lady, that now that you speak kindly to me, it gladdens me greatly, and
I feel that there is no knight living whom I could not strike down for
the sake of yourself and your lady sister.'
By this time Sir Persaunt had seen them, and had sent a squire to ask
Beaumains whether he came in peace or war.
'If he will not let us pass,' replied Beaumains, 'it shall be war.'
At that they saw Sir Persaunt array himself in his armour and mount his
horse, and now he came rushing across the field at utmost speed, his
lance in rest. Beaumains also made his horse leap forward swiftly, and
the two knights met with so great a force that both their lances
splintered in many pieces, and their horses fell dead upon the field.
But the two knights instantly disentangled themselves, and fought on
foot with shield and sword. So furiously did they hurl themselves at
each other that often they fell to the ground. For two hours the duel
raged, till their hauberks were tattered and their shields were hacked,
while both were sorely bruised and wounded.
At length Beaumains thrust Sir Persaunt in the side, and the latter's
attack became less eager. Finally Beaumains hit the other so great a
stroke that he fell headlong, and instantly Beaumains leaped astride of
him and unlashed his helm, as if about to slay him.
Then Sir Persaunt yielded him and pleaded for his life, and the lady,
who had stood watching the combat, ran forward, placed her hand on Sir
Beaumains' sword arm, and cried:
'Of your mercy, Sir Beaumains, yield him his life for my sake.'
'I do it willingly,' cried he, helping the knight to rise, 'for he hath
nobly fought and so deserves not to die.'
'Gramercy,' said Sir Persaunt, 'and now I know thou art the strong
knight who slew my brothers the Black Knight of the Thorn and the Green
Knight of the Wood. And now I will be your man, and five hundred
knights of mine shall do your service as and when you will.'
And that night they supped bounteously in Sir Persaunt's castle, and
the lady besought Beaumains to sit by her at the same table, and all
three made merry company.
In the morning, after they had heard mass and broken their fast,
Beaumains and the lady set out again, and Sir Persaunt went with them
to the drawbridge.
'Fair lady,' said he, 'where dost thou lead this valiant knight?'
'Sir,' said the lady, 'he is going to raise the siege which hath been
set by the tyrant knight of the Reed Lands.'
'Ah, then he goes to Castle Dangerous, and on the most perilous
adventure that any man could take. For they say the Red Knight hath the
strength of seven men. And he doth oppress one of the fairest and
sweetest ladies in the world. I think you are her sister, Dame Linet?'
'That is my name,' replied the lady, 'and my sister is Dame Lyones.'
'This Red Knight is the most dangerous knight in the world,' said Sir
Persaunt to Beaumains, 'and hath besieged that fair lady these two
years. Many times he might have forced her for terror to have married
him, but he keeps the siege in hopes that Sir Lancelot or even King
Arthur would come to rescue the lady. For he hateth all true knights,
but those two with most bitterness.'
So they parted from Sir Persaunt and rode onwards, and the lady spoke
now full friendly to Beaumains.
In a little while, when they had passed through a fair forest, they
came upon a plain, and in the distance was a high castle with many
tents about it, and men passing to and fro between them. And as they
rode under some withered trees by the edge of the forest, they saw,
hanging by their necks from the bare boughs, many goodly knights in
armour, with their shields and swords hung before them.
At this shameful sight Beaumains checked his horse and asked: 'What
means this?'
'Fair sir,' said Linet, 'abate not your cheer at this dreadful sight,
for ye have need now of all your courage, or else are we all shamed and
destroyed. These dead knights are those who have come against the Red
Knight trying to rescue my sister from his power. But the tyrant knight
hath overcome them, and slain them thus shamefully by hanging.'
'Now Heaven aid me,' said Beaumains, 'for this is a most shameful and
unknightly custom, and well doth that evil knight deserve death.'
'Nevertheless he is a knight of great prowess and force, though of evil
custom,' replied the lady, 'and no one hath ever borne him down in
battle.'
With that they came to a sycamore-tree which stood alone in the plain,
and on it was hung a great horn of elephant bone, with gold work
curiously wrought.
'Fair sir, ye must blow that horn if ye wish to do battle with the Red
Knight. But, sir,' went on the lady quickly, and caught at Beaumains'
arm that already had lifted the horn, 'be ye not overbold. It is now
the hour of prime, and it is said that the Red Knight's force
increaseth to the strength of seven men until it is noon. Wait,
therefore, until noon shall be past, and his strength shall diminish.'
