foster-brother.
Suddenly, as he saw the tower of St. Paul's church through the trees,
he bethought him of the sword in the stone, about which many men had
spoken in his hearing.
'I will ride thither,' said he, 'and see if I may get that sword for my
brother, for he shall not be without a sword this day.'
When he came to the churchyard, he tied his horse to the stile, and
went through the grave-mounds to the tent wherein was the sword. He
found the place unwatched, and the flashing sword was sticking by the
point in the stone.
Lightly he grasped the handle of the sword with one hand, and it came
forth straightway!
Then, glad that his brother should not be without a sword, he swiftly
gat upon his horse and rode on, and delivered the sword to Sir Kay, and
thought no more of aught but the splendid knights and richly garbed
lords that were at the jousts.
But Sir Kay looked at the sword, and the writing, and knew it was the
sword of the stone, and marvelled how young Arthur had possessed
himself thereof; and being of a covetous and sour mind he thought how
he might make advantage for himself. He went to his father, Sir Ector,
and said:
'Lo, father, this is the sword of the stone, and surely am I rightful
king.'
Sir Ector knew the sword and marvelled, but his look was stern as he
gazed into the crafty eyes of his son.
'Come ye with me,' he said, and all three rode to the church, and alit
from their horses and went in.
Sir Ector strode up the aisle to the altar, and turning to his son,
said sternly:
'Now, swear on God's book and the holy relics how thou didst get this
sword.'
Sir Kay's heart went weak, and he stammered out the truth.
'How gat you this sword?' asked Sir Ector of Arthur.
'Sir, I will tell you,' said Arthur, and so told him all as it had
happened.
Sir Ector marvelled what this should mean; for Arthur had been given to
him to nourish and rear as a week-old child by Merlin, but the wizard
had only told him that the babe was a son of a dead lady, whose lord
had been slain by the pagans.
Then Sir Ector went to the stone and bade Arthur put back the sword
into the wedge of steel, which the young man did easily.
Thereupon Sir Ector strove with all his strength to draw the sword
forth again, but though he pulled till he sweated, he could not stir
the sword.
'Now you essay it,' he said to his son. But naught that Sir Kay could
do availed.
'Now do you try,' he bade Arthur.
Arthur lightly grasped the handle with one hand, and the sword came out
without hindrance.
Therewith Sir Ector sank to his knees, and Sir Kay also. And they bared
their heads.
'Alas,' said Arthur, 'my own dear father and brother, why kneel ye so
to me?'
'Nay, nay, my lord Arthur, it is not so,' said Sir Ector, 'for I was
never your father. I wot well ye are of higher blood than I weened. For
Merlin delivered you to me while yet ye were a babe.'
The tears came into Arthur's eyes when he knew that Sir Ector was not
his father, for the young man had loved him as if he were of his own
blood.
'Sir,' said Ector unto Arthur, 'will ye be my good and kind lord when
ye are king?'
'Ah, if this be true as ye say,' cried Arthur, 'ye shall desire of me
whatsoever ye may, and I shall give it you. For both you and my good
lady and dear mother your wife have kept and loved me as your own.'
'Sir,' said Sir Ector, 'I crave a boon of you, that while you live,
your foster-brother, Sir Kay, shall be high seneschal of all your
lands.'
'That shall be done, and never man shall have that office but him,
while he and I live,' replied Arthur.
Then hastily Sir Ector rode to the archbishop, and told him how and by
whom the sword had been achieved from the stone. Thereupon the
archbishop let call a great meeting on Twelfth Day of all the kings and
barons.
So on the day appointed, all men gathered in the churchyard of St.
Paul's, and the tent was removed from about the stone. From day dawn to
the evening the kings and princes and lords strove each in his turn to
draw the sword from the stone. But none of them availed to move it.
While they stood about, dark of look, gnawing their lips with rage and
disappointment, the archbishop turned privily to Sir Ector and bade him
bring Arthur.
The young man came, quietly clad in a tunic of brown samite, of medium
height, with curly hair above a fair face of noble, though mild mien.
As he came among the richly clad nobles, they looked haughtily at him,
and wondered who he was and why he came, for as yet none had been told
that the sword had been drawn by him.
