scorn; but when they were repeated again and again, some began half to
believe them. Many said that there must be some truth therein, for Sir
Lancelot was ever wending his way to the north country, and fought
there many battles and overcame many knights.
But others said this was because many ladies and damsels, who had lost
lands and homes and been evilly oppressed by the warring barons in
those parts, had heard of his great fame for knightly deeds and noble
manners, and came beseeching him to be their champion against those who
had robbed them.
Others said that it was but natural that when he was at the court he
should speak much to the queen, for he had from the first vowed himself
to be her knight, and many deeds of daring and prowess had he done for
her.
Yet others there were who believed that what rumour said might be true;
and others, who were good and noble knights, sorrowed to think that
such evil thoughts should be spread about by some treacherous tongues.
When men came to ask who had set these evil tongues to wag, it was
always found that a certain mean knight, named Sir Pinel, had first
spoken wrong of Lancelot and Sir Bors and the queen. And men noticed
that it was not long before the queen began to look coldly at Sir
Pinel, and then they knew that his rumours had reached her ears.
'What profit doth Sir Pinel think to gain from those false tales of
her?' said Sir Brastias one day, as he and Sir Gareth came from the
hawking together. 'For none ever reckoned him as a knight of any merit,
and all good men will now think less of him.'
'I fear me,' said Sir Gareth, 'that there is more beneath it all than
we wot of. Sir Pinel is a bosom friend of Sir Mordred's. Often have I
seen their heads together in places apart. And though he is my brother,
Sir Mordred is one I cannot love.'
'What fear you, Gareth?' asked Sir Brastias.
'I fear naught that he may do,' said Gareth, 'but I think he hates Sir
Lancelot and he hates Gawaine also, the chief of our party, because he
hath roundly told Mordred that he is a traitor, and that he will not be
drawn from his firm friendship with Sir Lancelot and his kinsmen. I
think Sir Mordred would do much to cause some ill to Gawaine or Sir
Lancelot, so long as his own evil body was not hurt.'
'Sad it is,' said Brastias full gloomily, 'to think a man of such great
kin should harbour hatred and murder against the chief of his kin. And
that such should be, methinks, betokens that evil is about to fall upon
our famous brotherhood of the Round Table, and on this dear land of
Britain.'
Now it befell that the poor queen had heard, through her maidens, of
the rumours concerning herself and Sir Lancelot, and, taking counsel of
no one, she bethought how she could prove to the remnant of the Round
Table that she was free of any plots against the king or the fair
kingdom of Britain.
She resolved that she would invite the knights to a privy dinner, and
when they had eaten she would throw herself upon their knightly pity
and honour, telling them how the evil rumours wronged and hurt her
bitterly. And she doubted not that thus their manly sympathy and
worship of her, their queen, would, by her words, cast out the evil
effects of the slanderous tales.
Therefore, at that dinner, she had Sir Gawaine and his brethren, that
is to say, Sir Gareth, Sir Agravaine, Sir Gaheris and Sir Mordred. Also
there were the kin of Sir Lancelot, to wit, Sir Bors, Sir Blamore, Sir
Bleobaris, Sir Ector de Maris, and Sir Lionel. But Sir Lancelot had
gone into the Scottish marches, to do battle with a notable robber and
oppressor there. There were other knights, making in all the number of
twenty-four. And these were all the remnant of the one hundred and
fifty that had gone forth in the Quest of the Sangreal.
Among the guests were Sir Pinel and his cousin, Sir Mador.
Now Sir Gawaine had a custom of eating apples which he used daily at
dinner and at supper. He loved all manner of fruit, and in especial a
certain brown or russet apple, which was called Afal Coch. Every one
knew of this fondness of Sir Gawaine's, and whoever dined or feasted
him took care to provide such apples for his pleasure.
The queen had known this, and among the fruit for the table she had
ordered such apples to be placed.
Now Sir Mordred, as Sir Gareth had suspected, hated Sir Gawaine with a
deep hatred, and therefore he had, by crafty dealing, taken all the
russet apples from the dish except one, and into this he had thrust a
deadly poison. He guessed that, as every one knew of Sir Gawaine's
fondness for that sort of fruit, no one would take it, but would leave
it for Sir Gawaine, who would eat it and die thereof.
When the feast was near an end, and men laughed and jested together,
the dish of fruit was handed round, and Sir Pinel, the mean knight,
noticed that there was but one of the apples which Sir Gawaine loved;
and to spite that knight, whom he hated, he took that apple, ere the
dish went to Sir Gawaine.