'Nay, nay,' said Beaumains, 'speak not thus to me. I will assail him
however mighty he be, and either I will beat him or die with honour in
the field.'
Therewith he lifted the horn and blew so great a blast that instantly
knights came in a great press from the tents, and people looked out
from the walls and windows of the castle.
Then Beaumains saw a tall man come running from a tent, arming himself
as he came. Two barons set his spurs upon his heels and an earl buckled
his helm upon his head. He was all in red armour, from the plume which
waved upon his crest to the cloth which was upon his horse. And his
shield was all of red, with but a black heart in the centre thereof.
Then he waited for Beaumains in a little hollow before the castle, so
that all that were therein might see the combat.
'Now, fair sir,' said Linet, 'it behoves you to have great courage and
heart, for yonder is your deadliest enemy, and at yonder window is my
lady sister, Dame Lyones.'
Beaumains looked to where Linet was pointing, and saw at a window the
loveliest lady he had ever seen. And as he looked she smiled and bowed
to him, and he felt his heart burn with love for her.
'Truly,' he said, 'she is the fairest lady I have ever looked upon, and
she shall be my lady.'
'Cease thy looking at that lady,' called the Red Knight in a harsh and
angry voice. 'She is my lady, and soon shall she see thy foolish body
swinging from the tree for the ravens to pluck, as others hang there
afore thee.'
''Tis for that shameful sight and for the love of this lady that hates
you and your evil custom, that I am resolved to slay you, if God so
wills,' was the stern reply of Beaumains.
'A boastful rogue thou art,' cried the Red Knight, and laughed
scornfully. 'What is thy name, and whence come ye, Sir Black Knight?
For surely from your talk you must be one of those prating and soft
fools of the Round Table?'
'I will not tell thee my name,' said Beaumains. 'And as yet I am not of
the worshipful company of King Arthur's Round Table. But when I have
slain thee and rid the world of so shameful a knight, then shall I
crave the king to receive me into that high fellowship of noble and
courteous knights.'
'Make thee ready!' shouted the Red Knight in a furious voice. 'I will
talk no more with thee.'
With that they withdrew a little from each other, and then, spurring
their horses, and with lances in rest, they hurled themselves towards
each other. With so great a crash did they come together that both
their spears were broken into a hundred pieces, and their breastplates,
girths and cruppers burst, and the two knights fell to the ground half
stunned with the shock.
But in a little while they avoided their struggling horses, and leaping
towards each other with their swords, they cut and hacked each the
other so fiercely that great pieces of their shields and armour flew
off.
Thus they fought till it was past noon, and would not stop, till at
last they both lacked wind, and thus they stood swaying, staggering,
panting, yet feinting and striking with what strength they had. The Red
Knight was a cunning fighter, and Beaumains learned much from him,
though it was at the cost of many a gaping wound.
When it was evensong they rested by mutual accord, and seated on two
molehills near the fighting place, they had their helms taken off by
their pages and their worse wounds bound up. Then Beaumains lifted up
his eyes to the lady at the window, and saw how her looks were tender
with pity for him.
So heartened was he at the sight that he started up swiftly, and bade
the Red Knight make him ready to do battle once more to the uttermost.
Then they rushed fiercely at each other, and the fight raged more hotly
than ever. At length, by cunning, the Red Knight suddenly struck
Beaumains' sword from his hand, and before he could recover it, the Red
Knight had with a great buffet thrown him to the ground, and had fallen
upon him to keep him down.
Then cried the Lady Linet piteously:
'O Sir Beaumains! Sir Beaumains! where is your great heart? My lady
sister beholds you, and she sobs and weeps, for surely she feels the
evil Red Knight hath her almost in his power!'
At that, so great a rage possessed Beaumains, that with one great
effort he thrust the Red Knight from him, and, leaping up, he seized
his sword again, and so fiercely did he beat upon his enemy that the
Red Knight sank to his knees, and then was thrust grovelling to the
ground.
Beaumains leaped astride him, and cut the fastenings of his helm. Then
the Red Knight shrieked for mercy.
'Thou recreant and coward!' said Beaumains. 'Did not any of those
knights that thou hast hung cry to thee for mercy? What pity and what
mercy didst thou give them? And thou deservest none from me, nor from
any man!'
With that he slew him at a stroke, and the people in the castle cried
out with joy.
Their leader being dead, his following of earls, barons and knights
came and did homage to Beaumains, and he commanded that instantly they
should betake themselves to the court of King Arthur and yield them
into his hands.