The archbishop, tall, white-haired and reverend, called Arthur to him
and said in grave tones:
'My son, I have heard a strange tale of thee, and whether it be true or
false, God shall decide. Now, therefore, do ye take hold upon this
sword and essay to draw it from the stone.'
The proud barons, some with looks amazed and others with sneering
laughter, pressed about the young man as he stepped towards the stone.
Arthur took the handle of the sword with his right hand, and the sword
seemed to fall into his grasp.
Thereat arose great cries of rage, and angry looks flashed forth, and
many a hand went to dagger haft.
'Ho, archbishop!' cried King Lot, fiercely striding towards the tall
ecclesiastic, 'what wizard's brat are you foisting upon us here to draw
the sword by magic?'
''Tis a trick!' cried Nentres of Garlot, his bluff manner falling from
him, and all the savage anger gleaming from his eyes. 'A trick that
shall not blind men such as we!'
'Who is this beggar's boy that is put forth to shame us kings and
nobles?' said King Mark, and his hand sought his dagger as he
disappeared among the crowd and wormed his way towards where stood
young Arthur. But Sir Ector and Sir Kay, seeing the threatening looks
of all, had quickly ranged themselves beside young Arthur, and with
them went Sir Bedevere, Sir Baudwin and Sir Ulfius, three noble lords
who had loved King Uther well.
'Peace, lords!' said the old archbishop, calmly meeting the raging
looks about him. 'Ye know what words are about the sword, and this
youth hath drawn the sword. I know naught of tricks or wizardry, but I
think high Heaven hath chosen this way of showing who shall be lord of
this land, and I think this young man is rightful King of us all.'
''Tis some base-born churl's son that the wizard Merlin would foist
upon us!' cried the barons. 'We will have none of him!'
'A shame and dishonour it is, so to try to overrule us, kings and lords
of high lineage, with an unknown youth,' cried others.
'We will have the sword put back and set a watch over it,' cried King
Uriens, 'and we will meet here again at Candlemas, and essay the sword.
And at that time, my lord archbishop, thou shalt do the proper rites to
exorcise all evil powers, and then we will try the sword once more.'
So was it agreed by all, and ten knights watched day and night about
the stone and the sword.
But it befell at Candlemas as it had befallen at Twelfth Day, that for
all their strength and might, none of the kings or barons could draw
forth the sword; but into the hand of the unknown Arthur the weapon
seemed to fall.
Whereat they were all sore aggrieved and rageful, and resolved that
they would have yet another trial at Easter. It befell at the feast of
Easter as it had befallen before, and this time the kings and lords for
angry spite would have fallen upon Arthur and slain him, but the
archbishop threatened them with the most dreadful ban of Holy Church.
They forbore, therefore, and went aside, and declared that it was their
will to essay the sword again at the high feast of Pentecost.
By Merlin's advice the young Arthur went never about, unless the five
friends of Uther were with him, that is to say, Sir Ector and his son
Sir Kay, Sir Bedevere, Sir Baudwin and Sir Ulfius. And though at divers
times men were found skulking or hiding in the horse-stall, the dark
wood by the hall, or the bend in the lane, in places where Arthur might
pass, no harm came to him by reason of the loving watch of those noble
knights.
Again at the feast of Pentecost men gathered in the churchyard of St.
Paul's, and the press of people was such that no man had ever seen the
like. Once more the kings and princes and great barons, to the number
of forty-nine, came forward, and each in turn pulled and drew at the
sword in the stone until the sweat stood on their brows. Nevertheless,
though the sword point was but the width of a palm in the stone, not
the mightiest of them could move it by the breadth of a hair.
King Mark of Tintagel was the last of them who had to stand back at
length, baffled and raging inwardly. Many were the evil looks that
would have slain Arthur as he stood among his friends.
Then a cry came from among the common people, and so strong was it that
the nobles looked as if they hated to hear it.
'Let Arthur draw the sword!' was the call from a thousand throats.
The venerable archbishop came and took Arthur by the hand, and led him
towards the sword. Again the young man held the rich pommel with his
single hand, and that which none of the forty-nine great men could do,
he did as easily as if he but plucked a flower.
