comfort me. I was but late at a jousting, and there I jousted with a
knight that is brother to good King Pellam. And a full evil kinsman is
this knight of so good a king. I smote the evil man from his horse
twice, and he was full of rage that I, an old man, should overcome him.
Therefore by treachery he assailed my son, a young and untried knight,
and slew him. And I cannot avenge my dear son, for the evil man goeth
invisible. But I pray that I may meet him in a little while.'
'Is not his name Garlon?' asked Balin.
'Ye say right,' said Sir Gwydion.
'Ah, I know him,' replied Balin, 'and I had rather meet with him than
have all the gold of this realm.'
'That shall we both do,' said his host. 'For King Pellam, his brother,
king of the land of Holy Hallows, hath made a cry in all this country,
of a great feast that shall be in twenty days, and that evil knight,
your enemy and mine, shall we see there.'
On the morrow they rode all three towards the town of King Pellam, and
when they came within the country of Holy Hallows, Sir Balin saw how
fair and happy was the land and its joyful people. Their meadows were
rich with grass, the cattle were thriving and sleek, the trees were
loaded with fruit and the cornfields full with rich ripe corn.
'Why doth it seem,' asked Balin, 'that this country is the fairest and
happiest that ever I saw?'
'It is for this,' said Sir Gwydion, 'that in the Castle of Holy
Hallows, whither we wend, King Pellam hath some holy relics of a
passing marvellous power, and while he keepeth these his land is rich
and happy, and plagues cannot enter it nor murrain, nor can pestilence
waste the people.'
When they reached the castle they found a great throng of lords and
ladies, and because Sir Gwydion had no lady with him he could not sit
at the feast. But Balin was well received and brought to a chamber, and
they unarmed him. The squires brought him a festal robe to his
pleasure, but he would not suffer them to take his sword.
'Nay,' said he, 'it is my vow that never shall I and my sword be
parted, and that vow will I keep or depart as I came.'
So they suffered him to wear it under his robe, and he was set in the
hall with his lady beside him. Anon, when the meal was ended and the
mead horns were set, Sir Balin asked his neighbour whether there was a
knight at that court named Garlon.
'Yonder he goeth,' said the knight; 'he with that dark face and
piercing eye. He is the most marvellous knight that is now living, and
though King Pellam loveth him dearly, because he is his brother, yet he
suffers bitterly the evil magic of Sir Garlon. For that knight rideth
invisible, and slays so that none may know how they get their death.'
Sir Balin's heart rose at these words, and he trembled with his great
anger.
'Ah, well,' said the good knight. 'And that is he?'
He considered long within himself what he should do.
'If I slay him here in this crowded hall,' he said, 'I shall surely not
escape, and if I leave him now, peradventure I shall never meet with
him again, and much evil will he do if he be let to live.'
He could not remove his eyes from Sir Garlon where he walked between
the tables, proudly talking and laughing with those he knew, and making
soft speeches to ladies, though many showed fear of him, and crossed
their fingers while he spoke to them, to fend off the evil of his eyes.
Very soon Sir Garlon noticed the fixed, stern look of Sir Balin, and
came across to him and flicked his gauntlet across his face.
'This shall make thee remember me when next thou seest me, knight,' he
said. 'But thou hadst better do what thou camest for, and fill thyself
with mead.'
'Thou sayest sooth,' said Balin, and clutched the sword under his robe.
'Too long hast thou done evil and despite, and now will I do that for
which I came.'
Rising, he drew his sword fiercely and swiftly, and cleaved the head of
Garlon to the shoulders.
'Give me the truncheon wherewith he slew thy brother!' said Balin to
the damsel beside him.
From beneath her robe the lady brought forth the broken truncheon, and
striding to the slain man, Sir Balin thrust it fiercely into his body.
'Now,' cried he aloud, 'with this lance thou didst treacherously slay a
good knight, and for that and all thy other cruel murders have I slain
thee.'
With that arose a great outcry, and men ran from the tables towards Sir
Balin to slay him, and the foremost of them was King Pellam, who rushed
towards him, crying:
'Thou hast slain my brother when he bore no sword, and thou shalt
surely die.'
'Well,' said Balin, 'come and do it thyself.'
'I shall do it,' said Pellam, 'and no man shall touch thee but me, for
the love of my brother.'
Pellam snatched an axe from the hands of one standing by, and smote
eagerly at Balin; but Balin put his sword between his head and the
stroke, and the sword was struck from his hand.