Sir Mordred saw him take it, yet would not cry out to warn his
fellow-traitor, for this would have revealed himself. He saw Sir
Pinel's teeth sink into the brown apple, and Sir Pinel's sneering look
as he glanced across at Sir Gawaine, who was searching vainly in the
dish for his favourite fruit.
Then Sir Mordred saw Sir Pinel's face go red, and then deadly white.
And as the poison gripped him, Sir Pinel rose shrieking from the table,
crying out that some enemy had poisoned him.
Then he sank writhing to the ground, shrieking and moaning, clutching
at the ground and at the legs of the chairs. Suddenly, with a great
groan, he lay still and was dead.
Every knight leaped from the table, ashamed, full of rage and fear,
nigh out of their wits, but dumb. They looked at each other and then at
the dead Sir Pinel, and all their eyes kept from the face of the queen,
where she sat on the high seat, with two of her ladies beside her.
The reason they could not speak was that they knew the queen had heard
of the evil tales which Sir Pinel had spread about her, and that she
must have hated him bitterly. And she had made this feast, and had
invited him thereto, and now he was dead at the board, by means of
deadly poison placed in the food which she had set before him.
Then for very shame some began to leave the chamber; and others could
not bear to look upon the queen, who sat with a face that went now
pale, now red. She had seen what happened, and who it was had been
slain, and she had read the suspicion in men's gestures.
Then the voice of Sir Mador rang out, and checked men from going from
the room, and drew all eyes to where he stood, a tall and burly man,
red and angry of face, and fierce of eyes.
'Look!' he cried, and held between his fingers and high above his head
the apple which Sir Pinel had bitten, 'this is the thing whereof my
kinsman, Sir Pinel, hath lost his life. The matter shall not end here,
for I have lost a noble knight of my blood, and I will be revenged to
the uttermost.'
Then, turning, he savagely looked at the queen, and with fierce rolling
eyes he roared out:
'Thou art the murderess! Thou--the queen! Hear me, knights and
chieftains. I charge the queen with the murder of my kinsman, Sir
Pinel, and justice upon her will I have.'
Every one in the hall stood still as if they were of stone. None could
gainsay him, none could utter a word on behalf of the queen, for all
had suspicion that she had slain Sir Pinel for his slanders of her.
Then suddenly the queen rose, white and trembling.
'My lords and knights, I did not cause it!' she cried in a broken
voice. 'I am innocent! I know not how it came!'
And therewith she fell down in a swoon.
Sir Mordred's pale face smiled with a bitter sneer. He knew not then
whether what had happened would help his evil plots or no; but he
resolved to say naught, and so went out with all the other silent
knights, whilst the ladies of the queen took her up lamenting, and bore
her to her chamber.
With the noise and the sorrow that was in the court, King Arthur came
and craved to know what was the matter; but none of the silent knights
would speak until he met Sir Gawaine, who replied, and said:
'Sir, the queen did invite us to a privy feast with her. And one of the
knights did eat of the fruit on the table, and he is dead by poison.
Therefore, I dread lest the queen will be shamed for this.'
King Arthur was passing heavy at the hearing of these words, and went
unto the queen to comfort her.
On the next day, when the king sat in hall with his two court judges,
as was his wont daily, to hear any causes or charges which might be
brought before him, all men stood with gloomy faces, and there was no
laughing and jesting talk, as was usual at this time.
Sir Mador came forward and charged the queen of murder, and required
that justice should be done upon her.
The king heard him with a sad face and in silence. Then he said:
'Fair lords and noble knights, heavy is my grief for this, and rather
would I give my life for my queen at this moment than that my tongue
should frame so evil a charge against my dear wife and your noble
queen. But I am here to see that law is done, as justly to the highest
as to the lowest. I doubt not that God will soon clear her of this
seeming evil.'
'I know not how that may be,' said Sir Mador angrily, 'for the evil
deed is clear to any man's eyes.'
'I deem this deed was never done by my queen, nor by her desire,' said
the king sternly, 'but by some traitor that would do her evil and
wishes to see her die. But as I am her judge, I may not be her champion
and fight against you for her fair fame. I doubt not, however, that
some good knight will take this charge upon himself, and put his body
in jeopardy for my queen. For if this be not done, dost thou know what
is the penalty?'
'She must be burnt,' said Mador sullenly. 'But she hath done the deed
and will merit the doom.'