A fierce cry leaped from among the thousands of the common people.
'Arthur shall be our King!' they cried. 'Arthur is our King! We will no
longer deny him!'
Many of the princes and barons cried out with the commons that this was
their will also; but eleven of the most powerful and ambitious showed
by their arrogant and angry gestures that they refused to own Arthur as
their lord.
For a long time the uproar raged, the cries of the common folk becoming
fiercer and more menacing against the counter cries of the eleven kings
and their adherents.
At length from among the people there came the governor of London, who,
in his rich robes of office, leaped upon the stone where but lately the
sword had been.
'My lords, I speak the will of the commons,' he cried, and at his voice
all were silent. 'We have taken counsel together, and we will have
Arthur for our King. We will put him no more in delay, for we all see
that it is God's will that he shall be our King, and who that holdeth
against him, we will slay.'
With that he got down from the stone, kneeled before Arthur, put the
keys of the city in his hands, and rendered homage unto him. The great
multitude kneeled likewise, bowing their bare heads, and cried him
mercy because they had denied him so long.
Because they feared the great multitude, the eleven kings kneeled with
them, but in their hearts was rage and rebellion.
Then Arthur took the sword between his hands and, going into the
church, he laid it on the high altar, and the archbishop blessed him.
Then, since Arthur was as yet unknighted, King Kador of Cornwall, who
was brother of King Uther, made him a knight.
Standing up in the sight of all the people, lords and commons, Arthur
laid his left hand upon the holy relics; then, lifting up his right
hand, he swore that he would be a true king, to stand forth as their
ruler in justice and mercy, to keep them from oppression, to redress
their wrongs, and to establish right throughout the length and breadth
of his dominions.
Men went forth from the church in great joy, for now they had a king
they loved, and they felt that the land was safe from civil strife and
the griefs of war.
When Arthur in his palace at London had received the homage of all the
lords and princes from the lands south of Humber, he appointed his
officers. Sir Kay he made seneschal or steward, and Sir Baudwin was
made constable, and Sir Ulfius he named chamberlain of his court. By
the counsel of Merlin he made Sir Bedevere Warden of the Northern
Marches, for the lands of the eleven kings lay mostly in the country
north of Trent, and though those princes had yielded lip service to
Arthur, Merlin knew that in their hearts they nurtured the seeds of
conspiracy.
King Arthur made a progress through all his territories, staying at the
halls of those who did service for the lands they held of him, and he
commanded all those who had suffered evil or wrong to come to him, and
many came. The king's wrath when he heard a tale of women and orphans
wronged or robbed or evilly treated by proud or powerful lords and
knights, was terrible to see. Many were the pale captives he released
from their deep dungeons, many were the tears he wiped away, and hard
and heavy was his punishment of evil lords who thought their power
would for ever shield them from penalty for their cruelties and
oppression.
When this was done, he caused a proclamation to be uttered, that he
would hold his coronation at the city of Caerleon-upon-Usk, at the
feast of Hallow-mass then following; and he commanded all his loyal
subjects to attend. When the time came, all the countryside on the
marches of Wales was filled with the trains of noblemen and their
knights and servants gathering towards the city.
As Arthur looked from the window of the palace which the Romans had
builded, and which looked far and wide over the crowded roads, word was
brought to him that six of the kings who had resented his kingship had
come to the city. At this Arthur was glad, for he was full gentle and
kindly, and would liefer be friendly with a man than his enemy.
Thinking that these kings and knights had come for love of him, and to
do him worship at his feast, King Arthur sent them many and rich
presents. But his messengers returned, saying that the kings and
knights had received them with insults, and had refused to take the
gifts of a beardless boy who had come, they said, of low blood.
Whereat the king's eyes flashed grimly, but at that time he said no
word.
In the joustings and knightly games that were part of the festival of
the coronation, the six kings ever ranged themselves against King
Arthur and his knights, and did him all the despite they could achieve.
At that time they deemed themselves not strong enough to hurt the king,
and therefore did no open act of revolt.