Then, weaponless, Balin dashed through the circle of guests towards a
door, looking for a weapon while he ran, but none could he find. King
Pellam followed closely behind him, and so they ran from chamber to
chamber, and up the narrow stair within the wall, until at the last
Balin found that he was near the top of the tower, and thought that now
he must surely be slain, for no weapon had he found.
Suddenly he came upon a door, and bursting it open he found himself in
a large room marvellously bright and richly dight, and with a bed
arrayed with cloth of gold, and one old and white and reverend lying
therein. And by the side of the bed was a table of virgin gold on
pillars of pure silver, and on it stood a spear, strangely wrought.
Balin seized the spear, and turned upon King Pellam, who stood still in
the doorway with terror in his eyes. But, marking naught of this, Balin
thrust at him with the spear, and struck it in his side, and King
Pellam with a great cry fell to the ground.
With that stroke the walls of the castle drove together and fell in
ruins to the ground, and a great cry of lamentation beat to and fro
from far and near, and Balin lay under the stones as one dead.
After three days Merlin came and drew out Balin from the ruins, and
nourished and healed him. He also recovered his sword and got him a
good horse, for his own was slain. Then he bade him ride out of that
country without delay.
'And never more shall you have ease,' said Merlin. 'For by the stroke
of that spear with intent to slay King Pellam thou hast done such a
dolorous deed that not for many years shall its evil cease to work.'
'What have I done?' said Balin.
'Thou wouldst have slain a man with the very spear that Longius the
Roman thrust into the side of our Lord Jesus when He suffered on the
Rood; and by that thou hast defiled it, and caused such ill that never
shall its tale be ended until a stainless knight shall come, one of
those who shall achieve the Holy Graal.'
'It repents me,' said Balin heavily, 'but the adventure was forced upon
me.'
As he rode through the land, he saw how it seemed that a dire
pestilence had swept over it; for where he had seen the golden corn
waving in miles of smiling fields, he saw it now blackened along the
ground; the trees were stripped of their leaves and fruit, the cattle
lay dead in the meads, and the fish rotted in the streams, while in the
villages lay the people dead or dying in shattered or roofless
cottages.
As he passed, those that were alive cursed him, and called down upon
him the wrath of Heaven.
'See, see,' they cried, 'thou murderous knight, how the evil stroke
thou gavest to King Pellam by that hallowed spear hath destroyed this
happy land! Go! thou foul knight, and may the vengeance strike thee
soon!'
Balin went on, heavy of mind, for he knew not why he had been caused to
do this evil.
For many days he passed through the saddened land, and he felt that in
a little while death would meet him.
Then suddenly one day he came upon a castle in a wood, and he heard a
horn blow, as it had been at the death of a beast.
'Here,' said Balin, 'shall I meet my death-wound, for that blast was
blown for me.'
As he came on the green before the castle, many ladies and knights met
him and welcomed him with fair semblance, and gave him good cheer.
'Now,' said the lady of the castle, when he had eaten, 'ye must do a
joust for me with a knight hereby who hath won from me a fair island in
a stream, and he hath overcome every knight that hath essayed to win it
back for me.'
'Well, as you claim it for your good cheer,' said Balin, 'I will e'en
joust, though both I and my horse are spent with travelling, and my
heart is heavy. Nevertheless, show me the place.'
'But, sir,' said a knight, 'thou shouldst change thy shield for a
bigger. For the strange knight is a strong one and a hardy.'
Balin cared not, and so took the shield with a device upon it that was
not his own. Then he and his horse were led to a great barge, and so
they were poled across the wide stream to an island.
When Balin had landed and mounted his horse, he rode a little way
towards a stout tower, and from it a knight issued, his armour all in
red, and the trappings of his horse of the same colour. They couched
their lances and came marvellously fast together, and smote each other
in the midmost of their shields; and the shock of their spears was so
great that it bore down both horses and men, and for a little while the
knights were dazed.
The stranger rose up first, for Balin was much bruised and wearied; and
the red knight drew his sword and came towards Balin, who thereupon got
upon his feet, and they fought most fiercely together. So they fought
till their breaths failed.
Many were the bouts they fought, and they rested oftentimes, and then
to battle again, so that in a little while the grass of the sward where
they struggled was red with the blood of their wounds.
But the more wearied they were the fiercer they fought to vanquish each
the other, so that their hauberks were in tatters, their helms were
broken, and their shields were rived and cracked. At the last the red
knight could not lift his shield for weakness, and then he went back a
little and fell down.