Then for ten days the Lady Linet made Beaumains rest him in the Red
Knight's tent, while she tended his many sore wounds. But ever
Beaumains desired to go into the castle to see the lady he loved, but
his hurts forbade him.
On the eleventh day he would no longer be denied, but having armed
himself, all except his helm, which his page carried, he rode up to the
castle gate. But as he came thither he saw many armed men, who pulled
up the drawbridge before him, so that he should not enter.
Therewith he saw a knight at a window, who called to him.
'Fair sir, I am Sir Gringamor, brother to the Lady Lyones,' said the
knight. 'I will that ye enter not yet. We know that you have proved
yourself a bold and brave fighter, but we know not who you are.
Therefore, unless you tell me your name and kindred, I may not suffer
my sister to see you.'
'I know naught of thee, sir knight,' cried Beaumains sternly. 'My
business is with the lady, from whom I think I deserve a little
kindness, for I have bought her deliverance and her love with some of
the best blood in my body. Must I go away then, thinking she cares more
for a name and noble lineage than for brave deeds and devotion? Tell
me, Sir Gringamor, is this the will of the Lady Lyones?'
'Ye have but to tell us thy name and of thy lineage, brave man,' said
Sir Gringamor.
'Nay, that I will not!' said Beaumains, for his heart was hot with
shame and anger. 'If I were but a churl, I should reckon myself a
nobler man than the recreant knight from whom I have rescued you and
your sister. But since he was a knight, it seems ye would reckon him as
of greater honour than the brave churl that slew him for his evil
deeds.'
'Nay, nay, it is not so!' came a sweet voice crying in tears, and Sir
Beaumains saw the tender face of the Lady Lyones at the window where
Sir Gringamor had been. 'My brave knight, think not ill of me, for this
is none of my will, for I am mocked and my pleasure denied in my own
castle by this my over-careful brother. I love thee, sir knight,
whatsoever thou art, for I feel that thou art gentle and brave, and as
good a man as any lady might love. And I beg you go not far from me,
for I will have my will erelong, and I tell you now that I trust you,
and I shall be true to you, and unto my death I shall love you and no
other. And whenever I may come to you I will, in spite of this my
brother.'
Saying these words, the lady sobbed as if her heart would break, and
hiding her face in her hands she was led away by her women.
With that Beaumains' heart smote him, and he was resolved to reveal his
name and lineage for the sake of the dear lady who loved him. But even
as he thought this, he was aware of a party of knights coming towards
him from the plain, and soon he recognised that they were of the
company of King Arthur's Round Table.
And the foremost knight, who bore his helm in his hand, rode forward to
him, crying:
'O Gareth, Gareth, my brother, how hast thou deceived us all!'
Then did Sir Beaumains clasp the other's hand right warmly, for this
was his own brother, Sir Gaheris, sent from King Arthur to bring him
home.
When Sir Gringamor knew of the coming of these knights, quickly he bade
the drawbridge to be lowered, and in a little while the knights were
being welcomed in the hall.
'Sir Gringamor,' said Sir Gaheris, 'I find that I come at a lucky
chance for the happiness of my brother. Already the fame of his brave
deeds has reached King Arthur, for the knights he hath overcome have
put themselves in the mercy of the king.'
'Sir Knight of the Round Table,' said Sir Gringamor, 'tell me who is
this brave knight that will not say his name?'
'He is Sir Gareth, my brother, the youngest son of the King of Orkney,'
replied Sir Gaheris, 'and fit for the highest lady in the land. He hath
played this trick upon us all, to test us. We did not know him, for he
hath grown up to manhood while we have been long away from home. But
ever he hath had an adventurous and witty mind.'
'Sir, I thank you,' said Sir Gringamor, and taking Sir Gareth by the
hand he led him into the bower where sat the Lady Lyones, who sprang to
meet Sir Gareth. To her Sir Gringamor told all that he had heard, and
then left Sir Gareth to tell her more of himself.
And in a little while, at the court of King Arthur, they were married
with great feastings and joustings and with all things to make merry.
And Linet was wedded at the same time to Sir Gaheris. For though the
Lady Linet was sharp of tongue, she was of great and good heart, and
well beloved of all who knew her well.