'Cease, hasty man,' said King Arthur sternly; 'it goeth to my heart to
hear ye pronounce the doom thou wouldst visit upon that fair lady. Fear
not, Sir Mador, she shall find some good knight to do combat for her.
Therefore do thou name thy day of battle.'
'But hark ye, lord,' said Sir Mador, 'there is none of the
four-and-twenty knights that were bidden to this dinner that hath not
suspicion of the queen for this deed. Therefore, no knight can take
this charge upon him in her behalf. What say ye, my lords?'
He turned to the silent, moody men about the dais.
The knights looked troubled, and were dumb for some moments; but at the
last Sir Gawaine said:
'We cannot excuse the queen, for she gave the feast. And either the
poison came by her will or by her servants.'
But most of the knights were silent, and Sir Bors and his kindred were
very sorrowful. King Arthur was heavy at the words of Sir Gawaine.
'Now, king,' cried Sir Mador triumphantly, 'I require ye, as ye be a
righteous king, give me a day that I may have justice.'
'That will I do,' said the king, 'as I must do, that am a just king. I
give you this day fifteen days, that ye be ready armed on horseback in
the meadow beside the wall at London; and if it so fall out that there
be a knight to encounter with you, then God speed the right; and if
there be no knight to take arms for my queen, then must she suffer by
fire.'
So sorrowful were the king's words that many knights had much ado to
keep from weeping.
'And meanwhile,' said Sir Mador, 'I do require that ye keep the queen
in close ward and prison, lest any try a rescue, and thus defeat the
justice that is my due.'
Though it went to the king's heart to have to order this, he gave the
queen into the keeping of Sir Kay, who kept her in her chamber, guarded
by three knights, to the great grief of her women and all the court.
Then the queen sent for Sir Bors, and when he was come she threw
herself on her knees full piteously before him, and wept sorely, and
begged that he would save her from this dreadful death.
'For by my confession unto Heaven,' she cried, 'I know naught of this
wicked deed how it was brought about. And will ye not take this combat
upon ye for my sake? For I am sure if your kinsman, Sir Lancelot, was
here, he would not suffer this evil suspicion to lie against me. For he
hath ever been my most faithful knight, but now am I without friend in
this great pass.'
'Madam,' replied Sir Bors, 'what can I do? For if I take this charge
upon me for your sake, men will say I was your aider in this crime that
they charge upon you. And I see not how I may fight for you except by
endangering my own life without saving yours. But I tell ye, madam,
what I will do. I will hasten with all speed to the north, trusting in
God to get news of Sir Lancelot, so that I may tell him and bring him
here within the time appointed.'
'Ah, good Sir Bors,' cried the queen, and clasped his hands. 'Do ye do
that, for I know that Sir Lancelot will never believe me guilty of so
great a crime. And I will pray hourly that ye find him and bring him to
me in time, so that my poor body be not unjustly given to the dreadful
flames.'
Forthwith Sir Bors armed himself, and with two squires set forth
instantly; and sent his men in different ways, so that among the three
they should not fail to hear where, in the northern marches, a knight
so famous as Sir Lancelot might be found.
No rest did the good Sir Bors give to himself, but swiftly did he ride
hither and thither questioning all knights whom he met, and inquiring
of every hermitage and abbey and at every harbourage. Finally, when
eleven days had passed of the fifteen, he found Sir Lancelot lying
wounded at a broken abbey, from which, in a fierce fight, he had but
two days before thrust out a band of pagans, who would have murdered
the nuns and robbed the church of its holy relics.
Full wroth was Sir Lancelot when, having lovingly greeted each other,
Sir Bors told him all that had passed with the queen.
'The foul traitors!' he cried, and, getting fiercely from the pallet on
which he lay, he strode up and down the chamber clenching his hands and
gnashing his teeth. 'Do any dare to suspect her--do any think in cold
blood to see that peerless lady bound to the stake, the flames
devouring her noble person? That men should think such things, and move
not a hand in noble wrath, shows how evil are the days in which we
live!'
Then he rushed from the room, wounded as he was; and, full of a cold
wrath, he ordered his arms to be brought and his horse to be saddled.
And to the gentle persuasions of the nuns he said he must be gone, 'for
he must stay a wrong that, if suffered, would sink the kingdom in
unquenchable shame and ruin.'
Then with Sir Bors he rode southwards, full fiercely, and never resting
to eat, but taking food as he rode. At night he would not doff his
armour, but slept beside his horse; and seldom spoke, but was consumed
as by a great fire of anger.
And on the fourteenth day they rode into London.