Balin also sank to the ground, faint with his wounds, and as he lay he
cried out:
'What knight art thou? for ere now I never found a knight that matched
me.'
The other answered him faintly:
'My name is Balan, brother to the good knight Balin!'
'Alas!' said Balin, 'that ever I should see the day!' And therewith he
fell back in a swoon.
Then Balan crawled on all fours, feet and hands, and put off the helm
of his brother, and might hardly know him by his face, so hewn and
stained it was. Balan wept and kissed his face, and with that Balin
awoke.
'O Balan, my brother, thou hast slain me and I thee!'
'Alas!' said Balan, 'but I knew thee not, my brother. Hadst thou had
thine own shield, I would have known thy device of the two swords.'
'Ah, 'twas part of the evil hap that hath followed me,' cried Balin. 'I
know not why.'
Then they both swooned, and the lady of the castle came and would have
had them taken to a chamber. But Balan awoke and said:
'Let be! let be! No leech can mend us. And I would not live more, for I
have slain my dear brother and he me!'
Balin woke up therewith, and put his hand forth, and his brother
clasped it in his, very eagerly.
'Little brother,' said Balin, 'I cannot come to thee--kiss me!' When
they had kissed, they swooned again, and in a little while Balin died,
but Balan did not pass until midnight.
'Alas! alas!' cried the lady, weeping for very pity, 'that ever this
should be. Two brothers that have played together about their mother's
knees to slay each other unwittingly!'
On the morrow came Merlin, and made them be buried richly in the green
place where they had fought, and on their tomb he caused to be written
in letters of gold, deep and thick, these words: 'Here lie Sir Balin
and his brother Sir Balan, who, unwittingly, did most pitifully slay
each other: and this Sir Balin was, moreover, he that smote the
dolorous stroke. Whereof the end is not yet.'
III
HOW LANCELOT WAS MADE A KNIGHT. THE FOUR WITCH QUEENS, AND THE
ADVENTURES AT THE CHAPEL PERILOUS
When King Arthur was arrived at the age of twenty-five, his knights and
barons counselled that he should take a queen, and his choice fell upon
Gwenevere, the daughter of King Leodegrance, of the land of Cameliard.
This damsel was the most beautiful and the most gracious in all the
realm of Britain.
When the marriage was arranged between her father and Merlin, King
Leodegrance said that, for her dowry, instead of broad lands, of which
King Arthur had many, he would give to Arthur the Table Round, which
Uther Pendragon had in friendship given to him many years before. For,
as King Arthur was already famous for his prowess and nobleness and his
love of knightly men and brave deeds, Leodegrance knew that this would
be a gift beloved of Arthur.
With the table were to go the knights who were its company. It seated
one hundred and fifty when it was complete, but many had been slain,
and now they numbered but a hundred.
When King Arthur heard from Merlin of the coming of Gwenevere, with the
hundred knights bearing the Round Table with them, he was very glad,
'for,' said he, 'their noble company pleaseth me more than great
riches.' He charged Merlin to go and espy through all the land of
Britain for another fifty knights, so that the tale of the noble
company of the Round Table should be complete.
Now, it chanced that while Arthur sat in the hall of his palace at
London, waiting for Gwenevere to come to him, and for Merlin to return
from his quest, King Ban, who had aided him in his fierce battle
against the eleven kings, sent his young son Lancelot to Arthur's
court, to learn knightly deeds and noble prowess.
None knew who he was but Arthur, who kept the matter secret. Many had
smiled at the huge limbs of Lancelot, until his great strength had
caused them to respect him; and being but a young man he had not yet
got all the courtly bearing and noble manners for which in later time
he was famous throughout all Christendom. So that many knights and
ladies smiled sourly upon him, but others saw that he would shortly
prove a fine man of his hands, full courteous and gentle, and of a
noble nature and great presence.
At the court was also young Gawaine, son of King Lot, and nephew of the
king. Both Lancelot and Gawaine were as yet not knighted, but together
they tilted at each other in the lists beyond the walls, and spent
their days in sword-play and all knightly exercises. Lancelot was the
stronger and the better fighter; and though Gawaine never overcame him,
yet did they twain love each other passing well.
Now Gawaine went to the king one day, and asked of him a gift, and King
Arthur said he would grant it.
'Sir,' said Gawaine, while Lancelot stood a little way off, fondling
the hounds that licked at his hand, 'I ask that ye will make me knight
the same day that ye shall wed fair Gwenevere.'
'I will do it with a good will,' said the king. 'And Lancelot,' he
said, calling to the young man, 'have ye no boon to ask of me?'