Now it happened, when the feasting was over and many of the kings and
lords had departed home again, that Arthur stood in the door of his
hall that looked into the street, and with his three best nobles, Sir
Kay, Sir Bedevere and Sir Baudwin, he watched the rich cavalcades of
his lords pass out of the town. Suddenly, as he stood there, a little
page-boy, fair of face but for the pitiful sorrow and gauntness upon
it, dashed from the throng of a lord's retinue which was passing and
threw himself along the ground, his hands clutching the feet of the
king.
'O King Arthur, save me!' the lad cried, spent of breath, 'or this evil
lord will slay me as he hath slain my mother and my brothers.'
From the throng a tall black knight, leaping from his horse, strode
towards the boy, and would have torn his hands from their hold upon the
king's feet.
'Back, sir knight!' said the king. 'I will hear more of this. Who are
you?'
The knight laughed insolently.
'I? Oh, I am one that the last king knew well to his sorrow. I am
Turquine, brother to Sir Caradoc of the Dolorous Tower.'
'What is this boy to you?'
'He is Owen, the caitiff son of a brave father, who gave him to my care
to train in knightly ways. But 'tis a puling fool, more fitting for the
bowers of ladies.'
'Nay, king, he lies!' said the lad who kneeled before the king. 'I am
his nephew. His hand slew my dear father treacherously, and he hath
starved my mother to her death. For our lands are rich while his are
poor, and my father warned me of him ere he died. This man hath kept me
prisoner, used me evilly, starving me and wealing me with cruel blows
daily. I think he hath my death in his heart.'
'I can speak of this thing,' said a knight, who came forth from the
throng. 'I am Sir Miles of Bandon. I know this lad speaks truth, for
his father was mine own dear cousin. This Sir Turquine is a felon
knight.'
The brow of the king went dark. He looked from the cruel insolent face
of the black knight to the wan beseeching face of the lad.
'Hark ye!' said Arthur to Turquine, and his voice was terrible, for all
that it was very quiet, 'ye shall answer to me and my justice for any
evil you have done this young boy or his people. When I send for thee,
come at once, or it will be worse for thee. The boy stays with me. Now
begone!'
The big knight looked with hatred and surprise in his eyes, and for a
while said naught. Then, with an insolent laugh, he turned and vaulted
on his horse.
'I may come when thou dost not expect me, sir king!' he said, mocking,
and shot an evil look at the young page.
Thenceforward the young page Owen stayed in the court, doing his
services deftly and quietly, with an eye ever on the king to do his
bidding. One night, when a storm raged and the town lay dark and quiet,
King Arthur sat in his hall. Sir Kay and Sir Bedevere told tales, or
the king's bard sang songs to amuse him, while about them moved young
Owen, noiseless of step, quick of eye, and as restless as an unquiet
spirit.
Anon the lad would pass through the arras, creep to the great outer
door, and look at the porter in his room beside it. Then he would stand
at the wicket and listen to the rare footsteps pass down the road, and
when the rising wind keened and shrilled through the crannies, he would
glance about him with quick looks as if in fear of an enemy.
Once he went to Falk, the king's porter, and said:
''Tis a stormy night, Sir Falk. I doubt few are about the streets of
Caerleon on such a night.'
'Few indeed,' said Falk.
'Yet methought but now I heard the rattle of a bridle in the distance,
as if a steed stood in armour.'
'I heard naught,' said Falk. ''Twould be but the grinding of a chain
beside a horseblock.'
Young Owen went away, and sat where the king and his knights listened
to the marvellous tales of the wise Gildas, who told of most terrible
witches and warlocks in the wizard woods of Brittany.
Again the lad approached the door and listened; then going to the
porter he said:
'This drenching storm will tear the last poor leaves from the forest
trees, I ween, Sir Falk.'
'Of a truth,' said the porter, ''tis overlate for leaves. They be stuck
in the mire of the rides long ere this.'
'They could not be blown so far in this gushing storm,' said the page,
'and therefore I have deceived myself. But I thought I heard the rustle
of leaves on the stones before the door but now.'
'It could not be,' said the porter; 'it was doubtless the gouts of
water from the roof of the hall thou didst hear.'