'Go beg the queen to see me,' he said to Sir Bors.
Sir Bors went, and Sir Lancelot strode unto an hostelry to wash from
himself the stains of travel, and to don a fitting robe in which to
appear before the queen.
Now it had befallen, while Sir Bors had been absent from the court
seeking for Sir Lancelot, that Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine had made a
plot with each other against him and against Sir Lancelot. And they
caused it to be noised in all the court that Sir Bors had gone to seek
Sir Lancelot, and that Sir Bors was privy to the plots which Sir
Lancelot and the queen had made to wrest the kingdom from King Arthur
and to reign together in his stead. They said that Sir Bors had gone to
warn Sir Lancelot that the time was ripe to strike.
Wherefore many knights were greatly displeased to hear this news, but
some would not believe it, and said that Sir Bors had gone to tell Sir
Lancelot of the jeopardy in which the queen's life was placed, and to
ask him to do battle for her.
'But,' said some, 'if he do not find Sir Lancelot, it is his intention
to do combat for the queen himself, and that is great wrong in Sir
Bors, for he was with us at the feast, and none but she could have
caused that poison.'
Daily the party which inclined to Sir Mordred and Sir Agravaine gained
power, and some were for going to tell the king of the evil designs
which Sir Lancelot and Sir Bors and the queen had against his person
and the kingdom. But Sir Mordred said, 'No, the time is not yet ripe.
Wait a while.'
The guard that was set about the queen's chamber was doubled, and all
were knights that were well-willers to the plots of Sir Mordred and Sir
Agravaine.
When, therefore, Sir Bors came and asked to see the queen, they let him
go to her; but Sir Agravaine hid himself and listened to all that
passed between Sir Bors and the queen. Then he went and told the others
that Sir Lancelot was waiting to speak to the queen, and he counselled
that they should let him come, and then when he came forth again, as he
would be unarmed, they could fall upon him and capture him, and take
him before the king and charge him with his treason and his plots.
And with the consent of Sir Mordred this was so agreed; and he advised
that most of them should hide from before the door, so that Sir
Lancelot should not think the guard was strong.
'For,' said Sir Mordred, 'if he sees there is no great watch kept, he
may strive to free the queen, and when we take him it will be blacker
against him.'
When, therefore, Sir Bors came forth from his audience with the queen,
he found but one knight at the door, and that was Sir Petipace of
Winchelsea, a young man. Sir Bors wondered why the guard of ten or
twelve that had been there before was now gone, and he was uneasy in
his mind.
Going to Sir Lancelot, he told him that the queen would see him at
once; 'but,' added Sir Bors, 'ye shall not go this night by my counsel,
nor should you go before there are more of our kinsmen near us to aid
us in case of need.'
'Why?' said Sir Lancelot.
'Sir,' said Sir Bors, 'I misdoubt me of Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred.
There was a great watch before the door of the queen's room when I
entered; but when I came hence there was but one. And I mistrust them
that stood there. For all were of Sir Mordred's evil company, and
peradventure they lay some snare for you, and I dread me sore of
treachery.'
'Have ye no doubt,' said Sir Lancelot, 'for I shall go and come again
and make no tarrying.'
'Sir,' replied his cousin, 'that me sore repenteth. But if you will, I
will go and seek some of our kinsmen to meet us near by. And do you not
go until I have found them.'
'Nay, I will not stay,' said Sir Lancelot, 'and I marvel me much why ye
say this, for they dare do naught against me.'
'God speed you well,' said Sir Bors, 'if that is your will, and send
you safe and sound again.'
Sir Lancelot departed, taking his sword underneath his arm, while Sir
Bors went forth to find some of their kin. He learned, however, that
many of them had gone forth with the king to punish a bandit lord in
the forest of the Weald, and would not return before the morrow, when
the combat should be held for the queen.
Sir Lancelot came to the door of the queen's prison, and found Sir
Petipace there, and demanded to be let in to see the queen.
'We thought you were in the north, Sir Lancelot,' said the young
knight, with a laugh, 'and surely it will pleasure our lady queen to
see you.'
He unlocked the door of the queen's antechamber, and told her
waiting-woman that Sir Lancelot would see the queen, and in a few
moments Sir Lancelot was let in. The sorrowing queen told him all that
had happened, and how, and he was wroth to think that any one should
suspect her of so great a crime. He promised that on the day appointed
he would fight for her with all his strength, as a true knight should,
and God would defend the right.
Suddenly, as they spoke together, there came loud voices crying outside
the chamber door:
'Traitor knight, Sir Lancelot du Lake, now art thou taken in thy
treachery!'