'Not at this time, sir,' replied Lancelot, 'but in a little while I
may.'
Into the hall next day, as the king sat at dinner, came an old woman,
bent and feeble, but with reverend white hair and gentle face, and she
kneeled at the king's feet.
'What is it, dame?' said Arthur. 'What is't you crave?'
'Justice, lord king,' she said in a weak voice, while the tears gushed
from her eyes. 'Or else I die beside the gate where you do give the
justice that all men praise.'
'Who hath done evil to you?' said the king.
'Sir Caradoc of the Dolorous Tower in the Marsh,' replied the old
woman. 'I and my son, lord, did build a little hut of wattle on a
little plot which we banked from the marsh, near the great wall of the
rich baron, deeming it safe to rest within the shadow of the strong
lord, and though his hard rule was hateful to those whom he oppressed,
we were so humble that we thought he would not notice us. And meagrely
we reared our living from the ground, and sold our poor herbs to Sir
Caradoc his steward, or to the people in the villages in the marsh
about us. But soon the Lord Caradoc desired the land on which our
little hut was standing, to make his lands the broader. He tore our
poor home down, and scattered all, and thrust us out to wander in the
marshes; and when my poor son pleaded with the lord, he had him
whipped, and he was brought and cast half dead at my feet as I waited
outside the hall. Now if thou givest us not justice, we shall surely
die.'
'Doth any know Sir Caradoc?' asked the king of his knights.
'Yea, sir,' said one, 'and he is a great man of his hands, fierce and
bold, of strong family, and his brother is Sir Turquine of Camber, who
tried to slay thee at Caerleon, and was with the eleven kings in
battle. Sir Caradoc liveth in a strong tower beyond the marshes to the
south of the river, and he slayeth all that desire to pass them, unless
they pay him all he demands.'
'What!' said the king with fierce anger, 'within a few miles of this my
justice-seat doth such tyranny rule unchecked, and ye tell me naught of
it? Are ye then more fearful of this marsh robber than of me your
king?'
The knights hung their heads abashed, and were silent.
Then Lancelot came and stood before the king.
'Let me, sir king, go and summon this tyrant to your presence,' he
said, 'so that this poor dame may have justice, and that ye may punish
him for his oppression.'
'I fear me, Lancelot, thou art over young for so fierce a knight,' said
Arthur.
'I shall but bear thy words, sir,' said Lancelot, and he will not harm
thy messenger.'
'Take two stout men-at-arms with you, then,' said Arthur, 'and say to
this Sir Caradoc that if he come not back with thee to answer unto me,
I will come and take his life and burn his evil tower to the ground.'
Many of the younger men that had despite against Lancelot for his
greater prowess at the sword and the lance thought that now, indeed,
they would be ridded of him, for they deemed Sir Caradoc would slay
him.
Two days later came young Lancelot back with his two men-at-arms, and
with them, bound upon a great horse, was a full fierce and raging
knight, red of face, large of body, his clothes all tossed and torn,
and his mouth full of dire threatenings against Lancelot. Men made way
for them marvelling, and together Lancelot and his captive rode up the
hall to the king.
'Here, lord, is Sir Caradoc of the Dolorous Tower in the Marsh,' said
Lancelot. 'He would not come when I gave him your message, so I bided
my time until he was sunk in wine, and was sleeping alone, and I have
brought him secretly from his hold. Now, lord king, I think Sir Caradoc
would joust with me, if you will give me knighthood.'
'Joust with thee, thou smooth-faced boy!' cried Sir Caradoc, straining
at his bonds. 'I will spit thee on my lance if I may get at thee, and
when thou art slain I will fight with this little king of thine--and
his death shall wipe out this insult thou hast put upon me!'
At his rage and fierce bearing men marvelled and many were afeared,
seeing that Sir Caradoc was great in lands and kinsmen, and big of his
body.
'Thou art full young, Lancelot,' said Arthur, 'to joust with so strong
a knight. Let an older man have ado with him.'
'Sir king,' cried Lancelot eagerly, 'I claim the first battle with this
strong tyrant. He is my captive, and I claim it.'
'Have it as ye will,' said Arthur, 'and God speed you. But I misdoubt
me much 'twill end in your sorrow.'
'Ay, and thine too, thou gentle lady's knight!' sneered Sir Caradoc.
'Peace, man, peace,' said the king sternly. 'I think God will fight in
this battle, for I have inquired far, and the tale of thy evil deeds is
over-full.'