V
HOW SIR TRISTRAM KEPT HIS WORD
In the days when King Arthur had established his kingdom, he was called
Emperor of Britain and its three islands. Nevertheless, there were
kings who were rulers in their own lands, but they held their
sovereignty of Arthur and had done homage to him and sworn fealty. In
Wales there were two kings, in the north were eleven kings, and these
he had conquered in a great battle by Sherwood Forest; in Cornwall were
two kings, and in Ireland three kings, but all gave service to the
great King Arthur.
That part of Cornwall which was called the lands of Tintagel formed the
kingdom of a prince named Mark, and he owed certain yearly tribute or
truage to King Anguish of South Ireland. It befell one day that King
Anguish sent a messenger, who came to King Mark as he sat in hall, and
said:
'Sir king, my master bids me say that the truage which you owe unto him
is unpaid for seven years past, and if it be not paid he will demand of
you double the sum.'
Now King Mark was a man of a mean and covetous mind, and he loved not
to give money. Therefore, to put off the payment for a little while, he
made answer thus:
'Tell your master that we will pay him no truage; and if your lord says
he will have it, let him send a trusty knight of his land that will
fight for his right, and we will find another to do battle with him.'
When King Anguish heard the message he was wondrous wroth, and called
into him the brother of his queen, Sir Marhaus, a good knight of
prowess nobly proved, and, besides, a knight of the Round Table. The
king craved of him to go and do battle for the truage due from Mark of
Cornwall.
'Sir,' said Sir Marhaus, 'I will gladly go and do battle for you on
this saucy king or his knight. I ween ye shall have your truage to the
last groat, for I fear not the best knight of the Round Table, unless
it be Sir Lancelot, and I doubt not King Mark hath no knight of such
worth and prowess as I.'
So in all haste Sir Marhaus set forth in a ship, and in a little while
cast anchor fast by the shore where, on two high cliffs, the castle of
Tintagel frowned upon the sea. When King Mark understood that so noble
a knight as Sir Marhaus had come to do battle for the truage, he was
full of sorrow, and wept as he looked upon the bags of gold in his
treasure-chest. He knew of no knight of his court that durst face Sir
Marhaus, and he feared much that he would have to part with his gold.
Daily Sir Marhaus sent a message up to the castle gate, demanding
payment of the truage, or that a knight should come forth to do battle
against him.
Then King Mark let make a proclamation through all the lands, that if a
knight would fight to save the truage of Cornwall he should fare the
better as long as he lived. But the days and weeks went by and no
knight came forward. Then Sir Marhaus sent at the last a message which
said, that if within a day and a night a champion for King Mark came
not forward, he should depart.
All that day King Mark was sore and ill of mind and haggard of face,
and could never stay still, but was for ever faring with his barons to
where he could look down upon the ship of Sir Marhaus, and see the
knight waiting in his armour.
Late in the afternoon, as the king stood thus, gnawing his nails for
rage, and so hot and wrathful that none of his barons dare speak to
him, there came two horsemen riding swiftly into the courtyard of the
castle, and at the sound of their horses' feet King Mark turned
eagerly.
A young squire was the foremost rider, and he was a youth full handsome
and tall, with brown curly hair and blue eyes. He was dressed in a
surcoat of red satin and a mantle of crimson, trimmed with gold; and on
his head was a cap of rich purple, and his feet and legs were clad in
fine leather, with gold bosses on his shoes. Alighting easily, he
doffed his hat and came towards the king:
'Sir,' said he, 'if ye will give me the order of knighthood, I shall do
battle to the uttermost with Sir Marhaus of Ireland.'
King Mark looked the young man up and down, and saw that though he was
young of age, yet he was passing well made of body, with broad
shoulders and of big limbs. The heart of King Mark became light.
'Fair son,' he said, and his barons marvelled at his soft words, 'what
are ye and whence come ye?'
'Sir,' said the youth, 'I come from King Talloch, Prince of Lyones, and
I am a gentleman's son.'
'And your name and birthplace--what are they?'
'My name is Tristram, sir, and I was born in Lyones.'
'Young sir,' said the king, 'I like your manner, and I think ye should
be a good man of your hands. Therefore will I make you knight if ye
will fight with Sir Marhaus.'
'That is why I have come,' said Tristram.
Eagerly the king bade a baron give him his sword, and commanded
Tristram to kneel, and then and there he tapped his shoulder with the
flat of the sword and bade him rise, 'Sir Tristram of Lyones.'