Sir Lancelot knew that the voices were those of Sir Agravaine, who had
ever been envious of him, and of Sir Mordred, whom no one loved. He
went quickly to the door and barred it with the beam, and bade the
terrified queen not to be alarmed. He asked her whether there was any
armour in the room, which he could put on to defend himself.
'I have none,' she said, weeping sorely, 'wherefore I dread me sore
that evil will come to you, my true and valiant knight, for I hear by
their noise there be many strong knights, wherefore ye are like to be
slain soon, and then shall I surely burn.'
'Alas!' said Sir Lancelot, 'in all my life was I never in such a pass,
to be slain for lack of my armour.'
'Traitor knight,' cried those that were hammering at the door with the
handles of their swords, 'come out at once and skulk there no more, for
know ye well thou art so beset that thou shalt not escape.'
Sir Lancelot went to the queen and, kneeling to her, took her hand and
kissed it, saying:
'Madam, I beseech you to pray for my soul if I be slain. I have been
your true knight with all my power up to this time, and now I will not
fail you if I may; but if I be slain, I am assured that my kinsman Sir
Bors and all the others of my kin will not suffer you to go to the
fire.'
Then Sir Lancelot, leaving the weeping queen, wrapped his mantle round
his left arm as if it were a shield, and prepared to sell his life
dearly. By this time the knights outside had got a bench from the hall,
and using it as a battering-ram, were dashing it against the door to
beat it in.
'Leave your noise, fair lords,' rang out the voice of Lancelot, 'and I
will open the door to ye, and then ye may do to me what ye will.'
'Do it then,' they cried, 'and we will give you your life until we take
thee to King Arthur, to be judged for your treason.'
Sir Lancelot unbarred the door and held it open a little way, so that
one knight only might enter at a time. One entered, a big slow man,
named Sir Colgreve, and swiftly Sir Lancelot slammed the door and
fastened it, to keep the others out.
Sir Colgreve turned and struck at Sir Lancelot; but the latter put the
stroke lightly aside with his sword, and gave so swift and keen a blow
upon the other's helm that Sir Colgreve fell down dead.
Then, while the others hammered and yelled outside the door, Sir
Lancelot swiftly took off the armour of the dead knight, and with the
help of the queen and her waiting-women was armed in it.
Again the knights outside had begun to dash at the door to beat it
down. Sir Lancelot, when he was armed, strode to it and cried out:
'Let be your noise, and go away, for ye shall not prison me this night.
And I promise ye, by my knighthood, that I will appear to-morrow before
the king, and then such of ye as dare may accuse me of treason, and I
will then prove that I am a true man and no traitor.'
'Fie on thee, false traitor,' cried Sir Agravaine and Sir Mordred, 'but
we will have thee this night and slay thee.'
'Then, sirs,' replied Sir Lancelot, 'if ye will not take my counsel,
look well to yourselves.'
With that Sir Lancelot threw the door open suddenly, and while the
others struggled and tripped over the bench between them he had run two
of them through.
Then in that narrow antechamber there was as fierce a fight as ever
brave knight might wish to see. Sir Mordred from behind urged on the
others with evil words, telling them to slay Sir Lancelot; while he
launched at that knight all manner of foul names.
Fiercely did Sir Lancelot fight, for he was full of rage; and as in the
narrow place in which he stood, no more than two could come at him at
once, he could not be overwhelmed by their numbers. There were ten of
them, and so full of force were his blows and so skilful his thrusts,
that in a little while seven lay slain, two were badly wounded, and the
last, who was Sir Mordred, barely escaped with his life, and bore a
deep wound with him.
Sir Lancelot, sorely wounded, returned to the queen, and said:
'Madam, I know not what is this treason with which they charge me; but
I doubt not it will go ill with me, for I have killed many of the kin
of the king and of Sir Gawaine this night. And I misdoubt me that the
king himself will be my foe also. Nevertheless, I will save you, if it
is in my power, from the danger that threatens you.'
'Go ye, Sir Lancelot,' the queen besought him, 'ere the men-at-arms
come, which are so many ye may never hope to escape them. I dread me
sorely that much ill will come of this, and of the evil plots which our
enemies weave about us.'
Then, kneeling, Sir Lancelot kissed the queen's hand, and went from the
prison; and the people who had assembled outside at the noise of the
fighting wondered to see only one knight issue forth, his armour dented
and broken, and dabbled here and there with the blood of his wounds.