Owen went away, but in a little while returned, and softly opened the
wicket panel in the door a little way, and looked forth into the
roaring darkness of rain and wind.
'Think you, Sir Falk,' he said, going to the porter, 'that the witches
from the woods of Denn do send their baleful fires on such a night as
this to lead poor houseless wretches into the marsh below the wall?'
The porter laughed.
'Thou'rt over-full of fancies to-night, young sir,' he said. 'Have no
fear of witches. We're all safe and sound here till the blessed
daylight comes, and none need stir out till then.'
'Methought I saw a flash in the dark but now,' said Owen, 'as if 'twas
the gleam of a sword or a wandering marsh fire.'
'Not a doubt 'twas but a lightning flash,' returned the porter. 'Now go
ye, for I hear the king moving towards bed. Sleep soundly, lad; no need
to fear this night.'
In a little while the palace was sunk in darkness, and in silence save
for the smothered cries of sleepers in their dreams. Outside, the rain
still sobbed at the eaves, and the wind beat at the narrow casements.
Time passed, and for all his weariness young Owen could not sleep.
His spirit had been heavy all the day, and vague and dreadful fears had
haunted him. Something told him that the life of the beloved king, who
had taken him from the foul and cruel power of Sir Turquine, was
threatened. He rose in the dark from his pallet of straw in the hall
where lay the other pages, and stole softly out. He would make his way
to the king's door, and, wrapped in his cloak, would lie before it.
He felt his way softly along the corridor in the deep darkness.
Suddenly he stopped. Something alive was near him in the dark. Even as
he turned, a hand seized him by the throat, and a hateful voice which
he knew growled in his ear:
'Lead us to the king's room, or this shall sink in thy heart!'
He knew at once that all his fears of the day and the night had been
true. He had indeed heard the stealthy footsteps before the door of the
hall, and had seen the dull gleam of a sword in the hand of one of
those who lay in wait to murder the king.
'Speak!' said the voice again. 'Is the king's room backward or
forward?'
'I will not tell thee!' he gasped, and heard a low mocking laugh.
''Tis thee, my caitiff boy!' sneered Sir Turquine, for he it was. 'Then
this for thee!'
With the words he thrust his dagger into the body of the struggling
boy, who swooned and dropped to the floor.
In a few moments Owen stirred, for his struggles had caused his enemy's
dagger to swerve, and though weak from loss of blood, the young page
knew that he must act at once to save his hero from the murderous
knives.
He heard the stealthy footsteps of the murderers going backwards to the
hall, and, filled with joy, he pressed forward. His head was dizzy, he
felt as if every moment he must sink in a swoon; but at length he
reached the door, turned the handle and fell in.
'The king!' he cried. 'Save the king! Turquine has broken in and seeks
his life.'
At his shrill cry there was the rush of men and torches along the
corridors and into the room. Sir Bedevere was at the head of them, and
in a moment he, with twenty half-dressed knights behind him, was
scattering through the palace seeking the murderers, while the king
ordered his leech or doctor to attend instantly to Owen's wound.
This was soon found not to be severe, and the lad was laid at the foot
of the king's bed, glad and proud to hear the king's words of praise.
Then Sir Bedevere entered, saying that the murderers had fled as soon
as they found they were discovered.
'But, my lord king,' he said, 'this is no murderous attempt by one
insolent lord. It means, my king, that thou wilt have to fight for thy
kingdom. It is civil war!'
'What mean you, Sir Bedevere?'
'Sir Turquine is but one of them, my king,' replied Bedevere. 'He is
but the tool of the six kings who have put such great despite upon you.
For with them also in this midnight murder-raid I saw King Nentres of
Garlot and Duke Cambenet.'
Suddenly, as he spoke, the tall grey form of Merlin took shape before
them, for so great and marvellous was the power of this wizard, that he
could come and go unseen, except when he willed that men should see
him.
'Sir,' said Merlin, 'ye owe your life to this brave lad here, and he
shall be a passing good man when he shall have attained his full
strength, and he doth deserve your high and gracious favour.'
'That shall he have,' said the king, and smiled at young Owen, and the
smile made the lad forget all the burning of his wound for very pride
and gladness.