The king commanded his scrivener to come to him, and on the low wall
overlooking the sea the man of inkhorn and goosequill laid his
parchment, and wrote a letter to Sir Marhaus at the king's dictation,
saying that a knight would battle with him in the morning. A messenger
was sent therewith without delay, and the king went into supper,
snapping his fingers and joking with his barons in great glee.
But in the midst of supper a parchment was brought to the king and his
face fell, and he commanded the new-made knight to come from his seat
and stand before him.
'Hark ye,' he said, his face dark, 'this prideful Sir Marhaus, waiting
so long, hath made his terms the harder. I fear, good fellow, your
knighthood hath been earned of me too easily, even if ye are not in
league with this pesky Irish knight,' he went on, his narrow eyes
gleaming with suspicion. 'He sayeth now that he will not fight with any
knight unless he be of blood royal on his mother's side or father's.
Say, are ye some starveling knight's brat, or what are ye?'
Sir Tristram's face went hard and his eyes flashed.
'No starveling's brat am I, king,' he said, 'unless ye are that
thyself.'
'What mean you? Have a care of your saucy tongue.'
'I fear thee not,' laughed Sir Tristram, 'but this I would have you
know. I am thy nephew, son of thy sister Elizabeth, who died in the
forest, and of King Talloch of Lyones.'
At these words the king rose from his seat and embraced Sir Tristram,
crying:
'Now, in the name of Heaven, thou art right heartily welcome unto me,
dear nephew.'
That evening he made great cheer of Sir Tristram, and had his bed made
next to his own in his own royal chamber. On the morrow the king had
Sir Tristram horsed and armed in the best manner. Then he sent a
trumpeter down to the seashore, and let Sir Marhaus know that a better
born man than he was himself would fight with him, and that his name
was Sir Tristram of Lyones, son of the King of Lyones and his queen
Elizabeth, King Mark's sister. Sir Marhaus was right blithe that he
should have to do with such a gentleman.
Then it was ordained that the two knights should battle on a little
island near the ship of Sir Marhaus, and so young Sir Tristram and his
squire were rowed thereunto, and when he departed, King Mark and his
barons and all the common people were rejoiced to see the young
knight's noble and high bearing, and wished him Godspeed.
When Sir Tristram landed he saw Sir Marhaus waiting armed in the shadow
of his ship. Sir Tristram's squire brought his master's horse to land,
and clad his master in his armour as was right, and then the young
knight mounted upon his horse and rode towards Sir Marhaus.
While he was as yet six spear-lengths from him the knight of the Round
Table cried unto him:
'Young knight, Sir Tristram, what doest thou here? I grieve me of thy
courage, for ye are untried, while I have been well essayed in jousts
and tournaments with some of the best men of their hands as are now
living. I counsel thee to go back.'
'Fair and well-proved knight,' said Sir Tristram, 'I am for thy sake
made knight, and I have promised to fight thee, and I will do so, as
much for mine uncle's sake as for what worship I may win from doing
battle with ye, who are one of the best renowned knights of the world.'
'Then I would have ye know, fair sir,' said Sir Marhaus, 'that no
worship shalt thou lose if thou canst only stand against three strokes
of mine, for, by reason of my noble deeds, seen and proved, King Arthur
made me knight of the Round Table.'
Sir Tristram answered him naught, and then they dressed their spears
and spurred their horses, and ran so fiercely each against the other
that both were smitten to the ground, both horses and men. But Sir
Marhaus had struck a great wound in the side of Sir Tristram, yet so
eager was the young knight that he knew not of it. They leaped up and
avoided their horses, and drew out their swords, and with shield on arm
they lashed at each other like fierce wild boars. Yet for all Sir
Marhaus' strong and bitter strokes he could not beat down the young
knight's guard, and in despite he began to aim at his vizor and his
neck. At this Sir Tristram was wroth, and struck him more furiously.
Thus for two hours the battle waged, and both were sore wounded. But
Sir Tristram was the fresher and better winded and bigger of limb and
reach; and suddenly he heaved his sword up high, and closing upon Sir
Marhaus he smote him with so mighty a buffet upon his helm that the
blade shore through the steel even into the brain-pan.
So fierce had been the stroke that the sword stuck fast in the bone and
the helmet, and Sir Tristram pulled thrice at his sword before it would
loosen. Sir Marhaus sank to his knees with a deathly groan; then he
threw away his sword and shield, and rising, staggered away towards his
ship. Sir Tristram swooned and fell; and his squire came running to
him, just as the men of Sir Marhaus' ship came and drew their master on
board. Then they swiftly set their sail and flew over the sea.