Therewith King Arthur made young Lancelot knight, and men eagerly
rushed away to the tilting-ground to see the battle between the virgin
knight, Sir Lancelot, and the old robber knight, Sir Caradoc. And when
Sir Caradoc was released and armed, he laughed and shook his lance, so
sure was he of revenge right speedily.
Then they hurtled together most fiercely, and young Sir Lancelot was
thrust from his horse by Sir Caradoc. Quickly he rose from the ground,
and dressed his shield and drew his sword, and cried, 'Alight, Sir
Caradoc, for I will fight thee on foot.' But Sir Caradoc, being
traitorous, rode at Sir Lancelot with his spear, as if he would pin him
to the earth, and the young knight had much ado to avoid him. All the
knights cried out upon Sir Caradoc for a foul knight, and for shame he
threw down his lance and alighted, and rushed at Sir Lancelot full
fiercely, in order to slay him instantly.
But that was not easily to be done, for however wise Sir Caradoc was in
sword-play, he was mad with wrath, and therefore thought of naught but
to slay his enemy instantly. He raged like a wild boar, and gave Sir
Lancelot many evil strokes, yet never did he beat down the young
knight's guard. Soon men perceived that Sir Caradoc's great fierceness
was causing him to make blind strokes, and then Sir Lancelot seemed the
more wary. Suddenly they saw the young knight leap forward, and beat so
heavily upon the other's helm that it cracked. Sir Caradoc strove to
guard himself, but Sir Lancelot was so wroth, and so mighty of his
blows, that he could not. At last Sir Lancelot beat him to his knees,
and then thrust him grovelling to the ground. Sir Lancelot bade him
yield, but he would not, and still sought to thrust at the other. Then
the young knight struck at him between the neck and the head and slew
him.
Both the knights and the common people shouted with joy, and acclaimed
Sir Lancelot as a noble and mighty knight. But the young man was full
modest, and withdrew from the press. King Arthur gave unto him the
Dolorous Tower and the lands which had belonged to Sir Caradoc, and
Lancelot caused the old dame and her son to be given a fair piece of
land and a hut, and many other wrongs and evil customs that had been
done by Sir Caradoc, Sir Lancelot caused to be righted.
The kinsmen of Sir Caradoc went apart and conspired to have Sir
Lancelot slain, but for a long time they could not come at him.
Then, when the queen came unto King Arthur, there was great feasting
and joustings and merry games, and Sir Lancelot, for his knightly
prowess in the lists, and for his gentle courtesy and noble manners to
all, both poor and rich, high and low, was sought by many, and for some
time rested himself in knightly games and play.
Then, on a day in June, when a sudden wind from a lattice blew upon his
face as he laughed and jested with ladies and knights in silks and rich
garments, he bethought him of the fair green woods and the wide lands
through which lonely roads were winding. And departing from the hall
forthwith, he bade his horse and arms be brought to him, and rode into
a deep forest, and thought to prove himself in strange adventures.
Thus faring, he rode for two days and met with naught. On the third day
the weather was hot about noon, and Sir Lancelot had great list to
sleep. He espied a great apple-tree full of white blossoms, and a fair
shadow was beneath it, and he alighted and tied his horse unto a thorn,
and laid his helmet under his head and slept.
While he thus lay, there rode by him on white mules four ladies of
great estate, with four knights about them, who bore a canopy of green
silk on four spears, so that the high sun should not touch the faces of
the ladies. Then, as they rode by, they heard a war-horse grimly neigh,
and looking aside, they were aware of Sir Lancelot all armed, and
asleep under the apple-tree.
The ladies came nigh him, and of them there was Queen Morgan le Fay,
who was wife of King Lot, and an evil witch; the Queen of Northgales, a
haughty lady; the Lady of the Out-Isles; and the Lady of the Marshes.
And when the Lady of the Marshes saw the knight she cried:
'Now this is as good hap as ever could be, for this is he that slew my
brother, Sir Caradoc of the Dolorous Tower; and for revenge of that, I
would have this knight taken to my tower and torture him before I slay
him.'
'That is well said,' said Morgan le Fay, 'for he bids fair to be one of
the most strong knights of Arthur, whom I hate. This man, Sir Lancelot
du Lake, is the favourite of all the ladies at that court, who hate me.
So will I lay an enchantment on him, so that he shall sleep.'
Then the evil queen laid her hands over the face of Sir Lancelot, and
said strange words that none could understand, and then he was laid
across the crupper of one of the knights' horses, and he did not wake.