'And now,' said Merlin, 'if ye will gather your men I will lead you to
the hold of those murderous kings by a secret way, and ye should give
them such a sudden blow as will discomfit them.'
In a little while all was ready, and then, silently, with muffled arms,
the men of Arthur were marching forth down the narrow dark lanes of the
town to where the place was ruinous with old houses left forsaken by
their Roman masters when they had gone from Britain fifty years before.
Merlin led them to a great squat tower which stood beside the wall,
wherein a single light gleamed at a high window. Causing some to
surround this place, Merlin led others to a broken door, and there they
entered in. Then was there a sudden uproar and fierce fighting in the
rooms and up the narrow stairs.
In the darkness King Lot, with a hundred knights, burst out through a
rear door, and thought to escape; but King Arthur with his knights
waylaid them, and slew on the right and on the left, doing such deeds
that all took pride in his bravery and might of arms. Fiercely did King
Lot press forward, and to his aid came Sir Caradoc, who set upon King
Arthur in the rear.
Arthur drew from his side the sword he had so marvellously taken from
the stone, and in the darkness it flashed as if it were thirty torches,
and it dazzled his enemies' eyes, so that they gave way.
By this time the common people of Caerleon had heard the great outcry
and the clang of swords on armour. Learning of the jeopardy of their
beloved king from midnight murderers, they ran to the tower, and with
clubs and staves and bills they slew many of the men of the evil kings,
putting the rest to flight. But the six kings were still unharmed, and
with the remnant of their knights fled and departed in the darkness.
A few days later King Arthur journeyed back to London, and on an
evening when, in the twilight, he stood upon the roof of the palace
overlooking the broad Thames, he was aware of a shadow beside him where
no shadow had been before. Before he could cross himself against the
evil powers of wizardry and glamour, the steel-blue eyes of Merlin
looked out from the cloud, and the magician's voice spoke to him as if
from a great distance.
'I stand beneath the shaggy brows of the Hill of Tanyshane,' said the
voice, 'and I look down into the courtyard of the castle of King Lot.
There I see the gathering of men, the flash of torches on their
hauberks, the glitter of helms, and the blue gleams of swords. I have
passed through these northern lands, from the windswept ways of Alclwyd
to the quaking marshes of the Humber. Eleven castles have I seen, and
each is filled with the clang of beating iron, the glow of smiths'
fires and the hissing of new-tempered steel. Call thy council, and
abide my return, for now you must fight for your kingdom, O king, and
for your very life.'
The voice ceased, and the shadow and the vivid eyes it half concealed
died away with it.
Into the council-chamber three days later, while men waited for they
knew not what, Merlin entered.
'What news do you bring, Merlin?' they cried.
'Of civil war!' he said. 'I warn you all that the six kings ye gave a
check to at Caerleon have taken to themselves four others and a mighty
duke. They will to thrust Arthur, whom they call base-born, out of his
life. Mark you, they are passing strong and as good fighting men as any
alive--pity it is that great Uriens is with them, the wisest and
noblest fighter of them all!--and unless Arthur have more men of arms
and chivalry with him than he can get within this realm, he will be
overcome!'
'Oh, but we be big enough!' cried some.
'That ye are not!' said Merlin. 'Which of ye have single-handed beaten
back the pagan hordes from your lands? Which of ye can match King Lot
for subtlety and craft, or the great Uriens of Reged for wisdom in
war?'
'What is to do, then? Tell us your counsel,' said they all.
'This is my advice,' replied the wizard. 'Ye must send an embassy to
King Ban of Brittany and King Bors of Gaul, promising to aid them when
King Claudas, their common enemy, shall fight them again, if they will
come and aid our king in this his fight for life and kingdom.'
In a few weeks this was done. King Ban of Brittany and his brother,
King Bors, crossed into Britain with five thousand good knights, sworn
to aid Arthur in this great conflict.
With King Ban came his son, young Lancelot, who was later to make more
fame and more dole than any knight of Arthur's court.
On a day in early spring, the hosts of Arthur and his two allies were
encamped in Sherwood Forest, and the fore-riders or scouts, which
Merlin had sent out, came hastening in to say that the host of the
eleven kings was but a few miles to the north of Trent water. By secret
ways, throughout that night, Merlin led the army of Arthur until they
came near where the enemy lay. Then did he order an ambush to be made
by some part of their men, with King Ban and King Bors, by hiding in a
hollow filled with trees.
In the morning, when either host saw the other, the northern host was
well comforted, for they thought King Arthur's force was but small.
With the pealing of trumpets and the shouts of the knights, King Arthur
ordered his men to advance, and in their midst was the great silken
banner with the fierce red dragon ramping in its folds. This had been
blessed by the Archbishop of London at a solemn service held before the
host left London.
All day the battle raged. Knight hurled and hurtled against knight,
bowmen shot their short Welsh arrows, and men-at-arms thrust and maimed
and slashed with the great billhooks and spears.
King Arthur, with his bodyguard of four--Sir Kay, Sir Baudwin, Sir
Ulfius, and Sir Bedevere--did feats of arms that it was marvel to see.
Often the eleven kings did essay to give deadly strokes upon the king,
but the press of fighting kept some of them from him, and others
withdrew sore wounded from the attack upon him and his faithful four.
Once the five held strong medley against six of the rebel kings, and
these were King Lot, King Nentres, King Brandegoris, King Idres, King
Uriens, and King Agwisance; and so fiercely did they attack them that
three drew off sore wounded, whilst King Lot, King Uriens and King
Nentres were unhorsed, and all but slain by the men-at-arms.
At length it appeared to Arthur that his host was yielding before the
weight of numbers of the enemy, and then he bethought him of a
strategy. He took counsel of his nobles, and they approved; he sent a
trusty messenger to the Kings Ban and Bors, who still lay in ambush;
and then, commanding his trumpets to sound, he ordered a retreat.
As had been agreed on, the knights on Arthur's side made their retreat
in a confusion that seemed full of fear; and the enemy, joyfully
shouting their cries of triumph, pursued them headlong.
King Lot's host, led onward thus unthinking, were sure of victory. But
their cries of triumph were short and quickly turned to woe; for when
they had passed the place of ambush, they heard cries of terror in
their rear, and turning, they found a great host pouring forth from the
hollow combe, thick as angry bees from a hive.
Then, indeed, taken in the rear and in the front, there was little hope
of victory, and King Lot's men fought for dear life.
Seeing King Bors, where he hewed terribly in the press of battle, King
Lot, who knew him well, cried out:
'Ah, Mary, now defend us from death and from horrible maims, for I see
well we be in fear of quick death! Yonder is King Bors, one of the most
worshipful and best knights in the world; and there is his twin
brother, King Ban, as terrible as he. How came they and their host into
Britain, and we not know it, alas?'
'By the arts of that wizard Merlin, I doubt not,' said King Uriens.
'And I doubt not we shall all be sped. Look you, Lot,' he went on,
'whoever that Arthur may be, I'll swear by my head he is not of
low-born breeding, but a very man and a marvellous fighter.'
'If you lose heart now, why, go and swear fealty to him!' sneered King
Lot.
'Keep your sneers,' said Uriens sternly. 'I'll pay the price of
rebellion to my last breath, as I have vowed.'
By now the great mass of King Lot's host was either slain or run away,
and the evening drew on; but the eleven kings, wounded, spent, and full
of anguish at defeat, drew together with a few hundred of their
knights, and vowed to die fighting. When they looked to see where they
stood, they found that Arthur had penned them upon a little bluff of
land that ended steeply over a deep river, and that no way was open for
them to escape from the death of swords, unless they chose to leap on
the rocks below the cliff.
'See!' said Uriens, with a laugh, 'while we fought like wild boars, and
thought of nothing but the killing, this base-born king kept his wits
and moved us like pawns on a chessboard, we all unwitting. First, he
drew us into ambush, and now he thrusts us into a chasm. We war-wise
fighters, grown grey in battle, checkmated by a boy!'
Nevertheless, though wearied, full of dread and shame, and looking
death in the eyes, the little band of men withdrew backwards, waiting
until Arthur should command his lines of glittering knights to dash
upon the remnant of the rebel kings.